Not Fallen... Yet

Chapter 1 - Aryan

Aryan drug the end of his wing along the dusty, rust stained floor of the cage as he circled his prey with ominous slowness, the razor of a claw protruding there dragging across the sleek surface with a haunting screech that rang in his ears but was tolerable in turn for the visible shudder it sent through his victim. The demon stalked forward a pace with a vicious sneer twisting its way onto his features as his competitor stumbled a step back, audibly drawing in a fearful gasp at the advance.

The girl Aryan was pitted against had seemed a worthy enough opponent, offering plenty of fierce resistance to his usual modus operandi of battle in the beginnings of their fight but it all proved to be naught but adrenaline fueled bullshit and a quick burst of fiery steam that cooled far too quickly, leaving the woman a defenseless target as soon as the battle began to wear on. Now, the girl breathed heavily and sagged with the weight of her injuries, clutching a blood smeared hand to her side where a crimson stain was steadily blooming out over her midnight blue tunic, turning the cloth almost black as the liquid leeched steadily further out through the tattered shirt, already nearly shredded with numerous claw marks and tears.

"Yield!" Aryan snarled dangerously, taking another step towards the woman who merely spread her large ruby colored wings as if intending to evade her attacker through flight - A piss poor idea if she was already sporting a giant gaping hole in her side, but no one ever listened to Aryan. Noo sir. Just keep fighting until you die. Wonderful idea. Brilliant really. Why didn't he think of that?

"Never!" The woman - Aryan dimly remembered her being called something like Lil, or Lilly, or something like that, Lilith most likely - cried out determinedly, bringing her wings down in a powerful beat that lifted her slightly from the floor. However, quite unsurprisingly all this brainiac managed to do was rise about a foot or so off the ground before she began haphazardly tilting sideways, hissing in pain as she clutched her bleeding side and tumbled a few inches that way before catching herself once more.

Aryan sighed resolutely, drawing his own sleek, raven black wings up, and lifting himself into the air with a strong downwards flap that brought him high above his struggling opponent with ease, the webbed flesh stretched over thin bones catching the air magnificently and lifting him skywards with practiced perfection. They hadn't actually lost someone in a cage fight in centuries but if Lilith, or whatever her name was, was going to be stubborn, well, Aryan sure wasn't about to lose his bet on a whim of sympathetic compassion.

The demon swooped his wings downwards once more just to be certain to put himself a safe space above his still fighting competitor, whose unswaying look of determination was doing more to maintain her dignity and not much at all to secure her victory, or even to ensure her survival at this point. Then, once he was securely out of reach and inarguably had the upper hand, Aryan angled his huge wings inwards so they no longer held him aloft but rather propelled his rapid descent as he dove skilfully towards his unfortunate adversary, a plummeting bullet with sharpened claws outstretched and poised to kill as Lilith startled back in surprise and dropped the remaining few inches to the floor, falling onto her back and barely managing to scramble to her elbows before her doom was nearly upon her.

Aryan slammed his claws into the girl's shoulders, the black painted talons sinking into the woman's flesh as easily as if it were softened butter, a strangled scream tearing from his opponents throat. It was an agonized cry, shrill and painful, that pierced through the air like a siren howling out its misery to a lonely night but it did naught to halt the demon's attack, failing to even sway the Underworldly creature's advance as he curled his fingers upwards inside the newly inflicted wound. Aryan's nails hit bone, the familiar slick ooze of blood steadily pouring over the digits in waves as he curved them around the hard material, earning another tormented wail from the girl who just couldn't listen.