Kay guys! Just a random thought about… randomness! No one really ever focuses on Arella, so I thought I would take a new look at the little affair. Sooo check it out!
Disclaimer: I own EVERYTHING about the Teen Titans, I even chose out Robin's traffic light suit- in my dreams…
"I can't take this," the lone woman whispered to the restlesswind as it stirred the garbage in the dimly lit street. The abandoned newspapers, forgotten wrappers and cigarette butts whirled around her ankles, catching on her torn and muddied tennis shoes.
She closed her eyes tightly as if she were trying to block out the dark, dismal world around her, not wanting to acknowledge her own doomed fate.
That was what her life was: a wretched piece of existence, and a wandering soulthat was condemned to haunt many more streets like this one, and drift until her miserable, foolish heart would stop its persistent beating and let her go. Let her go to a world that would forgive her for the terrible sin that she had committed…
But she was beyond that hope she knew, and just wanted to end this hell on earth.
Even if it is just to be substituted for another, she thought bitterly, hands curling into tight fists, her dirty fingernails digging into the sensitive flesh of her palm. But I can't blame anyone else but myself…
With a resigned sigh she unclenched her fists, a trickle of blood weaving its way down her palm. Her dark indigo eyes glittered with unshed tears that threatened to spill.
But, from the red- rimmed eyes and dark streaks of mascara that stained her cheeks, it was obvious she had surrendered to the strain before. Multiple times.
She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets as she meandered down the abandoned street, making sure to avoid the lonely streetlights that offered a false sanctuary from the darkness surrounding it.
It was a lure for the frightened city- goer who wasn't used to the hostile nights of Gotham, where crime was in sync with the waxing and waning of the moon. Once in the light, they were trapped, easy prey for gangs or night crawlers- but she was too clever to fall for that trick. At least she was now.
But it really didn't matter anymore. At least not now.
Broken beer bottles crunched under her heels, the crystalline crack reverberating through the empty night air.
She winced, her memories swirling with the sound of stained glass windows shattering around her. Her battered body felt like the windows; so beautiful, so innocent, and ready to shatter with the intensity.
With the pain…
"No," she whispered, removing her hands from her pockets and wrapped her arms protectively around her torso as screams echoed in the shadows of her mind.
Her screams…
Why had she been so blind? So trusting? She had thought that she would recognize a blatant lie after her treacherous father, his radical beliefs about his God. A God that apparently was meant to raise him up in the world, and apparently made her the vessel that would help her father. The Roth Ministries, he called it, the Church of Salvation. Her face had become his campaign slogan, his beloved Angela, his redeeming angel. The crowds clambered to see this angel, whose voice was a gift of God.
The little angel, with her naturally pale features that accented a heart- shaped face, framed with curling locks of blue- black hair. And her eyes… she must have been from God with her wide eyes of deep indigo that flickered to almost purple.
A glimpse of heaven, her father had promised as her soprano soared
through the rafters of church.
A peek of paradise…
She had been enthralling to the gathered crowds and held her audience captive with her clear, bright voice. The voice of an angel, her father had proclaimed. From an early age he would make her sing until her voice would grow hoarse before his growing followers. His fake promises and lies lured the unsuspecting people into his grasp. My flock, he called them, my sheep.
Her childhood innocence had bloomed into an awareness and anger as she began to realize that her father didn't love her, but rather used her as tool to achieve the greatness he craved. But still she sang, until…
Angela was startled out of her reverie by a faint scuttle of noise behind her. Her whole body tensed, and her muscles twinged with the effort as they ached from the ordeals she had survived for the past four months and the vast number of burritos she had eaten that morning. The adrenaline thrummed through her veins as Angela spun on her heel. Her arms shook in fear in their haphazard defensive position.
Breathing heavily, she lowered her fists, and let her shoulders slump in relief, as all that ran into the streetlight was a cat prowling around the empty street in search of food. At least it has a better reason to be here than me… I just wander in search of a salvation that I can never find…
She bowed her head in humiliation and pain, letting her dark tresses hide her face from the world. Their usual shine was replaced with a dull glow, their lack of luster seeming to set the tone for her whole body.
But there was no time to take care of herself. Sleep from shelter to shelter, grabbing the occasional meal at a cheap, greasy fast food restaurant. She laughed bitterly to frigid air around her. She could do nothing about it. All she could do was run… run from a past that would always haunt her. Her demons would never leave her.
I carry a demon inside me now…
Her breathing came out shallow and rapid as her face drained of color. No, I can't let that happen… I don't deserve to live- it doesn't deserve to live… Her chest heaved in an uneven rhythm, and she placed a shaking hand to her temple, trying to sooth the dull throb that was beginning to hammer in her head.
Low chants echoed off the cathedral's elaborate walls. The saints' engraved white faces, forever emotionless in the pillars, silently watched the unholy precession of ebony cloaks make its way to their beloved Christ. The golden organ's pipes vibrated from the steadily rising voices, echoing against the golden murals on the walls. The angels painted on the walls were silent witnesses to the young, beautiful woman being lead to the altar of the cathedral like a bull to the sacrifice.
She lay in the center, surrounded by the dark hooded figures. Red clothed her body and she trembled with anticipation at the honor that had been bestowed upon her.
She would be the maiden to greet the Redeemer- a huge responsibility of the Brotherhood to grant to its newest member. But she had promised herself that she would not mess up her part - she would make her life right…
Lying under the Son, smothered by the scent of roses and the heavy fumes of incense, Angela waited. She would wait for eternity if need be to see the One of whom They spoke. She so wanted to be redeemed…
She didn't notice when the incense became a thick smoke, and the scents in the air a turned into the metallic flavor of fresh blood. She was blissfully ignorant even when a warm trickle of thick red blood gently touched her hand and even more so when the red roses spread around her turned a sinister black.
Through the hazy smoke and crashing chants of followers, a dark figure had emerged from the swirling shadows. She was immediatly unable to tear her gaze anywhere else, for his eyes had captured hers in his own. Their shimmering molten goldness held enough heat to melt her insides, and she could already feel a flush settling over her pale skin.
She was drunken with want and need as his gaze kept firmly on her, and she had the irresistible urge to run her hands through his wild hair. Hair that was a living fire, dancing in some nonexistent wind that teased his long tresses playfully.
And his face… it took her very breath away, leaving her gasping and panting for air, as her chest heaved up down on the offering altar. It was if the very gods had carved his face. Chiseled features of golden perfection accented the sensual smirk set on his lips. His aura radiated with power, cloaking him like invisible armor, though he himself was only clothed by a simple white robe.
Her eyes were drawn to the glittering gold torcs that adorned his heavily muscled forearms, the inscriptions engraved in them a curling unknown language to her. Her eyes drifted back to his unreadable features as her mind realized that he was approaching the altar. She could do nothing but stare as he strode purposefully toward her. His stride was confident, and it almost seemed that he was gliding as his muscles moved with feline like grace and power. He was a man confident with his powers and fully aware of the damage he could inflict, she thought as he mounted the altars steps.
Her flushed skin tingled with anticipation as he slowly approached her, eying her like a predator would observe its prey. For the first time that evening she felt a twinge of fear curl itself into her stomach, but she quickly shoved it aside as stood above her. She had to tilt her head back, for he was so tall, and she suddenly felt naked under his heated gaze, as if he could see her soul. Fear was worming itself into her stomach again as he continued to stare at her, his molten gaze taking her all in. She shivered, despite the heat radiating off of the candles, and allowed her eyes to once more meet his.
"Do not fear, for I am with you," he spoke quietly to her, his velvety, dark voice washing over her in soothing waves.
Isaiah 41:10, her mind realized instantly and her eyes widening at the golden man before her. All fear and apprehension was lost as he smiled gently down at her and offered his hand to her. She raised her hand, hesitantly placing it in his larger one, knowing that with this act she had sealed her fate to the Redeemer.
She was his now. But he so was enthralling, and… she had never seen anyone so beautiful before.
His smiled changed into a smirk as she leaned into him. "My angel…"
She was a fallen angel; a woman drowned in disgrace, a naïve girl who fell from her faith.
Angela Roth was a broken woman.
Dry sobs racked her body, and her lungs gasped for breathe as the memories flooded through her, the feeling of burning in a never-ending abyss of hell consuming her body, and the memory of the flames licking her body induced a slight flush to her pale flesh. Bruises thrummed with a reawakened vengeance, and her headache surged into a pounding drum in her mind. She fell to her knees, clutched her head, and moaned in uncontrollable agony.
She had been to scared to end this unendurable torture, to make it all end, and she had felt the growing presence of her greatest sin begin to stir within her. She couldn't let this go any farther. If there was going to be one final act of redemption for it, it was to remove herself from endangering this earth any longer. She held the potential vessel of destruction within, and she couldn't allow it to grow and develop to be what it was meant to be.
Removing herself from earth was the least she could do to repent from all her sins.
Her body shuddered uncontrollably as she searched her pockets for the box knife that she found behind a restaurant earlier that week. Its rusty edge leered at her from behind the chipped plastic handle, and she shakily held the blade to the dim light, gulping in the stale, musky air. Barely able to roll up her coats' sleeves, she stared at her wrist, unable to fully comprehend what she was committing to herself.
Don't think, she warned herself, just do. And she quickly made a harsh stoke downwards.
She didn't feel anything as she slashed the other hand. She closed her eyes,
allowing the burning sensation to overcome her other senses, and watched calmly as silver lights flared before her eyes, and dark figure glided towards her. She never had wondered what death had looked like before, but now that she was here she was extremely curious.
It floated above the hazy ground, gliding toward with slow, unhurried movements, knowing that she couldn't go anywhere. She squinted at the figure, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the dark cloak hid. But her eyes were drawn to the intense silver orbs that glittered with the dying light, gazing at her serenely. They offered her peace, happiness, a place to start over, and not beAngela Roth any longer.
It withdrew a hand from its mass and held its hand out to her, as if waiting for her to accept, still gazing at her with those patient eyes.
Angela watched her hand lift itself on its on accord toward the dark stranger. Panicking, she yanked her hand back, the image reminding her of another Angela who had placed her hand in the hands of a golden stranger.
But this time was different.
This time she was dying.
The light intensified briefly and the hand still waited, patiently, for her to accept. It seem to say Trust me, but where had trust lead her? To nothing but betrayal and pain.
But she was dying - what was there for her to lose?
She thought of the dying demon inside her, and couldn't help but feel satisfied that she had slighted him.
The figure's hand remained, a constant reminder of her appending death. It radiated tranquility and peace. No harm will come to you, it whispered, come…
Relenting, she placed her hand in its, and only remembered a blinding light and then…
Nothing.
A/N: Like it? Hate its guts? Tell me why! I'm honestly attention deprived, so share what you think! Totally open to all ideas! Also, I was thinking of continuing it… maybe… tell me what you think- again… ;) Thanks for reading!