ROLLING IN THE DEEP [open]

[ZERACHIEL]

Zerachiel recoiled, the bloodied corpse causing her stomach to churn. Although, the wounds appeared to be fresh, flies had already congregated within the lesions, hovering around the carcass. The death toll continued to increase each day, and the hunter knew the ongoing struggle against Lucifer was futile. The infected outnumbered those uncontaminated, the individuals tainted by the Croatoan virus rapidly transmitting the disease. She did not know how long Camp Chitaqua would endure the post-apocalyptic warfare, though Zerachiel continued to engage in battle alongside her comrades in spite of an unpromising future. She grieved for the deceased, recalling the man’s animated face hours earlier; he would be missed—they all were.

Gravel crunched underfoot drawing Zerachiel from her reverie. Before she could react, hands seized her about the shoulders thrusting her onto the hard earthen floor. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she fought, straining to free herself from the Croat’s unyielding embrace. The pungent aroma of blood enveloped her, the rabid individual’s lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing two rows of decaying, bloodstained teeth. She drove her knee into her attacker’s stomach, sending the human—no . . . monster—reeling into the underbrush, groaning in protest. She was amazed that she had been so easily caught off guard.

Instinctively, she withdrew the switchblade from her pocket, prepared to defend herself; she was amazed that she had been so easily caught off guard. Dazed, she attempted to stand, though a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her surrounds grew indistinct, darkness creeping up on her peripheral vision. When she turned to face her pursuer her heart skipped a beat as she realized it had already disentangled itself from the brushwood, nowhere to be seen. Her blood turned to ice. All she could hear was her shallow breathing and the frantic beating of her heart.

It was too late . . .

Arms wrapped around her from behind. Zerachiel screamed in agony as teeth pierced her skin, tearing into the soft flesh of her shoulder. Her body writhed in response and she managed to separate herself from the Croat, whirling around in one fluid motion and plunging the sharp edge of the knife into the other’s throat. It’s eyes widened and then glazed over as it fell back, sprawled awkwardly on the ground.

Zerachiel leaned back against the aged trunk of a tree, her hand gently caressing the wound, blood streaming from in-between her fingers. She trembled, gritting her teeth together as the pain intensified now that she was more aware of the injury. The hunter may have survived the attack, however she knew with horrible uncertainty that she had been infected.

[ELIZABETH]

Well, this war was not going well for anybody, unless you happened to be the Devil. Elizabeth on the other hand was not pleased with this scene on Earth, at all. Her prey, wicked humans, had become scattered and frightened creatures. Some of them were actually changing their ways and going ‘good’ and she didn’t see them as valuable anymore. She was pissed off at this…disease, which had been unleashed by Lucifer and the demon spawn he had created. It was ruining her fun, and this was not at all how she expected the apocalypse to turn out to be.

Still, unlike some others, she had planned for the worst. Even though her brethren had left Heaven, she had saved up power…energy. Her ‘stockpile’ of ‘supplies’ was not the most saintly. With each wicked human she had killed, she had kept their soul…It wasn’t the most angelic thing to do, but they were a good power souse. So, even without Heaven, she was doing quite well…As well as a soul stealing, demon hating, human despising, angel could. And so…she now depended on the species. Elizabeth, once bent on tearing humans a new one, had turned over a new leaf and was trying to save them. After all, she would become mortal too if there were not any humans to pluck souls from.

Did that make her just as bad as Lucifer? She didn’t want to think of that. It sickened her a little. Still, these times were about survival. Desperate times, called for desperate measures. She swallowed and lightly landed on the ground. She didn’t have to worry about the Croats too much. They were easy to get rid of, for her at least, and she could always teleport herself to a safer location. Those skills had been so dearly useful as of late. Still, she was armed to the teeth in blades. This angel had never been a fan of guns. They were too, impersonal, messy, and loud.

As she landed she heard a scuffle. She turned her head sharply to the direction of the sound and broke into a cautious jog. As she heard the scuffle end she rounded a corner and spotted Zeracheil against the tree. She looked between the dead Croat and the woman and her hand instantly went to the handle of a blade that was attached at her thigh.

She didn’t know what to say to the woman at first. Should she offer words of comfort? Wait for her to die and take her soul? Should she just kill her and offer a quick death, so that no others could become infected? Could she even help her? She shifted, staring back at the dead Croat and nudged the dead creature’s thigh with her boot, to be sure. Her icy gaze returned to the blonde before her. Something was off here…

“Sister?” she asked softly, an eyebrow quirked as her senses told her that, at one point, she had been much more than a mortal.

[ZERACHIEL]

Leave,” Zerachiel commanded the moment her gaze swept over the woman opposite her, disregarding the words already spoken—it was only a matter of time before the disease took effect, influencing her process of thought. The fallen angel now doubted herself, afraid that she would lose her self-control and submit to the animalistic cravings of the Croatoan virus; she did not want to be held responsible for the death of another. She shuddered involuntarily as she envisioned herself yielding to the fervent thirst for blood, her hands and mouth stained crimson, eyes wild with bloodlust. Zerachiel needed to prevent herself from turning into the monster she would become before it was too late.

At least her strength of mind had not yet deteriorated; Zerachiel knew what must be done. Her eyes slid from the individual and onto the switchblade still wedged into the throat of the cadaver. “I need . . .,” she muttered, rising on unsteady legs. She would rather die than murder to survive, and taking her own life would be simplest. Wrenching the blade from the still warm flesh, she stared down at the cutting edge of the knife, the sunlight reflecting off the sleek, bloodstained surface. Her heartbeat accelerated; sweat dampening her palm as she strengthened her hold on the hilt. However, she hesitated.

Facing the brunette, she extended her hand, offering her the weapon. “Could you . . .?” Zerachiel faltered mid-sentence, struggling to keep her voice even and void of the emotion coursing through her veins unsuccessfully. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she would not allow them to fall. Inhaling deeply, she suppressed the mounting fear, not wanting to deviate away from her resolve. “Please?” Zerachiel thrust the switchblade into the woman’s hand without waiting for a response, gazing unblinkingly into her face, silently pleading. Killing herself was easier said than done; hopefully, this woman would be kind enough to spare her the act of doing so.

[ELIZABETH]

Even though Zerachiel commanded her to leave, Elizabeth didn’t take the order. She rarely, well, no, she never took orders from anybody now. Suggestions, from another angel, yes…but those were for different reasons. Her mind wandered back to Gabriel and how he was doing, what he was doing, and possibly whom…Of course she would ring his little neck if he did that, but that was another matter. She shook her head a little as she snapped out of her thoughts and back to the mortal, yes, mortal, before her.

The wound was fresh. It would be a few hours before she would have true symptoms, but still, she knew. They both knew that she was, infected. Elizabeth watched as the woman drug the knife out of the neck of the still bleeding Croat. She didn’t move to stop her, but she didn’t move to help her either. Elizabeth was…uncomfortable. She didn’t know what path to take, and if Zerachiel was going to make that decision for her…well, she wasn’t going to stop her. She had free will.

Her eyes drifted to the blade as Zerachiel offered her it. Her face hardened. How far had this one fallen? Well, how far had all the angels fallen? Elizabeth curled her fingers tighter around the leather handle of her blade as she pulled it from its protective sheath. If she was going to kill somebody, it was with her own tools, not somebody else’s blade. Maybe that was her pride talking. The angel let out a small sigh, somewhat saddened by this situation. It started to show on her face.

She looked at the blade that Zerachiel gave her and stared at it for a moment. She curled her fingers and looked back to the face of the blonde before her. She took a few steps forward. She held Zerachiel’s knife in her hand, weighing it as she thought. Her sad expression hardened once more into an almost unreadable mask. She took another step, curling her fingers around the blades in her hands. Her steely gaze rested upon Zerachiel.

She didn’t know this angel, mortal, whatever, on a personal level…Yet she was here on Earth, so she could guess a few things. The angel had left Heaven, either when they took off, or long before that. She had sided with humanity, she had lost her powers and was now stuck here on Earth…fighting Croats and working her way to survive. And this was it? This was how her once immortal life would end? They had been siblings. She may have never known Zerachiel but that bond meant something – even now.

Elizabeth took her blade and sheathed it. She then took Zerachiel’s blade and started to crush it within her palm. The metal slowly turned into a soft and dry powder, more fine than the softest grains of sand. She tilted her hand and let the grains fall down, a small gray dust cloud upon the bloody Croat below.
“I can’t let you do that…” she said softly as she took a deep breath. “There just has to be another way…”

[ZERACHIEL]

Zerachiel’s heart skipped a painful beat as the woman opposite her stepped forward—refusing to look at the knife now within her grasp. She had never seriously contemplated death; however the prospect of departing this life terrified her. The war appeared to favor Lucifer, yet she wished to remain on earth, fighting alongside man, who valiantly fought for their freedom—their home. Ordinarily, she would have struggled for survival, not apt to surrender so easily, but there was no cure for the Croatoan virus; her survival would only create more chaos and destruction. It had been her job to watch over the human race, and she had failed. She had failed God, Michael, Nick, and herself. All she could ask for was forgiveness, though anyone that had retained their sanity would be crazy to do so.

She waited for the blow that would end her life, taken aback when the brunette refused to carryout her final wish. Zerachiel watched through wide eyes as the individual crushed the switchblade as if it were made of the softest silk. Obviously she was not human, however Zerachiel did not care if she were demon or angel. All that concerned the fallen angel was her slowly deteriorating state of mind; she would never forgive herself if she harmed another in such an inhumane manner. She may have failed to protect her Father’s creation, but she would not allow herself to take a life. “You do not understand,” Zerachiel responded coolly. “There is not another way.”

“Please, you must take my life before it is too late,” she whispered frantically, her voice wavering as warm tears coursed down her cheeks, her composure slipping. Zerachiel ran her hands through her hair, fingers wrenching the long golden strands in frustration. She cried
without restraint, inhaling sharply, the emotions stemming from the last six and a half years rushing uninhibited to the surface. Angels were not meant to experience such feeling and Zerachiel was ashamed that she had permitted herself to fall victim to her inner turmoil. Though, she knew what she must do as her green gaze fell onto the sheathed blade at the other’s disposal. “If you will not, I will.”

She lunged for the weapon.

[ELIZABETH]

She squinted slightly at Zerachiel. Was she giving up so easily? Had the effects of owning human emotion and having humanity done this to her, to weaken her to this point? Pity moved through her. She wasn’t so much a former sister, but somewhat of a wounded animal. Could she heal her? Elizabeth was concerned not only for Zerachiel, but for her own health and well being. How much would it drain her? How many souls would she need to gather to be in a ‘comfortable energy zone’ again? Of course…the more she waited, the worse things were going to get.

The tears…Did she really have to cry? Oh this was bad. The pity that welled in her stomach did a flip flop. She swallowed and her eyes widened as Zerachiel lunged forward. She frowned and took a step back as she lunged, moving much faster than the infected human. Elizabeth turned her body so that the knife that was visible away from the woman. She gave the blonde a dangerous look.
“There is another way…” she hissed softly.

She took a few deep breaths. The two of them needed to stay calm, and possibly get out of this area. She didn’t know too much about Croats…Were they attracted to the smell of blood? Either way her eyes went back towards Zerachiel.
“You were…are…my sister. I’m not going to let you die like some common cow!” she yelled, surprised at her own tone of voice.

There had to be another way. She steadied herself and clenched her empty hands into fists. She just needed a moment to think. She was taking a risk…would it be worth it? Elizabeth shifted and moved forward. She didn’t know if Zerachiel would try and grab the knife to kill herself or not as she moved to her. She had to be fast. Swallowing she reached to grab Zerachiel and her hand clasped over the woman’s wound.

“I’m not going to allow it if I can help it.” she hissed.

Elizabeth gripped Zerachiel painfully tight. She shifted and shut her eyes and drew upon her strength. It took her a few moments and the clouds above them shifted and stared to swirl. A storm started to brew above them as she tried to center her powers. This was a tricky task and she wasn’t sure if it was even going to work in full, but she had to try. Swallowing her grip tightened as she sent a sort of cleansing wave through the wound. She had heard of her siblings healing others, but the Croat virus was something very different.

She let go and fell back as if she had been shocked. She rested there on the ground for a moment, staring up at the sky as lightning struck a few miles away. She panted, as if she had been running a marathon. She felt, so tired…right now. She rested her head back in the mud. She tried very hard to see how much juice she had actually used. Nothing was coming up at the moment, but she felt sick, like nauseous.

Elizabeth rolled over and slowly pushed herself up off of the bloody mud. She turned her head as it started to rain, looking at Zerachiel.
“Are you…Did it…?” she asked, a headache hitting her full force now.
She was just very tired now. She slumped back onto the ground for the moment as she gathered herself. She was going to be all right, but it was going to take quite a few souls to fix her up again.

[ZERACHIEL]

The fallen angel gaped at the brunette, taken aback. Her body recoiled upon contact; however, Zerachiel maintained her stance, studying the woman through inquisitive green eyes. She sensed the wound beginning to heal, the ravaged skin of her shoulder miraculously restored to its initial state—smooth and unbroken. For a moment, she remained motionless, acknowledging the angelic energy as it flowed through her veins; now she understood why the other had referred to her as sister. Disregarding the storm, she allowed the rain to envelope her, as she knelt beside the angel, mud coating her knees. Resting a hand on the other’s shoulder, Zerachiel gazed at her savior, momentarily rendered speechless. Her injury had been mended and somehow, someway, she knew her sibling had cleansed her of the virus that had threatened to destroy the remnants of her sanity. “Thank you,” she murmured, genuinely grateful, although those two words were not enough to convey exactly how appreciative she was. “I am forever indebted to you.”

Zerachiel’s entire body trembled, heart pounding within her chest, which rose and fell at irregular intervals, her breathing labored due to the shock brought on by the situation as a whole. She had narrowly escaped death, and in spite of evading what she had believed to be the inevitable, the fear still coursed through her system. Inhaling the scent of freshly fallen rain, she struggled to compose herself, realizing how frantic she had once been. Even though her outburst occurred moments prior, she could barely recall what she had said and done. A wave of shame swept over her, the hunter furious with herself for losing her self-control so easily; she could have harmed her sister or herself while succumbing to such raw human emotion. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she forced herself to unwind and calm down. The angel’s wellbeing was most important, and Zerachiel prayed she had not jeopardized her health in order to salvage the soul of one of the fallen.

“Do you require medical assistance?” She inquired, prepared to escort her to Camp Chitaqua if need be. Zerachiel dealt with the wounded and individuals in overall poor health on a daily basis; she was willing to care for her sibling until she recovered from the aftereffects of drawing upon her angelic abilities. She assumed curing her of the Croatoan virus had drastically weakened the woman; the illness was the most complex disease acknowledged by man. Thus far, they were unable to produce a liable vaccine; the lack of technological equipment encumbering their investigation. The sickness infected humankind worldwide and while a cure seemed to be an impossible feat, she did not lose faith. She wondered why this angel had remained on earth, whereas the majority of their siblings had deserted the planet subsequent to Lucifer’s triumph over Michael. Had she not lost her faith in their Father’s creations? Zerachiel wanted to believe more of her brethren had retained that confidence in humanity and this world.

[ELIZABETH]

Intro

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Post

Exit

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I’m fine in the fire

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Elizabeth ran her fingers through her wet and muddy hair. She quickly shook her vessel’s hand, trying to get the clumps of dirt off o her fingers. Elizabeth looked up at the blonde for a moment, checking to see if she was okay again. Elizabeth gave a small smile, having picked up on a few good human gestures over the years on Earth. She nodded slightly at Zerachiel in response to her thanks. Elizabeth, at another time in her life, may have held her sibling to the words of being indebted to her, but now…Well, not now.

Elizabeth swallowed once and took a few deep breaths. The dizzy sensation was still swirling around her mind. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Elizabeth stabled herself upon her feet again, sinking a bit further into the mud, but she didn’t mind. Medical assistance, did she really need it? She wasn’t sure. Something in Elizabeth’s mind told her that she didn’t, but she had never felt…dizzy before. Her uncertainty made her, nervous, yes…that was the sensation she was feeling. She looked back at Zerachiel and swallowed again. Gosh she was…thirsty.

“I…I am not sure,” she said as her voice quavered a little bit.

Elizabeth steadied herself on her feet once more and looked around. She didn’t think they should stay in this location for much longer. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that some of the Croats would be crawling back here to see what had happened. She lightly grabbed onto Zerachiel’s arm as the blonde woman’s hand was still on her shoulder at this point.

“We should leave this place. I need to rest before I can teleport or fly away from here. Do you know of a safe location? she asked in earnest, her mind still reeling over when her next ‘meal’ would be.

I feed on the friction

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