Fantasy chaos of divinity [nova x nightjar]

[novacid]

​

No angel was supposed to want war; they should strive for peace, right?

Solas believed so, though he understood why harm had fallen humanity over the years. He had helped where he could, but humans were surprisingly stubborn, not at all as he expected when the world was still young. In the beginning, they were full of life and optimism. Over the millennia, they soured like a bad wine. It was hard not lose hope in them when all they did was fight among themselves.

However, there was a respite. Peace was found and kept for centuries. The kingdoms found order and fell into a happy routine. Though there were small conflicts, and tensions were sometimes high between certain cities, but all was minor in comparison to how it had been. It felt too good to be true, and naturally it was, but this time, it wasn't the fault of humanity.

Demons needed pandemonium, and there had been none, other than the troubles they attempted to start. They fizzled out quickly as the angels had made it their personal creed to keep the peace, even if it meant interfering a little too often. Humans became more aware of the divine presences around them – and of the demonic ones. Once every blue moon, mortals would attempt a ritual, attempting to summon, well, anything. Without the proper knowledge and tools, it was never an angel that they pulled into their bodies. Havoc spread for a few weeks before the demon would lose interest and kill its host.

These tiny ripples in the peace weren't enough for the larger dark powers and bigger steps were taken to crumble the harmony. Demons combined their efforts, targeting cities at once, and eventually, Godheim was in chaos. They perfected a way to possess mortals without the pesky need for a ritual, and from there, they created war once more.

There was panic in paradise, and Solas rushed through the shining streets. His stark white wings trailed behind him, barely pulling his feet off the ground. It had been twelve miserable months since the beginning of this nightmare, and there was no progress for angel or demon. A stalemate in Godheim was hemorrhaging both sides, with neither willing to retreat. All that would change today after the council gathered, which Solas was nearly late too. Not that anyone thought he was that important. After his last visit to the kingdoms, he had been demoted to a lowly scribe.

He slowed to a stop and took a breath, pushing back irritation with his fellow angels. They claimed to be the epitome of respect and acceptance, yet they managed to make him feel like a small insect, ready to be crushed and unworthy of their presence. A scowl crept on his generally upturned mouth before he entered the open, temple like building. Welcome to heaven, he thought, then forced his lips into a smile.

To his amazement, there was no one inside, save one. The only one that mattered.

Solas knew He didn't like formal greetings, so he gave a deep nod, “I can't say I'm not surprised, I thought this was a council meeting, Father.”

“Hmm, of sorts,” he motioned for Solas to sit, “I understand your last visit went...unexpectedly.”

Pink spread over Solas' cheeks. Could angels feel embarrassment? He definitely did, plenty, “A group of possessed humans were raiding a small village, they couldn't protect themselves, I did what I knew someone needed to do. Just because no one else ever takes a stand doesn't mean I should have to stand by and never get-”

God's boisterous laughter cut him off, “Stop, child, it's in the past. I'm sending you to Godheim. Take account of damages. Help. Report back. We have to end this

These sycophants can't see what's going on from up here, and they're too spoiled find out. They would rather me cut ties with humanity altogether – abandon them.”

“Can't you do what you want?”

Another laugh, “Well, yes, but I do try not to. Besides, we have sustainable numbers in Amadeum, and Eros is still neutral – though incredibly wild. There are groups throughout the kingdom, attempting to empower mortals with gifts. It is working, but we need eyes in the thick of the battle.”

Solas couldn't help sucking in a proud breath, and he let his usual positive disposition settle back in, “I'll be on my way now, then? I can go right away-” he stood and smoothed out his robes, “-am I keeping form? I'd like to keep form. Humans need to know angels still stand with them. And-” his face fell and eyes dropped to the ground, “-Gabriel took my powers.”

“Outrage in the heavens,” the Almighty replied sardonically, but with a smile he stood and patted Solas on the shoulder, “There, not a problem. You know, you're one of my oldest children – why can't you behave? I'd hate to see you fall.”

Shame crept around his heart and squeezed, “I-it's-I'm not-” he sighed, “-I don't know.”

God gave him one last chuckle, put his massive hands on both Solas' shoulders and slammed down.

Nirvana slipped away from him as he fell through the clouds in delight, but that delight turned to horror as smoke engulfed him. He outstretched his wings, the feathery tips reaching out over ten feet, and gently brought his armored feet to the ground. His robes had dissipated, replaced by lightweight, heavenly armor, gilded and intricate and shining with the light of God.

Angelic eyes systematically took in his surroundings, and the sounds of war slowly registered. Gathering his senses, he pushed from the ground and into the air, letting the wind fill his wings and dance with his feathers. Determined, Solas found the tallest building still standing, though the foundation was crumbling, and quickly. He scanned the area, seeing demons and humans and angels alike, alive, dead... somewhere in between.

Without another delay, he dove from the point and found a soul writhing in misery. Armored knees fell in the dirt, and he absorbed this human's memories, pain, joy and sorrow. His soft fingertips pushed closed the woman's eyelids, and he gave her a kiss where her third eye would be, allowing her spirit to move on and her body to die without pain. Solas lingered, feeling the cries of a thousand other mortals around him.

He stayed, kneeling over the departed corpse, with a new heaviness in heart. The horrors behind him melted away, and for the first time in his existence, he doubted.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

kace nocturne
location - godheim
mood - numb​

Godheim was in chaos. The streets were littered with debris and blood, humans frantically running to escape each other. Useless. They would all die in the end. They were inferior beings, he resented himself for being considered at least partly one of their own. Not that he favored his demonic side. Not that he belonged to either world entirely, or that he felt any desire to.

Disgusting, the lot of them. Angels, demons, humans, they were a disgrace. It would be an embarrassment to call himself one of them, much more so to be a revolting half-blood.

Hood pulled firmly above his head to obscure the horrendous view that was his face, he forged onward. Had anyone noticed the black lines crisscrossing across the left side of his it, he would have certainly been killed right there and then. A knife to his stomach, perhaps, or an arrow to his heart. Maybe he'd even have the honor of having his neck snapped - feeling the warmth of skin on skin, the hatred seeping in. What a death that would be. So very... personal.

What was he even doing, fantasizing about death? He wasn't even certain he was capable of such a luxury. His father may have been thoroughly mortal but his mother was anything but, God knew (literally) which side he'd inherited, or if it was simply a combination of both. Hard to kill, but not impossible. Destined for a dreadful life but robbed of any power that may have accompanied it. He had long ago accepted his fate, but that didn't mean he liked it. It didn't mean he wasn't entitled to a bit of self-pity every now and then. Truly, what had Satan been thinking when He'd allowed his mother to associate with such a weak, useless being as a human? Courageous but weak, kind but far too open-hearted, egotistical but ignorant. Absolutely pathetic. What could his beautiful mother, a child of the devil Himself, see in one of them? He would never know.

Around him, the clash of swords rung out across the cobbled streets. The screams of the wounded and the battle cries of the enraged echoed throughout the city, perhaps the kingdom itself. The very sound of agony, and it was deafening. Overpowering. Horrifying. Beautiful. Heroic. Like a scene out of a book, or a painting, suspended in time, too unreal to come to terms with.

Lost in thought, Kace failed to notice the man hurtling towards him before it was too late, and he was pinned against the side of a building, a man of superior strength keeping him up against the wall. “What do we have here? Has Lucifer sent down one of his disgusting little playthings down here for us?” He made a grab for the shorter man's hood, but his hand was swatted away.

“I am not in league with Satan.” His voice was dangerously low, as if his entire being was balanced on the edge of a very, very sharp blade. Much like the one being pressed up against his neck.

“Oh?” The man laughed, a dirty, sickening sound that exploded from his lungs, spewing saliva and the vague scent of onions into the air. “So what are you then? A rogue demon? Ready to take up the good fight for your heavenly buddies? I think not. See, I think...” He paused for dramatic effect. It worked. It was rather intimidating. “I think you're lying to me. Do you know what happens when people lie to me?”

Kace shrugged, adapting an air of indifference. “Not a clue.”

“Then you better hope... you don't... find out.” He glared at the other man's face, which was still veiled in shadow. “I will ask you one more time. WHO. ARE. YOU?”

“A mystery,” came the response. “One you shall never solve, no matter how hard your tiny little brain tries.” In one fluid motion, he removed his hood, relishing the shock on the human's face.

“You-you-”

“Now, you are going to forget this ever happened. And you are going to go back to your pathetic little human friends, and never speak of this again. I didn't exist. I don't exist. I never have nor will. Do you understand?” His eyes glowed red for a moment, before he blinked and it faded back to grey.

“I ... I understand,” He said, as if in a daze. He staggered off, shaking his head and blinking furiously, as if trying to remember a dream that was rapidly slipping away. Kace grinned after him. Just because he hated the demons didn't mean he found his powers any less useful.

He returned his hood to it's rightful position and continued down the streets, zigzagging into alleyways, not attracting any more than a few sideways glances along his way. In his years of hiding, he'd forgotten how very much he enjoyed escaping his hiding and coming out into the real world, however much it had spiraled downwards in his years of absence.

Not that he had had a choice in coming out here. At the very thought, panic welled up in his throat. Now that he was here, there was no going back to where he came from, the abandoned hiding spaces where he'd made his home. There was no safety left in this world for him now. He would have to fight to survive this. But if he was anything, anything at all, Kace Nocturne was a fighter.

 

[novacid]

The dirt and soot swirling around him matted his hair, and he finally pulled his head back up to face reality. And reality was bleak. He took a breath and continued on his path of helping any lost souls find home. He took all of their pain, feeling every bit before releasing it and them into the spirit world. Solas was overwhelmed by the amount of dying around him and was suddenly unsure of what being here would do. There may not have been an obvious losing side in this, but one thing was absolute, no one was winning. It had to be stopped – there had to be a resolution. Was there? Or was humanity doomed to be in the hands of demons for the rest of eternity?

Darkness consumed him, and only when he blocked any emotion was he able to keep the despair at bay. Solas wandered on, doing what he could, trying not to cave at the futility of his actions.

All at once, a figure rushed by him, and he stumbled back several steps. It went hurtling into another, a smaller frame, and there was a conflict, raised voices, though he was too far to hear. He was not too far, however, to see the face underneath the hood when it was pulled away. His heart fluttered, and with a tiny gasp, he dipped into an alleyway, waiting until the man in suspect passed him before following behind at a decent distance.

Hybrids were not rare, but highly uncommon, and Solas liked to think that angels were less prone to...creating them, but the fact was, they were as bad, if not worse. Now if he saw a child of an angel and a demon... well, that would be heretical – right? Either way, at the moment, he was driven by sheer curiosity, and the need to distract himself from the chaos and the blood that covered him. Red streaked his hair and face, giving him an untamed, wild look.

When the moment was right, he pushed himself from the ground, letting his wings carry him over the half breed and dropping him in front. With no intention of touching the strange creature, Solas kept a safe gap between them and stayed on his toes.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought his plan out. Or had a plan at all, for that matter, “Uh-” his hand fell on his sword hilt, not trying to be threatening but not trying to be vulnerable either. Oh, what a drag coming to the kingdoms was starting to become, “-this doesn't seem like the safest place for someone...like...you.”

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

Kace took in the overwhelming scale of the damage numbly, as if at this point, nothing could faze him. Yes, it was horrific, catastrophic, revolting, all of those words the angels used to describe it. But ultimately, it was simply pathetic. Futile. He'd never understood the human race's insistence upon believing that they were “meant for more”, that by dying a few short years younger they were destined to be a part of some grand fate, the final piece in an infinite puzzle... how utterly narcissistic. Satan's children were so often assigned the blame for the destruction occurring, but in reality, they were so very easy to manipulate. Give them a cause and they'd die simply for the sake of dying. As if they took pride in their mortality.

What a system they had. God, who created deeply flawed creatures such as the humans, who roamed their world searching for purpose, something to distract from their inevitable end. And the demons, who took advantage of their ignorance, and their uncontrollable desire to be important, who manipulated them into doing their bidding simply by planting an idea and allowing their fundamental nature to take hold of it.

How was this ever to change? Perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps there was no end, just as it so often seemed. For surely it was impossible to strip them of their very selves, their most basic instincts.

It seemed to him that everything was hopeless.

Which was not all so uncommon to him. He'd spent his life in constant war between his two selves, the puppet and the puppeteer, so in a sense, he was always on the losing side, whoever it may have been. He was accustomed to it at this point.

He was so very immersed in self-pity that he failed to notice the rush of air against his back, the faint sound of... wings? Kace registered this no more than a half second before the source came into view. He grasped for his hood to pull it over his face even farther, though he felt certain that if an angel had bothered to follow him across this destruction, he was already well aware of his... his condition.

The angel's hand was on his sword, so Kace's guard was immediately up, but the light, concerned tone of his voice settled him a bit. Only a bit. Maybe that's how all angels sounded before they reported you or killed you or whatever else they do to hybrids like him.

Not the safest?? What the hell was that supposed to mean? No where was safe for someone like him, even in hiding there were dangers lurking around every corner, and being here, out in the open was basically a death sentence. (There he went again, assuming his mortality). He scowled at the angel, who was clearly nervous or disgusted or some combination of the two, because he was standing several feet back and seemed in the position to fly away. Just to make him uncomfortable, Kace took a few steps nearer to him, smirking.

“What are you doing in my way, Angel?”

 

[novacid]

Solas noted how the hybrid tried to cover his face even more, and a wave of sad empathy rolled through him. Damn his angelic understanding – it made being ruthless impossible, though he supposed being ruthless was not his main purpose. But what if he wanted it to be? He scowled inwardly, for a moment wishing that he had human blood to taint him.

Perfection was overrated.

And while he was thinking treacherously, the Almighty was pretty overrated too-

Cutting off the flow of heresy and bringing his attention back to the moment, Solas studied the other briefly, taking in his stance and the angry energy emanating from him. What happened to hybrids when they were born? He considered it curiously. Did their parents abandon them, or did one leave, for the safety of the child? Not like their identity could be well hidden.

Suddenly, the hybrid took several steps towards him, and Solas' feet immediately shuffled back once before planting firmly in the ground. He would not give way to this... this... abomination.

But it's not his fault, a voice in his head whispered.

Solas groaned quietly and let go of his sword, holding his hands up while giving the other a defeated look, “You can't kill me. You're better off letting me help you, hybrid.”

His instincts when it came to trusting people were, literally, always wrong, and since he got a sinking feeling he should not be trusting this being, he decided to go against his gut. Probably the right choice and hardly a risk, unless...

Unless.

Did these twisted beings have the means to kill angels?

A thread of panic slipped through his body, but he kept his face blank, instead taking initiative and taking a step forward, trying to dampen the fear he hadn't felt in some time.