Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg
Chapter: 13
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me and Food-for-mind
Author's Note: Sequel to Angel of War
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A few moments after his brother-in-law had interrupted the moment he had been having with his mate, War arrived downstairs in full armour, calling loudly for his siblings. Fury and Death were already waiting, Caim having send Kunopegos – who he had been talking to when he had been informed – to warn the two Riders. No one knew where Strife had gone after the incident that morning.
Mere minutes later the three were riding for the river while Caim summoned more of his Fallen to assist. Despite being a scholar rather than a warrior, Azrael insisted on joining.
They did not need to bother with tracking the two girls upon arrival at the river; a trail of demons lead deeper into the gorges and canyons the river passed through after the shield. They did not bother checking how they had died, though the fact that many were torn to pieces implicated the local wildlife. War felt his heart contract when realizing that the demons were chasing his daughters straight to manticore-terrority and he was not even sure whether Grace took her sword for defence.
He felt like a Watcher was contracting his chest when the demon-corpses stopped, forcing the three Riders to slow down so they could track the wildlife that apparently had kept chasing the two angels even after the demons had fled back to Hell. At least that allowed the angels to catch up to them.
"Now it would have been nice to have Strife around." Fury was leaning down from her horse. "He's the better tracker, by far."
"No time to mourn that one now." Death followed her while looking up at the Fallen. "Caim! Tell your Fallen to split up!"
Azrael's brother nodded, with a few gestures sending groups of four out in different directions. The two Archangels flew straight ahead.
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A good distance away, Grace was sheltering her little sister in a small crevice that was too small for the creatures trying to get to them outside. Granted, none came remotely close enough to even try reaching for them.
Strife was standing in front of the opening, using the one gun he had brought to kill any who dared.
Regret had been de-summoned, the mare having been wounded by some of the beasts – Strife had been furious and unloaded two clips into the one responsible. Even now, there was already a small pile of corpses.
The half-angel briefly looked down on her sister. The youngest child of War and Azrael was burying her face in the dress of her sibling. True to her Nephilim-nature, little Gabriel did not make a sound, but she was trembling.
Grace wrapped her wings around the small form, bemoaning forgetting her sword.
Her eyes snapped up when hearing rending metal. They widened when seeing her uncle be smashed against the rock wall just beside the opening.
The black-haired Nephilim snarled, frost slowly covering the area around him.
"I really didn't want to do this without Mercy, but alas…" A small, local and yet deadly fierce icestorm briefly surrounded the Gunner, freezing some of the beasts outright. Inside of it, his form grew to tower even over War's Chaosform. Grace had seen the more powerful form of her father only once, but she knew instinctively what her Uncle turned into.
Ice briefly coated her wings as the bipedal, wingless dragon roared at the creatures in front of it. Jagged ice protruded from the dark blue-grey skin of his shoulders and hips and freezing air came from his gaping maw.
Despite sending several of the lesser beasts running, it seemed as if the form was unstable, leaking cold in several places. Grace realized in horror why; Nephilim need their bonded weapons to hold their more powerful forms… Strife lacked one of his, having left Mercy at the fortress and Redemption alone was useless in helping maintain this form. She could even see it on the ground under some ice. It was quite a feat he had managed to turn to begin with. She only hoped that the form would outlast those of the creatures that were still there.
Several died to wild swings, contact with the form causing ice to appear that penetrated deep into their flesh. Indeed, for a few moments, it seemed as if Grace's hopes would be warranted and Strife's form would outlast his opponents. Seeing several of the others deep-frozen, many turned tail.
The only warning of their changing fortunes was a deep ping-like sound followed by whooshing air. The massive form protecting the two angels turned to the sound, backing away some.
It was no use.
A pair of the aerial top-predators had been alerted to the slaughter and the food it provided. Instead of waiting for the fighting to be over, they had instead chosen to get fresh meat: the pair had picked the half-ice dragon that was the second oldest of the Horsemen.
Sharp horns, evolved specifically to penetrate even the toughest hide would normally not even bother a Chaos-form Nephilim. But Strife was not in a proper form… and as such the two managed to do the impossible and bury their horns in the Nephilim.
Strife's voice was disturbingly like the one he regularly had when he screamed in agony. He managed to beat them away from him, breaking the horns off and killing the two creatures. He now truly fell apart, ice breaking off as the form faded into snow and a decidedly humanoid form started falling to the ground.