Chapter Text
“Oh, hush,” Sophia wound a shining gold wing tip around the corrupted angels head, nice and tight, before thrusting it in his mouth. The thought he might enjoy that crossed her mind, a grimace pulling her mouth down in disgust. Izual screamed, or tried to, the sound muffled and caught in his throat.
She slammed his body down into the grey, dusty ground, the bone dust puffing up around him, settling on his gleaming, silvery armour and dulling it. She came to stand between his spread legs, looking down at him. Cocking her head, she watched him thrash a bit.
“Say, didn’t I kill your arse in heaven? I’m not familiar with how or why a fucking corrupted angel gets to respawn when the other angels, who aren’t scared, whiny bitches, don’t.”
She pulled the wing tip from his throat, grimacing again at the spittle clinging to her. She flicked her wing tip, flinging the spit away, giving him time to splutter and groan incomprehensibly.
He sucked in air.
“You’re dead! You’re supposed to be dead! You disappeared!” he screamed up at her.
“Don’t believe every promising rumour you ever hear. You’re supposed to be dead, too.”
Izual writhed. She watched, fascinated, as tears started leaking down the sides of his face. She’d never seen an angel, corrupted or otherwise, cry before.
“You gonna piss your armour next?” she asked, eyes flicking to his crotch.
“Diablo! Master! Why have you forsaken me?” he wept.
“Oh, for fucks sake, suck it up. Show some pride. I have no idea why you’re sooking,” she said, followed by letting his limbs and torso go, before suddenly slashing downward, her wings rigid like spikes, impaling his limbs. And a couple thorough his torso, for good measure.
His screams echoed out over the slaughter field below. She slowly moved the tips around in his flesh, watching as his head thumped the ground as it flew backwards, the cords in his neck standing out like cables.
“Darling. Who’s this? Also … why’d you start without me?”
Astarion had finally caught up to her. He was covered in blood and sounded disappointed.
“Yours, or theirs,” she said, sweeping a hand out over the carnage of the one-way feast below.
“Definitely not mine,” he grinned, swiping a finger up his chin, gathering the blood, and placing it in his mouth, sucking on it as the corrupted angel below her watched him with big eyes, silent.
“Astarion, this is Izual. Izual, Astarion. I’ve killed Izual before. Only now, I’m trying to figure out how he respawned. Considering he used to be an angel.”
Astarion’s eyes lit up.
“You don’t say,” he breathed, stepping closer to the blue skinned fiend pinned to the ground.
Sophia frowned.
“Actually, he’s died before, too. C’mon, champ, fess up. How’d you respawn?”
“Go back to hell, or the void, or whatever dark corner of the cosmos you were hiding in, you degenerate filth,” the corrupted angel spat at her.
“Well, you’d know all about hell. How long were you held for, before you broke like the little bitch you are?”
That was unfair. She knew Izual had been subjected to torture far above that of which Astarion had sustained. By Mephisto, no less. But still.
He was a whiny little bitch. And had done irreparable damage.
“Diablo, once he’s regenerated, will have your soul.”
She threw back her head and laughed.
“Diablo was my little bitch. I took him on a holiday recently. He’s returned, and he … doesn’t. Want. You,” she whispered.
“Oh, you’re good,” Astarion breathed. He hadn’t taken his eyes of Izual. “I’d suggest you tell her what she wants to know. Or we give you back to Heaven. You can do that, can’t you, dear?” he looked to her for confirmation.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Izual hissed.
“Oop, there it is. The fear. Good one,” she held up a hand toward Astarion, who looked at it, confused.
She sighed, dropping her hand.
“Never mind. You. Respawn stuff. Now.”
She spiralled and drilled her wing tips in, making him howl.
“It’s … my soul. Can’t … move on. Stuck … in pain.”
He panted, his voice breaking.
“He was second in command to Tyrael, served as an angel of Justice. How the mighty fall,” she tsked, confiding to Astarion.
“I feel sorry for him. I think he should be put out of his misery.”
She looked at him, snorted and rolled her eyes.
“You just wanna feed on an angel.”
Izual’s head jerked up, before slamming to the side to watch as the spawn fed on the demons over the plains beyond.
“…feed?” he whispered, suddenly looking back to her, his eyes growing dark with terror.
“Feed,” she confirmed. “But don’t worry. It’s not like my feeding. He won’t eat your flesh. He’ll just drain you dry. Say, is your spirit all divine light and shit? I wouldn’t want Astarion to inadvertently get injured.”
“Oh, stop it, you’ll make me blush,” Astarion said, coquettishly.
“You … you can’t be serious. I … I’ll only come back. Let me go and … and … I’ll leave. Find somewhere to hide. You’ll never see me again.”
The desperation in his voice was strange to hear. She’d usually always been on the backfoot with the denizens of this reality. Hearing them now actually scared of her, was something of a breath of fresh air.
“Hmm. Let me think about that,” she said, tapping her chin and staring at him.
“Darling. Please. He’s literally right there,” Astarion insisted, waving at the corrupted angel.
“I just can’t deny you anything,” she smiled indulgently, stepping away but keeping Izual pinned. “Go ahead. Maybe lick one of the wounds first, just to test you won’t dissolve in radiant light.”
“Advice taken,” he grinned, his face morphing into one of dark anticipation as he crouched beside the corrupted Izual, hovering over his upper body, subsequently ignoring her advice.
Sophia slammed down the rest of her wing tips as he started thrashing wildly, making the wounds worse. “Hold very, very still,” Astarion’s hand shot out, pincering the former angels chin and forcibly tilting his head away.
His head moved swiftly down, striking like a viper, the dark angel bellowing as Astarion sunk his fangs into the artery beneath. In less than a minute the thrashing subsided, the corrupted angel relaxing, going limp.
Sophia scanned the massacre below, eyes narrowing as she detected the earth starting to heave in the middle as something gigantic beneath it stirred. She turned, gripping Cazador’s staff, watching the ground as it heaved upward.
Glancing at Astarion, who seemed busy for the moment, she glanced around, making sure there were no demons nearby, at least that could reach him in the next few minutes while he finished up with Izual.
Jerking her wing tips out of the once proud angel, she launched into the air, gliding over quickly toward the churning landmass. It erupted halfway across the plains, looking like a slow-motion train wreck as the demon beneath it was birthed from the ground.
“Thar she blows,” she yelled, pointing Cazador’s staff at the siege titan. Those bastards had last been seen during the Sin War, and lay, hibernating, beneath the grounds of the plains of Hell, like this one.
Like a swarm of ants, the spawn below turned direction like a flock of bird’s mid-flight, flowing toward the demon, all that blood contained in one unit pulling at them like a magnet. She stopped mid-flight as they swarmed up its body, its hide grey and wrinkled like an elephant. Paused, as they started clinging to it like leeches.
Winced as they didn’t appear to particularly care where they latched on to it … and focused on the less armoured areas of the demon … it’s more … exposed and … sensitive … areas
… ugh, she turned away, thanking all the gods in creation Astarion was not among them. She’d never be able to kiss him again, knowing where his mouth would have been …
Side eyed the creature as it wobbled, still coming up out of the earth, even as it opened its mouth and let out a roar that could be felt reverberating through the air, making her bones shake.
… would have made a fantastic sub-woofer. Pity Hell wasn’t really into the music scene.
Well ... the Khazra were, but they'd formally been human, so ...
The creature breached fully, managed to stand for all of thirty seconds, swaying, before it slowly toppled forth onto its face.
… great. Now she was going to have to dig out the spawn that had been squished between it and the ground.
Several hours later of slicing through the monstrosity with her wings, sweating her guts out, ignoring Astarion wriggling his fingers at her like worms, she managed to free the last spawn, who, while absolutely squished, and mangled, appeared to be reconstituting at a rapid rate, thanks to the blood they’d managed to consume before being squashed.
Turning to face her vanguard, who seemed shell shocked, some tittering, some wide eyed, others peering around bewildered, she performed a little trick to enhance her voice, using what she knew of megaphones and sound vibrations to project it.
“Everyone fed?”
Murmurs and mumbles answered her.
“Last chance. We can go deeper if needed.”
The spawn in front of her started shaking their heads.
… at least they’d filled out now, losing the skeletal appearance half of them had. Looked like they could go another round of demon feasting, but she could always bring them back once they started getting hungry again.
“All right. In that case … next stop. Home sweet home.”
She hoped.
Clutching the now small doorframe in her fist, she looked down at it, focusing on intent and location, before rapping Cazador’s staff on the ground. Several hundred portals opened around the spawn, leading to somewhere dark beyond.
“It’ll only be skeletons in there, if anything. Just tear their skulls off. They’re useless without them,” she ordered, once more marvelling at the stupid flaw she’d discovered years ago in them. Waited until half of them had disappeared through the portals. “What was he like?” she murmured to Astarion, keeping an eye and ear out for any approaching legions of demons.
“I thought it might have been fire and ice. A bit like you. It was nothing like you,” he said, sounding put out.
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“I thought … I don’t know. He tasted bitter. Wasn’t exactly … pleasant. I ... can't shake it. Regret. Soooo much regret.”
“But you finished him anyway.”
“I’m not letting a perfectly good meal get away from me, darling. Is there a difference between corrupted angel … and fallen angel?”
“You’re not eating Tyrael, Astarion.”
“Sophia. Please. We’re all adults here. Besides … it’s not like you didn’t think of eating him at one stage,” and with that, he flounced through the nearest portal.
By Christ, he could be a bitch at times! She followed, glaring daggers at his back, and closed the portals behind her.
Turned, and looked out over the vast expanse of darkness, filled now with seven thousand bodies.
“Welcome to Tristram Cathedral,” she said, her voice echoing out into the cold, massive underground complex.