"I've seen how you demons express your love; it's with scars and violence." Fréa snarls, gritting her teeth againts the pain.
She spreads her wings and flexes them, powerfully, the resultant burst of wind creating a barrier seperating them from the rest of the battle.
Fréa twists away, her fingers hooking against something. She pulls, and looks down at her hand to see Malacin's mask. She tosses it away, looking at. . . at. . .
She shook her head, confused. "But- wait. No. It isn't possible for angels to become demons and have children."
Malacin was a dark skinned woman, with red markings all over her body, wrapping up her neck in tendrils. Her mask and hair had covered many of her defining features, including her horns, but once the mask was tossed away, one could see just who Malacin was, a half demon.
Fréa shakes her head, clearing it. "No, you're just an impure half-blood. No angels blood in you."
"Come at me again." she challenges, holding her chain daggers steady and in seperate offensive and defensive positions.
"Oh for fucks sake, I bet you aren't any better!" Malacin ducked bellow Frea, headbutting her chin and knocking her helmet off. "See, half-blood, just like me."
Fréa glares.
Sure enough, angelic runes and sigils were inscribed in gold ink across her face, scrolling gracefully down her neck, spelling out exactly what she was destined for in her life.
"I may be a half-blood, but I don't damn my own kind to their own fates." she snaps, bringing an elbow covered in brightsteel down on the back of Malacin's neck, knocking her to the ground, allowing Fréa to fall back.
Malacin fell to the ground, looking up as she attempted to read the runes and sigils on the other's face, trying to figure out what exactly this woman, this brutal, amazing, horrible woman was destined for.
Fréa looks down at Malacin imperiously.
"Read these marks well, woman and remember: I am destined to be of the highest ranks of the Middle Choir. I am destined to be a Dominion, one of those who decides the fate of this world." she snaps. "Remember who I am when I send your soul screaming back to your God forsaken master."
But she didn't strike just yet. Not while Malacin was prone.
Malacin smiled sadly, before whistling loudly. As soon as she made the noise, a large group of demons swarmed the area where they were, hoisting Malacin up and retreating, but not without throwing another dagger, aimed at Frea's neck.
Fréa dodges easily.
She says a soft word, and a rod of lightning appears in the air, hovering, before going straight for Malacin's heart.
One of Malacin's men dives infront of it, heroically taking the strike to his own heart, letting Malacin and the rest of her troop to retreat safely into the distance, far enough away to where Frea couldn't get them.
Fréa watches the demons escape, dispelling her twin daggers with a huff. The toll of the battle finally catches up with her, and she winces, clutching her shoulder and gut.
She was pooting golden ichor, which stained the ground and made it blossom with strange flora.
Her regeneration factor wasn't helping her much, but it was enough to keep her standing.
She stumbles out, and summons her swords again, losing herself in the heat of the battle, not stopping until the entirety of the enemy's forces were dead behind her. She was panting, hard, but she spreads her wings and takes flight, summoning thousands of slivers of holy light, sending the crashing down to the battlefield below, to neutralize any targets left.
(Sprry mate, I don't have access to my laptopmwith notwbooknon it atm, so I can't so shit rn )
(Ah, lol; it's all cool, I saw you online and thought I'd nudge this. no worries tho!)
