Azazel squawked, frantically, trying to do what he did best and take the fall for another, but Jophiel was far too fast for him.
The angel's thin, wirey body had played out wide to protect the demon, to trap him the way a shark cage traps a diver and—
And the squelch was sickening.
"What have you done?!" Azazel cried.
Unlike, say, a snake, the Owl had exceptional vision. Although he could not perceive the color of it, the demon saw ichor seeping through the angel's sternum, where War's sword had pierced him.
Jophiel merely smiled. "I did what I should have done a long time ago, I think. If anybody should have fallen it was me, Aziraphale—wasn't that your name?" He toppled sideways with a shudder and a low, pained moan.
The dust did not deserve his blood.
Azazel, the barn owl, the Banshee, did what he was known best for, he screamed. It was a terrifying, threatening sound, and it did it's purpose: War skittered away into the darkness.
"You have so- so much faith in the Almighty, angel," Jophiel whispered. The words hitched. Ichor spilled from his lips. "And I have so much faith in you. Look at you.... You're brilliant,"
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"And I have so much faith in you. Look at you.... You're brilliant,"
OKAY SO JUST!!! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!!! AND YET AGAIN YOU'VE PREDICTED SOMETHING (not telling u what) THAT I'VE ALREADY WRITTEN UP !!!!! I wish I had more energy to finish this, but i still needed to draw something otherwise I was going to go crazy! AMAZING WRITING!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!
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