#⃞sorin
general PSA : if you have a problem with someone, bring it to dms. as someone who's been mass shit talked over a misunderstanding, it's NOT fun when people subtwt about you
@AngelExorcist
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Malachi didn’t knock when he entered the training atrium.
Most angels avoided the place unless they were assigned drills, but he knew she’d be there. Lute always was. The space was quiet—clean, weapons stored in perfect order, no music, no prayer. Just the rhythm of her breathing and the faint scrape of metal as she adjusted her gauntlets.
He stopped a few feet behind her.
❝𝘓𝘶𝘵𝘦..𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.?❞
@M0TH3RsL0V3
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Malachi spotted her before she spotted him. Not in a dramatic flash of wings or trumpets. Just a short quiet figure standing at the edge of one of Heaven’s hanging gardens. He looked a little older than the last time she’d seen him, like the burden of earth followed him even here.
He took a breath, gathering himself.
Then he walked to her.
❝—ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜɪᴍ..❞
The words came before the greetings, before the pleasantries, as though they’d been sitting on his tongue for hours. His hand flexed once at his side, feathers ruffling faintly beneath his shoulders, trying not to show how shaken he was.
❝ɪ… ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀʟᴀꜱᴛᴏʀ.❞
He didn’t sugarcoat it.
Didn’t hide behind pride or authority.
❝ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ.❞
A pause, jaw tight.
❝ꜱᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴏʀɴ.❞
Only then did he actually look at her—really look—honey brown eyes softening the moment the anger bled out of his tone.
❝ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ..❞
Malachi stopped mid-stride. For a moment, the rain was louder than his breath. Thin drops striking pavement, roofs, even the distant neon signage that buzzed like broken halos.
He didn’t look back immediately.
He let the weight of Alastor’s words settle, like old dust on a coffin.
Then his shoulders squared again, the posture of someone who carried too much.
❝𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯’ 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵’𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵...𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭.❞
his eyebrows go sky high at that. oh they practically blend into his darn hairline.
"what. you didn't fail me whatsoever. i made conscious decisions on my own.
useless sentiment, feeling that way. how silly. nothing will change, father. i am where i want to be."
Malachi didn’t flinch at the barb—
not this time. Not when his blood was already boiling.
His wings remained spread, each feather catching faint traces of holy light that the Pride Ring hated to see. The floorboards under his boots creaked as he moved closer. Reaching out to grab alastors collar. Lifting it.
A low, humorless breath left him—half a laugh, half disgust.
❝𝘠’𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺?❞
His voice dipped, the accent dragging the words across broken glass.
❝𝘈𝘯 𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘧𝘶𝘭..𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺'𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦?❞
"Your attempt was lackluster *at best*."
Uncaring, unflinching as his teeth grew sharper.
"You are *nothing* to me but the man who ended my era unfairly. But you'll find I'm not one to put down so easily down here."
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝𝘐𝘵𝘴.. 𝘋𝘶𝘣𝘰𝘪𝘴❞
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He responded with hesitation. After all this is hell. He couldn't be quite sure who to trust. And yet she seemed more than keen to drag him along through the hotels corridors.
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ㅤ❝𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵'𝘣𝘦..❞
He remarked back. Taking a sudden step forward. Shoulders squared. Looming over the demon as feathered appendaged freed Themselves from the confined of his coat. Flaring outwards.
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