Uriel // Yuri Wesson (divinefire) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-09-20 00:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | uriel |
Who: Uriel
When: Saturday, 9/19
Where: SL-27
What: The aftermath
"Owwwww."
Even that low groan of pain cost the felled Archangel, the cool concrete of the floor against his cheek barely registering in light of the thousand other aches and pains wracking his beaten body. His eyes remained shut so as to not see the mangled wing that he could feel weighing down his shoulder, but the weight wasn't what it should have been. One was little more than charred by whatever in the fuck that broad had hit him with, the other, torn as proof of his shame and that bitch's trophy.
If nothing else, Uriel was already looking forward to hunting Pride's ass down and kicking the fucker in the throat. Because, damn.
It had only been the one chick! And some New Heathen Idol at that! Remy should have been enough to take care of her! She shouldn't have been able to down not only him but the Horseman as well, all for one damned building!
Granted, the mortal casualty still weighed heavily on the conscience most forgot he possessed, but still! If he and his brothers sought out every sonuvabitch who blew up one of their churches, one of their temples or holy houses? Nothing else would ever get accomplished. Losses were mourned, structures were rebuilt and life went on.
How the fuck could he have known how crazy the bitch really was?
Or how powerful. Admittedly, it had all been one big game even knowing that there was a pissed off heathen out for blood, and that's where pride had been Uriel's downfall. Oh, he'd been all sorts of excited to trade out the missile launcher for something a little more intimate, it had been eons since he'd last had the pleasure of drawing a sword, his sword, the one that had been captured by countless artists and mentioned by so many cracked out prophets. It still burned as bright as the last time he'd wielded it, and left him reeling with a little bit of awe in the power that was his to wield - something that had been too long set aside.
It had been fun for a while, damned near exhilarating really. Too long locked up with rules and restrictions made it all the more sweeter, the clash of metal on metal, God's Chosen Flame, the Red Horseman and some bitter little heathen goddess.
But somewhere, something went wrong, so very, very wrong, and somehow the bitter little heathen goddess was suddenly coming out on top...and after that it was all sorts of fucked up and hazy.
Which led to this point, of one angel, not-so-quietly whining for Death, and knowing the bastard wouldn't deliver, if only because he knew, he knew Michael was already out for his ass.
Good God above, he was so fucked.