please allow me to introduce myself

[nexmosnonlucror]

Characters: Tom Riddle [nexmosnonlucror], Raphael [expunger], Lucifer [outsidewindows], and Severus Snape [snarkypotions]
When: Sunday, December 11.
Where: A street in the city.
Rating: R for violence.
Summary: Tom stole something precious to the angels. The angels have come to get it back. It's too bad Tom isn't planning on going down without a vicious fight.

Comments

VS RAPHAEL.

[nexmosnonlucror]

Tom was outside a hollowed tree, where he had recently deposited the grace. It was cloaked in magic -- powerful magic, hidden charms, dangerously Dark enchantments -- so strong that anyone with a dim sixth sense would be able to tell something was wrong.

But Tom wasn't exactly hiding, not anymore.

It had been days. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone found him.

He may as well make it difficult to get what they wanted.

[expunger]

Of course he couldn't run. Of course he couldn't hide. One archangel angry and determined to find you was a formidable enough enemy. But to rile them all and bring them together, to inspire cooperation among the strongest of God's soldiers- that was a ticking clock with only seconds left, at best. Tom wasn't terribly easy to find, but once she had a location it was as simple as showing up.

Raphael landed softly, wings closing as silent as an owl by night, not the slightest trace of sound. She didn't bother to stop and consider the screaming feeling of wrongness emanating from the place, a howling Hellishness that should make anything less than an archangel turn and run. Instead, the angel chose to announce herself by lighting up the pain center of his brain.

[nexmosnonlucror]

Pain was pain -- Tom knew it well, as his closest friend. And while Tom snarled a curse underneath his breath at the sudden pain wracking his body, it was only physical. Nothing compared to the horrific agony of tearing his soul in half. He could endure this, just as he could endure anything else -- a special sheer force of will.

"Cute," Tom murmured softly, but a sudden burstof magic exploded from his fingertips, directed toward Raphael -- an invisible set of strings, coated in Dark magic, aimed for the metaphysical bonds of her wings, to tie her in place.

He would not have her running while she screamed in pain for him.

[expunger]

On instinct Raphael took flight, but that magic caught against one of her wings, bringing her to the ground again halfway between where she was and her destination, some ten feet away from Tom and the tree. It hurt enough to pierce through the veil of Hellfire and actually affect her, though she didn't let it show before swiping her hand through the air with a snarl, meant to send him hurtling into the tree hard enough to crack his skull.

In an instant she was running to him, inwardly cursing the bald audacity of trying to clip an angel's wings. "You will regret that."

VS LUCIFER.

[nexmosnonlucror]

Tom was silent as he stared down at Raphael, lowering his wand with a quiet gasp of breath. He was tired -- and that had taken more out of him than expected -- but he was alive.

And she was dead.

Good riddance. Filthy thing.

[abrotherlikeyou]

It had been the sudden blow that alerted Lucifer to Tom's presence. If he hadn't tried to kill Raphael, the little cockroach might have gone on hiding under the fridge for another week. Lucifer came the second he felt it, and by then Raphael was already gone. He could feel her Grace, pulsing as weak as a sparrow's heart, but she was still alive.

And so was Tom.

Lucifer walked very calmly toward him, never mind the odd shatter of glass when he passed the rare in-tact (or semi-in-tact) window. "Tom. We have a date. You weren't thinking of running again, were you?"

[nexmosnonlucror]

Gone was the mask that Tom wore for the public. His eyes were cold, dark, and lifeless -- his posture was straight, perfect, and he stared down upon the ground, the ashen wing-prints spread across the snow.

It was almost beautiful, if Tom appreciated such a thing.

To him, it only symbolized the failure of death.

"Don't be foolish," Tom said softly, his wand in hand, not moving a muscle. "If I were intending on running, I would already be gone."

[abrotherlikeyou]

The Grace was safe, wherever it had gone. That was what Lucifer let his mind focus on, because far be it from him to show any other reaction. Even with his sister's ashes before him.

The pulse had to be Castiel, then. His Grace.

Lucifer straightened, and held out his arms briefly in a mocking, welcoming gesture. "Well, good."

And something sharp and invisible hooked like a fishing spear behind Tom's jaw and yanked him forward.