Paradise End

15 - Past

            "I'd like to see you try," A voice sneered behind Razael. Amid the crowd of bustling angels and mysterious, aimless participants, he turned to meet eyes with the familiar jeering features of the objector in the lab's chamber. Out of the way from the lively crowd, leaning up against a wall, the one called Deramiel crossed his arms. "So, I see you're still playing Father to that lowlife in your lesser form, Zadriel."

Crackling firelight in rusty chains, the sound of thuds echoing a chamber, gleaming hatred musing in the night. That voice.

Harboring little animosity towards the familiar face but remembering the sting splitting across his abdomen from the previous night, the bat-winged cherub averted his placid face from Deramiel, discomfort pushing him to fiddle with his sleeve. Covered by the clothes he and Zadriel had managed to haphazardly scrounge up the night before in the nearest district, the loose garments seemed too thin in the dissecting eyes of his gloaming counterpart here. He remembered the wind blowing across star studded rooftops, able to see for the first time since his being there how fast cherubim could be – Zadriel snatching clothes off a line in less than a few seconds. So fast Raz admittedly hadn't been ready to comprehend what he'd just seen, taking a second or two to catch up with him. Nonetheless, despite Zadriel's spiritual essence faintly humming beside him, and Nashira's growing glare in spite of her 5'6 stature, Raz felt a shiver creep up his back as Deramiel's continuous sneer came back to him like a slap in the face.

A shiver echoing in the past, creeping up his back as the self-righteous contempt pouring off Deramiel now made its way over to him in tidal waves. Although he couldn't explain it fully in words, discomfort shifted underneath his chest.

Bringing back not just the previous nights, but all the nights before. Memories, glimpses, looking for a way out of a sea of similar gazes to what he faced now pressed in all around him. Latching on to his blank stare for comfort, he clenched his fists, shrinking into his own frame as he turned to look at Zadriel. Suspended on the steps of the staircase tucked away from the floor's bustling hall, his attention snapped to Raz.

"Lesser form?" Raz's voice came out empty.

Zadriel, gold glinting off his bronzed hair, furrowed his brows. "This form, the one given to lesser rank ma'lak, what you see us wearing now... it's only half of our natural forms."

Half? What did that mean for the rest of the real form? Deramiel studied the dirt under his fingernails, a smirk rising on his cheeks, "More like an uncomfortable costume if you ask me."

Raz, deadpan, shifted on his feet, "Why would you both force yourselves to assume a form that's... lesser?"

An uncomfortable pause lingered over the pair, Nashira and Zadriel both averting their faces to the ground. Shaking his head, Zad inched forward, "... That's a story for another time."

Nashira, however, wasn't as keen to let taunts go, a simmering flare bursting forth from her core; "You're one to talk, Deramiel you self-righteous prick! You mock us for assuming our melakhuti forms! How dare you insult us! If you're so perfect, then what do you have to say for yourself walking around in that get up you wear!? What do you call that huh? Huh!? Answer us you immortal twat!"

"Nashira!" Zadriel grabbed his equal, her hair wildly twirling about as her face glared full of desert fire at Deramiel, who, in spite of Shira's ferociously climbing spiritual pressure manifesting in the air around them, smirked wider. Calmly lifting his hand, he twirled his index finger in front of her face, twirling until he landed softly on her nose. "Boop."