Angel's Blood {Chi}

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She shouldn't be tempting the heavens.

But she was going to anyway, because that was just who she was. A woman born and bred to be a sole survivor of her own dark needs and desires. Right now, anything related to her Sin had been shut off. Nearly a...what was it? A month? A couple of weeks? Hell, it could have been yesterday that she had walked through the doors she was staring out now and found out who and what she was. Is, acutally considering the sin she committed last night. Shaking at her vile thoughts, the Black Angel stepped up to the Cathedral doors and grimaced. This was going to hurt incredibly bad; the worst pain she had felt in a very, very long time. But how was she going to win back her white wings if she could not pass a man by on the street without causing him, and several others, to succumb to her wills and wanton fantasies? "Damn you, Lucifer! she roared in rage for a few moments, then calmly drew her breath in for a relaxing sigh. She would get through this or die trying.

Her hand lifted a fraction, just enough to reached the door handle, and turn it quickly. It scorched her for all of five intolerable seconds before blackening to a more sizzling tingle as she stepped through and closed it behind her. Looking down at her hand, she frowned when she saw the new scar mark there that would never go away. Sin. The mark spoke of her sin and the blackness in her heart that had once been so pure it would have blinded a mortal man. Now she was just like her counterpart, Lilith. A Fallen that she had hated and pitied all at once before she knew what it was like to be Lucifer's chew toy. Lailah's boot heels made a loud clicking noise she would have never allowed had she not wanted them to. But with the way humans were so jumpy, she allowed the sound to echo through the church and sighed when she heard the sound echoed. Good, she would not have to yell for the Angel she sought. Nor would she most likely have any of the Fathers bother her with questions as to why she was there. Malachi's hearing could pick up anything, and if she was right in her thinking, he would know that she was here because of her sin shining out like a black beacon to all those that were of pure heart.

Lailah's strange eyes shone delicately in the dimness of the room; the almost-pink red orbs scanning the pews and the altar with millions of questions in them. Could she do this? Could she beg on her hands and knees for her Sin to be abolished when she couldn't even contain herself around mortals? Could she dare to hope that there was a way for her to be forgiven and everything she had ever done wronger under Lucifer's rule be casted into the Sea of the Forgotten? The candles meant for prayer were out at the current moment, but with a simple blink of her eyes, they were inflamed and casting shadows across her face. Not having any clue as to how the light made the soft angles of her face appear all the more heavenly and seductive, she sat down on her knees and took a deep, shaking breath as she closed her hands together and bowed her head. For the first time in eons, Lailah sat down to pray. What she prayed for was obvious, but would it be granted? Would anyone hear the former Angel of Conception as she begged for mercy and understanding? Pushing her thoughts aside, she called out to any of her brethren that could hear her, feel her just a smudge as she bent foward and whispered in the most ancient of tongues to her Father.

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In a cloister off the main nave of the church, a blind priest was saying his prayers, his hands following along the wall as he slowly walked. He was at home here, at his ease-- every stone and seat and candle of the sanctuary had a place in his mind. He was a very good man, and a mortal, and beloved of the church's resident angel. But he paused very suddenly in his prayers as his sharp old ears caught the sound of the central door opening in the narthex. A sense of unease caught him, and he stayed still and silent for but a moment, listening-- alarmed and confused. The angel had told him-- and he believed it-- that evil things could not enter into this place without being invited in or being truly penitent, but...which was it? Should he alert one of the other priests, or the congregation or just...wait and hope? And pray. He would pray-- but slightly louder now, so that he could be faintly heard instead of the previous mumblings under his breath. And then, he'd pray to the church's local safeguard-- their angel. "Malachi-- where are you? There is someone here." He did not have to speak it loudly for the angel to hear.

And where was that angel, whose grey-blue eyes had beheld a world's creation and growth and perhaps now it's dying throes? In the sky, naturally, where winged things belong. Not flying, though, but hanging about on the roof of the church, watching the city he had been fighting for rip itself apart only to reform in new, bold ways. His wings were folded behind him out of the wind, giant white feathered things that glistened in moonlight and were visible to all but humankind. A blessing and a curse, to be a beacon to both people who needed him and those who would hurt him. But he was made of stronger stuff, in order to bear burdens that humans should not have to. Like a holier Batman, then, he waited there on the roof in his usual attire-- black pants, dress shoes, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled past his strong forearms.

Unexpectedly, the summons he knew would come did not emanate from the city but within the very building he sat upon and called his home. He felt at first the sear of pain at the gates, then the clatter of unholy footsteps on the marbled floor of his sanctuary, and then Father Kincaide's whispered invocation. He thought-- he thought it might be the one dark angel who frequented the church at the moment, Lailah, who he had known in an earlier time, but he couldn't be quite sure. Father Kincaide's plea had not been alarmed, only curious and perhaps a bit anxious. Surely, then, it was not that thing that called itself Zain, whore of glory and self-pity and cruelty, and an abomination in Malachi's holy head.

The angel rose from his easy rest on the roof to slip quickly and quietly down the back way from whence he'd come. There was no one to see him float down to the ground, this way, and he could enter the church at the vestry, a place between the nave and altar, where he could peer into the sanctuary without being too much seen.

Ah-- there, of course, the presence that had stirred him from his vigil. He watched her there, praying, for a few moments, wondering at first at her unspeakable beauty, and then even more at the beauty of a wayward soul desperate to be back in the good graces of the only person it really mattered to be in good graces with. Did she want to be alone? Or did she come here to speak with him? There were other churches in the city-- in coming to this one, surely, it was a sign that she wanted to speak to him.

But could he? She was, by trade, an extremely tempting woman, even to someone as damn-near impervious to that as Malachi. Still, he had a human body, and human bodies had their own ways of dealing with things sometimes. Until coming to earth, the archangel had never actually understood what lust was, only that it existed, and it was bad. By now, of course, he was well-acquainted with desire, though he was notably good about not succumbing to it. Would he risk himself-- his soul-- again by speaking to Lailah? Of course. It was his job, his duty, his only wish., to risk himself for the good of others...
but damn, would this ever need some self-control.

The glorious thing then exited the vestry, walking purposefully. He knew the Sin was here, of course, but was wanted to speak to the blind priest, Father Kincaide, first. The soft clap of dress-shoes on marble, then, echoed faintly in the high empty ceiling of the temple, as the winged man strode down the nave to the narthex and then back into the cloister. It struck him, as he walked, that every single candle in the whole damn church-- anything that willingly took a flame-- was lit. Surely, it was Lailah's doing.

Malachi laid a gentle hand on the priest's shoulder, though he didn't need to-- the priest knew he was there by the rhythm of his step, the subtle sound of feathers in the air, and his scent, which Father Kincaide thought was very like snow and Ketoret incense. "I heard you, Father. It's alright. A very old friend of mine just lost her way, and came for directions." He smiled as he said it, which the priest could hear in his words, and smiled in return. "Ah. Thanks be to God." And he returned to his slow walk and his mumbled prayers, his heart untroubled.

The angel, however, turned to go back to the nave, eyes finding Lailah at once, like the moon among a field of dim stars. He'd walk up behind her very slowly and carefully, recognizing in an instant the words that purred from her mouth, attractive even when she didn't want them to be. Such a curse. He slid as quietly as he could into the pew next to her, his human voice speaking, along with hers, the words they both used to sing in that world above the world where they were made.

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There should be something stirring inside of her, something that alluded to happiness as she walked through this place of holiness. There was redemption in these stoned walls, a redemption that she knew she starved for, but it kept falling deeper inside of the blackness that she had no control over. It had been a good long while that she had been by herself, trying to regain something of her old self that had been good, but then it hit her. Something dark and so cold that it made her heart freeze over when she had awaken to the slight hum in her blood. That call was the one of her new master, a man that had taken her straight to Hell all for a night of passion. He was here, in this city, so close to her that she could feel that mental and physical pull to him, beckoning her to come to his arms again. It was the reason she was here, the reason she was so terrified.

Yes, she could hear the thoughts whispering inside of one of the priest's minds as she kneeled before the altar and looked up at the sight of the Cruxifiction above her. He would let Zadkiel know that she was there and if he wanted to, she would be here when he came down. If he did not wish to see her, to speak to her, she would understand all too much why and not hate him for it. The only person she should hate now was herself and that she was doing a beautiful job of. Lucifer may have tempted her, but she should have been strong enough to withstand him. Looking around at all the numerous candles that surrounded her, she smiled briefly. So engimatic, so...pure was the color of fire of the candles here. Nothing like hellfire that burned and scorched her while she was with Lucifer. This was...white light she would call it and it did not harm her. It only lit the sanctuary up to perfection, casting shadows of doubt across her face.

Prayer was the only thing she had left within her. While may have turned into a Sin, Lailah still knew how to speak to her Father in a holy, devouted way that bespoke of her love that she did still in fact have for him. Doubts would always plague her, but the constant love she had for the Father...her brethren, that had never ceased no matter how cold and distant she had seemed after her Fall. If only she had stayed ignorant of her vile ways...if only that thing named Zain had never come here, never found her. She would have been perfectly safe within Zadkiel's hands, for he would show her the way that she knew. But now? Now all she wanted to do was gut Zain; another horrible thing she was going to have to repent for.

Soft footsteps sounded behind her, but she paid it no mind, for she knew it to be a man that she had no reason to fear. The lights were luminous in this place, like tiny beacons of a lighthouse calling to a lost ship at sea. And Lailah was most definitly a lost ship at sea; this sea was one of inner turmoil and of ignorning that constant hum in her blood that called her to Lucifer. Squeezing her eyes shut, she continued to whisper in that lovely voice that had once sang with the Heavenly Host of Heaven, begging for something she was afraid she could not have. She was tainted flesh, spoiled meat, but she would be damned again if she was not going to try at least. She would much rather try than do nothing at all. His voice joined in with hers and she finished with a small shake and sigh.

"I used to love to sing so much. To hear my voice fill the air with what I felt, what we felt as his Children. Now...I do not feel as if my voice is good sang aloud with others present. My curse...I should not even be here at all." Her eyes fell to the burn on her palm, the skin still scorched, blackened by her entering a Holy place of God. With her back turned to him, Lailah shook her head violently. "Zadkiel...he is here. He has come for me again, and I don't know how to stop him." Those strange eyes of hers finally met his grey-blue ones as she spoke her fears, the terrified look flowing through her like a river.

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Malachi, an empath, sensed the emotions of others in a nearly synaesthetic way. To him, happiness was a warm yellow glow, anger a clotted, smouldering sort of buzz in his ears, frustration like velcro scraping his skin. And fear? Fear was a metallic, animal smell that crept into one's mouth somehow. And that smell was there now as he sat by the kneeling angel, whose dear face at this moment was pained and straining in the flickering candlelight.

"On the contrary-- you belong here always. You should never have left at all. You just need to...remember what it was to be good again." His eyes followed hers to her palm. It was one of few injuries the healer probably couldn't amend. He healed with holy light, and she had obviously gotten that from the handle of the door-- he'd felt her pain from the roof when she got it. She finally turned to look at him as she spoke again, her terror now hitting him in the face like a tidal wave.

And at her words, he felt nervous as well. It was strange enough to have met that abomination, but-- news that Lucifer had surfaced was indicative of something far more worrisome. Lailah had every right to be terrified. "If he has come to earth for you, he must be very concerned about losing you indeed..." the angel mused, wondering what the hell was going on. Lucifer didn't come to earth, and neither did his Father. It was one of the very oldest of agreements, that influence could be spread from afar by minions and puppets-- angels and demons-- but never directly. Of course, Lucifer broke this rule a fair bit more than God, but there were transgressions on both sides.

But if that First of the Fallen, one of the few creatures in existence that was older than Zadkiel, was truly here and coming for Lailah, what could be done to thwart him? Naturally, Mal knew the easiest way to repel the Most Unclean was with holy light-- so while he himself could easily ward him off, Lailah was extremely vulnerable. And on top of that, Satan was not the sort of person that you really wanted to allow to talk to you. A being like that could easily twist and warp the holiest of minds, and Lailah was living proof of that. "I can keep him at bay if you are with me, but if you are not...I don't know." It struck him that perhaps the way to win her wings back definitively was to be faced with Lucifer's cunning tricks and wiles again...and this time, to resist them and turn to her creator for help. He wouldn't say it, though. Not now, at least, when she had come to him in fear, pleading to come back to her old holy life.

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The fear inside of her was like a storm that could not be calmed. The metallic taste in her mouth was making her feel ill, weakened if that made any sense, and tired. All she wanted to do was lay her head down to rest, but the nightmares and the call to come to the vile thing that caused her fall plagued her until she believed she was going mad. Maybe she was, in fact, going mad slowly because she was resisiting the call of Lucifer. But if she were to go mad, how would she ever go back to the way she once was? The way she wanted to be now so badly it hurt?

She could have throttled him right then and there, but instead, she actually laughed. Laughed so hard that tears formed in the corners of her strangely colored eyes. "Bleong here, Malachi? That I am not sure of, but you are right. I never should have left." The burn would never heal, but if she got through this...if she did in fact earn her white wings, she would have this as a reminder of what it was like to fall so low. Never again would she allow herself to believe in a snake's words.

Oh yes, he was worried about losing her, or any of this Seven for that matter. They were his toys, his play-things that he abused for his own use. Lailah had been used in ways that her mind had shoved back into the darkest recesses, the darkest corners, in order for her to survive. But sometimes...well she could remember the times she was abused mentally and physically, his desire's taking a toll on her body in ways she could never begin to understand. "He told me once...after he raped me, that if I ever attempted to leave him...he'd bring Hell on earth. He wants us altogether, to gain more power from us. If we leave him...he looses that and his playthings." Lucifer was sworn to never come to earth, but he had more times than not over the many long years. Him arising recently just proved the signs that something horrible was going to happen. Just when, that was the hard part to discover with him. He never thought rationally, and always moved place to place quickly, seeking for something to suck dry and bend to his will. She should know, it did happen to her.

How was she going to break free of him? The monster had been her first love and the man that had drug her through the gates of Hell to become his little slave. And that was what she was in many ways; her mind did not belong to him, but he made damn sure that her body had. All those promises had been broken though and she had tried to get away. Now? Now she had a knot in the bottom of her stomach that bespoke of worry. "And do you not fear him yourself, Zadkiel? You are the angel of mercy in every sense of the word. While you are pure..." She did not doubt him, no that was not in her voice, she just feared for him because she knew too well what Lucifer could do with a pure heart and mind. Sighing, she stood up, her mind snuffing out several of the candles she had lit earlier, leaving only those in front of them alight. "What will you do with me? I know you have not forgotten what I have become, Zadkiel. I don't want to soil you, and I don't mean it that way, I just mean having me near you. It will be hard I think."

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"No, Lailah, you do. I know you do. There is no other person who belongs in this house of redemption more than you." Malachi was damn-near pleading with her now. If she could just let go of her self-loathing and depression and general despair! He knew it was hard-- one of the harder things he could think of to do, but the old angel knew as well how important it truly was. Despair and self-loathing might as well have been the unspoken eighth deadly sin. It was true that one could live a virtuous life while never learning to love themselves, but it was impossible to find redemption if one could not believe that there was anything in them that was good and able to be redeemed. How could Lailah find her wings again if she believed that what she deserved was hellfire?

Sure, she was a Sin. And no, that was no little thing to brush off and ask forgiveness for. There were some transgressions that were easier to heal, but there was nothing Lailah could do to take back what she had done-- she could only reform herself and apologize, and pray. Merciful Zadkiel could only coach her through this-- he could not do quite as he wished, and just give her what would soothe the pain in her.

He knew, though, that this harder path to redemption would mean a stronger holiness in the end, though. Some angels tended to straddle the line between white wings and black ones, but their sins might be small-- Lailah had gone so far as to redefine herself as sin, and her journey home would be long and hard but she would be better for it at the end. It was evidenced by the burn on the angel's hand, a badge of the pain and courage required to regain her wings.

"Lucifer is a proud, vain and boastful thing-- perhaps he didn't exactly mean what he said...I hope not, anyway. But he will certainly hoard the seven of you at all costs, and I think you above the others, you're right. God, I'm sorry this happened to you, Lailah. It kills me to think--" He left off his last sentence, unwilling to speak aloud of the sacrileges Satan had committed on the holy Lailah he had known before. The thought was so difficult for him it was hard for the angel to even comprehend it fully, though his heart ached for her pain as well as would be expected of any angel of mercy.

And did the angel of mercy fear the fallen angel of light, now prince of darkness? "Of-- of course I do, Lailah, but while my purity is my greatest weakness it also is my greatest strength. Holy light repels him, and a holy mind will find a way to resist his wiles...somehow. Through lots of prayer, I'm guessing. I dread ever confronting my once-brother, but...what must be done will be done." He knew she feared for him, and she had every right to. She had been in his position before, but had fallen to the greatest of all manipulators. How sound of faith was he? He supposed it would be a test. Every sinful inclination within him would come out, of that he was sure. Whether he could resist acting on them would be...interesting to see, to say the least.

She stood, and the room darkened as she willed the candles in the nave to darkness, leaving only the altar alight. He watched her from where he sat in the pew, his posture bent, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, wings perched at rest behind him. What was he to do with her? She tempted him with her every word or movement, of course, but he bore the weight of that temptation as best he could. He had done well so far tonight. "I'll bear that burden, don't let yourself worry over it. You have enough on your mind, and I think I'm getting better at...being around you...as time goes on. It hurts you, I think, to be reminded of it, anyway." He'd sigh, his blue-grey eyes like molten granite as the candlelight threw mobile shadows. "What do you think I should do with you? If there is anything I can do to help you, it is yours to have. If you want to stay in the church to shelter from Lucifer's searching eye, you are welcome to. If you want me to stay with you wherever you are, I can try to do that, too. What do you need, Lailah?" He was still as one of the statues of angels that were common in this city, so plagued as it was with all manner of dark things, his expression like something out of a Renaissance painting; still, sombre and compassionate.

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Her eyes sought his for a moment. He was pleading with her. Pleading with her to learn to forgive herself, to understand that there was no other way to gain her wings back if she kept hating herself for her mistakes. "Zadkiel...I will try, I promise." Eyes alight with her words, she smiled briefly before turning those wicked colored orbs back to the candle light before her. She would learn to forgive herself at some point, because she wanted out of the Hell she had had to endure.

Folding her arms over her chest as he spoke, watching the way the candles' flames danced like so many souls danced within her reached of long before her fall. She had watched over souls from the time of conception to their birth, feeling as if she was the first to love them, to hold them as a mother would a child. It really was no surprise to her that when Lucifer came to her with his request. She had been such a fool to believe that he wanted nothing more than to help her. If she had to beg to be a White Angel again, then by all means, she would grovel to become what she once was. She did not even have to be the Angel of Conception any longer, she just wanted those White wings.

The pain of her hand was really becoming irritating as she looked down at it. It was red, a sharp contrast to the pallor of her skin, and it looked just as bad as it felt. But the pain grounded her to what she wanted the most. This pain was nothing compared to what she had went through with Lucifer. She would wear this burn gladly, for it would remind her what she would have to do in order to get her wings back. And if this was the worse of pain, then she knew she had endured much, much worse in Hell. Her back alone would prove that.

"He only wants me because I left him. If he had let me go of his own accord, then I would have probably never come here. He wants that power to control others minds. My lust does that and Than? God, I feel so sorry for Thanatos, everywhere he went, he caused more blood to be shed." And Lucifer was vain in everything he did. He praised himself holier than their Father, holier than the Heavens himself. And every last time he had laid a hand on her, she had spent hours trying to wash off the feeling of his hands, of his lust. Shaking where she stood, she shook her head at Malachi's words, "No, do not think of it, Zadkiel. I do not want you to look at me that way."

Ah yes, he was afriad and she could not blame him. She too was terrified of Lucifer acutally coming here. Even if it were not for her, he did have something up his black sleeve that would surely cause more pain and destruction that they had ever seen from him thus far. Smiling at his words, she looked down at him and eyed him for a moment. "I believe that you will be fine, Zadkiel. Your faith is a great one; better than those of our brothers whom I know. Out of all of us old ones, you never Fell. You are strong, a warrior." While she had fallen, she did not believe that he would fall prey to Lucifer's manipulations; all of his dark temptations. Honestly, Lailah had not been a victim in many ways, but that was for another time perhaps.

Watching him with a wary look to her face, her lips pursed together slightly as her head tilted to the side. While it was true that he had done well in her prescence, she knew how much her Sin bore down upon him. Had she been her former, holy, self this would never happen to the poor Angel that sat before her. Her Sin was something that she was going to have to contain, because even though she did not mean for it to happen, it would bother him. "Do not worry about what hurts me, worry about what is hurting you. Being around me? It's not a good idea, I will agree with what you are thinking. While I do believe in you, I also know how strong it is, and how much it does bother you to be around me." What should he do with her? Now that was a question indeed for the fallen Angel. What she needed was redemption and quickly, but she knew not to rush anything, especially forgivness. "You cannot follow me wherever I go, Zadkiel. You're too kind, too sweet, and that is a temptation alone to my Sin. I cannot have you that close, my friend. Laughing bitterly, she shook her head and turned back to him. "I don't want to be your demise, Zadkiel. I care about you too much to do so. I thank you for what you have done for me, but I must leave you now." Walking over to him, she pecked his cheek as she disappeared back into the shadows that were all to familiar to the Fallen right now.

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Zadkiel, angel of mercy, nodded in response to her assertion to avoid thinking of Lailah as she had been in her capacity as the Sin of Lust. Yes-- it was better that his mind avoided that topic completely. It was one thing to be tempted by the sway of her thighs and the glimmer of candelight on her dark hair, but it was another entirely to think of the whorish nature of her job, the senseless filth she brought on herself, all that which was most repulsive to Malachi. It would sicken him, so he obeyed, and had mercy on himself (a rare thing indeed) and turned his thoughts elsewhere.

To the very real threat of meeting Lucifer on some back alley or other? Lailah, possibly the angel who knew the Unholiest best, studied him for a moment, and then deemed him able to deal with the threat. "It has not been without great pain and sacrifice...but I am just an angel. Warriors are those who may die." A soft smile, almost sad and melancholic, spread onto his face at that time. Memories, of course, of so very many warriors he had met. In that moment, Malachi seemed like a man preparing himself for a great ordeal. His wings resettled themselves on his back as he thought on having to leave his human shape to deal with the evil that slouched towards Noctum.

It struck Chi suddenly that they were righteous, tragic creatures, both of them. All angels were, really. They existed to sacrifice themselves to protect man from the evils they should not need to face, but had to stand by and witness every horrific failure, and, worse, those evils that their beloved humans did need to endure. And failure burned, sometimes, with the nauseating fires of hell. The job was made ever more difficult by the distinct strangeness of human emotion and society compared to ancient angelic culture. The elder bene ha'elohim came to earth with a worldview that was starkly black and white, good and evil, and had to learn the hard way what it was to live in variable shades of grey. And even then, when they did learn the beauties of mortal life, they were denied them; mortality, paradise, free will, love, and that which had drawn Lailah from the fold-- children.

He smiled sardonically at her comment about his good-hearted nature being temptation enough. He knew, though not from experience, that the tainting of the pure had a particular sweetness to those of darker natures. "No, of course not. You're right. And yet--" He gave up in the middle of his sentence to a thoughtful emotion, his brows furrowed as he surrendered to some internal debate. "Your good heart never left you, Lailah." She leaned in to peck him on the cheek, her graceful neck bending toward him, that alluring scent of hers drawing him in. His hand rose to touch her side without the angel even thinking, and by the time he'd realized the brief touch had happened, he was shaken and weak. The Sin of Lust drained him, though she didn't mean it. Malachi stood as she walked away, his fist curling as he resisted the urge to follow her. Yes. Being near her was certainly a...struggle.

His thoughts shifted quickly, though, to the topic that had stopped him mid-sentence before. Ought he tell her? There was little time. If he told her, assuming she didn't already know, and she fell back into the darkness, it would be like putting his head in a hungry lion's mouth...but what if she ran into Lucifer and needed his help? The impulse to call after her disappearing shape was too strong to resist. "If you do need me, just call my name. I'll be there...without fail." It was an automatic summons that he was powerless to resist. Wonderful for use in protecting those he cared about. Horrific, to think what might happen if she fell back into Sin, or passed this knowledge on to Lucifer. Zadkiel's die was thus decisively cast, for better or for worse.

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If he looked at her the way he had, Lailah would lose it. To think of her as something beautiful and tempting was one thing, but to think of all the nauseating things she had done? That she had had to endure? She understood only too well what would make his mind spin with disgust if he let it. So when he nodded that he would drop the subject, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was embarrassment enough that she did things to him that she had no control over, it was another for him to know what she had done.

When Lucifer came, she would know it. That strange, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach would curl tightly until she thought she would die of the feeling. She would have to answer to him, for if she did not, he would come for her and find her out. What would he do with her when he discovered the knowledge that she wished to be good again? Casting a worried glance over to Malachi, she sighed. He was good, a very pure heart lied within him. Something that was tempting not only to Lucifer, but to herself given what she had become. If they happened to run into each other...She did not wish to think of what Lucifer may or may not do to someone like Malachi. "Yes, you are just an angel. But you are also a man that has seen the world over, Zadkiel. You have experience life and you have conqured things that Lucifer can never hope to touch." His soft, crestfallen, smile brought a sudden overwhelming hurting within her own heart as she gazed at him. "Warriors may die, but they are the ones that hold the heart of the people, my friend."

Their fate was a cataclysmic one. They were sent here to this earth to save those creatures that their Father above made, yet they could not touch what the humans had. She had lived amongst them for centuries studying the way they loved, helped one another, cared for each other. Then came the realization that there was also great evil in a man's soul if he allowed it. To abash the darkness, she had guided many to the riteousness of the Father, learning that you could lead a horse to water, but you could not make him drink. Then came the most joyous thing she had yet to experience: the birth of a child. To see human mothers hold the sweet, tiny creature in their arms was like a knife in her own heart. To hear the cooes of the infant as it smiled into a mortal woman's face had made unknown feelings stir within her. To be human! To be mortal and love that which was created from the love between two people was more than she could handle. So when she had fallen...Lailah had done it to herself.

"Your good heart never left you, Lailah." Those euphonious words left a print in her blackened heart as she looked down at him. He believed that somewhere she was good inside. The words had something within her stirring, something she didn't quite understand at all. Her good heart had never left her. How could he possibly think that there was something still inside of her that was good? That had never been stained by Lucifer in the process of her being created as Sin? Pressing her lips to his cheek was the worse thing she could have done right then, but she knew inside she was not meaning to do it to ensnare him in her Sin. It was a small token of friendship, of thanks that he was there and that he had cared to listen to her. But she felt his hand on her side and nearly lost herself to the raging voices inside of her. The voices that screamed for her to do what she did not wish to to Malachi roared as she walked away with a heavy heart and mind.

Call his name. All she had to do was call out his name and he would come to her. Stopping in her tracks, her back stiffened as she closed her eyes to the sound of his voice, and the multitudes of raging demons and desires inside of her. He had given her a way to summon him, to destroy him if she were to turn back to Lucifer. Turning around slowly, she kept her head bowed as she walked up to him. Looking him straight in the eye, she stared into the twin pools of blue-grey with so many questions in her own. "Why?" For all the world she could not understand why he would give her a way. She could be the death of him! "Why would you give me this, Zadkiel?" Her hand reached up to cup a cheek as she looked at him sorrowfully before stepping back and turning to the doors once more. "My good heart may have never left me, but that doesn't mean that my want for you will go away when I find that goodness once more." Casting a last glance over her shoulder, she pulled the doors open with a cringe as the metal burned her hands once more. Tossing her black mane of hair over her shoulders, she disappeared into the night to find a place to lay her head and harbor her nightmares.

[Deleted]

Malachi felt almost that he was falling into Lailah's deep eyes as she confronted him. She was almost too close again, but the angel managed to keep himself from doing anything retarded for the moment, an iron will clamped vise-like on his every movement. He had confused and alarmed her by giving her his secret. And she ought to be-- it was not exactly what some would call a 'smart' idea, handing his life to a woman straddling the line between heaven and hell. "Because I am a stupid, naive, silly little old man." He gave a mildly ridiculous half-smile, his eyes glancing white for a moment as the angel behind the mortal mask seemed to shine through for just a second before receding.

She reached up to hold his face in one hand, and he felt frozen in place for a moment, a breathless second that stretched ad infinitum, melancholic and somber. Chi's expression returned to a more serious, sad smile, his brows raised slightly as he regarded the woman before him. "Think back to when you were a Guardian and you'll understand." He trusted her strength to get through this ordeal, to a point, but throwing in his own lot with hers would only provide incentive for her to push toward the Light. It was one thing to fight when you were the only person whom your fight depended on...but to have another's life in your hands gave renewed strength and resolve. Besides, if it came to that, he would gladly do whatever he could to physically defend her...even if it meant a confrontation with Lucifer himself.

And if all went wrong, and Lailah submitted to her vices? Well, life would get a lot more interesting very quickly. It would, he thought, get very close to costing him his wings. The man would sit back down in the pew as the sound of her footsteps faded-- damn, he'd have gotten the door for the poor thing if he'd just remembered. He thought on her parting words briefly...that even when she had regained her goodness, it wouldn't erase her desires. Well, that was for certain-- Malachi himself was as pure as dawn's light, but desire still racked him when he was near her. It was a problem that he'd deal with when he came to it. Until then...those granite eyes cast themselves to the altar, his thoughts mulling, body sprawled haphazardly on a pew, shadows dancing all around him.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you..."