[u]Country Home, Outskirts of Loom. Owned by Marcela, Seraph Angel, Former member of the Angelic Council.[/u] [i]Scrape.[/i] Just a little closer. He could see it, feel it calling out to him. [i]Scrape.[/i] He just had to keep dragging himself across the floor. [i]Scrape.[/i] Blood dripped down his chin. He wasn't sure if it was from his head wound or if he was biting his lip so hard his teeth had punctured it. [i]Scrape.[/i] Sloppy. Sloppy. He had gotten cocky and now Delilah was dead and his arm was broken, the bone scratching against the floor every time he moved. [i]Scrape.[/i] Delilah was in front of it. Her perfect eyes closed, those impossibly green orbs hidden from the world. She was slumped over, short brown hair tousled. She could have almost been asleep if you ignored the pool of blood beneath her and the unnatural angle of her neck. That [i]bastard.[/i] He had killed her! He couldn't accept his fate, and instead fought and now the mission was in ruins and Delilah was dead. But he'd pay. Oh yes. He'd pay. Just as soon as he could get to it, that Angelic bastard would pay. Said Angelic bastard was busily killing one of the demons that had come with them. Slowly, from the sounds of it. [i]Scra-Thump.[/i] He froze, shameful fear coursing through his body. The bastard couldn't be done. Not yet. The report had said he was obsessed with his hatred of demons. He should be taking his time with the demon. Then where had that armored boot come from? He laid there, arm halfway stretched out to pull him closer to his instrument, frozen in fear. Too scared to move. Too scared to look behind him. His eyes remained fixed on Delilah's corpse. Coward. He was just a coward and failure. It was almost a blessing to hear the whistling of a blade coming for him. [i]Shlunk![/i] Luicen yanked his sword out of the Wielder's neck, looking over at the only other living thing in the room. "I was impressed that you got two Musicians and a Battle Angel to come to your aid. It showed thinking ahead, which I didn't expect from you. But the two Demons disappointed me. Really? You sent two Surface Demons against [i]me[/i]. Survivor of the Great War and every war since? Pathetic." He glanced around again, making sure every enemy was dead. The two Musicians lay near each other, one neck snapped, the other with a sword wound through the back of their neck. The vampires were in the right corner of the room, mostly in tact but with chunks here and there. He had taken pleasure in killing them. The Battle Angel was slouched in the other corner, black wings folded brokenly behind him. His body was, at least. His head was near Marcela. Marcela laid in the middle of the ruined room, weeping and hugging herself, repeating 'my wings, my wings.' Her wings were damaged, the victims of multiple sword strokes. They were still attached, but flying would be out of the question for the next few months. If not years. If she heard him, she didn't give any sign. She was about his daughter's age when she was executed, their postures even similar before her death. Lucien's face twitched in sympathy, quickly overtaken by annoyance. "Calm down. I didn't cut them off. Which is more mercy than your precious Council gave my daughter. Really though. For someone in possession of a Clairvoyant you were terribly ill-prepared for my arrival. Speaking of, where is your Clairvoyant? I have need of their skills." Marcela glared at him through her tears. "Go to Hell, Deathbringer." "I've already been there. Killed hundreds of Demons before they pushed us out. 'Deathbringer.' That's another thing that disappoints me. In my time we gave nicknames and titles that were respectable, and made sense. 'Deathbringer' can be anyone with a weapon and a vendetta. 'Blood Reaver', now that was a nickname. We gave it to Alexander. Crazy bastard. He'd go into battle, armed with nothing but his fists and armoured in the thinnest of clothing. The Demons, of course, would go for him first, thinking him the weakest. As soon as he started bleeding, they started dying. He used his own blood to craft weapons and armor, slaughtering them by the dozens. It was fortunate for the Cowards he died when Heaven fell. He wouldn't have stood for what they had done." Lucien took a few steps towards her, kicking a Demon head out of the way. "You're going to tell me where your Clairvoyant is, Marcela. It's just a matter of when. I can make your death last longer than these scum." He gestured towards the mutilated corpses of the two vampires, obviously killed slowly. Fear shown behind her eyes, but her face was set in stubbornness. "Why? What did they do to you? They weren't even alive during your war. They are innocent." Lucien's laugh was hateful and mocking as he approached, now standing over her. "[i]Innocent?[/i] There are no innocent Demons. They are all scum, monsters who deserve to be eradicated from the Three Worlds entirely. They exist only to make war and ruin lives." "Really? Then why are we at peace with them right now?" Marcela snapped, trying to crawl away. Lucien waved a hand as he took a step towards her, keeping her within sword range. "It's a trick. They're going to betray you and the Musicians as soon as they are strong enough." Marcela shook her head, giving up on her half-hearted escape. "I don't think so. It's too good for them now, too easy to get a meal and not be hunted. They can even breed with Angels like your daughter and neither side wil be-" Her sentence was suddenly cut off in a shriek of pain as Lucien's metal boot smashed into her face, shattering her nose. "Do not speak of her!" He snarled, kicking her in the face again. "You know [i]nothing.[/i]" Kick. "You think you have [i]peace?[/i]" Kick. Teeth shattered, the shards cutting her mouth and tongue. "Where was your [i]peace[/i] when Chime was slain?" Kick. Her head snapped back and hit the floor with a pain thud. Lucien's boot was covered with blood and spit and she was clearly nearly unconscious or dead, but he didn't seem to notice or care as he drew his foot up to smash his heel into her face again. "Stop!" Lucien whirled around, sword at the ready, at the young voice. A young Angel, barely 12, ran past him, throwing himself in front of Marcela. "Leave her alone! It's me you want!" Lucien looked down at him, rage slowly flowing away. "The Clairvoyant." The boy nodded, glaring at him. Lucien crouched down, bringing himself eye level with him. "Tell me what I want to know, I and will leave you both alone for the rest of eternity." Marcela had seemed to regain some form of consciousness, and was struggling. She was babbling some panicked words that Lucien couldn't make out, but he assumed she was trying to get the Clairvoyant boy away from him. The boy ignored her, hate and worried filled eyes fixed on Lucien. "You promise?" "I give you my word." That seemed to satisfy the boy, who took a deep breath before continuing. "What do you want?" Lucien gave a grim smile. "Where are Ariane and Hazumi." The boy blinked in surprise and some relief. "Oh them? That's easy. They're in a place I've never seen before. It's all white and filled with ruins. But there's a growing blackness and danger there." Lucien was very still. [i]There. Why would they return there....[/i]. "Thank you." He stood, beginning to leave the room before turning around and looking at the Clairvoyant as he held his mother's battered and wounded body, weeping. "A piece of advice, boy? Get her and yourself away from Loom. As far as possible. It's a focal point for trouble, and a storm is brewing on the horizon." The boy looked up, tears streaming down his face as he glared at Lucien. "You're going to pay for this." Lucien nodded, a sad smile on his lips. "I am. But it will happen long before you're strong enough to exact revenge. Don't go on that path. It leads to nothing but death and ruin." With that, he left the building, heading towards Heaven's Gate.