#spnyj

The splinter of wood cracks in her ears, a welcome break in oppressive silence blanketing this abandoned township. Artemis straightens, sneering slightly at the door she’s just kicked down. She can see the patterns left behind by the woodworms. This whole place could come breaking down around her with groaning support beams and rotted out walls, but it wouldn’t hurt her. It’d take a lot more to harm an angel of the Lord. Artemis crunches over the woodchips scattered across the floor like autumn leaves, reaching into the depths of her trenchcoat to draw out a silvery blade. Despite the overcast skies, it gleams like it’s alive. Like it’s hungry. It’s been far too long since Artemis’ has been allowed to leave her post, far far into the galaxy, where’s she’s watched the universe rearrange itself while she’s only grown colder. For this mission, they needed a hunter. Something’s been stirring up trouble with God’s prized creations, tainting them. Up until now, the highest circles of Heaven have been quiet, like they had been for centuries, millennia. She’d never been happier to hear from her nestmates; they’d given her assignment, a chance to end a personal quarrel she’d held like a poison in her heart. “No use hiding, demon,” she tries. Her presence makes her vessel’s voice raspier, rougher. Artemis likes it. Her vessel is the body of a young woman with hair that tumbles down her waist and sharp gray eyes that storm and flash. The girl was praying for a miracle, for protection for her sister and her mother. Artemis granted her request, and in exchange, Artemis had the girl’s permission. Haha! Ghostly laughter trickles from between the cracks in the floorboards, from the hairline fractures in the ceiling. Artemis’s grip on her blade tightens as she circles into the dining room. He’s here. Every instinct is alert as she edges around a battered table and crosses into the hallway, trailing the tip of her sword over the peeling faded wallpaper. “You’ve had over a quarter of an era to come up with some better comebacks,” he’s biting back a laugh, she can tell. It makes her all the more inclined to make his destruction agonizingly slow. “And your opening line is “no use hiding, demon”?” There’s a tutting noise coming from the drawing room. Artemis rounds the corner, eyes narrowing. “‘Mis, I am disappoint.” Robin’s gotten himself a new body. It looks around the same age as hers, with artfully messy hair and baby blue eyes that take in her new form with all the intense focus of a laser beam. But all his muscles are liquid, sprawled over the arms of a musty La-Z-Boy that contrasted with his black dress shirt and pants. A loose silk tie hangs loosely from his neck, blue to match his eyes. Artemis feels her eyebrows raise reflexively, slightly incredulously. Robin answers her question lazily, swinging his legs around, so he was sitting regularly. “Like the new suit? Picked him up from morgue. I know how you love speculating that I have a shred of goodwill towards man buried beneath all my delicious malevolence.” Heat rising high in her cheeks, Artemis raises her blade, “No, I still think you’re just a dick.” A slow, deliberate display of teeth- a smile Artemis has learned to associate with trouble- answers her. “How quaint,” Robin says, quietly, leaning his elbows onto his knees. Thunder rolled in the distance, rattling the glass in the window panes. --- Robin actually picked up dearest Richard from the morgue to avoid an argument with his angel counterpoint. Artemis made a royal fuss whenever he took a host body with a soul still puttering on inside it. Richard Grayson’s vacated body was a fixer-upper when Robin had been real estate shopping, but after he had realigned the boy’s spine and patched up his shattered femur, Richard was looking good as new. Robin even gave him a new outfit. That whole circus schtick wasn’t working with Robin’s fashion sensibilities. Plus it was crusted over with blood. Robin’s reputation called for a little more... class. “There’ll be nothing quaint about this when I splatter your guts all over the floor,” Artemis rasps. The knuckles whiten around her angel’s blade. Robin chews on the pad of his pointer finger, giving the angel withering once over. “I anticipated you coming after me,” Robin drawls, watching Artemis’s lips tighten unhappily. For an angel, she had a shit pokerface. Not that Robin would tell her so, he liked it much better when Artemis wasn’t hellbent (snort) on killing him. “Especially since I procured the deeds to that little demon-blooded boy.” His grin stretched his lips. Artemis’ face flashed between outrage, inrage, and surprise. It was enjoyable as any light show. “Where is he?” Artemis snapped. Lightning flashed, painting a silhouette of curling wings over the ceiling, stretching toward him. The sword in her hand caught the blazing light and glowed dully  even after the room had darkened. He was flirting with holy fire. Robin brushed nonexistent lint from his shoulder as he rolled to his feet. “I could tell you, but,” his eyes went black, as he smiled charmingly at his angel. “I’d need a favor first.” Artemis cocked her head, considering the pros and cons of simply smiting him with her angel brand of ‘roid rage. And oh, did he love it.

GOD I WANNA WRITE THIIIIIS.