#* azrael

Even with war imploding around her, Serissa's vital instinct to protect herself never wavered. Perhaps such selfish reasoning was what kept her within the boundaries of base camp; somewhere safe. Shielded. It was all she'd ever known to do. She felt it first, the prickle of one of them nearby; like a spark against her every nerve. It twisted, formulated itself a threat in her mind, and with little more than a fleeting thought, she brought down a strike of lightning - conjured out of the smog of battle - at his feet. Clearly - the seraphim would be here, Serissa knew of Michael's intention and presumably, the others would claim the same desire; but she knew the blessed still hunted the Nephilim, "We don't have time for this," no doubt, he would question her again - demand the whereabouts of her father, even if the premise for the war itself would bring the seraphim commanding such domain right to him. "I already told you I have no idea where he is," she snapped, the crackle of lightning sparking across her fingertips as her gaze hardened upon his approach.