A Discussion with Blades
Wrath stood further towards the back of the three groups during the meeting, listening as the three leaders shared information and generally reaffirmed the terms of the single most shaky alliance the Nephilim had ever seen. Angels and Demons were already naturally...well, to say distrusting of each other would be one of the greatest understatements he’d ever heard, but he could nary think of a better way to phrase it; humans, likewise, held little to no trust for Heaven or Hell, though Wrath liked to blame the Hierarchy for the distrust held for Heaven. A small contingent of the Army of Light, about a thousand angels strong, had come to Brightwater Isle under Zarrath’s command, who stood to Kushiel’s left, silently listening and watching. He hadn’t said a word since entering the room and had at some point recognized Gomory, but he was there was a commander of Heaven’s forces, so anything else would have to wait.
When it adjourned, the Nephilim followed his friend and mentor out as Kushiel flew off. ”Quite the chain of events, eh old friend?” The archangel he walked next to didn’t reply right away, a hand still resting on his katana’s hilt as they walked. When they reached a quiet alcove, a pond at one end, opposite where they’d come in, he finally spoke, angels of the Army of Light flying in formation through the air on patrol, only seeable every so often from where they stood.
”They may be, but my concern is with the future, not the past. Such as what will become of this island once the Seal is either safe or destroyed? And how long can Gomory keep her demons in check before they decide they’d rather fight us than Vega and these other Nephilim? Even our own forces are wary of an alliance with Hell’s forces, many have openly stated their distrust of the demons.” Wrath, sighing, took a seat on a nearby bench and pulling Death’s Rain free of it’s back holster, removing the clip and inspecting the “barrel” while speaking.
”And what about Ladonna? Or Bael? Or even Sonna? What do they think?” The archangel held out his hand as a butterfly landed on his finger, the sun catching it’s iridescent wings and reflecting off them slightly, humming thoughtfully before answering.
”Bael trusts me, as do Ladonna and Sonna. The four of us have been Uriel’s Striking Fist for millenium. Still, they don’t trust the lesser Demons here; Bael even has something of a betting pool going to see how long before a Minion attacks a human.”
That drew a laugh from the Nephilim as he replaced the clip and put the automatic crossbow back in it’s holster before flicking out the blades of the Wrath Dealers, cleaning them though they likely didn’t need it. ”That sounds exactly like Bael. I’m honestly not worried about the Demons, it’s the Hierarchy that concerns me.” Zarrath sighed, though he knew that Heaven’s Nephilim had a good point. The Hierarchy was prone to...not so innocent accidents when it came to Hell’s denizens and the members of the Third Kingdom and they rarely, if ever, apologized for it. As Wrath worked on his weapons, Zarrath had an idea to help alleviate both their worries, something they’d done to destress during Wrath’s early years, not to mention if his frustration grew enough, he’d yell about what was really bothering him, as the archangel could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.
The Nephilim had only a moment’s warning, but that was all it took, the bladed gauntlets held up in a block as the black bladed katana sparked off them. His counter-attack was just as fast, a right hook aimed to land in Zarrath’s gut, but it found nothing but air as the archangel had flapped his wings once to slide back out of range of the counter, a trick he should have seen coming. ”You’re distracted, but not by concerns of Demons or the Hierarchy. What truly bothers you?” No response was immediately forthcoming as Wrath drew Rage Bringer and swung the sword in a vicious overhead arc. A rune flashed to life on the black-bladed katana briefly before a runic shield appeared in the great sword’s path, blocking it and allowing the archangel to race forwards into range of his own blade, unleashing a series of three quick slashes that force the Nephilim to go on the defensive, blocking the first two by simply putting the flat of the blade between himself and the katana, but the third required that he hop back and to the right, straight into a Cleansing Spear rune that sent Wrath sprawling. ”You going to open up and talk or are we going to keep this up?”
The sounds of the combat could be heard by anyone nearby, even as Wrath picked himself up off the ground and didn’t reply, instead opting to reassume his ready stance, which drew a sigh from the Archangel as he took his own. ”You could have given me some warning you weren't holding back.” As his sparring opponent raised an eyebrow, the Nephilim pushed off the ground towards him, bringing his sword around in a spinning horizontal slash, a move with enough momentum behind it that Zarrath opted to dodge back away from it than try to block it. His counter-attack was swift, however, as the black katana moved forwards in a thrust before transitioning into a slash to the left. Wrath parried both and then locked their blades between them and throwing a punch into Zarrath’s gut, a right hook that had missed its mark before. This time it was the Archangel’s turn to be sent sprawling, not that it lasted for long; he picked himself up before dashing forwards with the aid of his wings, a thrust delivered at high speeds that the Nephilim deflected to the flat of his blade.
It proved to be the wrong move to block, however, as the angel’s own fist connected with Wrath’s right cheek, spinning the spawn of Angel and Demon bones spinning away and back to the ground. Spitting a bit of blood as he rubbed his cheek, Wrath finally sighed in defeat. ”Fine, fine, I give. It’s these other Nephilim, the ones after the Seals for their own reasons. Aeon and Void are the only two I’ve met and…”he sighs again, standing and sheathing Rage Bringer, “I don’t know what to feel. I mean, I’ve had centuries to prepare for finally meeting Death, War, Strife and Fury, a meeting I don’t expect to be peaceful unless I still serve the Council, but these ones out of the blue? I mean...how?”
Zarrath sheathed Shadowsteel as he considered the best response, relative silence once more reclaiming the alcove and the birds and insects returning. ”I wish I could offer you some kind of answer, but this is as much a surprise to us as it is you. If she weren’t so busy hiding in Hell, I would find Lilith and force the answers from her wretched mouth, but no angel goes to Hell and returns unscathed, even Hellguard.” Noticing the discouraged look on his former student’s face, he approaches him and rests a hand on his shoulder. ”You will get answers, Wrath; that much I can promise. I just...can’t promise when.” Looking to his friend, the Nephilim nods before returning to his seat at the bench after turning it upright, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.