Wrath (ire) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-03-07 01:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | andras, wrath |
Who: Wrath and Andras
Where Wrath's apartment
When: Very late evening
Warnings: TBD
She had called to them but no one came to her rescue. She was broken. Her body was rent, torn and brutalized but her weakness came from his prayers. She was icy, her face blue and her lips pale in a heavy contrast to the Fire that burned constantly within her. It had frozen in the face of his words, frozen and then snapped, leaving her with nothing. The tears continued to stream down her face even as she staggered home, already planning revenge. She would decimate Ishtar for lending her power to Death's cause. She would report to the voice, would tell the GOP what had happened without actually lying. She would draw those who had promised themselves to her and she would reignite with flames hot enough to burn the entire city to the ground.
And yet... Wrath was ashamed, yet again. She had failed her Master by not being able to withstand the attack. She had failed her Prince for breaking down and sobbing as the words of he who commanded Death had torn through her, weakening her to the point where her very hold on existence was spluttering like an engine dying in an old-fashioned car. Wrath had managed to stumble home and even with her entire body bleeding and broken, she managed to make it upstairs to her apartment.
But she collapsed in the hallway just inside her door and called out weakly. "Andras, my Prince. I am cold. I am weakened. Help." She bled from almost every part of her body, her power not strong enough to heal her as Death's prayers had taken everything but the last vestige of Hell within her. "Please." She called out, shamed by the tear tracks down her face, shamed by the weakness displayed and desperate for her Prince to help her yet again.