Yoooooooooooooooooo
that anon who nicely asked abt ddct thanks and I hope you don't mind I took a little longer I assumed I would.
This is one of my favorite chapters so far tbh like we got so much good stuff. We got exposition, we got character development, we got Syb fucking w the timeline a little bit, We Have The Watcher.
And one (1) smooch.
Hope y'all enjoy
Maybe your dramatic "together" moment was a little uncalled for, as you find yourself in a strange state of exhaustion vs hyperawareness caused by worry for your Horseman.
Wait.
For War. You definitely did not mean "your Horseman".
"Fuck," You hiss, picturing Strife's all too smug expression. He would be only too pleased to hear you referring to War as yours, especially since War still calls you "the human". "Fuck," you repeat again, realizing this isn't the first time you've referred to him like that.
Something about it makes you feel... gross, despite the fact you know your feelings for War and him being "yours" aren't at all comparable to The Council's possessive talk. And the Watcher's, now that you think of it.
You glance over at the gauntlet as War continues eyeing over the room, clearly trying to find the solution before he starts hitting things with the crossblade. You almost want to call the Watcher out, just to talk to it a bit, but you don't know what'd you say. "Watcher?"
War glances over at you curiously, "Is something wrong?"
You scramble for a way to explain only to settle for, "What?"
"You said fuck. Twice."
"I say-" It takes a moment for his words to actually register. War just said fuck.
War, Horseman of the apocalypse, and your best friend, who has never said anything worse than 'damn' the whole time you've known him, said fuck.
Your mouth drops open in shock while the sound of Shadow's laughter fills the room. It's cackling, loud and surprised as it moves from War's gauntlet to hang off of you, spindly arms around your shoulders. "Look what you've done, Glitch." It says gleefully.
"I've corrupted him," You half whisper, amusement and shock lacing your tone.
War snorts, "I've been saying worse things ages before you were created."
Watcher seems to be ignoring him, continuing on with, "What will his siblings say when we return?"
"Oh, they'll be livid." You assure jokingly. You can see their faces now, hearing War use human curses while you and the Wat-
Oh.
"Oh, fuck."
The Watcher continues giggling even when you fall silent, mind racing. It doesn't seem to notice your sudden anxiety, and War has turned his attention back to the puzzle (although he's not scowling, so you know he's not actually angered by your lighthearted teasing).
You didn't plan on this rather spiney friendship between yourself and the Watcher.
You don't limit yourself to just "fuck" as you try to figure out a way to let it survive. You find yourself dragged to the next room by a perplexed War as you struggle with the realization for the first time you actually... care about changing things.
Your future sight is why you got this job, so you could change things to favor the Council, but you never actually planned on doing so. There was only subtle things and ways to stay alive hat you had to plan.
This.
This is a little different.
The Watcher stays by your side for longer than usual (or maybe it just feels like longer because you're worried? Who knows) while War begins hitting the crystals. The two of you follow him complacency enough, with your only advice being pointing out the soul chest.
Watcher does, eventually, go back to its gauntlet, but only when War scoops you up to swing across.
"There's one of those wraiths in the next room." You say. "And then I think we get the void walker. Although it might be further in, I guess." Remembering details is getting tougher the longer you go without actually 'playing' Darksiders.
"Its really weird to think of this as real." You add, talking more to yourself at this point than War.
He glances over at you anyway, eyebrows raised. "Real?"
"Well because... none of this seems real. I mean, the pain definitely does, but the whole situation, traveling with you and trying to save humanity and shit. That's..." You can't find a simple word for that.
War looks perplexed, but doesn't otherwise comment as he makes his way into the next room. You hang back and watch, ignoring the way Fate vibrates at the idea of killing a wraith. You can't blame it for wanting blood (well. You could, but that would be rather rude), but it can't blame you for being human either.
War hits the switch while you admire the view (admire being used extremely loosely, given how much your chest hurts looking over the remains of a sprawling city).
Quick, distract yourself before you get too angsty. God knows neither you nor War would want more angst. Maybe more affection.
Definitely more affection.
"This sure does involve a lot of swinging." You declare, mock cheerfully.
War snorts. "Do you not enjoy it?"
"Ah, yes, being thousands of feet above the ground, relying only on my best friend to not drop me. How relaxing," You respond with equal snark, pressing your face into his cowl. If you don't look it's not as intimidating.
Plus War's hair is surprisingly soft, even when it accidentally gets in your eyes. You have the forethought to not move until he's on the other side of the bridge, but after he's on solid ground you move to brush it back, nose scrunched up in annoyance. "Your hair is too long."
His smile is much too gentle for War, Horseman of the Apocalypse, but it fits him as a person. He sets you back down without another reply, and you continue on.
And on.
And god this is exhausting.
War begrudgingly allows you to stay in the main room with the Archangel after he gets the first seal broken, reminding you to stay alert and a reasonable distance from the angel.
You do neither of these things.
Azrael offers to try and heal you almost two minutes after War disappears through the next door, and you respect his self restraint in waiting so long.
"Sure, but I don't know if the belt will allow it."
"I have some... experience with the Council's magic."
He smiles as he descends, and although you're still conflicted about how you feel towards him, that expression is gentle. Calming. His ridiculously long dress pools around him as he lands, stumbling a step before seeming to get his bearings.
(And why is that endearing? What in the hell?)
He doesn't reach for you until you take a few steps closer, and you appreciate his respect of your boundaries. One hand comes to rest on your cheek while the other moves to your waist, hovering over the chain.
"I..." He hesitates, looking pained as his magic runs a cursory scan (or maybe preliminary healing? You don't know, but you can certainly feel it. It's... minty and soft, closer to Strife's than any one else). "I am not sure how you survived this long." He finishes.
"Yeah, same." You respond flippantly.
His lips twitch. "Humans have a very interesting way of speaking. Always evolving."
"I'd say it's been pretty much the same for the last hundred years, although I wouldn't know." You hum, smiling.
His magic does something different now, focusing on more specific areas. "How long have you been walking around with fractured ribs?"
Huh. That explains a lot, actually.
"Uh. Probably a while?" You say. "I've been busy."
"How did you come to be in service of the Council?" He asks gently. "For a human to have survived..."
"I didn't. Survive, I mean. I uh. I'm not.." You frown. "I'm not one of your humans. I am human, but I'm..."
"A different universes human," The angel fills in, seeming unsurprised. "That would explain why you feel different. Cut from a different cloth, but still using the same base. It's... odd."
"That's me," You agree happily enough, exhaustion starting to push down on you as his magic starts undoing aches you had started to believe were just your baseline. Soft and Minty over here might just give War a run for his money.
If you weren't already completely enamored with him as a whole, at least.
You laugh at the thought, and your healer looks vaguely amused. "Something you'd like to share?"
"War." You say simply. "Can I sit? I'm getting tired."
"Of course." Azrael's outfit is definitely not made for sitting on the floor, but he follows you down nonetheless, magic still radiating from his hands. "This would be easier were I not still bound." He says, glancing over at the seals War is still trying to crack.
You make a noncommittal noise in return, laying Fate across your lap and idly tracing the designs. "War wants you dead."
He sighs. "I would be surprised if he didn't after what I've done."
"You thought it was for the best. You did fuck up, but... I think intentions matter." You say calmly. "When we get out, are you going to join us?"
His laugh is a pretty sound, so far from what you're used to that it sounds foreign. "You say War wants me dead and then invite me along?"
"I'm hoping to convince him to spare you. Or at least wait until you can explain to him and the Hell Guard what happened. Uriel wants to challenge him." You admit carefully. Your chain begins to heat, but Azrael's magic cancels it out.
"Challenge him.." he repeats, the question rather obvious.
"Nex Sacramentum."
His magic flinches along with his body, soft becoming suffocating for a brief moment. "Uriel has always been zealous but I doubt..."
"Trust me on this one. My predictions haven't been wrong yet." You glance up from your halberd, looking him in the eyes for the first time. "I'm trying to help."
He takes a deep breath. "I... want to believe you." He finally says, sounding exhausted and old. "Tell me of your journey with War, little human."
That really is just your destined nickname, isn't it?
You launch into a long explanation, complete with gestures and showing off your various new scars when called for. It was inevitable that War would return, but he only looks mildly annoyed when he sees the two of you chatting. You're up on your feet in an instant and... it doesn't hurt. There's no pain!
That realization hits you harder than any of the demons have managed, bringing a prickling sensation to your eyes. It doesn't hurt. Holy fuck.
You do what any reasonable and very excited human would.
"The second seal is-"
You throw yourself at War.
His voice cuts off into a weird growl laugh as he catches you (with one arm, the damn show off), twisting so the momentum doesn't hit you quite as hard. "War!" You exclaim. "Healing magic!" One of your arms unwinds itself from his neck, hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Healing magic." You repeat, quieter.
He smiles. "You feel better, I assume?" You've never heard War's voice in that tone. It's... nice.
"So much better " You say. There's not much else to say, and both of you seem to acknowledge that. War tilts his head forward, resting his forehead against yours as you revel in feeling so painfree.
His eyes are bright, not quite enough to make you squint but brighter than usual, and he looks surprisingly cheerful. Smiling wide enough that you can see his pointy canines even. You run your thumb over his cheek, wishing for the first time since you got the gauntlets that your hands were bare.
You distantly wonder if you've ever wanted to kiss anyone as much as you do War.
You know, logically, that Azrael is right there, and probably feels rather awkward at this point, but you don't particularly mind. If War is feeling affectionate then dammit, you're going to enjoy it.
The words "I love you" get stuck in your throat.
Now is not the time, you decide. You lean forward just a bit closer, pressing your lips to his cheek in a not quite kiss before pulling away fully. "You ready?" You ask, mentioning for him to set you back down.
"I've been ready." He bears his teeth in a snarl, still setting you down with the typical "handling the human" gentleness.
So scary.
You roll your eyes as you stretch. "Can I come? There's treasure I want to make sure you get." You made sure he got Fury's embrace, so that excuse is truly pitiful, but nevertheless.
"Of course."
"I would not-" Azrael's concerned advice is cut off by a growl from War, but he continues nevertheless, "The third seal is at the top of the tower. Your.." He struggles with your title, looking between the two of you as if that will provide answers.
"Advisor." You supply.
"Is still not fully healed, and the way up is treacherous."
He does make a pretty good point. Not that you're offended by the idea of clinging to War for extended periods of time. Even with your recently healed body, you're still tired in general.
But then again, War does have to face Straga alone, and being without him for extended periods of time feels... weird after so long.
And the way Azrael keeps glancing at you makes you think he's got something to say about your relationship with War. Not that you expect him to scold you or anything, given his character.
You could do without vague warnings about your love life though.
That is certainly something you don't need.
So you go along with War, clinging onto his back like a koala and giving quiet advice when you feel the need to. The fact that you did almost the exact same thing when your journey with War first began doesn't escape your notice.
He only sets you down so the two of you can fight (or when you ask, occasionally), and you revert to your original strategy of dancing around enemies to keep them distracted while War kills the others. It's much easier to do now that moving doesn't cause you pain.
You still stray in the safe side though, mostly using your gun rather than Fate. It doesn't feel like it minds, seeming excited to be fighting at all.
War doesn't bare your entry when you finally make it to the final construct, but he does give you a Look.
You hold your hands up in a placating manner, "I've got no plans of helping you with that."
He nods, and you... wait.
You hate being on the sidelines. Even if it is prime snacking time. Being a human is so limiting.
(You can practically hear Death scolding you for that thought, while Strife gives nonsense reasons why humans are awesome)
War is back faster than you thought he would, but still not fast enough to escape Watcher telling him to hurry it up. You slip your arm around its waist as War stomps past, and it falls silent for a beat. Taken off guard.
"Be nice. He's quicker than most people, demons, angels..." You say.
"Trying to cover for our dog, Glitch?" It responds sharply.
"Our dog." You repeat.
The Watcher simply huffs, as if by answering to that it'd be admitting to something. Admitting that your storage friendship isn't just one way, maybe. Or that it actually considers you above War the same way it considers itself (which isn't as fun a thought, given that the only way you'd like to on top of War is not exactly Safe For Work)
War glances over at you and your immediate thought is 'oh no he heard me'. His concern melts into curiosity when a blush overtakes your face. He's not a mindreader. He doesn't know. Why did he have to look up right at that moment?
"Are we going?" He asks.
"Yeah, yeah, of course!" You say, voice higher and lilting with embarrassment.
The Watcher doesn't bother to say goodbye before fading back into mist and retreating into the gauntlet. You don't mind, although the sensation of someone you're half-hugging fading into something less than tangible is weird as hell.
Weird is par for course though. At least when traveling with War.
You're at least more helpful on the way back than you were in the beginning, helping War with the puzzles that were the bane of your Darksiders career. After doing them so many times you have an idea of what goes where.
You think getting that last seal and feeling the surprisingly immense power radiating from the freed Archangel should be satisfying.
But you're mostly just anxious.
War crashes onto the ground next to Azrael while you land in a pool of light (and admittedly, that sounds a lot cooler than you're sure it looks). War holds out a hand to help you off the ground and you don't let it go.
Azrael looks surprised but otherwise undaunted. He's Determined. So much so that it deserves a capital letter.
"The universe... is sick, Horseman. The Charred Council refuses to admit it, but those of us who look, we see." He sounds... sad. Tired. "We had to do something."
It's hard to feel sympathetic when you're aware "something" led to the destruction of humanity, to billions of innocent lives being ripped apart (sometimes quite literally). Your hand moves to the burned scar tissue of your waist, prodding at the desensitized skin. It doesn't hurt, and hopefully it won't hurt ever again, but it's there. A reminder.
"They broke the seals." You grind out. "Abaddon, Azrael, and our dear friend the Blackhammer."
Azrael sends you an indecipherable glance. "We broke all but one. Abaddon ordered the final seal not be harmed. He protected it himself."
You know War well enough to know when to let go of his gauntlet. As soon as your hand leaves his he's balling his fists and growling. The Watcher is trembling too, its energy sharper than usual.
"Are you certain?" It's not so much of a question as it is a challenge.
Azrael seems to understand this. "Without question. We dared not involve the Horsemen. We never dreamed we would have to, until it was too late."
"Yet I am to pay the price for you betrayal!"
(You wonder if he's angered by this journey for redemption in and of itself or by the memory of being imprisoned for a hundred years. You know his 'sin' weighs heavily on him, but you also know the Council weren't exactly kind during that time)
"Treason! War, you will root out all involved, and make them pay! Starting with this one." The Watcher orders, gesturing to the archangel.
Said archangel looks resigned now, as if he knew this was coming. You take a few steps closer to him, putting yourself between him and the Watcher. "It'll be okay." You whisper.
War spares you half a glance before apparently making his decision, a firm, "No."
"Fool! You deny the will of the Council? The will of-" It looks over to where you were, blinking in confusion before relocating you. "What do you have to say about this?" It snaps.
You remain silent. You didn't plan on Shadow asking for your opinion in this! What are you supposed to say?
War, thankfully, draws the heat off you. "We heard the angel's confession. My service to the Council has ended."
The Watcher balls its fist the same time you lurch forward, grabbing at it. Unlike the semi affectionate embrace earlier, this becomes more of a body check. The Watcher's concentration is broken as it scrambles to right itself and keep you from falling on your face at the same time.
"Shadow!" You snarl.
"We... we made him! We own him!" It voice is hedging on panic, either from your interruption or from the sound of ChaosEater being drawn, you don't know.
"Stop." You tell it. "We are still going after the Destroyer. We are still going to make things right. But it will be out of our own free will."
The Watcher is not an expressive creature, but you can see the confusion on its face. It curls it's too long fingers around yours, seemingly trying to ground itself. "They-"
"Watcher. Please."
It closes its eyes. "Azrael lives until he stops being useful." It finally spits out, trying to pack as much venom into it as possible.
"I'll be sure to tell you when that happens." You nod and step away, moving to stand by War while Azrael does The Thing. Admittedly, it's pretty cool, but it also makes your eyes sting.
"...Straga awaits." He offers when the path is opened, looking between the three of you like you're some kind of overly complicated puzzle (in the Black Throne that is not such an uncommon expression).
Don't make a big deal out of it.
Don't make a big deal out of it.
Don't-
War takes precisely 1 (one) step before you grab at his shoulder pauldron. He turns with his eyebrows raised, clearly expecting some kind of insight as he leans closer (either to spare you from tilting your head back so far or so Azrael feels left out. Either one is pretty likely at this point).
"You've totally got this but... be careful, okay?" You request quietly. Moving your hand from his shoulder to the cowl, you continue, "He's big and strong but not much else. Use the void walker. Tear him apart."
The last part prompts a sharp smile from War while he lifts his hand to yours. Instead of brushing you off like expected, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, keeping you in place for the time being. "He will pay."
Only the Horsemen can make promises of destruction sound romantic.
You lean up on your tiptoes and use War's hold on your wrist as leverage to get up enough to kiss his cheek. Properly this time. "Love you too." The words feel electric in your mouth, quiet and vulnerable as they are.
His eyes are equally electric, glowing bright and steady. War releases your wrist and you let go of his dumb red hood, both of you wearing smirks that could rival Strife himself.
War stomps down the steps while you try and get over the fact you just kissed him. You actually just kissed him.
Azrael is in the same spot you left him, although his eyes are bright bright and he appears dumbfounded. "Advisor..." He says your title like it isn't quite what he wants to say but it's good enough. "You realize that will not... end well."
The words are gentle and terrible.
"I don't know that. You don't either." You respond. "But I know not even you can see the full picture. Not even you understand why War was brought to earth." Carefully constructed truths.
Azrael sighs. "I suppose it would he asking too much to ask what you know? That chain of yours..."
"The Destroyer was an angel, and you know it." You say. "Someone you trusted. Someone who was seduced by a certain Nephilim creator." Vague is just as annoying for you as it is for him.
His expression shifts to one of annoyance at the mention of Lilith. "Of course she's involved in this."
"Always is." You cheer. "I haven't met her yet but I'm sure she's a doll."
"That is one way to word it." He responds.
"Listen..." You start, looking up at the angel with what you hope is a reassuring smile. "Like I said earlier, it's not... you're not at fault here, not totally. You couldn't have known. I mean, I am upset, because you're part of the reason I was dragged into a universe in which all other humans were murdered. And I'm reminded of that fact every three fucking steps. But. I don't. Hate you." Your words become halting the closer to home you get.
"And I know what Watcher said but it... I don't think it has much of a sense of self? So it thinks of people as possessions or tools instead of living breathing beings, including itself. I don't think it means to be cruel. Its whole life has been... defined by its usefulness."
Azrael's expression doesn't falter but his wings lower, folding in. "I appreciate... what you're trying to do. But I am not certain your Horseman will be so forgiving."
"War is far more complex than you or anyone else gives him credit for. He's not just anger and revenge." You snip, lips pulling back in annoyance as you place your hands on your hips. Here you are, practically giving him a reassurance speech and he's insulting War.
If anything, he just shrinks further in on himself. "I deserve any punishment they deem necessary. As you said, there are billions of souls in the Well long before their time, and you have only suffered since your arrival."
You purse your lips. "I've done more than suffer, Azrael. I'm thankful you healed my rather extensive wounds, but getting hurt ain't the only thing that's happened."
"I noticed." He says. "You and War are..."
"We're me and War." You shrug. There's no good and proper way to explain "he'd die for me and I'd do the same but we're both terrible at expressing anything but physical affection." You can't explain the way War looks at you or how warm he makes you feel to a stranger.
"You said you love him "too"." You can practically hear the quotation marks. "He... also..." At least Azrael seems just as uncomfortable discussing your love life as you do.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, dawdling. "Its mutual, yes. I'm also close with the other Horsemen."
The angel nods. "For your sake, I hope it works out the way you plan. I-"
A loud cracking noise followed closely by smaller crackles cuts him off, and you nearly hit the floor as a result of the vibrations. Fate and your scrambling claws save you at the last moment.
Azrael looks alarmed. "That would be your Horseman. I, uh..." An archangel stuttering over his words might be the most endearing thing you've ever heard. "May I pick you up? You cannot fly and-"
"Its fine, Az. I'm always being picked up."
He looks flustered even with your consent, leaning over to (rather awkwardly) pick you up. He picks you up more like one would a child than anything else, only using one arm and basically pinning you to his side.
It's not the most comfortable to say the least. His clothes are thick enough though. You don't feel like you're pressed up against him. That would be... awkward.
The thought alone is enough to make you blush and frown in embarrassment.
Azrael flies very smoothly, seeming more like he's just swimming through the air than actively using his wings. It's still pretty scary to be up so high with someone you don't trust implicitly.
"How far away is-"
The sound of War growling is not one you're unfamiliar with, but the one that cuts off your half hearted complaint is. It's loud and vicious, raising the hair on your arms.
"Give. Me. My human."
Azrael sighs as you attempt to locate War. You get passed from the cloth covered angel to something unyielding and harsh. Something that makes you feel infinitely more comfortable. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around War's neck, asking, "Did you fuck him up?"
Azrael is saying something (totally cool, no doubt), but all you actually pay attention to is War's answering laugh.
"Into the Well! Hurry!"
You hate warping.