Hell Within Heaven's Gates

7

"No," Immane grumbled, not trying to fight away from the cell.

"I will not stay trapped in here like a fucking animal," did her voice crack, is she crying?

Immane stayed silent, her neck at an odd angle from the way Seraphine was holding her horn.

"Take me out of this goddamn cage," she demanded clearly upset.

"Where would you prefer, princess," she asked, sarcasm radiating from her.

"Anywhere but here," she sounded desperate, she wasn't joking around.

Immane thought. She would never go for it, though. And Azazel would kill her. Truly, "you promise you won't go away?" God, she sounded like a kindergartener, asking for a pinky promise.

"I- .... I promise, just please...."

She couldn't believe what she was agreeing to, but she'd never admit to anyone that being in the cell made her feel lonely. That was stupid.

"Let me go," Immane ordered.

Seraphine let go and mumbled an apology.

Immane ran a hand through her hair, fixing it. "We're going to my room. You alright with that?"

She nodded folding her hands in front of herself. Tucking her wings nicely. She looked up at Immane through her bangs. She couldn't look more angelic, even in hell, even behind bars, she's glowing.

Immane turned away to hide the fact that her face turned red. Even those damned to hell cannot ignore that of heaven's beauty. She started walking back to her room, "I didn't lock it. Come."

She pushed it open, the door creaking and she followed behind Immane., silently.

"Walk beside me," she ordered.

Seraphine walked a bit faster matching Immane's pace. Keeping her face hidden behind her bangs. She was trying to think, and didn't want immane looking at her like she did back at the cell, that gave her conflicting feelings about this situation.

Immane didn't look at her. She kept her head s t r a i g h t (hetero), taking the turns needed to get to her room.

Seraphine paid special attention to all the turns, just in case anything isn't safe and she needed some sort of escape. She looked over this demon in front of her. Soft. That was her only thought. A soft demon. Never in her life would she have thought Immane would be a creature of the devil, had it not been for the horns. It confused her immensely to say the least. She was just lucky she found how to break her resolve.

Immane opened the door, walking in, not waiting for Seraphine. The room was simple. A double bed, with a nightstand on the side nearest the door. There was a closet on the opposite wall, with a door to what was a bathroom.

"How are your wounds," she sounded surprised to be saying it herself.

Immane glanced at her, confusion clear on her face, "I'm sorry," she asked. Was the angel asking her if she was alright?

"I said, 'How are your wounds,'" she repeated herself kind of annoyed. She crossed her arms leaning on the door to close it. Were demons mentally retarded? Did she stutter?

Immane narrowed her eyes, "I'm fine."

"Then show me them." Seraphine gave Immane that intense look again, boring into her soul, or lack of.

Immane tilted her head, "what, are you worried about me," she said with her voice raised an octave, making fun of her.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn about your well being. I care that I caused harm to a person, demon, whatever. So stop pretending like you're something when you're less than that."

She glared at Immane. Hopefully getting her point across.

Immane scowled at her, crossing her arms over her chest, "thanks."

"No problem, but let me see them."

She wasn't giving up on this.

"I don't think so," Immane protested.

Serapnie walked forward and pushed immane into a wall without even having to touch her. She was checking the wounds, easy way or the hard way. Clearly this demon chose the hard way.

"Ow," Immane grumbled, her head hitting the wall hard, "back off."

"Tell me where they are, so I can check them, and maybe I will," she glared Immane in the eye, such a difficult being, she guessed one must be difficult to work with when they're such manipulative things. Now she knows how the negotiating angels feel. Extremely frustrated.

"What, where you stabbed me," Immane curled her top lip into a scowl.

"No, I'm talking about the paper cut you got a few minutes ago," she mocked the demon sarcastically.

"You gonna kiss it and make it feel better," she teased. What would this angel do?

Seraphine clenched her jaw at that and pushed up Immane's shirt only enough to see the bandages and pressed her hand against them. Grimacing as she healed them. As a precaution to keep angel's humbled and in line, they must feel the pain the afflicted felt when receiving the wound in order to properly heal them. However, the process is completely painless to that whom they're healing. It's a strange law, but one that needed to be in place.