Song listened to: 'Let it Burn' by Red.
It was not accepted when the legendary Powers went from being protectors to enforcers. Enforcing the new sanctions and laws with a fierceness that was usually reserved for the battlefield, and those they enforced over revolted in kind, they were not animals to be controlled, they were people with their own lives and hearts to follow.
The overtook the training field with ease, there was just too many to stop, and they had not been present to see the beginning of it, to see who had lit the first torch, but they returned to their home burning to the ground. The Pavilion was made of stone, it could not burn, but their things had been taken from within, their own treasures that they held near to their hearts and thrown together in one large pile and set to flame. The glass windows of their Pavilion had been smashed through, glass sparkling among the green grass of the training field below.
Nisroc could do nothing but stare as his belongings were burned to ash, his eyes meeting those of a fledgling standing on the other side of the flames, glowing orange from the illuminating flames that licked at the air, and their eyes met for a brief interaction. He committed those eyes to memory, having already seen them somewhere before, and it dawned on him a moment later from where he knew those eyes.
They had watched him with such fear from behind the Choir Elders leg and there they stared at him again from behind a wall of burning flames, the only still body in a sea of rioting angels, and his eyes averted down to the cloak he'd been gifted upon being made Captain of the Powers. It was something that was near to his heart, something that had been given to him from the hands of the Prince himself, and he treasured every thread that wove the red cloak together.
The little, nameless, fledgling stared at him, his eyes returning to hers, and she held her little hands out with the balled-up cloak in them. Recognition shone in those brilliant blue eyes, indicating that she too knew where she had seen his face before, and she let the red cloak fall into the flames without so much as averting her gaze for a moment.
There was nothing he could do but watch as his beloved cloak was caught in the mouth of the raging fire, and devoured before his very eyes, the weight of the gaze on him tore him from staring at the destruction of the thing he cherished most out of all his belongings. The fledgling was still staring at him, and he committed the eyes to his memory, never wanting to forget the burning blues that stared at him around the other end of the raging fire.
She lifted her chin defiantly and disappeared in the raging horde of factions and lost angels.
Slowly the swarm dissipated, the fire beginning to burn itself out, and they all stepped forward to see if anything they owned was salvageable from the fires raging teeth. He knelt to lightly snag the charred hood of his cloak, the only remaining piece of the woven item, and stared down at it for a silent moment. Some part of him knew he would see her again, recognized by those brilliant blue eyes, and he clenched his fingers around the fabric tightly.
"Nisroc?" a hand settled lightly on his shoulder, where he was still kneeling before the smoldering pile of ash, their belongings destroyed like their family was. Haniel squeezed his shoulder silently, seeming to recognize the fabric his Captain clenched in his hand, "I am sorry about your cloak. I know how much you cared for it."
The Captain shrugged, mind still buzzing from what had been witnessed, those eyes still glistening in his minds eye.
"It should never have turned to this."
He knew the other Power agreed. He stood, keeping the sight he witnessed to himself, and stepped away from the brother behind him. He would see those eyes again. He knew it.
And it wasn't long before he did see them again.
It was a storming night, thunder rumbling through the night air, rain pelting the stone steps heavily, and lightning dancing far across the sky, when they tore into the Pantheon. The Choir angels screamed in terror and bolted from them and were eventually caught up and restrained with similar chains to those used to bind the infamous Morningstar. The Elders fought back, in their attempt to keep them from getting to the young ones, but they were soon torn through by the might of the legendary Powers.
Nisroc and Abraxos corned a pair of them, and he stared once again into the eyes he had committed into his memory, as they peered out at him from behind the guardians leg. He knew the guardian, they had once been close friends, but war changed them all and they could never be what they once were again. Abraxos cut the guardian down with ease, dragging him away from the petrified fledgling, and she stepped back further into her corner, her eyes staring into his with a fear he had never seen before. The Captain stared back for a moment, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword, and she tensed as though preparing for a strike. He didn't gesture, he didn't urge, he merely nodded and turned. He felt the eyes of the fledgling tearing into the back of his head as he left her hidden in the shadows of her corner to return to the others and take their captives to the prisons. He shook his head sharply when Abraxos opened his mouth, and the other Power nodded quickly, once, and turned back to herd their prisoners out of the grand stone doors to their captivity. Nisroc was the only one who remained, standing at the top of the stairs, soaked by the storm that ranged on around them, as though the sky itself was distressed at the treatment of her people. He looked up, squinting at the assaulting raindrops splashing against his face, and turned to look behind him. The eyes were gone, there was nothing, but shadows left in the corner, and he turned to follow the others to the prison.
His next glimpse of those eyes were soon to follow once more.
The fallen angels, those who had stood with the Morningstar at the beginning of this war that had torn their family apart, had attacked with the ferocity of those who had nothing left to lose. He closed his eyes, sprawled on the ground where he was, sword pinning his wing to the hardened dirt of the abandoned Garden and prepared himself for the strike that would end him once and for all.
His opponent screamed in surprise, and he opened his eyes at the suddenness of it, staring at the blade that had been driven up through the others lower back to stick up at an angle through their midsection. They stared at him in surprise, then looked down to the blade sticking from their chest and fell forward in a crumpled heap.
Those brilliant eyes stared at him from where the other had just fallen, the silver glint of a blade clutched in one hand, blood dripping down the fingers and over the blade, dripping like little raindrops into the torn grass. It were the eyes of the fledgling he had saved from the tortures of the prison, and she had just returned his favor in kind, she didn't utter a word to him as she ran forward and dropped the red tinted blade onto his stomach, her little hands curling around the hilt of the long sword and she pulled with all she was worth.
Nisroc hissed as the blade was pulled from his wing and dropped beside him. She stared down at him silently, and he stared up at her just as silently in kind, and then she ran passed him and disappeared in the fray of the battle.
The debt owed was repaid.
He didn't see those eyes again until the fighting came to a complete halt.