Syrie

"... Former angel of the Angel's Army, hereby acknowledges and agrees to the never ending and unalterable nature of this contract with the heavens by signing her name in blood. In doing so she states that she signs under no influence but her own," the priest intoned.
Here Syrie signed the contract, and threw the quill used to the side. The priest merely nodded in her direction before disappearing, with the signed parchment, into the depths of the church.
Syrie exited the secret stairway and emerged into the dark and deserted church above. She sighed and sat down on the pews nearest to the front, and buried her head in her hands. She could feel the hallowed nature of the church healing her, and mourned the loss of a perfectly good buzz. Without the effects of the alcohol, this whole thing began to make very little sense. She had
only a vague recollection of the reasoning that had lead her to sign the blood contract. She was now forever bound to it. She had to kill the demonic angel now living in her dorm.
Checking her watch, Syrie discovered that it was already two o'clock in the morning. She leaned back against the pew's back, and wished she could just sit and sleep
here. A quiet rustling alerted her to the fact that the priest was coming back. Realizing she would rather not have to answer questions, Syrie rose and took her leave from St. Michael's. The outside air was cool and refreshing, in sharp contrast to her dark mood. Even the moon mocked her, shedding more light down than usual when she would rather sulk in the dark.
"I'm beginning to think nature just hates me," she murmured, "And now I'm talking to myself. First sign of insanity, Syrie."
Chuckling without humor, she began the long, slow walk home, to the inevitable questions waiting, and the bringer
of the greatest sorrow she had ever experienced.

Mem

At the dorm, Mem, without knowing it, was mourning the loss of the same man Syrie was.
She had taken her single medal out of it's box, and was tossing it up in the air and catching it. Up, catch the light, back down. Up, down, rise, fall. She had recieved it four years after losing the man who had replaced both father and mother as she grew up. She could still clearly recall him telling her to be patient and that, if she could wait, they would realize what a great guardian they had. The whole thing had been almost surreal. Her first medal, a moment that she had always imagined sharing with him, seemed to mock his absence. She closed her eyes and plunged into her memories.
Greg had been the greatest weapons master in the history of the school. He was a huge man with at least a million scars, but he always had a kind word for everyone, and knew more about a weapon after
seeing it for five seconds than its owner ever could. She remembered him as a huge grin, a kind blue eye regarding her work, a rough, always too loud voice praising her efforts. He hadn't cared who her parents were, as long as she was willing to work hard and learn. She had been under his guidance for four years when they were assigned a mission together.
She was only ten years old, but another three angels, along with Greg, had been assigned to the mission. It was a simple one. They were to make a routine visit to the five factories that produced the raw materials he used in his weapons. The other guardians were merely there so that it would seem official, because nothing could possibly go wrong. She sometimes wondered, if they had been seasoned warriors, whether they would have survived.
The first four visits went off without a hitch. He found only one minor problem, in the third factory they visited. He told them that their gunpowder
wasn't working as well as he expected. They apologized (sullenly) and promised to prepare it according to his preferred proportions.
Admittedly, the mission had been very, very boring. By the fifth factory, the other three guardians were listless and impatient to get back home. Greg, however, had insisted, saying he didn't want to let this go another month. Mem herself had not complained, even though her wing muscles, unaccustomed to long flights, were screaming for her to stop. Tired, dusty, and (in the other's case) complaining, they had arrived. The grumbling of the other angels covered up the eerie silence in the factory. They were inside before Greg noticed that no one was there. Putting a finger to his lips to warn them to be silent, he had continued into the factory. The silence grew oppressive, and Mem had clung to Greg's side in fear. The factory was completely abandoned. Cobwebs grew over machine parts that should have been in constant
motion, and a fine layer of dust coated everything. The group had reached the center of the factory before they attacked. The first they saw of the demons was when a Triblade demon* took off the Korean angel's head. Mem had been terrified. She had thought nothing could be more terrifying than the ominous silence, but this was worse by far. Blood was suddenly everywhere as another two Triblade demons joined the fight. Greg grabbed her and ran, leaving the others to fend for themselves. Other demons began to appear out of the woodwork as well. Legions of lower demons; Vipers, Wolf, Spitfire, Gorgons, Hellhounds.* Here was a veritable army of the things, camped out within miles of one of the largest angel cities! They had to be killed, but the others were down, probably dead, and only two fighters were left, one of them a mere child. They had hidden in a storage area, Mem pale and shaking, Greg quiet but thoughtful. He'd gently put her down, smiling.
"Are we going to die?" she'd whispered, terrified.
"Hey, do you think we're in trouble? You've got me! I've got to be worth at least ten other angels, right?" he said, grinning.
Unsure but wanting to believe him, Mem had smiled, hoping he had a plan.
He told her to sit tight while he arranged some things. "Those demons are about to have a very bad day."
Mem had sat still while he dug through the available supplies and, with a minimum amount of sound, set up a series of bombs. "Okay honey. I'm going to go and set these up. When I open that door, you've got to be the first one out. Fly as hard and fast as you can, and get to that little town we passed on the way in. Tell someone to fly to Sparrow's Nest as fast as possible and warn them. It's important that you follow my instructions to the letter. I don't care what you hear, keep going. The lives of those people may depend on you."
Scared, she protested, "But what about you?"
"Don't worry about me kid, I'll be right behind you, okay?"
"Okay. I'll do my best!" she'd said happily, trusting in him to save them both.
He'd edged up to the door with him behind her and slowly edged it open. There wasn't a demon in sight, so he told her to move and not forget his instructions. She lept into the air, and was abruptly surrounded by minor demons. They clawed at her, but she kept going. Finding an empty window, she had dived outside and angled herself towards the town Greg had mentioned. She had barely arrived and was hurriedly telling another me angel to get to Swallow's Nest and warn them of the danger when the factory suddenly ceased to exist. A huge explosion tore through it, and all that was left were the smoldering ruins. A wave of heat flew at them, almost knocking Mem over.
"NO!" she'd screamed, trying to get back, to find Greg, so save him somehow. The angel grabbed her wrist, shouting words she didn't hear over her own. He pulled her back kicking and screaming, restraining her from going back to the fiery ruin.
In the end she had been forcibly given a sleeping draught and had slept for the remainder of the day and well into the next, when she had woken up in a holding cell run by the Angel's Army. Sitting up, Mem had dully registered her surroundings. There was no split instant where she thought everything was okay and Greg was alive. How could she forget the destruction of her world? She sat by herself in that cell and cried as she never had for anyone else.
She was left alone all of that day, the only exception being food pushed in through a slot in the door that she ignored.
The next day she was called in for questioning regarding the deaths of their three guardians and her mentor.
This continued for two weeks straight, her answering their questions with dull indifference, them getting more and more infuriated as her story remained unchanged every time they asked questions. Eventually they dropped all charges against her and allowed her to go home, but the distrust followed her. She was used to being talked about, but this was worse. Hate mail arrived daily, students at school avoided her and she was left alone constantly while the adults spoke about her behind her back. The loneliness suited her, and she did not seek out comfort from either her peers or adults. How could they know what she had lost? Let them think what they will; the only person whose opinion had mattered was gone.
She attended his funeral, where they buried a barely recognizable corpse. He deserved better, but it was what it was. She didn't remember much but the outraged mutterings of the crowd when she had slipped out of her hiding place in an overhanging tree to place flowers on his grave. She had left not long afterwards, unable to take the waves of hate coming at her from all sides.
She had thrown herself into her training for the AA, but could no longer force herself to take a weapons class.

Sighing, she sat up and replaced the medal in its box. It had been six years, but thinking about how good and brave he had been still brought tears to her eyes. Shaking her head, she changed and slid into bed. Hopefully, her dreams would be good ones. At least her subconscious could be positive.

Vee: Hey everyone. Sorry about the super late update. I 3 all of you! Reviews appreciated, reading appreciated more. If you like this story, please also check out my other one, Family Reunion. I also have a bunch of polls up i'd love it if you guys helped me out with