❝fallen angels are destined for little else but raising hell.❞
[dark angel!5sos au]
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cw: this book contains strong language, descriptions of blood/gore, supernatural occurrences, mild sexual content, talk of various religions, drug/substance abuse...
If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places
Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) ; Kate Bush
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✞
Ashton had not missed this place. He could do without the somehow soggy smell of kerosine and ashes. He could deal without hearing the howls of Legion in the middle of the night. He could deal without taking orders from three old Monarchs who have long overstayed their welcome on this earth. He would much rather make a new life, an eternal life, with his girl, somewhere else.
That is the Exemplaris' plan; and so that is how it shall be.
Ashton's feet hit the damp concrete ground with a dull, echoing thud. Not a sound returns back to him. His entrance is unnoticed. Like a poised hawk, he examines the corridors immediately to his left and right. The cold from Luke's rain has followed him deep into the earth.
"When was the last time I was in this shithole?" Ashton whispers to himself, digging in his pockets for a cigarette, disappointed when his fingers caress the soaked, unusable box. His heart sinks and then only slightly lifts as he feels the contents of his pocket. Broken glass.
At least one of the bottles Eden had given him had shattered during the fight. As far as he can tell, one remains. Nothing to do about it now but hope he needn't to use it.
And so, he walks. He walks with purpose. Forward. Deeper. He walks with his head lifted proudly, chin up, fists at his sides, orange eyes aglow just like the embers beneath his skin. His veins, still blackened with rage, hair still as fiery as molten rock, ash fleeing from his skin, freshly exposed from the battle which just took place. His neck wounds, though healing, are still leaking thick, corrosive blood.
It would be a long time before his eyes returned to their familiar, warm hazel.
As he presses forward towards the cellblocks of the Compound, a strange purple light begins to creep along the walls ahead of him. Ashton's eyes narrow, the tips of his ebony wings grazing the floor like a gentle kiss, his footsteps as silent as a preying tiger. The glow becomes brighter, warmer the closer he becomes to it.
