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And when tatron, Lord of Angels, had been called, he had been infused with holy light, the Archangel's re presence enough to bask him in an aura of sanctified energy. His flesh had reknit, the holes had closed, and where the light spears had penetrated his body, clean, healthy skin appeared, covering the once gory wounds as if they had never been there in the first place.
It had not been his first choice. He had wanted Thanatos at first, or even a dark type Persona to take advantage of the Fallen Angels' affinity with light. But tatron had demanded to be called. tatron, who hated demons above all else, who punished the heretic with fire and sword, had demanded to be summoned. tatron, whose contempt for those that betrayed the Word of God was legendary, had demanded to be called forth so that it may face the Fallen.
And then it had done sothing that surprised even him.
I Know of Your Kind. Cast Down from the High Heavens. Banished from Eternal Paradise.
Its silver face turned to regard the woman, who was no longer wearing the triumphant leer.
I Know of Your Ilk. In Your Hubris You have Thrown Away His Gift. In Your Despair You have Lost Yourself to Darkness.
Raynare trembled, and took a faltering step back.
I Know of Your Heresies. The Perversions of Light You have Committed. The Wretched Deeds that have Stained Your Souls Black.
The Archangel spread its arms wide, almost invitingly.
I Know of You. But do You Know of ? Do You Know Who I Am?
They nodded, eyes wide. In a flash, the atmosphere in the room changed. The tallic wings spread open, reaching their full span. The sword was lifted, the flaming blade tip pointing to the Fallen. And when it next spoke, its voice contained the brass rumble of authority.
Then Why aren't You Bowing Yet?
They knelt. The bearded man first, features taut with frightened surprise. The woman was second, her lithe body moving sensuously despite the trembling in her limbs. There was a worshipful expression on her face. The child was last, tumbling from her seat on the table to land clumsily on the floor. She pressed her forehead to the ground and did not look up.
Only one still stood, Raynare, whose look of defiance did little to hide the way her legs quaked. tatron tilted its head, its mask gleaming as it took in the sight of the Fallen who refused to bow.
When Man Heeded the Poisoned Words of the Serpent, He was Dood for Eternity. What Serpent has Whispered into Your Ear, Raynare, Guardian of the White Gates, for You to have Fallen so?
Raynare refused to et the angel's stare, but her lips moved.
"Kokabiel," she whispered.
In response, tatron slowly floated its way towards the woman, who took a step backwards in fear.
I Know of Him. Just as I Know of the Honeyed Words that He has Fed to You are Lies.
Raynare's face contorted in rage.
He has Never Considered You His Equal. He has Never Thought of You as You have Thought of Him. He has Never Loved You.
"Liar!"
I am the Voice of God. I Convey His Command. Truth is All I Know.
"Shut up," the Fallen Angel clutched at her head, "Shut up. Shut up."
Kokabiel Fell because of His Love for a Mortal Woman. He has Tasted the Sweet Fruit of Corruption. You will Never Compare to the One who Made Him Fall.
"Shut up!"
Raynare's eyes lit up with anger, and in an instant the light spear was conjured, sent hurtling towards the gleaming figure that hovered before her. tatron swatted the projectile away with an armored hand, sending the lance flipping end over end until it sank shaft-deep in a nearby wall. Another appeared in Raynare's hand, but before she could cast the Archangel was already in front of her, steel gauntlet reaching out.
Raynare. The Ancient Laws of the High Heavens Forbids Us from Interfering with the Mortal Realm.
One hand grasped her by the neck.
Yet, You have Done So. Brazenly.
The other buried the sword up to its hilt into her stomach.
This is the Punishnt for your Transgression.
The Fallen made a wet, gasping sound as the blade exploded out of her back.
The Wound will Never Heal until You have Atoned for your Cri.
The sword slid free, and the woman collapsed to her knees, mouth wide open. The Archangel gestured and the blade vanished from his hand. Turning, it placed an armored boot on the Fallen's shoulder. Raynare managed a single jerk of surprise as the plated foot touched her back, and then she was being forced down, pushed by imnse, overwhelming force.
Fallen. You have Committed Untold Atrocities. Your Hands are Stained with the Blood of the Innocent. Your Deeds have Tainted the Na of Our Kind.
Silver hands grasped her exposed pinions in a vice-like grip, one for each wing. Her eyes widened in realization.
"No!"
You do not Deserve the Gifts He has Bestowed Upon You.
"No! Stop!" Raynare struggled feebly against the Archangel's strength, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the ground as she tried in vain to drag herself away, "I repent! I repent! Stop! I beg you!"
tatron rely grasped her wings in a tighter grip.
The Wound was Your Punishnt. This is Your Judgnt.
It pulled, and Raynare scread.
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