#angelstarter

The music was sweet, a familiar symphony that echoed over the eons that her mind contained. The landscapes changed, the faces, and the motivations: but war was always the same. Overhead the drow had taken the sky, a new age of their conquest had begun, trapped for so many years beneath a layer of mantle it was their turn to blanket the world in night shadow. Poetic, in a way, though Evanuris preferred her feet planted firmly on the ground that had birthed her. The bloodsoaked stones that had fostered the heart of Araushnee's rebellious young handmaiden. Lloth was more than a Goddess to her, the great leader of the Dark Seldarine was her oldest friend.

Beyond the walls of the temple the cries of a city in flames were a familiar comfort. The wails of the ceaseless dead, a Titan on the warpath, the children of the moon - cursed, scorned, and hated - getting their revenge at last. Some were torn apart, only to be reborn, just to be shredded once more in a petty, mutilating game. Death came with a sense of beauty, but it's refusal was quietly poetic.

Evanuris smelled the blood on him before she saw him, she wondered how much he'd learned since they'd last met. "You should be careful of what hides in the shadows." Spoken into the dark, the spider beckoned the viper closer.

So, stress eating was a thing apparently. Even for vampires. There was some vampire he’d found who had no idea what she was doing and Ezekiel had to pretend like his handle on things was any better so he didn’t look like a fool in front of her. “It’s weird, right?” Ezekiel said, he thought things would have gotten harder for them after what happened at the wedding - he’d literally torn through the city but there were almost no consequences. If anything, it seemed like there were even more people in the bar looking to get bit. “You’d think this place would be a ghost town.” Every so often he’d look at the door when it opened, as if he was waiting to see someone come walking through it. He didn’t, at least, it wasn’t the person Ezekiel was looking for him. “What about him?” Ezekiel asked as he gestured towards someone tall, dark, and broody. 

Rome was recovering from the archsatyr’s madness, powerful magic, though it wasn’t as if Hyrsam had managed it alone. The satyrs made it possible, not to mention Hyrsam’s father, while the Prince of Fools was formidable and unpredictable, it was his sire that was the true threat. Idly her mind played over what Lloth would think if the drow slid her blade between the archfey’s rib cage, took him by surprise and watched the light fade from their eyes. That was the thing about Gods and their aspects, they considered themselves simple deaths but Evanuris had watched the divine light fade from enough angelic features to know that God or man fear looked the same on everyone.

Night quiet as those affected by the seraphim’s plague rolled over the city, the only that were unaffected were those who belonged to the realm of the undead. Lloth’s favour wasn’t enough to be undone by a simple plague, and while she wandered unfamiliar streets she took in the glow of the moon above. Most of her life had been spent below within the Abyss, but there was a time when she’d wandered Sehanine’s gardens at her side, laughing while conspiring with a dagger behind her back. Evanuris hoped that the Goddess could see her now.

“For someone without a heartbeat,” The drow turned towards the creature that had been stalking her for the last few blocks, “you make an awful lot of noise.” A derisive look trailed from the other’s feet, up his legs, over his torso, and then rested on the youthful creature’s features. Practically a thread away from mortal, was he going to attack? That would be interesting, but everyone in this realm was so brash and headstrong. Glory and battle and blah blah blah. There was nothing glorious about battle, men drowned in the mud and people shit themselves before death. The quickest way to a man’s heart was through his back.