A Weakest Heaven

Stifle

Sharp pangs radiated from Mallory's thumbs as her senses returned to her. The air was as dry as saltine crackers as she heaved a deep breath. An annoying buzz drilled far too loudly for her liking. Mallory grunted as she opened her eyes to the dimly lit stone room. Confusion set in quickly as she looked around, a headache settling between her eyes as she realized she wasn't in Saga's room anymore. Panic overtook her chest as she rose with weak and shaking legs, her arms numb from being restrained in too-tight shackles for over a week.

Mallory fell with a thud and yelped when a sharp pain pulsed forth from her elbows, "Fuck!"

She ground her teeth as pained tears welled in her blue-grey eyes. The sound of an unseen door opening begged her attention away from the ache.

"Hello dear, how are you feeling?" came a voice from the door.

Mallory scowled, "What the fuck is going on Milo? What's with these damn chains huh?"

Milo chuckled; ran a large hand through his short blonde hair and stepped into the room, "Well, you're going on trial for your sins Miss Mallory-"

"What fucking sins?!" She snapped, her long black hair fell into her face as she stood again, readying herself to lunge at the man.

With a sly smile he replied, "Why, for loving a human of course- and a human woman at that," he stopped before her, gaze pinned to the far right wall, "how utterly, scandalous."

Mallory gawked as he turned his head to look at her, "Neither one of those things are sins!"

Milo snorted a laugh, "You see-" he said while he leaned into her ear, "we don't care."

When he pulled away to look at her fearful eyes he was instead met with a glare, "It wasn't a sin when you went around screwing the 'virgin' mother you sick man-baby," her voice lowered dangerously, "but whatever's convenient for you I guess," she spat in Milo's face, "prick."

Milo lurched back, a deep scowl setting on his features. He wiped away the spit from his skin and glared at the woman who wore an accomplished grin. His curled fist swung forward into her abdomen, causing her to keel over. The man dusted his knuckles against his leather jacket and chuckled, "watch your dirty mouth."

Mallory heaved dryly as Milo left the room, "Fu-uck you Milo!"

Another heave left Mallory sputtering, the idea of being condemned drew panic to the forefront of her mind. It became the sole reason for the tightening in her chest, the delirious darting of her eyes around the room. Being condemned was a damn near death sentence for angels, being human was far too great a burden for most. Milo paused just beyond the the doors threshold, becoming a disembodied voice in the darkness, "Ten minutes to the trial, Miss Mallory."

Her name sounded like venom on his tongue, when Saga called her Mallory it was like sugar, tweeting birds, the summer sun, all the good things life had to offer.

It's pure- untouched by this nightmare-

The gods held unfair trials, not a smidge of normality in them. Not like humans. Their word is absolute and the condemned don't even get the right to an attorney. They make up new sins just to have an excuse to condemn angels. It doesn't matter the angel, they're basically done for the moment the gods tell them they're going on trial. The gods drag it out as a sick form of entertainment.

Mallory tugs at the chains, cutting the flesh that resealed nearly as fast as opened. She already felt stifled, the image of Saga tucking her tight curls into a ponytail at the base of her skull the only thing keeping the angel going.

I have to get back to her-

Mallory had become so encapsulated by the image of Saga that she failed to notice the two figures that had entered until they were yanking her off the dirt floor. Even then she fought to keep focusing on the thought of her love. Inevitably the picture faded, and she was left staring at the angels who were being compelled to drag her to the trial.

Damn Gods-

The bastards got an angels friends to haul them to the trial. Vidas' main power was the ability to compel people, angels, basically anything to do as he commands. Mallory recognized the two as Zeraina and Marcus, but she knew they couldn't resist the compulsion so she didn't even try to talk to them. They dragged her down the hall, her lower body running over the marble flooring and past the darkest red walls that she'd ever seen. Every few feet a torch crackled casting a sparse light through the hall.

Mallory stopped fighting- letting her body go slack. Her friends didn't seem bothered by the weight, they didn't even seem to notice that she'd become such a dead weight. The seemingly endless corridor came to an end at the trial centre. Mallory closed her eyes against the light as they burst into the dome, which was lit like a stage so that who chose to attend could see the accused's fear. She herself hadn't attended since the year of her creation a few- actually- she couldn't remember how long ago her creation was.

Hisato (the third of the gods) sat at the centre podium flanked on the left by Vidar and on the right by Milo. All three were cruel, vengeful, but none more then Hisato. He chose the 'sinner' because his powers allowed him to manifest the things that cause you the most pain, real or fictional. Anything that could hurt, Hisato would find it and use it to make the sinners face contort in agony for the enjoyment of him and his band of brothers.

Milo was cruel yes, but he was far more cocky and vain-

Power hungry-

He would swipe the authority out from Hisato's feet if he could only find a way. Vidar, he was different, difficult to read because his powers distorted the vision of him and his personality. Mallory figured he was bored, a omnipresent deity suffering the trials and tribulations of being immortal.

As Mallory took in the sight of a thousand angels watching her she realized how insulting it was to be stood her. A toy to entertain the masses. Back when she was created the angels had told her not to look, to never attend and never speak ill of the practice.

"Don't talk of it, don't look upon it, move forth and quietly so,"

She could picture them, face after face telling her the same. A lot of them were taken to trial and cast down like rotten bags of potatoes. Then the gods replaced them as though their lives meant nothing.

"Mallory!" Hisato's voice carried, ricocheted off the walls and bounced back, the tone demanded her attention. Her eyes raised involuntarily, her mind compelled by the presence of Vidar to do so.

The god had taken a human form and wore a troublesome smirk, his oil slick of hair falling in shallow waves about his head, "You have been placed before this trial for the sin of loving a human woman-"

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, all misplaced judgement. Blind faith in a cruel and uncaring master.

'A human?' then 'A woman?'

It was as though they'd never seen such a thing occur, though many angels took up human lovers. Milo himself messed around with a woman named Aileen, 'The Virgin Mother' he'd called her upon the arrival of his son.

Mallory steeled herself, eyes casting fire at the bunch. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, "And what of it?"

The angel had expected her voice to be weak, like a starved flame flickering into obscurity. Instead it came out loud and commanding, like a forest set ablaze in the dry heat. It looked like Hisato himself flinched.

He quirked a brow, "Interesting, let us begin the trial."