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tampered2007-02-24 12:10 am
saunturing-down.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-02-24 12:10 am
Log; Complete
When; Late afternoonish, Feb 23rd
Rating; pg-13 for blood
Characters; Zaheela![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
henkonasuisho and Crowley saunturing_down
Summary; Crowley spots Zaheela and they go at it and Crowley gets his butt kicked. hey, he hasn't fought in over three million years! give the guy a break!
Log;
Crowley was in a foul mood. For one thing, Zaheela was...was something. He wasn’t sure exactly what. A mix of a demon and holy magic and it was fucking with his mind. On another hand, Azirphale had been an idiot and had gone out and tried to do confront the Mithra or something without having any angelic powers, and Crowley was unable to stop him due to the dizziness the aura coming off of Zaheela had caused.
Once he had regained his senses, he had searched his closet for something hidden, and something he hadn’t used in several years. It was his demonic armour, which he hadn’t take in out in years. Really, why would he? There had been no reason to for about three and four-fifths million years. But none-the-less, he was glad he found it. Hopefully if he met Zaheela again, it would help guard against her vicious attacks. The armour was smooth against his skin, as he hid it under his clothing. Most demons often felt the need to dress up their armour and proudly show it, and Crowley would admit any day that he did like to show his off, as it was rather shiny. Today, however, it would be better hidden, so he had changed it slightly to fit under his clothes. And sure, Az would probably have kittens (no pun intended) were he to find out that he was wearing his armour and had with him his sword, of all things, both of which he hadn’t used in years. The sword was a very simple blade with a black handle, and Crowley had made sure it was sharp. The sword was tucked at his side, just in case he should need it for any reason.
But despite all the additions to his attire, he was currently going out to find Aziraphale. The angel should’ve been back a long time ago, and Crowley had a bad feeling that he might’ve gotten into a bad place with Zaheela, and was off somewhere hiding. Stupid angel! He didn’t have any healing power left, and so it was stupid to just hide somewhere! What was---!!
Crowley stopped in his tracks, body tensing as a disturbingly familiar aura assaulted his senses. He steeled himself against it, prepared this time for the onslaught of the conflict of a holy demon form. His clawed hand went immediately to his sword, and his yellow eyes scanned the area around him behind his sunglasses. She was here…he was sure of it! Now he just needed to spot her...
She had felt him coming a mile away, her eyes still focused on the children Master Bane had ordered her to watch. Ears twitched once in a while as she heard them, as clear as day. Though her hair was light, she blended into the darkness. This new arrival however, he would be a problem. A Demon, ancient, powerful, a bother. Silently leaping to the nearby branch, she let a sliver of power leak from her tight control to 'bait' the demon and lead him away from the children. No need in revealing her objective
As to be expected, Crowley took the bait. He pushed off, leaping after the power surge he felt from between the trees. He landed on a branch in a crouch, scanning for a sign of—aha! A flick of silver hair caught his attention and he followed it, leaping from branch to branch, trying to get closer.
He had taken the bait and she had effectively placed enough space as not to catch the attention of any passerby. Ears flicked as they paced his footfalls, the shaking of the trees. She was no bat, but she was intelligent. Wit and snarky remarks were beyond her at this point, but that all translated to tactics and the sort in this case, which worked in her favor. She would have to take care of this quickly, because her orders were to observe the shard hunters. Her heart barely beat within her chest at the thought. Landing harshly on a branch she waited...
Closer...Closer... THERE! Vines of Holy ice lashed out to where the serpent would land next.
Crowley hissed as the Vines of Holy Ice lashed out toward him and he spread his wings, stopping his decent and causing the vines to miss him, but just barily, and the branch he was to land on froze solid before cracking and falling to the ground. He flipped backwards, his wings disappearing again as he pushed off a different branch, yellow eyes searching for...there she was!
He rebounded off the trunk of a nearby tree and shot towards her, claws drawn out and back to slash in a downward motion.
If she could express arrogance, she would of as her ears twitched as she heard the air being sliced through and caught the wrists of the demon and used his own inertia to send him flying towards a tree, vines following close behind. It was almost too easy for her, but she could not feel pride, so it was just an empty feeling.
Crowley grunted as his back connected with a lovely tree trunk, but he rolled, pushing off the tree trunk and barely dodging the vines once more. Damn, but she was DANGEROUS. Not that he hadn’t known that before hand, but all that holy power she was throwing around was a serious problem. He stuck out a hand, catching a tree branch and swinging himself around behind her, aiming a kick at her back.
He should of known just how flexible she was from the food fight. She may of not of looked it, but she HAD been on the battleground for several years. He fought like a three year old, hardly worth the effort. She brushed fingers against the rough bark and let herself fall forward. Almost as if fluttering in the wind, a delicate butterfly of the darkness, avoiding the kick and landing on a sturdy branch below. As the demon's foot touched the spot she had once been, she released the trigger and the branch exploded with a condensed Holy spell.
It would be best of Crowley not to underestimate her. She may of lacked her emotions, but that just equated to becoming a blade. For now, her master would be her bearer, until he abandoned her much like so many other blades. She silently resigned herself to that fate as she leapt once again. The Demon wasn't dead yet.
Crowley hissed, a wall of flame flying up in an automatic defense as the branch exploded with a Holy spell. Unfortunately, however, his flame was brought about by demonic energy, and it quickly was destroyed under the assault. The spell cut through his shirt, deflecting off the armour on his chest, shoulders and forearms that had been hidden under his jacket, and sizzled with the rejection of the Holy power. However, that did not mean he went uninjured, as the power sliced against his unprotected upper arms and the side of his upper left thigh on the outside. He flipped away, landing on a branch a foot or two away. The cuts weren’t too deep yet, but they stung pretty badly due to the Holy power of the spell.
That was IT! No more Mister Nice Demon!
Crowley bared his fangs, his demonic aura flaring to full power and causing his eyes to practically glow golden, the full use of his demonic energy showing his full form, complete with horns and tail, the latter curling over the cut on his thigh, protecting. His fangs lengthened, paralyzing poison seeping into the elongated teeth should he choose to use them. He placed a clawed hand on his sword and leapt off the branch, drawing it as he got close and using the withdrawl of it as his first swing.
How quickly he revealed his true form. Standing straight up, she watched as he attempted to add speed and power by both drawing his sword and slicing at her. It was familiar, for she had faced many who used such techniques in her own world. A pang of emotion and she simply slammed her foot into the hilt of his blade, stopping the blade from escaping it's sheath and simply placed one hand against his face. A look of pity flashed for a moment before she allowed a burst brighter then the sun flash into his eyes. The spell did no harm, but blinded the poor man and as she fluttered away once again. Unsure of why she did not simply banish away this demon, she landed a safe distance away, eyes watching.
Crowley hissed in pain, jerking away from Zaheela's hand as the flash blinded him. He flipped backward, relying his sense of scent to guide him to a nearby branch, which he landed on, shaking his head. When he lifted his head, the pupils of his eyes were mere slivers against the yellow of his eyes, making his sight almost useless. However, due to his full demon form, his sense of smell was even more enhanced then normal. He hissed, his demonic instincts beginning to take over as he attacked, elongated claws slashing at her and where her scent was coming from.
So he had heightened senses of smell. Most likely some form of heat seeking as well. She soundlessly leapt above his head and pondered the quickest and most effective strategy before placing a hand on her chest and whispered softly, the wind gathering to hide her scent in it's being and with a graceful leap, jumped in the opposite direction of his own lunge, a sword forming in her hand. The stroke came from the side, the holy energy hissing. She had orders, no time to spare.
Crowley lifted a hand in defense as the wind whistled around him. He searched for her scent, but it was lost to the wind. He barely had time to register the hissing and recognize it before the sword came at his side. In an instant, his own sword was drawn, clashing against Zaheela’s. Sparks flew from the clash of Holy energy against Demonic, and Crowley grunted as his late withdrawl of his sword didn’t fully block the blow and part of the sword slashed against his side, part deflecting off his armour, the other part cutting a stinging gash at his side. He shoved with his sword and drew back one hand, flinging several balls of fire at her in quick succession.
She weaved between the fireballs, eyes vacant as she let her holy energy trickle out, enfusing it into the surrounding brush. The trap was almost complete, now all she had to do was draw the demon in to the correct sport. Her mind was calm as she took a breath. own energy switching from Holy to demonic in an instant. Landing on a branch, she held her sword behind her, gathering blood, souls, the spirits, and lashed out, the purple energy ripping through the battleground and aiming to engulf the demon in it's rage.
Crowley snarled as Zaheela dodged, and spun, trying to find her scent or her power somewhere, but he quickly forgot about that as a powerful energy ripped right toward him. He turned, throwing up a wall of fire in defense, but to no avail. Though the wall sucked up some of the demonic energy from the attack, it was just too much, and the wall fell, laying the rest of the power of the attack straight on him. He let out something that was half-yell/half snarl and fully animalistic in it’s nature as the power sliced into him, breaking his armour and leaving a harsh gash across his chest, blood falling out from the wound as he crashed downward. He threw out a hand, claws latching into a branch that he hung perilously from, coughing, body trying to move against the attack that had thoroughly pummeled him. He tried to look up, attempting to locate the Mithra and where she would attack from next.
Game. Set... Match. She almost smiled as the holy energy gathered in reaction to the demonic energy, both her own and her opponents. She was safely out of it's blast radius, heading back to her original objective, but he was in the center. Holy power snaked, arced, and crystallized. A cage had formed and all caught within it would be impaled by Holy ice which formed from the 'bars'. It was a cruel trap, one that could not tell friend from foe, but it would do it's job.
She supposed she should have been proud, disgusted, but none of the emotions came close to revealing themselves. One emotion, however, seeped through the cracks, agony. Inwardly, she screamed, beating against the cage of her own making, but the voice just giggled and hugged her tighter, promising to never let her go.
Crowley looked around wildly, not being able to fully see the cage that was forming around him, but more than feeling the holy power that gathered around him. He hissed in panic, yellow eyes darting around, senses searching for any escape, but...he couldn’t find any. He was trapped. His head jerked, however, at the soft pounding of fists against the cage. His yellow eyes sought out her form, though it was only a dark blur.
“Z…Zaheela!” he called out to her desperately, weakly reaching his free hand out towards her.
A ear twitched, but she continued her trek through the forest. Zaheela left him to his doom, or so she thought. Emotions, after all, were a blade of their own. Unknown to her, there was one emotion she still held dear, as unnoticeable as it was. In her heart, she whispered her apologies, her tears, and prayed that it would not kill him. Her cage was stifling, the voice was ruthless, she needed something... to tear her apart.
The Cage fully formed, and the spikes streaked downwards, seeking to purge the evil trapped within.
Survive... whispered Mercy.
Crowley felt the holy power fall in on him and he curled into a ball, wings shooting out to protect himself, a ball of fire over that as his last defense. But the cry that came from his mouth was not of pain or hurt, but was of apology. And it was a name.
“AZIRAPHALE!”
Now, there are many things that are overly poetic about the power of love. But when it really comes down to it, love can sometimes cause things to happen that really shouldn’t. Like demons surviving traps infused with Holy power, such as the one Zaheela had to expertly crafted. However, even that power has its limits. Though it would help him to survive, it would not prevent the pain and the wounds that the spikes would inflict.
The angel’s name died on Crowley’s lips as the spikes of the cage hit their mark, piercing flesh and skin, tearing apart the fire and his wings and his body, and he fell, body screaming out its pain as every nerve in his body lashed out against the holy power and the damaging spikes that accompanied it. He landed on the ground, a pile of blood, flesh and black feathers. He hissed quietly as pain laced through his body, and he lay there.
A couple hours later he would find enough strength to stand and stumble back to the apartment but for now, his body would have to heal itself little by little.
Rating; pg-13 for blood
Characters; Zaheela
henkonasuisho and Crowley saunturing_downSummary; Crowley spots Zaheela and they go at it and Crowley gets his butt kicked. hey, he hasn't fought in over three million years! give the guy a break!
Log;
Crowley was in a foul mood. For one thing, Zaheela was...was something. He wasn’t sure exactly what. A mix of a demon and holy magic and it was fucking with his mind. On another hand, Azirphale had been an idiot and had gone out and tried to do confront the Mithra or something without having any angelic powers, and Crowley was unable to stop him due to the dizziness the aura coming off of Zaheela had caused.
Once he had regained his senses, he had searched his closet for something hidden, and something he hadn’t used in several years. It was his demonic armour, which he hadn’t take in out in years. Really, why would he? There had been no reason to for about three and four-fifths million years. But none-the-less, he was glad he found it. Hopefully if he met Zaheela again, it would help guard against her vicious attacks. The armour was smooth against his skin, as he hid it under his clothing. Most demons often felt the need to dress up their armour and proudly show it, and Crowley would admit any day that he did like to show his off, as it was rather shiny. Today, however, it would be better hidden, so he had changed it slightly to fit under his clothes. And sure, Az would probably have kittens (no pun intended) were he to find out that he was wearing his armour and had with him his sword, of all things, both of which he hadn’t used in years. The sword was a very simple blade with a black handle, and Crowley had made sure it was sharp. The sword was tucked at his side, just in case he should need it for any reason.
But despite all the additions to his attire, he was currently going out to find Aziraphale. The angel should’ve been back a long time ago, and Crowley had a bad feeling that he might’ve gotten into a bad place with Zaheela, and was off somewhere hiding. Stupid angel! He didn’t have any healing power left, and so it was stupid to just hide somewhere! What was---!!
Crowley stopped in his tracks, body tensing as a disturbingly familiar aura assaulted his senses. He steeled himself against it, prepared this time for the onslaught of the conflict of a holy demon form. His clawed hand went immediately to his sword, and his yellow eyes scanned the area around him behind his sunglasses. She was here…he was sure of it! Now he just needed to spot her...
She had felt him coming a mile away, her eyes still focused on the children Master Bane had ordered her to watch. Ears twitched once in a while as she heard them, as clear as day. Though her hair was light, she blended into the darkness. This new arrival however, he would be a problem. A Demon, ancient, powerful, a bother. Silently leaping to the nearby branch, she let a sliver of power leak from her tight control to 'bait' the demon and lead him away from the children. No need in revealing her objective
As to be expected, Crowley took the bait. He pushed off, leaping after the power surge he felt from between the trees. He landed on a branch in a crouch, scanning for a sign of—aha! A flick of silver hair caught his attention and he followed it, leaping from branch to branch, trying to get closer.
He had taken the bait and she had effectively placed enough space as not to catch the attention of any passerby. Ears flicked as they paced his footfalls, the shaking of the trees. She was no bat, but she was intelligent. Wit and snarky remarks were beyond her at this point, but that all translated to tactics and the sort in this case, which worked in her favor. She would have to take care of this quickly, because her orders were to observe the shard hunters. Her heart barely beat within her chest at the thought. Landing harshly on a branch she waited...
Closer...Closer... THERE! Vines of Holy ice lashed out to where the serpent would land next.
Crowley hissed as the Vines of Holy Ice lashed out toward him and he spread his wings, stopping his decent and causing the vines to miss him, but just barily, and the branch he was to land on froze solid before cracking and falling to the ground. He flipped backwards, his wings disappearing again as he pushed off a different branch, yellow eyes searching for...there she was!
He rebounded off the trunk of a nearby tree and shot towards her, claws drawn out and back to slash in a downward motion.
If she could express arrogance, she would of as her ears twitched as she heard the air being sliced through and caught the wrists of the demon and used his own inertia to send him flying towards a tree, vines following close behind. It was almost too easy for her, but she could not feel pride, so it was just an empty feeling.
Crowley grunted as his back connected with a lovely tree trunk, but he rolled, pushing off the tree trunk and barely dodging the vines once more. Damn, but she was DANGEROUS. Not that he hadn’t known that before hand, but all that holy power she was throwing around was a serious problem. He stuck out a hand, catching a tree branch and swinging himself around behind her, aiming a kick at her back.
He should of known just how flexible she was from the food fight. She may of not of looked it, but she HAD been on the battleground for several years. He fought like a three year old, hardly worth the effort. She brushed fingers against the rough bark and let herself fall forward. Almost as if fluttering in the wind, a delicate butterfly of the darkness, avoiding the kick and landing on a sturdy branch below. As the demon's foot touched the spot she had once been, she released the trigger and the branch exploded with a condensed Holy spell.
It would be best of Crowley not to underestimate her. She may of lacked her emotions, but that just equated to becoming a blade. For now, her master would be her bearer, until he abandoned her much like so many other blades. She silently resigned herself to that fate as she leapt once again. The Demon wasn't dead yet.
Crowley hissed, a wall of flame flying up in an automatic defense as the branch exploded with a Holy spell. Unfortunately, however, his flame was brought about by demonic energy, and it quickly was destroyed under the assault. The spell cut through his shirt, deflecting off the armour on his chest, shoulders and forearms that had been hidden under his jacket, and sizzled with the rejection of the Holy power. However, that did not mean he went uninjured, as the power sliced against his unprotected upper arms and the side of his upper left thigh on the outside. He flipped away, landing on a branch a foot or two away. The cuts weren’t too deep yet, but they stung pretty badly due to the Holy power of the spell.
That was IT! No more Mister Nice Demon!
Crowley bared his fangs, his demonic aura flaring to full power and causing his eyes to practically glow golden, the full use of his demonic energy showing his full form, complete with horns and tail, the latter curling over the cut on his thigh, protecting. His fangs lengthened, paralyzing poison seeping into the elongated teeth should he choose to use them. He placed a clawed hand on his sword and leapt off the branch, drawing it as he got close and using the withdrawl of it as his first swing.
How quickly he revealed his true form. Standing straight up, she watched as he attempted to add speed and power by both drawing his sword and slicing at her. It was familiar, for she had faced many who used such techniques in her own world. A pang of emotion and she simply slammed her foot into the hilt of his blade, stopping the blade from escaping it's sheath and simply placed one hand against his face. A look of pity flashed for a moment before she allowed a burst brighter then the sun flash into his eyes. The spell did no harm, but blinded the poor man and as she fluttered away once again. Unsure of why she did not simply banish away this demon, she landed a safe distance away, eyes watching.
Crowley hissed in pain, jerking away from Zaheela's hand as the flash blinded him. He flipped backward, relying his sense of scent to guide him to a nearby branch, which he landed on, shaking his head. When he lifted his head, the pupils of his eyes were mere slivers against the yellow of his eyes, making his sight almost useless. However, due to his full demon form, his sense of smell was even more enhanced then normal. He hissed, his demonic instincts beginning to take over as he attacked, elongated claws slashing at her and where her scent was coming from.
So he had heightened senses of smell. Most likely some form of heat seeking as well. She soundlessly leapt above his head and pondered the quickest and most effective strategy before placing a hand on her chest and whispered softly, the wind gathering to hide her scent in it's being and with a graceful leap, jumped in the opposite direction of his own lunge, a sword forming in her hand. The stroke came from the side, the holy energy hissing. She had orders, no time to spare.
Crowley lifted a hand in defense as the wind whistled around him. He searched for her scent, but it was lost to the wind. He barely had time to register the hissing and recognize it before the sword came at his side. In an instant, his own sword was drawn, clashing against Zaheela’s. Sparks flew from the clash of Holy energy against Demonic, and Crowley grunted as his late withdrawl of his sword didn’t fully block the blow and part of the sword slashed against his side, part deflecting off his armour, the other part cutting a stinging gash at his side. He shoved with his sword and drew back one hand, flinging several balls of fire at her in quick succession.
She weaved between the fireballs, eyes vacant as she let her holy energy trickle out, enfusing it into the surrounding brush. The trap was almost complete, now all she had to do was draw the demon in to the correct sport. Her mind was calm as she took a breath. own energy switching from Holy to demonic in an instant. Landing on a branch, she held her sword behind her, gathering blood, souls, the spirits, and lashed out, the purple energy ripping through the battleground and aiming to engulf the demon in it's rage.
Crowley snarled as Zaheela dodged, and spun, trying to find her scent or her power somewhere, but he quickly forgot about that as a powerful energy ripped right toward him. He turned, throwing up a wall of fire in defense, but to no avail. Though the wall sucked up some of the demonic energy from the attack, it was just too much, and the wall fell, laying the rest of the power of the attack straight on him. He let out something that was half-yell/half snarl and fully animalistic in it’s nature as the power sliced into him, breaking his armour and leaving a harsh gash across his chest, blood falling out from the wound as he crashed downward. He threw out a hand, claws latching into a branch that he hung perilously from, coughing, body trying to move against the attack that had thoroughly pummeled him. He tried to look up, attempting to locate the Mithra and where she would attack from next.
Game. Set... Match. She almost smiled as the holy energy gathered in reaction to the demonic energy, both her own and her opponents. She was safely out of it's blast radius, heading back to her original objective, but he was in the center. Holy power snaked, arced, and crystallized. A cage had formed and all caught within it would be impaled by Holy ice which formed from the 'bars'. It was a cruel trap, one that could not tell friend from foe, but it would do it's job.
She supposed she should have been proud, disgusted, but none of the emotions came close to revealing themselves. One emotion, however, seeped through the cracks, agony. Inwardly, she screamed, beating against the cage of her own making, but the voice just giggled and hugged her tighter, promising to never let her go.
Crowley looked around wildly, not being able to fully see the cage that was forming around him, but more than feeling the holy power that gathered around him. He hissed in panic, yellow eyes darting around, senses searching for any escape, but...he couldn’t find any. He was trapped. His head jerked, however, at the soft pounding of fists against the cage. His yellow eyes sought out her form, though it was only a dark blur.
“Z…Zaheela!” he called out to her desperately, weakly reaching his free hand out towards her.
A ear twitched, but she continued her trek through the forest. Zaheela left him to his doom, or so she thought. Emotions, after all, were a blade of their own. Unknown to her, there was one emotion she still held dear, as unnoticeable as it was. In her heart, she whispered her apologies, her tears, and prayed that it would not kill him. Her cage was stifling, the voice was ruthless, she needed something... to tear her apart.
The Cage fully formed, and the spikes streaked downwards, seeking to purge the evil trapped within.
Survive... whispered Mercy.
Crowley felt the holy power fall in on him and he curled into a ball, wings shooting out to protect himself, a ball of fire over that as his last defense. But the cry that came from his mouth was not of pain or hurt, but was of apology. And it was a name.
“AZIRAPHALE!”
Now, there are many things that are overly poetic about the power of love. But when it really comes down to it, love can sometimes cause things to happen that really shouldn’t. Like demons surviving traps infused with Holy power, such as the one Zaheela had to expertly crafted. However, even that power has its limits. Though it would help him to survive, it would not prevent the pain and the wounds that the spikes would inflict.
The angel’s name died on Crowley’s lips as the spikes of the cage hit their mark, piercing flesh and skin, tearing apart the fire and his wings and his body, and he fell, body screaming out its pain as every nerve in his body lashed out against the holy power and the damaging spikes that accompanied it. He landed on the ground, a pile of blood, flesh and black feathers. He hissed quietly as pain laced through his body, and he lay there.
A couple hours later he would find enough strength to stand and stumble back to the apartment but for now, his body would have to heal itself little by little.
Ok, so the muses aren't exactly TAME...
Zah: heh
Crowley: stfu. *sulk*
Zah: someone's a sulkybutt
Crowley: *glare* "ssssssulkybutt"?
Zah: duh
Crowley: What are you, ssssssssix? *totally sulking*
Zah: you are
Zah: besides, shouldn't it of been obvious it was "Holy entrapment" being placed?
Crowley: I was BLIND.
Zah: energy moron
Crowley: And anyway. I haven't fought like that in over three million years.
Zah: PFFFT You lost someone who has been alive for only 21
zah: If anything you should be ashamed
Crowley: *twitch* STFU, Kitty.
Zah: Bite me snake
Crowley: *smirks, showing fang* Happy to. Pick your poison?
Zah: Got anything in the "You can't aim, admit it" type?
Crowley: Nope. But I might have some catnip kind stored somewhere if you assssssk nicely.
Zah: doesn't work Moron
Crowley: *smirk*
Zah: what?
Crowley: *shrugs* Never know, with the whole "cat" thing....
Zah: Ha ha ha....