Warning: Nothing to bad... Lucifer swears , but not the worst words, as I
am not a native speaker and probably don't even know the worst and unusual
ones... heh.
Worthless
Michael stepped into the white halls. He had broken the windows, expecting to laugh at their angry faces, but there was no one. The rooms were deserted, empty. The corridors were silent, for once. The only people in the white beds were corpses.
He shivered, feeling suddenly like a coward. He wanted to run away. Where were they? Did they all leave? Leave to fight? Was he the last one still here?
He entered another room, wrapping his arms around his body. He felt so disgustingly small and lonely. His steps echoed on the white floor.
He saw the body on the floor before he actually realised seeing it. He froze. Blonde hair, tangled over a bloodied face. Lips, open in a silent scream.
Raphael lay in a little heap against a shattered glass cupboard. Bits of glass were on the white tiles, and blood and... other things... He was half naked, his clothes torn and dishevelled. He still breathed. Slowly he raised his head. He looked at Michael, with eyes that seemed to have lost all their colour, hollow and dead. His lips moved, but he made no sound. A single tear ran over his blood-crusted cheek. He seemed so small. So small...
Michael ran.
***
"Master," she breathed in awe.
"Disgusting. Vile. Filthy. Filthy whore!" The bitter, contemptuous words tasted sweet, so sweet, sounded like heavenly music in hear ears.
"My master!"
"Defiled! Cheap! Worthless! Worthless creature!"
"Oh yes! My master! Call my name! Call me worthless!"
Belial fell to the ground, bowing her head for the first time to any being in the universe. She reached for his feet, to touch them, kiss them in adoration, but was pushed away harshly.
"Never! Never touch me!" Lucifer's fury was frostier than the deepest winter.
She crouched before him. She sighed. "My master..."
***
Belial had found him. Finally. The one man who was worthy of her love. The single person in this world whom she could accept calling her 'worthless.' Yes, compared to him she was worthless. She was so low... and she would do her worst to be the lowest of them all, only to have him call her 'worthless' again.
She had found the one being whose attention was more precious than God's.
Belial had left everything behind, instantly. With only a hat and a coat she arrived at the army of the rebellious angels. He never even looked at her. Never so much as said her name. But she could wait. She had to earn his attention.
The ranks of his army were full of angels of all kinds and orders, Powers and Thrones and Virtues, Angels and Archangels and Cherubim, even the high Seraphim. Some of them were horrible monsters, the outcome of 'God's experiments'. Some were just bored, disappointed with God and his followers. Some were fated by God himself to fall. Such as she herself. He had called her 'Worthless' and she had obeyed him.
She found, under his most loyal and terrible followers, the young angel Astaroth. She had, before, considered him some kind of friend, although she had never seduced him, he was not her taste, too violent, too unpredictable, too corrupt already.
But when she saw him, every feeling of sympathy was extinguished by a wave of jealousy. She cursed his arrogant little face, his cold, dull eyes - why him? He was nothing better than her...
He sat at Lucifer's side, smiling as his master did. One of Lucifer's gloved hands stroked absently over his hair while listening to some report about the battles. A serpent was winding in Astaroth's lap. When the messenger had finished, Lucifer nodded and dismissed him. Belial retreated further into the shadows. She did not want to be seen. She didn't want creatures like Astaroth to see her love and jealousy.
Lucifer's hand cupped Astaroth's chin and he leaned down from his throne, whispering something to him that made the boy smile. He rose to his feet, and Lucifer kissed him, on his lips, like a lover, his fingers gliding down his lean back. Then he dismissed him, too.
Belial waited for him in the corridor.
He was still carrying the serpent. A huge, elegant, deathly serpent, winding around his neck. A white serpent. Belial stepped into his way, keeping him from striding on. He looked annoyed. "What do you want?" he asked angrily.
"My, my", Belial said sweetly. "All of a sudden little Astaroth feels all high and mighty, just because he's spreading his legs for our Lord like a woman..."
"Out of my way, Worthless!" Astaroth hissed.
"Lovely," Belial said and kissed the tip of the serpent's head.
"Meet my sister," sneered Astaroth, pushing past her.
Belial looked amused. She know that Astaroth was often talking about his 'sister', a sister that was supposedly his twin, fused with him at their birth and living only inside his mind, sharing his body. It was common consent that this was a delusion and the cause for Astaroth's extraordinary violence and cruelty.
So now the sister was a snake. Why not? That was, until she saw him change. In the matter of a second he was a serpent himself, onyx scales this time, and before her stood a woman, wearing Astaroth's clothes. She looked exactly like Astaroth. She was Astaroth, only that she was not, because of her breasts, her voluptuous thighs, her scarlet lips. Her expression was uncharacteristically soft. No, she could not be Astaroth.
What was that now? Had he turned into a woman just because she had called him one? How nice of him...
"I am Astarte," the female Astaroth said with a pleasant smile. Belial bowed and lifted her hat to greet.
"My name is Belial, pleased to meet you, Lady Astarte." She caressed the snake that was hissing furiously at her volatile white hands.
"My brother doesn't like being a snake, does he," Astarte smiled. Belial laughed in understanding. So this was indeed his sister...! She took the curling animal from her hands, kissing it with malice, hoping that bastard would hate being kissed by her and twisted in around her little neck.
"But I like you being a snake, Astaroth," she smirked. "You are so much more pleasant - and decorative, too."
Worthless
Michael stepped into the white halls. He had broken the windows, expecting to laugh at their angry faces, but there was no one. The rooms were deserted, empty. The corridors were silent, for once. The only people in the white beds were corpses.
He shivered, feeling suddenly like a coward. He wanted to run away. Where were they? Did they all leave? Leave to fight? Was he the last one still here?
He entered another room, wrapping his arms around his body. He felt so disgustingly small and lonely. His steps echoed on the white floor.
He saw the body on the floor before he actually realised seeing it. He froze. Blonde hair, tangled over a bloodied face. Lips, open in a silent scream.
Raphael lay in a little heap against a shattered glass cupboard. Bits of glass were on the white tiles, and blood and... other things... He was half naked, his clothes torn and dishevelled. He still breathed. Slowly he raised his head. He looked at Michael, with eyes that seemed to have lost all their colour, hollow and dead. His lips moved, but he made no sound. A single tear ran over his blood-crusted cheek. He seemed so small. So small...
Michael ran.
***
"Master," she breathed in awe.
"Disgusting. Vile. Filthy. Filthy whore!" The bitter, contemptuous words tasted sweet, so sweet, sounded like heavenly music in hear ears.
"My master!"
"Defiled! Cheap! Worthless! Worthless creature!"
"Oh yes! My master! Call my name! Call me worthless!"
Belial fell to the ground, bowing her head for the first time to any being in the universe. She reached for his feet, to touch them, kiss them in adoration, but was pushed away harshly.
"Never! Never touch me!" Lucifer's fury was frostier than the deepest winter.
She crouched before him. She sighed. "My master..."
***
Belial had found him. Finally. The one man who was worthy of her love. The single person in this world whom she could accept calling her 'worthless.' Yes, compared to him she was worthless. She was so low... and she would do her worst to be the lowest of them all, only to have him call her 'worthless' again.
She had found the one being whose attention was more precious than God's.
Belial had left everything behind, instantly. With only a hat and a coat she arrived at the army of the rebellious angels. He never even looked at her. Never so much as said her name. But she could wait. She had to earn his attention.
The ranks of his army were full of angels of all kinds and orders, Powers and Thrones and Virtues, Angels and Archangels and Cherubim, even the high Seraphim. Some of them were horrible monsters, the outcome of 'God's experiments'. Some were just bored, disappointed with God and his followers. Some were fated by God himself to fall. Such as she herself. He had called her 'Worthless' and she had obeyed him.
She found, under his most loyal and terrible followers, the young angel Astaroth. She had, before, considered him some kind of friend, although she had never seduced him, he was not her taste, too violent, too unpredictable, too corrupt already.
But when she saw him, every feeling of sympathy was extinguished by a wave of jealousy. She cursed his arrogant little face, his cold, dull eyes - why him? He was nothing better than her...
He sat at Lucifer's side, smiling as his master did. One of Lucifer's gloved hands stroked absently over his hair while listening to some report about the battles. A serpent was winding in Astaroth's lap. When the messenger had finished, Lucifer nodded and dismissed him. Belial retreated further into the shadows. She did not want to be seen. She didn't want creatures like Astaroth to see her love and jealousy.
Lucifer's hand cupped Astaroth's chin and he leaned down from his throne, whispering something to him that made the boy smile. He rose to his feet, and Lucifer kissed him, on his lips, like a lover, his fingers gliding down his lean back. Then he dismissed him, too.
Belial waited for him in the corridor.
He was still carrying the serpent. A huge, elegant, deathly serpent, winding around his neck. A white serpent. Belial stepped into his way, keeping him from striding on. He looked annoyed. "What do you want?" he asked angrily.
"My, my", Belial said sweetly. "All of a sudden little Astaroth feels all high and mighty, just because he's spreading his legs for our Lord like a woman..."
"Out of my way, Worthless!" Astaroth hissed.
"Lovely," Belial said and kissed the tip of the serpent's head.
"Meet my sister," sneered Astaroth, pushing past her.
Belial looked amused. She know that Astaroth was often talking about his 'sister', a sister that was supposedly his twin, fused with him at their birth and living only inside his mind, sharing his body. It was common consent that this was a delusion and the cause for Astaroth's extraordinary violence and cruelty.
So now the sister was a snake. Why not? That was, until she saw him change. In the matter of a second he was a serpent himself, onyx scales this time, and before her stood a woman, wearing Astaroth's clothes. She looked exactly like Astaroth. She was Astaroth, only that she was not, because of her breasts, her voluptuous thighs, her scarlet lips. Her expression was uncharacteristically soft. No, she could not be Astaroth.
What was that now? Had he turned into a woman just because she had called him one? How nice of him...
"I am Astarte," the female Astaroth said with a pleasant smile. Belial bowed and lifted her hat to greet.
"My name is Belial, pleased to meet you, Lady Astarte." She caressed the snake that was hissing furiously at her volatile white hands.
"My brother doesn't like being a snake, does he," Astarte smiled. Belial laughed in understanding. So this was indeed his sister...! She took the curling animal from her hands, kissing it with malice, hoping that bastard would hate being kissed by her and twisted in around her little neck.
"But I like you being a snake, Astaroth," she smirked. "You are so much more pleasant - and decorative, too."