( VALKYRIE ).

                   ❛ we’re all GUILTY of something, Doc’. ❜

                     she makes her stand, and he takes his own step forwards —– there is no hesitation to it, no softness to the way his heel digs into the ground, ready to strike, ready to rip her apart. and maybe a LESSER MAN might have cowered, or perhaps given it a second thought, but that tentative soul is GONE; he touches with purpose, and his intent is to kill. innocent people ? what innocence can exist without sin ? what good can exist without evil ? what LIFE can exist without DEATH close behind ? she may have her reasons, and however innocent they may be, there can be no peace without CHAOS. they’ve all killed someone: the blood on her hands is far beyond dry. ( she spits out that name again, like it might hurt him in the same way he’s hurt innocent people, yet it only takes a moment of his time, to entertain the SICK irony: reyes wouldn’t have done this. reyes was a lesser man and LESSER MEN can die. )

                   ❛ don’t try to tell me what’s right or wrong. ❜

        THIS  IS  AS  MUCH  YOUR  FAULT  AS  IT  IS  MINE.

   she reaches out a hand, only so slightly in worry that he might just rip it off. what use was it, aside from her worries, what had she hoped for ? that he’d take her hand and all would be better ? what wishful thinking, how FOOLISH. what had she to be guilty of ? guilty of an outcome she could never have predicted ? she tells herself, again and again, this is not what she wanted, what she intended. she could not have known this was to be the result, yet, the weight of her failure brought her down, like a boulder crushing a bird. the weight of his words crushing her wings, pressing against her chest and heart, making her breath crack between words. ( like TEARS would sway death itself ). angela breathed in, preparing to speak, making sure her words had the strength to stand.

                    ❛ DON’T try to keep to your INNOCENCE. ❜

                    there’s malicious intent in his words, a CHALLENGE, a question: then what did you want, Angela ? the way she holds to that name ( Reyes, Reyes, can you hear me — can you move ? thank god you’re alive … ), as though she were warding herself against her crimes, as a priest would ward off a demon with pious words —– lies !! —– alone. does it still SCAR him all the same ? does it still crash against him all the same, an angry tidal wave of regret and repentance ? ( INNOCENCE = IGNORANCE, WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE ? ) even before her, as Death itself looms e’er closer … she looks for that name, as though that name could come and save her —– what did you want for him, then ? did you want to make him a better person ? did you want to change fate and have him HOLY again ? the world is hardly so obliging towards false prophets: there’s a reality and a distortion: she bridged that gap, when she made HIM.

                   ( and he’s come back to burn that bridge, ironically enough. )

                   ❛ …———-  you  knew   damn well   what  you   were  doing. ❜                    and now you won’t face the consequence ? selfish. stupid.

   a step further -- softly, quietly, like a feather reaching the ground. he was wrong, he had to be. such a fate ( a CURSE she herself had INFLICTED upon ) could not be brought on by an ANGEL -- mechanical and false as she may be. this act was committed with care and affection and all the sweet feelings that allowed her to dream. DREAM of a perfect world, of which he wouldn’t allow her. his words sharp with a razor tip that pierced her flesh, from this wound she bled out in ways unseen. though perhaps in  h i s  eyes he saw all the pain he dealt. angela heard his words, denial fresh on her lips. 

u wANNA FUKIN TRY ME

YEAH I DO 

@amongstdeath

                   ❛ … there’s a price to pay, bringing the DEAD back to life. ❜

                     it’s a loose slip of commentary against himself, words dipped in LOATHING —– a particular poison he was well-acquainted with himself. a vehement curse, he casts it aside, as though the weight of it were pointless upon his tongue, despite how he had gnashed upon them, churning them between his teeth, even as they flooded his mouth with the taste of BLOOD. it’s fire, burning the back of his throat, and now the lit match has been struck and everything else goes up in FLAMES. yet he remains, ash and soot, smoldering amidst the embers … it remains ambiguous, even unto himself, why he remains —– maybe, even in the shadow of his desire and his greed, he amasses some satisfaction by merely existing, by standing here before HER, an act of defiance from creation to creator. the deaths pool beneath him, and in it’s own right, that is enough. but it’s never enough, is it, Angela ? he wants to SHOW her: this … this is what happens when you play god.

                  ( you bring a whole new DEVIL into the world )

                   ❛ I’m just paying what I owe. ❜

@valkyriesque·

         ❛ reyes-- ❜ 

   a dagger piercing the heart ? such was the feeling, or at least, similar to. it was delusions of grandeur that’d failed her, mechanical wings could not bring her closer to the heaven she wished. she’d done miracles, she knew as much. she’d helped people, a brilliant woman performing brilliant deeds, but BRILLIANCE does not excuse her carelessness towards human life. ( let dead men lie ) a wise saying that never seemed to stick with her. HOW PITIFUL. perhaps her false halo was large enough to shield her eyes from reality. yet there he stood, before her, Angela’s brows furrowed in denial and mouth agape to refute his words-- yet, this looming shadow -- her FAILURE -- spoke truth she was unable to simply brush off her shoulders. 

          ❛ no, no. this-- this isn’t what i  m e a n t  for you  ❜