Dwindling Glory - Lament of the Fallen IC

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ALEXANDRE WHITE
Alex sat in a corner, now dressed -- well, after a fashion. The shirt had been uncomfortably snug in uncomfortable places so he had to take it off, instead opting to drape the blanket over his shoulders. He was, at any rate, pensive. Thoughts about Jason, Uriel and whatever the fuck was going on in Vancouver running rampant in his head. He was pretty certain that if anything, his priority would be to get back to his precinct and help out. The force would need every hand that day, and probably in days to come if it was any indication of things yet to occur.

The food was a welcome break, with Alex wolfing down everything he was given. Transforming left him hungry sometimes, and this was one of those times when he was just ravenous. Alex had felt Leon's eyes raking over his body and it reminded him that he hadn't had any in some time. Not that he would want to have sex with Leon, but he suddenly felt quite cheeky. He caught Leon's gaze, winked and parted the blanket covering his abdomen a bit. He wondered if the Spiteful would get flustered at his actions.

"Well, my father is well connected, I should say. I haven't personally had many dealings with the Hand. My father takes care of that for the Pack" Alex mused. He looked around the houseboat, thinking are there any godsdamned windows in this thing?. He wanted to get a better view of the outdoors. "The first thing I have to do is get back to the precinct. I'm pretty sure they'll need my help, what with all the chaos that's probably going on in the city." Alex gestured at Jillian "Jillian, I think you might need to find another place to stay. Your current place isn't very secure and now that Uriel's aware of your involvement, I think it best you stay at my home which is warded... rudimentarily at least."

Alex locked his gaze on to Leon's, with a subtle smirk on his face. "Now, I think you've got no problems with the residence thing... If anything the last place they would look is a houseboat. But the offer stands for you as well." Alex fell silent when Leon reached over and turned the radio on, licking the burger juices from his fingers while they listened to the deluge of radio static. Bits and pieces of what were probably public service announcements came through here and there but none had any mention of casualties. "...Huh? That's odd. Was it just me or was there nothing about casualties? Not even injuries, if I'm not mistaken."
 
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Jillian Aiya

As much as Jillian hated the thought of not being able to go home and just recharge in her own personal space, Alex had a good point. Especially of what Leon had said about her doorman was true. "Alright, that's probably for the best. I do need to go back and at least get my research and an overnight bag." There was no way that even during the apocalypse she was going without clean underwear at the very least. And the research materials at her home were essential, although with her newly gained knowledge thanks to Raziel she wouldn't be needing to lug her entire library now.

The thought that Leon might accompany her to Alex's place was strangely comforting. He was supposed to be her body guard after all, but just the thought of having someone around while she was in a strange new place made her feel a little bit better about having to give up her own creature comforts. She might be able to grill him for more information on this Hand of Thoth business... or even just get to know him a little better. If they were going to be paired up for a while it just made sense, right? For some reason the idea made her smile.

Alex's observation cut through her thoughts and Jillian replayed the radio announcement in her mind. "Well... that's good isn't it? Either there actually are no casualties or injuries which is incredibly fortunate or they're not reporting them which will keep people from being in a panic. Well. More of a panic." She added as an afterthought, remembering the many pillars of smoke billowing from the city as they drove out of it. So many synchronized attacks was bound to breed fear in the public and where there was fear there was sure to be hysteria. As much as she hated to say it, Alex probably was needed badly and they had a lot of work to do if she was to help get to the bottom of what was going on. Maybe even find the key to stopping it, although at the moment that goal seemed far out of reach.

"I'll go put my pants on." Resignedly announced Jillian as she stood and, unlike a certain werelion, tried not to flash her bits before walking from the living area and up the stairs to Leon's bedroom where her clothes lay in a wrinkled pile. She pulled on her jeans but kept Leon's shirt; it didn't look half bad and didn't smell like smoke at least. It wasn't long before she was decent and walking back down to where she left the boys.
 
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Leon the Spiteful

Dark eyebrows lifted at the werelion's gesture, amusement tugging at the corners of the Spiteful's mouth. No doubt about it, the detective was one incredibly handsome specimen... He mentally noted to revisit that subtle invitation at a later date, when the world wasn't seemingly falling down around them.

Leon relaxed back against the front wall of the houseboat, arms behind his head and legs crossed at the ankle. His posture betrayed none of the prickling tension he was feeling. "I'll go with you to your apartment, Jillian, and make sure you get to Alex's safely." His tone left no room for argument. Tawny eyes commanded his attention, and he met the blonde man's smirk with a predatory one of his own. "Thanks, Simba. I'll grab my sleeping bag." He winked, trying out the new nickname with a little too much enthusiasm.

The vampire nodded at Alex's assessment, brows furrowing thoughtfully at his and Jillian's words. "A widespread attack like that, but no casualties? What was the point of it, then? Why would they bother with petty property damage... Unless the entire point was to cause panic. In which case, they succeeded."

His thoughts wandered back to that morning, when they had narrowly escaped Vincent Moore's house and the homicidal angel inside. He replayed the entire thing in his mind, even though much of it was a blur; he barely heard Jillian announce that she was going to put on pants, something he would most certainly object to if he'd been paying attention. After she disappeared upstairs, Leon looked over at Alex, rocking forward out of his previously lax position. He regarded the detective with a serious expression, asking in a quiet voice, "How did we escape, exactly? I could've sworn I saw... I mean... She had wings, didn't she??"

Dark brown eyes flicked up to fix a hard gaze on Jillian when she returned downstairs. "Hey, speaking of not dying... What happened back there? How did we escape? What did you do?"
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Alex flushed at Leon's smirk, drawing the blanket over his well-formed abdomen. He still wasn't entirely sold on the idea of moving on and still wanted to at least try to get Jason back. After all, if Leon had come back, why couldn't Jason? All that being said, if and when he did get his dearly beloved back, he wouldn't be entirely too opposed to a menage a trois... He shook his head to clear it of the thought. This was not the time to be thinking of such things. However, having spent two years only in the company of his mind and his hand, Alex couldn't really help it sometimes.

Alex growled at the nickname. God, he hated it. He could not count how many times he'd heard the joke early on in his childhood. His family was one of the few were-lion families, and at the time he had been the only were-lion cub in the pack. Everyone had taken to calling him Simba and at the time he could only growl with frustration. Thankfully it hadn't stuck around and people matured enough to start calling him something else. "Please don't call me that, Leon" Alex mumbled, shooting a sharp glance at the Spiteful.

"We don't know what's going on yet. If there were no casualties, then it may have been, as you said, simply to cause panic..." Alex trailed off when a horrible idea came to the forefront of his conscious. The Heavenly Host, as barbaric as their tactics may seen have never, according to the history Jason and his father had taught him, ever resorted to simple petty scare tactics. No, this seemed like something even more ulterior. "It may have been simply to cause panic but that seems petty. Panic can be solved and displaced people given other homes. No, Leon, I fear that it was about sending a message. 'We've infiltrated your networks and we can strike whenever we want, your security and plans be damned.'"

Alex wanted to phone his dad, but his phone was somewhere in the now-smoldering ruins of Vincent Moore's house. Besides, now that the thought had entered his mind, he was understandably paranoid of angelic agents keeping close tabs on important phone lines in this time of crisis. He would have to wait until they could get back to his home to talk to his father. Alex leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. This was the conflict that the pack had been trying to prepare for, the conflict that their agents in the Hand of Thoth had been arming the organization for. However, if what he knew was right, they were far from prepared.

The Shadow council had not even been called together yet. Their communications would be secure, but that security was contingent on there being no traitors in their midst. The First Peoples and the True Feeders were the most problematic as both 'races' had portions of the population sympathetic to the Heavenly Host. The implications of that day were simply too large that Alex had to remind himself that there was little, if anything, he could do about the larger picture at this moment. He had to remind himself that he had to solve the problems in front of him first before he could do anything else.

Alex met Leon's eyes. The question was odd and definitely derailed Alex's train of thought. It did make sense, though. He met Leon's serious gaze with one of his own. He didn't really clearly remember what had happened after Uriel disappeared but he did notice that Jillian was glowing. "In case you didn't notice... I was a bit too busy being furry, Leon. I don't know about wings, but... I did notice she was glowing. And that she had managed to open the door when every possible exit had just been hurling us back."

Alex's eyes followed Jillian as she came back down the stairs. He met her eyes with a curious, expectant gaze.

---

Twang. Whizz. Thunk. The deer let out an alarmed neigh as it realized it was The Hunter's quarry. Leaves rustled and twigs broke in the underbrush once as it tried to gallop away to out-pace its predator. Its nostrils flared, taking in the earthy scent of the forest as it charged in a vain effort to get away. Behind it, quiet as the night, the Hunter loped after it. Twang. Whizz. Thunk.

The Hunter hated this part of the forest, it was too densely wooded to land his shots properly. He sighed as the bow and arrow were his favourite hunting implements, but other, more basal methods were available to him. He hung his clothes, bow and arrow on a low-hanging bough and leapt out of the underbrush. With a mighty roar, a Jaguar pounced on the deer, killing it swiftly with a crushing bite to its neck. It sat there for a moment, licking its paws free of the prey's blood before it started padding towards the place where it had left its bow and arrow.

There was a rustle to the Jaguar's left. Startled, a Bear took the Jaguar's place and roared at the unwelcome intrusion. Out of the foliage appeared a horse with a slick coat and water weed in its mane. It was the Each Uisge, a dear friend to the Bear's heart. They nuzzled each other happily. He hadn't seen the Each Uisge in some time and they had spent very little time together when they had last met.

Lighthearted chuckling filled the forest, startling the both of them which prompted the Bear stood on its hind legs and roar yet again. There was a brilliant flash of light followed by the scent of ice and sulfur and all of a sudden a beautiful man whose very skin glowed stood before the two. "Cernunnos, Aodhán, it's been a long time..." Both of the beasts' eyes went wide. The bear, the one named Cernunnos, transformed back into a man, naked, and a strapping likeness of the beauty in front of them.

"Father!" He ran towards the Fallen Angel and embraced him. "What brings you to the Hunt?"

His partner, the water horse, walked towards the two and smiled. "Morning Star, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm sure the two of you and your brethren have yearned for a real Hunt for a very long time... It has begun. You must wake from the Hunt. There is very little time left to us" To Cernunnos he whispered "There is a Lion you must teach the way of the daggers to. You must. Or there will be no hope for us all."
 
Jillian Aiya

Her foot had just com into contract with the worn, filthy carpet at the foot of the stairs and her hand still rested on the railing when she say Alex's and Leon's expectant looks. Crap. Maybe it would pass and they wouldn't ask about-

Leon asked about how they got out.

Damnit.

Jillian looked from one man to the other, wondering if she should tell them, her mind racing. Surely neither of them would understand what she did or why; she had essentially entered into a deal with the enemy after all. Surely if they knew she would be kept out of things, no longer trusted and no longer seen as a true ally. And she was; she couldn't afford to be kept in the dark now, not when so much was riding on her to make sense of the sigils and just what all this meant.

And so with that in mind Jillian's eloquent response was: "Um... what?" As she stepped into the dingy living room, her hands in her pockets as she looked from Leon to Alex and back. Her mind raced. There was no simply denying what had happened, even in the thick of the chaos what she had done was glaringly obvious. Even in her strange dream-like state while it was going on she knew that much was true. And a lie of omission wasn't that bad when it was built with truth, right? Looking down at her feet, unable to meet either Alex or Leon's eyes as she spoke, she raised her shoulders in what she hoped was a shy shrug.

"Well... I don't know what happened exactly. It seemed like everything slowed down after that angel... after Uriel... just left us to die." She glanced up, pulling her hands from her pockets in order to gesture as she spoke. The sigil on her chest seemed like a weight; something she should share, but just wasn't able to. Not yet. "And in that weird slow-motion space, something just... I don't know. It clicked. The sigil he made, the one in the study and the blocks on the exits... they made a weird sort of sense." Jillian was pacing now, gesturing as she spoke unsurely but excitedly. It was true, barring the lack of mention of just who had helped her make sense of them. She said a mental thank you and apology to Raziel. "Once I saw that I was able to unlock the door." Raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, she stopped her movement to look at the two men. "I... that's all I've got. Whatever I gained in that moment of clarity, I'm still working on. I need my research and I feel like I can crack this thing. I feel like I... like we have a shot if I'm able to."

The telling of it, the admission of what had happened- at least in part- seemed to energize Jillian. She was ready to go, eager even, and she flashed Alex a smile. "Are you going to the station in that blanket or are you still flirting? Let's move it, boys!"
 
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Leon the Spiteful

A chill ran up Leon's spine at Alex's deduction. Could Heaven really have that kind of power? Even with the existence of Hell, and the scores of its own creations that far preferred the humans over any Celestial being...

The vampire's gaze fixed on Jillian throughout her explanation, chocolate eyes unwavering and inscrutable. Finally, his gaze drifted and the muscles in his jaw relaxed; he hadn't realized they were clenched at all. "Well, I don't know how you did it, but I'm really glad you did."

Sighing, he sluggishly rose to his feet, arching his back to stretch, causing several bones to crack and pop. "So, a shape-shifter, a bookworm and a dead guy..." He shrugged, grinning toothily. "I guess there have been worse teams in history."

Leon trudged up the cramped spiral staircase, each step belting out a loud "clank", announcing over his shoulder, "I'll go pack". He grabbed a worn backpack and filled it haphazardly with random items of clothing, not paying any attention to the task at hand. His mind was busy mentally picking apart Jillian's words, trying to decipher the odd sense of dread they had caused him.

Crouching over the desk next to his bed, he pulled back an overhanging sheet, revealing a medium sized terrarium. A sand-colored lizard lazily turned its eyes up at him from its spot on a rock directly under the light. Leon half-smiled at the creature, reaching in and gingerly scooping him up. "I might be gone a while, buddy. You can handle yourself, right?"

Orange eyes stared calmly back. The vampire smiled, scratching under the lizard's leathery chin with his fingertip.
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Uriel. The very mention of the name sent anger lancing through his very core. Finally, the murderer had revealed himself. It gave an entirely new dimension to the situation, in Alex's opinion. He had all the more reason to be fighting against Heaven. It had always seemed implicated in his beloved's death, but it wasn't until that day that it had actually show its hand. The hand holding the blanket around his shoulders tightened its grip. He was angry. He was grieving. But he was determined. Everything in his power, he would do at this point to bring Heaven to its knees.

Jillian's words left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had no doubt she was telling the truth, but he was a detective for a reason and he had a very strong suspicion that there was something that had been left unsaid. There was no time to ponder at the moment, however. There was work to be done. Lots of it. People to help, and a population to get back under control. No doubt all government agencies were being flooded with panicked people. The scale and raw destructiveness of the attack was unprecedented. Now, especially, following the widely publicized string of professorial murders.

Alex bashfully smiled back. "Yeah, we'll need to get going soon." He looked at Jillian and Leon and couldn't help but feel bad. He was asking these people to leave their homes, possibly to never come back. It didn't sit well with him, but he knew it was out of necessity. "I would rather neither of you had to leave your homes... but we've got little other choice." He knew how hard it was to leave a place you'd known for a while. He knew how difficult it was to possibly not ever return to the memories that you once had there... He'd had to do the same not too many years ago, but he was running from the place, not leaving because he had to.

His tawny gaze followed Leon up the stairs. "Pardon me, I need to talk to him for a second." Leon seemed to have something else on his mind as well. He guessed they all did. This was a difficult time for all of them. Truth be told, it was a difficult time for everyone. In stark contrast to the racket the Spiteful had made going up the stairs, Alex made little more sound than a ghost's whisper. Lions, after all, had a habit of sneaking up unexpectedly on their quarry.

He watched silently as the Spiteful tended to what seemed to be a lizard. He'd just seen the Spiteful smile while scratching the lizard's chin when a stray thought entered his conscious mind. "This seems like something Jason would have done." He shook his head. It was too true. "Look." He started. "I'm sorry about how I treated you."

"You just... remind me too much of him." Alex let go of the blanket and grabbed his arm, staring bashfully at the floor. "Seeing you do things he never would have done for some reason made me feel as though you were tarnishing his memory." There was a slight quiver in his voice and the were-lion shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I know it's irrational." He looked up, meeting the Spiteful's eyes. "But love never is anyway."

He gestured to the lizard in Leon's hands. "If there is anything in this place, anything that you love and can't bear to lose, take it with you. I don't think I need to tell you that there's a chance we might not get to come back to take care of loose ends at all."

"I wish you could've known him. You two would be a chronic migraine in the making. I think you would've gotten along. But they took him from me." Alex gazed off to the side, at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. He brushed his hand up along his scalp, tracing the lines that Jason's fingers used to travel in moments of intimacy. "Promise me something, will you?" His eyes snapped back to Leon's, sharp and determined but wet with unshed tears.

"If and when the time comes. Don't deny me my revenge."

He turned his back on Leon and descended the stairs. Jillian was waiting for them. "Come on. I think Leon has a few more things to take care of. Let's wait by the car."
 
Leon the Spiteful

The vampire visibly tensed up at the sound of Alex's voice; he knew the detective was stealthy, but wasn't aware that he had the ability to sneak up on him... Leon smirked to himself, impressed.

The smile quickly slipped away as he listened to the werelion's quiet, somber words. Leon angled his body to the side, chocolate eyes meeting tawny through the dim light of the terrarium. "I-... I'm sorry, too. I certainly didn't help the situation, what with all the name-calling and goading... I really never meant any harm." He offered the detective a lop-sided smile.

Leon clucked his tongue, gaze dropping to the small desert dweller. "Not sure how well this little guy will do outside his tank, but I can't very well leave him."

Chuckling softly, he looked back up at Alex with a grin. "Sounds like he was a really great guy." He blinked at the detective's sudden tone change, tilting his head to the side slightly curiously. "Sure..." He answered warily.

The Spiteful's gaze hardened, but he nodded, silently agreeing to the promise.

He watched the detective's retreating back, plopping down on rumpled bedsheets with a sigh. Eyes wandered around the bleak little hovel, regarding each detail thoughtfully. After a few minutes, he rose and set about finishing packing.

Slinging a full, scruffy backpack over his shoulder, the vampire emerged from the rickety houseboat. Pausing only to lock the banged-up front door behind him, he walked the length of the gravel driveway to meet his companions.

He smiled toothily, masking his emotions expertly. "Well, then... Allons-y!"
 
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Jillian Aiya

Despite her sudden burst of eagerness to be on their way, the glisten of tears standing on Alex's eyes as he descended the stairs put a damper on Jillian's enthusiasm. She simply nodded and followed him outside, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. It was cold and she was thankful for the overlarge flannel shirt of Leon's that she wore. Speaking of the vampire, what had he and the werelion at her side discussed that had upset the detective so much? Whatever it was she was certain it wasn't her, a fact that gave her a small amount of relief. Alex wouldn't shed tears over her, surely. Not when the most time they had spent together had been yesterday's interrogation.

She didn't want to ask if he was alright; by the tense quiet and the set of Alex's jaw it was clear that whatever was on his mind he wasn't in a mood to revisit it. Instead, she leaned against the car and attempted to take his mind from whatever sad place it had turned. "So... what's your place like? I really appreciate you opening up your home to me like this." Her dark eyes regarded him with sincerity before turning back to watch Leon exit and lock the door behind him. She could just hear his sneakers on the gravel as he walked toward them. "Do you really think we can make an impact though? I mean... I have hope, but this seems so much bigger than us." Jillian turned her eyes skyward for a few moments before the telltale crunch of Leon's approach stole her attention. She flashed him a small smile before opening her door and getting in.
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
There was a chilly bite in the air when they left the rickety houseboat. Alex drew the blanket around his shoulders closer in and wiped his eyes. Whether he wanted to or not, the conversation with Leon had lifted some of the weight from his shoulders. It had helped, and Alex found the pain of Jason's passing ease ever so slightly. Maybe he would never really let go, since he'd just had hope that his beloved was somehow alive somewhere in Vancouver.

He turned to Jillian and smiled. "It's a pretty big place. I come from a privileged family since my dad is very influential in our world." He said wistfully. It would be great to have more people at the house, it had started feeling quite empty since his sister was off with her fiance, visiting one of the Drakkan Holds. Hopefully they were alright, but given recent events, they were probably involved in debates within the Holds. "Don't worry. My parents aren't uptight. As long as you clean up after yourself, my mother won't kill you." Alex flashed a toothy grin.

"I know, Jillian, I know. It does feel so much bigger than us." Alex looked up at the sky, pensive. Were they being watched even then? He was pretty sure they were, but if anything, no one had come after them again yet. "Right now, hope is all we have... We might not ourselves be able to win the war, but we'll surely give it a damn good effort. For all those people who need us." Pride and conviction filled Alex's voice. Mankind would definitely not go down without a fight. At least that part of mankind that was not already enslaved by the religious.

"They need us to take a stand. We have to. We must" he said to her. "I have to. For Jason."

When Leon appeared behind them, he got into the driver's seat and meaningfully met the Spiteful's eyes for a heartbeat with his own. Moments later he was glaring at Leon. "I drive this time."

After thoughtlessly going through the motions of putting his feet on the pedals and turning the non-existent key in the ignition, he realised that he didn't have his keys. He turned to Leon and sheepishly asked "How do you hotwire a car?"
 
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Enter Ezeckial from Stage Right​


Somewhere in Italy...

Time was a funny matter. Not funny as it hilarious, funny as in strange. There were so many ways for people to warp time, not to mention celestial beings. Depending where you were, time could go fast or slow. It was entirely dependent on what you took in really. For Ezeckial, the once angel who had become a Fallen by his own choice to follow Leviathan, time had passed in a strange mixture of fast and slow while he was in the Pit. How long he was there, no one could rightfully say. He had given up keeping track of the years long ago, while he was still fanning the so called heretics' flames. During those times, time had gone slowly. When he would retreat away from the flames, no longer able to suffer the woe and cries of all those who were there solely for the purpose of being a non-believer, he would retreat to Charon. There time went fast as he bartered his way across the river Styx to try and escape the hell he had put himself into. Charon never agreed to anything he had to offer though, and so Ezeckial would retreat back to Limbo for a time. Whether time existed in that place was hard to say. Here the not-quite-sinners spent their days lamenting the lives they no longer had and talking among each other. Ezeckial, who belonged much much further into the Inferno, would simply find himself a corner and sit crying, ashamed of himself, his existence, and his hatred for the ones who had put him there. Then inevitably he would descend down back into the Inferno where time moved slowly once more. As this cycle continued for the Fallen one, the meaning of "time" became skewed until it no longer mattered. That is, until the day the cracks appeared.

How they came to be was as of yet a mystery, but the moment they arrived Ezeckial could feel it. There was time flowing into this timeless place once more, years and years gone by in this pit washed away until a sudden realization came to be that was simple and yet cruel: the way was no longer shut. Charon could not stop him now, nor did he have cause to. Charon's sole purpose was to ferry the dead across the river Styx to be judged and then placed into their layer of the pit - this was none of his concern. This was freedom, a sense of purpose that Ezeckial could taste on his tongue. It was sweet, bitter sweet compared to the soot that covered his mouth like a liquid clay. This was his one chance and half mad with the desire to escape, Ezeckial was not going to pass it up.

"Come with me! Please!" he proclaimed, turning to Leviathan who also knew what these cracks meant. Leviathan had smiled through his tears and sadly shook his head. The great princes' wings continued to beat and the words passed his lips: "Go and live as I no longer can. I must fan these pour souls. You must understand, so long as Lucifer is bound here so too am I..." There had been more words, but Ezeckial could scarcely remember them now. They would return with time though, as would his time in the Pit. For now, though, he was free. Yes, he was free at last of the torment of being the tormentor and for the first time since the rebellion long since passed, Ezeckial could see the sky. Getting through the cracks was easy enough as was getting to them. Past the many layers of Hell, past the city Dis, bast the river of blood that grew deeper and boiled more the further in you went, past the gluttonous and the unbaptized babies and Limbo was the door to Hell, sealed off for an eternity and now open if only the tiniest of cracks. It was enough though, oh yes! The Fallen could fit, would fit, would not let it close before he could escape! Racing past the vindicated souls in Limbo on beating wings that carried him further than he ever thought possible from the heat and the screams and the pain, he burst through the crack and emerged on the other side!

The rain was the first thing he had felt. There was no water in the Pit, not like this. The water used to make the glue and to stir the lead that made the cloaks of the damned was nothing like what he felt now. This was clean, this was virtuous, this was free. The night air was cold and crisp against his skin, so much so that it felt almost like fire. Not hell-fire, but a purer more subdued fire that was known to this side of the gate. Could it be? Could it actually be true? Ezeckial was frozen where he was knelt on his knees, disbelief washing over him like a wave of dementia. He had done it, he was free of the Pit. How or why was irrelevant, he was free and that, in that moment, was all that mattered. Tilting his head back, Ezeckial let out a choked gasp of surprise as he could see the night sky for the first time in an eon. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, and he scarcely even knew he had the memories left within him. The droplets of water cascaded down his face and began the long process of washing away the years of soot from his flesh. So was he, knelt in the rain in the night, fresh from Hell, naked as he had always been since the time of creation, and time - the concept, the idea that it was always moving forward, never in a circle or back, rushed over him in a tsunami.

Ezeckial screamed with all of his might, and for the first time since the rebellion, he could breath.

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Some time later...

Caffè sui Gigli was a small coffee shop on the south side of Rome, Italy's capital city. It was positioned conveniently close to the Vatican, it was in fact in eye sight of the place, this city within a city. Ezeckial sat at a green top table designed to look like a lily pad with pink petal shaped cups situated on a platter in the center holding his coffee, a newspaper in his hands and his eyes hidden by sunglasses. His head was facing the street, but his eyes were trained on the Vatican. How long he had been out was still hard to say, harder still was judging just how long he had been in. So much had changed since the days of Genesis and the rebellion, since the Old Testament and the time when God took a more active role in shaping the world of men. So much had changed, and Ezeckial could not imagine it all. At first he had been overwhelmed and spent much of his time in hiding, afraid of what the world had become while his mind was still wracked by the torment of Hell. Like the soot on his skin and hair that had eroded in time though, and he had begun to see the world for what it was these days. Men ruled this world in ways that the celestial fallen could not even begin to dream of. The world of Men was so... complicated. Yet he was adapting, little by little. He learned quickly enough that clothing was a necessity in society and so had stolen some. After that, he went about trying to learn just what had changed between God and men and found that much had. All of these changes baffled him.

Yet he had learned of the Vatican easily enough, it was an entity in itself and was no exactly invisible for all the world to find. A picture began to form before his eyes as he picked up a newspaper and read for the first time in several ages. Things were different all right, and not all were so friendly as this coffee. For instance, why had the door to Hell been opened so much as a crack? Why was he still out and about, roaming free when he had been cast out by the likes of Micheal and Gabriel so long ago? What had happened in Heaven? So many questions, so many answers to find. Reading would be the first step, he believed. Folding the newspaper and averting his eyes from the suspicious Vatican, Ezeckial reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a paper back copy of Dante Alighieri's "The Divine Comedy", as it stated in English beneath the Italian title La Divina Commedia. This had been one of the first things he found after stealing some clothes, an account of the Pit made by a man! It was extraordinary, Ezeckial could not understand why people did not hold this up as a secondary bible! None the less, it had helped to get his grasp on time a bit better in this place. So many years had passed since the writing of this three booked journey that spanned the Pit, Purgatory and Heaven itself! Ezeckial could even remember when the man Dante had made the journey so long ago... They had passed by him and Leviathan, though Ezeckial had said nothing at the time. He was too wracked with grief and torment from the fire... None the less, it was a way for him to establish a date of sorts, and so the picture he was forming was a little more complete.

La Divina Commedia had been read by Ezeckial from cover to cover twice now and he still loved every sentence in it. It was all magnificent, and he practically coveted the book with a new-found avarice for literature. He began to read it again as a waitress walked up to him, asking in Italian if he needed a refill. Ezeckial looekd up at her and saw the face o f Yahweh, God, as it was meant to be seen in all humans. She was beautiful in her own way though she did not compare to the stark perfection that the Fallen angel had once represented. To compare the beauty of man to the beauty of angels was a hard thing to do, but then again, he wasn't really an angel anymore was he? His status as a Fallen surely marked him as the uglier creation of the Holy Host. He replied back in Italian, "No thank you, I've had enough." and went back to his reading. The waitress walked off to get his check but he would not be there when she returned. He had also learned shortly after his return into the world that man relied on a different set of currency depending on where you were to get things such as food and drink and he had none. Not wanting to cause a scene, he quietly slipped out of Caffè sui Gigli and made his way towards the airport away from the Vatican. He had in his possession two tickets to some place called "Canada" and he hoped to find out more when he arrived there. This world was so big, so loud, so confusing that he needed answers to badly to every question - and he could not have been the only Fallen to escape the Pit. He would start in this Canada, and from there he would move elsewhere if the need arised. Despite being Fallen, he was still celestial and that made him immortal. Unlike the multitude of mortals that surrounded him, he had all the time in the world to discover the answers to his questions.
 
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Leon the Spiteful

Leon chuckled at the detective's predicament, gently tossing his bag in the back and walking around to the driver's side. "It's not too difficult... Although, I don't recommend you keep starting the ignition this way." He shot Alex a toothy grin, leaning in through the window and reaching down under the steering wheel to fiddle with the exposed wires. He pretended to pay no mind to his close proximity to the were-lion's body, which was currently scrunched up in the driver's seat. After a few moments, the car sprang to life. "Voila!" Leon swung back onto his feet, winking at Alex and hopping into the backseat. He inwardly hoped the subtle gesture would take the detective's mind off their previous somber conversation.

Plopping both sneakered feet onto the middle console and crossing them at the ankle, he announced in a purposefully annoying drawl, "Mo~om, are we there yet?" He smirked playfully at Jillian, hoping his antics would brighten her mood as well. Because, Lucifer knew, they had tough, uncertain times ahead of them.

Brown eyes glimpsed the bobbing houseboat as it shrunk in the distance, devoured by rows of trees. He sighed, slumping into the plush cushion. He was used to moving around, usually to avoid detection by the religious nutjobs he liked to snack on, so leaving places behind became second nature to him. But this place had felt different for some reason; it had felt familiar, somehow. He let his eyes slip closed, lulled by the hum of the car's movement.

Blinding light flooded his vision, only to be blocked by what looked like strands of jet black hair. The salty smell of sea air pricked his nostrils, and he felt his mouth curve into a smile.

A girl giggled, and a voice chirped, "Wake up! Come on, wake up, Ali-"

Leon sat up with a start, heart pounding. His neck ached in protest at the sudden jerk. Blinking, he peered out the window, noticing that the car had entered what appeared to be a wealthy subdivision. He groaned a bit, muttering a curse for falling asleep; that only ever happened when his body was weak... from hunger.
 
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Ezeckial the Fallen​


Vancouver was a busy, busy place - or at least the airport was. There had to be a couple hundred human beings there, all with luggage, all with family, all with plans of going... somewhere. As for the supernatural, the only certainty was there was one very shaken Fallen coming out from the gate, his hands in his pockets and his eyes misty with disbelief. When last he had walked the earth, humans had scarcely been able to go over water safely, and while they might have dreamed of flight they had accepted it as an impossibility. But these people had mastered it in a way that Ezeckial could not believe! The hulking behemoth of a machine that had carried him from the outskirts of the Vatican to here was just... amazing in the Fallen's eyes. The machines he had known were made of stone and wood and were no more advanced than buildings. The site of these buildings, these machines, the quickness and buzzing of it all - how much had happened since his time in the pit? Between the instant of his incarceration and resurrection, centuries and eons had passed! By God, by Lucifer! These humans were gods in themselves and they had no idea! The power of creation was at their finger tips and they need only cease it, was this what came with free will? So many questions, so few answers.

He had remained mum the entire voyage over, having had a seat to himself by the window on the plane. He watched the sky roll back along side the metal bird and remembered what it felt like to fly in the open air, to be truly free. At one point a flight attendant had asked him how he was doing. Ezeckial turned to her, still quite stunned that humans were so willing to talk to the likes of him without even knowing what or who they were talking to. He replied that he was fine in Italian, only to be met with a confused look. "I'm sorry sir?" she had asked and Ezeckial realized his mistake, that he was not speaking her language. Language, too, had evolved since he was locked in the Pit and were it not for the English translations in his now cherished book, he would not have understood her at all he feared. "No, I'm alright," he said in an accent that wasn't quite Italian but wasn't quite English either. She had smiled and nodded, standing up and walking further down the isle to see if she could help anyone else. Ezeckial turned back to the window. So much had changed... where was he to even begin?

He looked around the airport, the buzzing and moving of people here and there, to and fro, back and forth reminded him of a bee hive and couldn't help but think that humans had adopted some of their efficiency. Where these people were going, Ezeckial did not know, but he was certain that none of them had the time to stop and tell him any worth while information... he didn't even know where he was and felt lost, perhaps more lost than he had felt on his descent from Heaven in chase of Leviathan and Lucifer. In a foreign world in a foreign country called Canada in a city called Vancouver, a fallen angel stood among the crowd and simply stared in awe of the many voiced, perplexed as to what he should be doing to blend in.

After so long, someone walked up to him and asked, "Can I help you sir?" in a kind voice. Ezeckial looked to his right and saw a young woman, wearing a uniform that the men and women behind the counters wore. A slave of some sort perhaps. Ezeckial nodded after a moment and said lightly, "I need to know where the exit is..."

Smiling, the attendant pointed to a set of wide, glass doors on the far north side of the open room and said, "Go straight ahead and you can't miss them." Thanking her, Ezeckial headed for the doors, gently moving through the crowd of people to get there. This accomplished, he stepped in front of the doors to find they opened for him, which was strange to him. No doors opened willingly in the Pit. Stepping through them, Ezeckial stepped out into a world even more confusing than the beehive buzz of the airport and began to explore, still relishing in the freedom he possessed - and wondering why none had been sent to intercept him...
 
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Jillian Aiya

This was going to be a very long drive if those two kept making goo-goo eyes at each other Jillian grumped inwardly, ignoring the childishly teasing voice within that was trying to tell her these thoughts were uncomfortably close to jealousy. She stuck her tongue out at Leon in response to his whining. "I can't help wondering if you just spend eternity watching TV. If you ask every five minutes I swear I will try to find some sort of sigil for silence once I get my books." Despite the threat she was smiling, settling into the seat and pushing the worn sneakers from the console in order to give her elbow a place to rest.

The forest greenery slowly gave way as they drove on, the natural becoming more manicured by degrees until they were rolling between genteel lawns and boxwood hedges. Jillian had been mulling over the speech he had given before they left the boathouse. She had been a little taken aback by the detective's impassioned words. It seemed like he spoke not just with conviction but with love and honestly, it terribly endeared him to her. She didn't exactly know who Jason was but from the way he spoke it was someone very near to Alex's heart. Jillian was suddenly overwhelmed by the sense of loyalty she felt toward the werelion and vowed to herself to do her best to help him. She glanced at Alex as he drove, aware that she hadn't said much during the trip. "Sorry I haven't exactly been much for conversation. Kind of zoned out I guess. Are we getting close?"

She could hardly believe just how normal the neighborhood was. Strange to think that there was an entire family of werelions... or even other were-things in the midst of all this suburbia. Suburban Jungle indeed. Opening her mouth to speak to the Spiteful in the back, Jillian paused when she saw him asleep and gently touched Alex's elbow to alert him to the situation. Her voice becoming soft in deference to the sleeper, she spoke "I didn't think vampires slept, but... I'm not really an expert. Is that normal?" She turned to look at Leon over her shoulder again, the way his face was slack and relaxed and the ever-present smartass smirk smoothed away. He almost looked innocent, if he didn't also look so dead thanks to the grey of his skin. It was a few moments before Jillian realized she had looked too long and suddenly felt awkward with Alex's presence. He had to have noticed and if those two... What was she even thinking anyway? There was no time for this sort of thing given Armageddon and all.

Cute boys just made her feel so.... stupid. Why did she have to be surrounded by so many of them? It would be better once she had her books to concentrate on.

As they neared the home of Alex's family, she rested her hand on Leon's knee. She hated to wake him, but it was time. "Wake up! Come on, wake up. Alex, do I look okay to meet your family? I mean... you're half naked but I think they're sort of used to that. It's not every day you bring some lame human girl around and I want to make a good impression."
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
"If I had a choice, Leon, I wouldn't." Alex snapped playfully at the Spiteful. He was uncomfortably close, to be honest, and with him being the striking image of Jason, Alex felt more than a little bothered by Leon's proximity. "It's not like every day you lose your pants to a house-fire started by the embodiment of God's Judgment" he mused. But he wouldn't be surprised if it happened, what with his luck the past few years. The revving of the car into life shook him from his thoughts just in time to catch Leon winking at him. The gesture seemed to be innocent, but he couldn't really tell. The smell of sea salt was interfering with his fine-tuned ability to smell pheromones. Regardless, even if he wanted to do anything with the Spiteful, he was almost certain a guilty conscience would keep him from release. Not to mention, he was fairly certain Jillian had a thing for the Spiteful.

The playful childish "Are we there yet?" that came like a barrage from the backseat was not something Alex had ever gotten used to. Even Jason had done it. In fact, it was all Jason would ever do on a long drive and it frayed his nerves though at the same time he found it endearing. When Jillian suggested a sigil of silence, Alex said "Please, do" with a chuckle. "He's noisy enough for ten people."

Despite the lighthearted banter, he inwardly raised an eyebrow at the girl sitting shotgun. Had she not said she didn't really know what happened at the house? Now she was talking about finding a sigil of silence. How would she even know the first thing about what that was or how it would be written? He felt there was far more to the story than she was letting on, but he decided a moving vehicle right after a major crisis was neither the proper place or time to press the matter.

"It's alright, Jillian. I never really ride with other people anyway" Alex said, smiling. He had been ever the loner since Jason died, but it was understandable. Were-creature grief took a long time to resolve. The stronger the bond, the longer it took. Despite that, he did savour time with his precious few friends. "We're just about there, don't worry. You're starting to sound like our Spiteful companion back there" said Alex, poking fun at the question.

Alex looked at Leon through his rear-view mirror. Sure enough, the Spiteful was sleeping. Though decidedly better asleep and far more innocent-seeming, the sight was a bit worrisome for the were-lion. "No. It's not normal for Spiteful to sleep..." Alex trailed off to keep them on the road. "In fact, it's quite problematic. It only ever happens when they've been badly injured..." They pulled in to his family home's driveway. "or they haven't fed."

Alex chuckled at Jillian. "I think when they learn about how we just survived imminent death, the way you look would be the last thing they concern themselves with." He opened the car door and said "women" under his breath.

Alex reached into the back and shouldered Leon's backpack before ushering the two into the house. Once indoors, he pressed a button on the wall for the PA system in case his parents were in some private moment. "Mom. Dad. I'm home. I brought some guests. It's a priority incident."

"Dad, you have to ring the pack. Tell them we need to get a WARD protocol around the house ASAP. We also have a code blue Spiteful. Meet us in the kitchen."
 
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Ezeckial the Fallen​

The internet was a vast an amazing thing, something that Ezeckial was stood in complete and utter awe of. The vast storage of information, the accessibility of it, the way that a few clicks of a mouse and the typing of words (something that Ezeckial had to do slowly but was getting faster at) was completely and utterly godly in his eyes! The only other tie in history that information was available like this on so massive a scale was the Alexandrian library before its fall so long ago. He had been there and he had wept, not long after that resigning to the Pit. So much had been lost, never to be regained. Half of the worlds' history, gone in a fire. Some called it fate, others the work of man. Ezeckial could not help but taste the bitter role of divine intervention in the burning of the greatest library that had ever been or ever will be.

That is where he was now, at a library a few blocks from the airport. Getting here had taken some doing for the Fallen - between dodging traffic, avoiding people as best as he could and remaining vigilant that he was not being followed by any of the agents of Yahweh, something he was still very anxious about, he was exasperated and drawn to his limits. When he had reached the library he was out of breath,, bent over and gasping for air. It was early in the morning, nine thirty-one to be exact. An attendant of the library had seen him rush in and walked over to him, asking if he was alright. When he answered that he was, he had asked if he might use the library. The man said that was what he was for and asked if there was anything specific he was looking for. "Religious texts, anything relating to Dante Alighieri's The Inferno," he had said simply. The man had nodded and asked Ezeckial to follow him, to which the Fallen had done without a question. Libraries were sacred places, houses of knowledge and pillars to man's first and original sin. Knowledge was what Lucifer had gifted the humans, and how they had taken that gift and soared!

Lead in between a set of two towering shelves of books, Ezeckial was shown a rather large portion was dedicated to just the sort of thing he had asked for - Bibles of varying ages and editions, copies of the whole Comedy as well as the separate parts, The Inferno, The Purgitorio, The Paradisio. Ezeckial looked at the sheer volume of study and knowledge on religion for a long time, at first not hearing the attendant asking if he needed anything else. "No, this will be all for now..." he said quietly, reaching forward and picking up a book by the name of Paradise Lost and turning to the first page, reading out the first sentence and onward as the man left him alone. He read. for hours and hours and hours he read, pulling books from the shelf and setting them up in piles, gorging on information, gluttonous for more, avaricious for the knowledge that these pages contained. What had happened since he had been in the pit? How had the world changed so? Where was Yahweh and where were his angels? So many questions, so little time.

He took a select number of tomes with him when he went to find the man who had lead him to the books before, Paradise Lost, a copy of the New James Bible, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, Metamorphosis and a few others. He had asked how he might come to own these books and was slightly disappointed when he was told that the library was not selling them, only to rejoice when he said that the library would allow him to borrow the books if he had a library card and to point him to the direction of a book store not far from there in which he could buy his own copies of it. Ezeckial had thanked him immensely and taken a great breathe, amazed by so many things at once that he didn't know where to begin. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" the librarian had asked once they had made him a library card and put the books on his account. Deciding that this was as good of a chance as he was likely to get in the way of answers, Ezeckial held up the newly rented copy of the bible and opened it to Genesis 1:1, asking, "Where can I find information on history after this date?" Biting his lower lip, the librarian lead him over to a small huddle of computers and told him that any and all information he could possibly want about the history of Genesis and what came after it could be found on there before asking him if there would be anything else and walking away. Ezeckial had dismissed him then but he had needed his help after all... he didn't even know what he was looking at. Only by watching other people go to work on the computers was he able to learn what the mouse's function was, how to type, what to click on, etc.

Things had been simpler for him in Italy. Stealing a set of clothes had been easy enough without being seen, as had been swiping the airline tickets that had brought him there to Canada. Though he did not know what they had meant at the time, many kind people had helped him get to the airport and get on the plane, had explained to him currency and had even given him some. Things to him seemed a shade or two slower than they were here. He had encountered no computers in Italy after all. Now, he was sat at a desk in front of the bright light of a computer, reminding him so much of the light of Heaven, slowly typing out the questions he sought and getting the answers for them one bit at a time. He was at the computer the rest of that day, asking questions and getting answers from this seemingly all knowing machine - about the Vatican, about history up to that point, about cars and planes and Rome and America and the slow, seemingly cancerous spread of Theology around the world. It was puzzling to Ezeckial, the church had not acted as it did today when he walked the earth. Back then, the church would have been destroyed by those who did not understand or did not believe for acting as they did today... but now, they were like a network of subliminal terrorists whose web was spread all around the globe. Ezeckial found this most disturbing of all.

He was the last to leave the library that day. he carried with him a bag full of books and a head absolutely full to bursting with knowledge and yet he still craved more. He needed access to another computer, had decided he liked the internet and all of its knowledge immensely, and he needed to find some place safe and warm for his books. The cold air bit into his lungs in defiance and before long he had melted into the crowd once more, heading who knew where and lost, so utterly lost, in a world that had all at once forgotten God and embraced him as the only truth that ever was or ever will be again.
 
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Leon the Spiteful

Leon trudged groggily behind Jillian and Alex, weariness set in his bones. Despite his physical fatigue, his mind was racing; not only had he fallen asleep for what was the first time since he could remember, but he had also dreamt. Perhaps their fight with Uriel had left a heftier toll on him than he'd originally thought...

The dream was particularly troubling to him; he saw, heard and smelled the exact same thing when Uriel had mentioned- Had mentioned, what? His... Sister? The very word elicited a ripple of emotion, but he had no memory with which to associate. The Spiteful shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind, focusing on his surroundings to push the thought aside.

He followed Alex into the werelion's home, glancing around with admiration. Though the house was massive, it had a warm, safe atmosphere. The detective hadn't been lying about his family being well-to-do. Leon smirked to himself at the accidental pun, glancing over at Jillian and offering her an amused grin. "Welcome to the lion's den, eh?" His eyes moved to Alex's and he immediately held up his hands, quietly adding, "Last one, I promise."

He tilted his head curiously as his listened to Alex's words, wondering at the "code blue" terminology until it hit him that both Alex and Jillian must have noticed him sleeping in the backseat. He mentally scolded himself for letting his guard down, especially when they were on the run from Heaven with their every move most likely being watched. Though, after reconsideration, the situation wasn't all that bad; there may be a meal in it for him...

He cleared his throat, straightening his back out of his usual slouch; he instantly looked more presentable, even with the raggedy black shirt, holey dark grey jeans and worn maroon sneakers.

"Ah, I'll take that, if you don't mind." Leon nodded at his backpack slung over the detective's shoulder, offering the blonde man a deceptively trustworthy grin.
 
Jillian Aiya

So she did look a little rough. But then, Alex had a point about that. The disparaging comment on her gender would have to be addressed later since they were heading inside.

The lion's den, indeed. Jillian was surprised that there wasn't a little plaque with those exact words tastefully painted on it hanging somewhere. The home was lovely and warm and so... normal. And, truth be told, pretty fancy. Since meeting Alex and Detective Stark and Leon, Jillian had been under the impression that the supernatural underground would be more clandestine, weirder, like in those Guillermo del Toro movies. Seeing something like this, even without yet meeting Alex's family, drove home the fact that they were people with lives and hopes. She probably walked right past them on the street and thought nothing of it. It struck a powerful chord in her and steeled her determination to do whatever she could to thwart Heaven's machinations.

Hanging back as Alex led the way, she waited until Leon had adjusted the backpack on his shoulder before she spoke. "Hey, you feeling okay? You seem... less swaggery than usual." Jillian had to search for a word, realizing that nothing about Leon was remotely normal. It was at turns vexing and endearing and the lack of his usual somewhat annoying flirtatiousness made her worry just a bit. She must still be delirious from making that pact with the angel.
 
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Ezeckial the Fallen​


It felt strange, being in this church. There wasn't anything particularly painful about it or dirty in feeling. It was just... odd. The sign had proclaimed this house of God the "First Baptist Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints", but it wasn't the first of its kind and there were not latter day saints. He didn't understand the sign anyways. When last he had walked the earth, churches needed no words to proclaim their houses to be in the service of Yahweh. A cross, a star of David, these things had been sufficient eons ago. Now churches seemed to advertise pornography along with religion, using flashing lights and loud, charismatic individuals to herd more into their flock. It didn't make sense to him. People used to go to church because of their love and faith in the Father, and later out of fear as well. Now, people seemed to go because it was the thing to do and because they would be looked down upon if they didn't... had Heaven's message been so skewed since the Rebellion? Where in the writings of Metatron did it say that man would flock to he who could shout the loudest? Or, he who could praise the longest? Or, he who could perform the most "miracles"? He had seen one of these men on his way to the church in which he now stood. A television set, broadcasting some religion show, depicted a man helping an elderly individual up and out of their wheelchair so that they may walk about, screaming it was a miracle. It was no miracle. Miracles didn't exist anymore, miracles were a thing long since forgotten by man and abandoned by the angels that supposedly watched over him. Making it out of the Pit, as he had done, that was a miracle... but on who's behalf?

Ezeckial was stood, leaned over the alter in the church, his head hung low and his arms spread wide in front of him. Above him was a wooden depiction of Jesus, Yahweh's only son, the Son and one third of the holy trinity. How humble he looked in comparison to his actual righteous legend. Ezeckial remembered when a man known as Jesus had been crucified. He was down in the bowels of Hell, and many cheered his death. He was silent, as had been Leviathan. What was the point of cheering the death of one man, even if he was the son of God? There was work to be done, and penance to be paid. When the man Jesus had walked the earth three days later, that had been a miracle. Perhaps the last miracle, excluding his seemingly inconspicuous escape from the Pit. The fallen angel sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head further. "My God... what have you become?" he asked to no one, expecting no answer.

"Can I help you sir?" came the reply Ezeckial did not expect. He lifted his head up and looked behind him. The round, circular room was mostly empty save for he, the alter, the symbols of "god", the twelve rows of pews that lined the room, six on each side, and the man who now stood at the far end of the room. He was a quaint sort of man, presumably a priest form his attire. Why he was there at this late hour, the fallen angel could not say. Doubtless, he was asking the same of Ezeckial. "How did you get in here?" the man asked, taking a step forward. Ezeckial was silent. he turned back towards the wooden representation of the Son, looking up at his bleeding form and saying quietly, his voice echoing about the empty room, "I came to pay my respects... and to ask why."

"You can't be here, the churches hours are clearly stated outside!" the man said, walking down the pews towards Ezeckial. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, now!" The Fallen angel narrowed his eyes, glaring up at the Son and ignoring the priest. He was no man of Yahweh, he did not carry the divine message in his heart, he was more impure than he was - and yet HE was believed to be in God's favor, while he had suffered and tortured and burned for an eternity, for wanting nothing more than to be with his family as one! Ezeckial could see into this mans' heart without even looking at him. He had spent so much time torturing his kind that he could spot them a mile away. A drunkard, a violent man at heart that flees to the embrace of God believing he will be saved. He was no man of the cloth, he did not deserve the title of priest. Slamming his arms down onto the alter, his fists breaking the flimsy wood that had been used to cheaply create it, another insult Ezeckial felt personally, the fallen angel shouted at the top of his lungs, "IS THIS WHAT YOU LEFT ME IN THE PIT FOR!?" His words echoes around the empty hall, as did the ghosts of his violence on the alter. His fists were stinging from the effort and the broken alter lay at his feet in three pieces. The Son still hung above him, saying nothing, doing nothing. A sign of His absence, when one of his angels, even his Fallen flock, asks him a question and receives no answer. What had God become in his time in the Pit?

Ezeckial looked over his shoulder at the priest who stood frozen in place, unsure what to do in the dark of the church. It wasn't a church though, it was a building that housed non believers and sinners, begging for redemption and praying for a back stage pass out of Hell. This was no house of God, and Ezeckial had half a mind to destroy it to rid the earth of its stain. He restrained himself though, taking in deep breathes and calming himself as best as he could. He reached into his waist coat and the priest flinched, likely thinking he was pulling out a weapon. That was exactly what Ezeckial was doing, but none that the priest could understand. His pocket watch was clasped in his hands and he watched as the fraud relaxed, seeing it was only a watch, as if it were only a watch. He flipped open the covering of it, revealing the glyphs inside and the spell they made. A small, bright light came from the watch, and time froze - or rather, the priests' perception of it. He was frozen, Ezeckial was not. He walked forward, keeping the watch open so as to prolong the spell. He walked up to the Priest and lifted his left hand, raising the ring on his middle finger and pressing it to his forehead. A small, dull light shone and when he removed his hand, a black spot was embedded on his forehead, a sign in the Pit of liars, frauds and non believers.

The Fallen angel walked past the false priest then and shut his watch, leaving the priest to stare at where he had been moments before. "Sorry father," he said, practically spitting out the word 'father', causing the man to turn around and look at him, startled, bewildered at how he had gotten there so quickly. "I was just leaving..." Ezeckial mummer quietly, only all too eager to be outside of this false church and into the night. He threw open the double door leading into the pewed hall with its broken alter with both of his hands, stepping out and walking down the hall. For the faintest of moments, a shadow of his tucked wings was visible to the priest, leaving him more curious and afraid than he had been before. He would discover the black spot later, and find he would not be able to remove it. Ezeckial needed answers, he needed them now. He had spent too long in darkness. He was more than eager to grasp at the light.
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Alex raised an eyebrow at Leon. He could see the weariness in the Spiteful's eyes, but Leon had managed to assume the body language of a healthy individual. Alex found this interesting and filed away the information for later use. Leon definitely did not come across as someone who would hold possessions precious. Alex definitely did not think that was the case after the whole house-boat fiasco. However, something about the timbre of Leon's voice told him that there was something important to the Spiteful in the bag that was hanging around his shoulder. The were-lion took the rucksack off and handed it to Leon. He raised his eyebrow again at the smile.

Alex let the two into the kitchen, sitting them down by the central countertop. On the ground floor, the kitchen was the most secure part of the house. They of course had a bunker underground but they had not had to use the place in living memory. Alex walked over to the window and peered through the blinds. Houses around the block turned on their porch-lights. The protocol was in place. "I hope this doesn't feel too... aristocratic for you." Alex said, apologetically. He'd had friends before that totally freaked out at the sight of his home.

The were-lion was quite glad that Jillian and Leon's reactions were relatively subdued. Though, to be fair to the two, they'd just been through something that did not lend well to levity. "... I will be right back." There was something that Alex had to show the two, an artifact that was to become the centre of the coming conflict. "The glasses are in that cabinet and there's food and drink in the fridge." The were-lion pointed at a nearby cabinet, then scratched his head. "Or at least they -were- there. My mom might've moved them around."

The were-lion made for the kitchen door. "Anyway, if you want anything, feel free." Alex gestured around at the entire kitchen, waving his hands about. He began to ascend the stairs to his room just as his mother was descending them. They greeted each other -- a kiss on each cheek as is customary. "Take it easy on them." Alice White chuckled at her son. "I know, not likely."

As he reached the top of the stairs, Alex mused about the short encounter. There was a definite benefit to living with a family of were-creatures. No questions were asked if you showed up shirtless at odd times in the day, particularly after recent events. "Da?" Gabriel White was in his study, typing furiously at his keyboard and jabbering into a bluetooth headpiece. The older were-lion waved at his son.

Alex should've known. His da was working on disseminating information about the widespread attacks as well as helping the Gamma redirect pack resources to where they were needed. He guessed that the only reason the WARD protocol was put into place so quickly was because the entire pack was on high alert. "Bonjour Monsieur. Yes. We have yet to be debriefed. I will get back to you as soon as I know. Alright. Au Revoir."

"Alright. I'll let you get back to work, Da"

"Looking good, son!" Alex blushed. His father had a strange sense of humour and more often than not, it was at the younger were-lion's expense. He went down the hall to his bedroom. He'd not revealed the dagger's meaning to anyone except for his detective partner David since Jason had died, nor had anyone really asked. His mother had asked a few weeks after the funeral, but he'd feigned ignorance.

Alex knelt in front of the ornate chest of drawers in his room, the same one that Nathan Collins had given his grandson and his lover just months before he'd died. There were protective sigils drawn into it, and a secret compartment in one of its legs that Alex discovered a few months after Jason's funeral. He'd been searching for a good place to hide the dagger and managed to stub himself on the drawers. That had opened the compartment that seemed to be perfectly suited for the dagger.

A soft click filled the air and the sigil on the leg shimmered silver for a moment. The were-lion pulled the leg open and drew the old artefact out from it. When Jason had died, Alex had gotten a smith to repair the silver wire that sealed the dagger into its scabbard. The blade had not been released in years. Alex was quite apprehensive of what doing so might entail.

Alex hurried back down the staircase. It smelled like his mother was whipping something up for the guests, though Leon was yet to feed. Just as he reached the bottom of the steps the doorbell rang. He ran to the door to answer it. At the porch was one of their neighbours with two bags of blood in one hand and a third in another. "Heard there was a code blue."

The were-lion racked his brain for the neighbour's name, but couldn't come up with it. "Yeah. Thanks." The neighbour handed him the blood. The other guy raised an eyebrow at him in askance. "It's a bit confidential for now. My da will make sure everyone gets a rundown of the situation when we're done here." The smell of disappointment was palpable, but the other were-creature nodded grimly before jogging back to his car.

Alex made his way back to the kitchen. His mother was busy at the stove and the two shot nervous glances at him. The were-lion couldn't help but chuckle. "I suppose you've told my mother about what happened, then?"

Alice turned back and faced her son. She raised an eyebrow. "So. Uriel." She motioned with her head towards the fridge. There was a picture of Alex and Jason in a boat pinned there with a magnet. "I suppose you want your revenge." There was a twinge of sympathy in her voice, some concern, but Alex could tell she was struggling with two things. "Just... don't get yourself killed." Motherly instincts and pack instincts. They rarely got along.

"Don't worry, mom. I won't." Alex turned to the two sitting at the centre of the kitchen. He slid the bags of blood over to Leon. "Do try to not make a mess." Alice beamed at her son. The rest of the house was good for making any sort of racket, but her kitchen was sacred. The were-lion clutched the dagger to his chest before setting it down on the countertop.

"Jason died protecting this" Alex began. "There are many sigils on its scabbard alone. I've seen the blade. There are more there." The were-lion seemed to stare off into the distance, lost in memory. The were-lioness did not stop her cooking, but she listened. This was the first time she was hearing of the sort. "He said that this was humanity's last hope. I felt I should seal it until the day that it seemed like we needed it."

Alex deftly slid his fingers in between the silver wires and snapped them one by one. With each snap, he could just barely make out a wince from Jillian from the corners of his vision. When he'd completely removed the seal, Alex extracted the blade. At that point even he winced for a second at the extremely high-pitched hum that followed the blade as it exited its sheath.

---

The dhampir turned his head. The athame had been unsheathed. Now he would find it. Now it would return to its proper owner.
 
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