Forewarned was forearmed as the expression went, and it seemed particularly appropriate here. She had known they would be cruel from the very start; it was the nature of these two. She had never seen them together, but it mattered little. Lilith had a reputation and Rowan was more familiar in a fashion, and after their last interaction… well there was no a singular doubt in her mind that this was going to be about her humanity just as much as about what had happened and was no doubt still happening as they stood here and spoke. It made the dark amusement they looked at each other with less of a surprise, though that hardly meant that she was blind to its dangers. No, she was going into this with eyes wide open, aware that she was stepping into a minefield with little chance of walking out unharmed. Still, she could hope.
She knew they meant to be cruel with their deliberately soft talk that was just, just loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough for her to be ostensibly included. Heart rate increased despite herself, slowly raising back towards the rate it had been at when she was running at her her peak as they talked about as if she were only a mere human. She was more than that. She would tolerate their mocking of her lack of wings with as much grace as she could muster, it was already growing to be a tired insult as much as it hurt her. But the insinuation that she was a traitor, well that was a new one, one that caused that heart increase, one that made her very, very nervous for there was little she could do to combat that sort of accusation should the label make its way to Lucifer.
Eyes watched with interest as Lilith stepped back for Rowan, eyes flicking back to the one she had more experience with, oddly grateful for this development. After all, she was more comfortable with Rowan than she was with Lilith, the latter was more of an unknown. Pushing buttons with the other would have been more of a shot in the dark, while Rowan watched her flounder – it would have been all but unforgiveable.
And on the back of this realization, another followed - She had to say something, she had to, didn’t she? Yes, she knew neither of them were particularly known for their kindness or for their mercy, but what good was letting the opportunity pass her by? And add to that she knew something of Rowan, of her proclivities and the knowledge that giving it early took the fun from the other, she knew what words were her best bet, even as it pained her too for pride prickled at the idea of making herself deliberately so soft, especially as it was just another opening for the two to mock her.
“Rowan,” she began, the word a plea in her fashion, not the sort of begging that might come from the lips of an innocent like Lydia or perhaps Holly, but hers. But as she thought upon what could follow, the silence stretched longer. She knew, oh how she knew, that it was bound to garner a comment from Rowan (if not Lilith too), her tongue-tied hesitance, especially as it was mostly uncharacteristic of her. She had always been the sort to speak when she had something to say or when there an observation needing a voice, but not to hear the sound of her voice. She sighed, then, and offered the only protest she could, even as she knew it was going to do absolutely no good. “This isn’t my fault.”
What a truly great day this was. When she had woken up, she had been glad to know that she would spend the majority of the day with Lilith. Lilith, who had shaped her, taught her, cared for her like a gardener tending to their roses. Cutting away the parts that were unnecessary while nursing the flowers that were meant to bloom. There are a handful of people with whom Rowan could spend hours upon hours with ( trading secrets, discourse, and more ) and among those people was the Great Muse herself. Now to have the opportunity to tangle with the one person who had decidedly disappointed her while her dear Lilith was by her side…it was simply the icing to the cake. It made her fingers itch with eagerness and the smile sharpen with wicked delight as the two demons cornered their once-companion like two she-wolves caging their weakened prey.
Her companion’s voice was like a great aria to her ears, the cadence, the language coaxing Rowan to unleash unwarranted torture on the one who she could have once called friend. While she listened to the vessel of dark musings through narrowed, icy blue hues she considered what course of action to take. But then Isabella was deciding for them, her eyes consistently toward the redhead so desperately. Did the little raven not know that she was looking for something that could never be found with her? It was like looking at a clear blue sky and begging for rain. It was foolish as well as damning because, in the end, you would undoubtedly end up being disappointed.
Just like Isabella was soon going to be.
But perhaps disappointed was too kind of a word in this instance. Ruined. Wrecked. Emotionally ravaged. The plaintive cry for reason, for mercy made blue hues rise up to meet the wide beseeching gaze of her forgotten friend. Was she really so invested in something that could have been that she did not see Rowan was already planning to indulge in her violent cravings? The little vessel of war’s eyes turned to Lilith, brows arching in consideration at what the other presented ( a wide smile on her face when the elder demon called to her ). There were so many ways she could bring the spy to her demise, but the two demons enjoyed the play of it all, the exchange of words and the baiting of sufferings. “I’m sure that everyone is loathe to bow to Judas’ whims at this point,” she mused, mulling over the happenings of the day thus far. But it was a topic of discussion for another point in time – the two she-wolves had other things to consider. Like the plea that was escaping her little raven’s lips.
“Neither is it the lioness’ fault that she breaks the neck of the gazelle,” Rowan crooned, eyes alight with a diabolical gleam. “And yet she still does it – it’s her nature after all.”
Taking Lilith’s invitation, she finally stepped forward, grabbing Isabella by a fistful of hair only to pull her head back. A flash of a smile is the only warning she gives before using her index and middle finger to harshly jab at her little raven’s bare throat, momentarily cutting off the passage of air. It was just going to be the first move of many – take the air from her lungs and render her breathless in the beginning before the real pain began. She didn’t want to bear any of the retaliation and so she yanked Isabella’s hair back even further, hoping to toss her to the ground and allow Lilith to do as she saw fit to the welp. As she stepped back, she placed her hands on her hips, shoulder-to-shoulder with the Great Muse whom she looked to for approval.
“I want to take away what she deems precious to her – Judas saw fit to take away her wings, but perhaps he was being a bit short-sighted.” She glanced at Isabella, before offering this consideration for her beloved companion to mull over. “Why not take away more?” The breath from her fair-skinned throat was only the beginning.
She had known, of course, that Rowan once thought Isabella showed promise. Who better to share that information with than the person who had first seen true promise in Rowan herself? But then she’d become human, and more than that, she’d become weak, softened by the human heart she’d been given. It had been centuries and more since Lilith was mortal, but even then, she had not had much weakness in her. She had been planned for destruction and found purpose within it, and she could not reconcile the idea of Isabella losing her own. To make a decision was to stand by it. If she hadn’t wanted to be caught doing anything DANGEROUS, she shouldn’t have said she was up to the task, should she?
Lilith remained unsurprised by Isabella’s weak pleading, though it was yet another nail in her metaphorical coffin. Laying the blame on others, refusing to take responsibility... it was decidedly un-demonlike. It was in a demon’s nature to be selfish, and had she merely said, ‘I was looking out for my own interests,’ it might have eased her fate, with Lilith, anyway. What Rowan implied seemed true as anything to her -- just as a lioness’ nature was to kill the gazelle, so too was Isabella’s to lie and keep secrets. Decent qualities in a spy, but not if she couldn’t reveal information at the correct discretion. She was useless if she couldn’t find a way to convey information of importance.
Watching as Isabella was pulled away, Lilith’s smile was all indulgence as Rowan cut out the girl’s air supply. The thing she’d learned about sparring with Rowan was that she liked to tussle. It didn’t matter what she had to use to win because she liked the fight. Lilith, meanwhile, fought as though she couldn’t wait for it to end -- as a result, she was a fan of cutting the knees out from under her opponent before they had a chance to fight back. Rowan, with perfect synchronicity, seemed ready to throw Isabella to the ground in an expertly calibrated routine.
“Astute, as always,” she agreed, linking her arm with Rowan’s a moment, as if they were teenage girls in a school hall. It was in an effort to lean close, though at the same time, she made sure to place her stiletto heel, sharp and thin, against Isabella’s neck, effectively pinning her to the ground with hardly a glance. If the girl fought back, tried to move her leg, she would quickly realize that with age came strength, and Isabella was pathetically young. “What would fit the situation best, do you think? Her eyes, so her beloved camera becomes meaningless? That wouldn’t serve our liege very well, maybe. Her ears, since she seems to be loathe to use them? Her tongue, possibly, since she hasn’t bothered to hand over anything useful, anyway. You know her better than I do, love; what would lovely Isabella find unbearable to part with?”
