There’s the beginnings of a sneer on Michael’s face, curling over bloodstained lips – pulled their head sharply away from Dagon, ripping through their skin in the process, uncaring. They were going to kill this pathetic excuse for a demon the first moment they could. The Archangel was in pain, but they certainly weren’t going to show it ( wouldn’t give Dagon the satisfaction ). There was truth in what Dagon said – Michael reported to no one ( Gabriel, on occasion, but they usually kept their visits to Hell a secret ). It was a low chance that they’d come looking for the Archangel here anytime soon. Not that Michael would give that away. “Gabriel is in charge, and knows what happens to all of Heaven’s soldiers – myself included.”
A pause, before a scoff. “Hellfire? I highly doubt you’d kill me – There’s no fun in that for you, is there, demon?” Michael’s grace tingled beneath their fingertips, but the Archangel was exhausted, and righteousness wasn’t rising to the surface. Hands tested restraints again, still finding them unbreakable. How much longer would this drag on for? Michael had a high pain tolerance, but it wasn’t infinite. “Surely you want something, otherwise why would you bother to do this. Just tell me what it is. I have an appointment
Dagon whipped their hand back in surprise, blood on the tips of their fingernails. Once the surprise of the unintentional ( but far from unsatisfactory ) injury, they examined the angelic fluid with a curious expression as Michael spoke, only half paying attention to the Archangel as they spoke. When they offered them something, they clicked their tongue.
" HM. I don’t think you’re getting me, Michael. THIS IS WHAT I WANT. " The word ‘want’ had a sickening emphasis, said oddly sultry despite the horror behind the word. They didn’t bother wiping the blood from their fingertips as they looked at Michael, humming softly. " Soooo, how much do I have to hurt you until your wings pop out? You know, like those pedal trash cans— the lids pop up if you press the right button? Kinda happens with demons. Least the ones I’ve done this too. " Dagon picked up a heavy thin blade, one side sharp & smooth while the other was rough & serated. Opposites, both in distance in form.
" I think I’ll pluck you feather from feather. Do you all have multiple sets? Of wings? I can’t remember. " Anyone from before their fall was dumped, their brain filling in generic blank-faced mannequins instead of real beings. No pain in a mannequin stabbing you through the gut, emotionally anyways.
