i am the storm

They lift an eyebrow, and the world flickers. You see history in their eyes, blood and sorrow in their hands. It’s the epitome of survival, of all you never knew how to become. (x)

[swordofcassiel-blog]

heaven has always been on fire | cassiel & adele

[swordofcassiel-blog]

davisadele:

People were falling left and right. Some were getting back up, throwing themselves into the numerous fights that’d broken out while others didn’t move again after going down. Adele herself had been knocked down again, barely making any progress forward to where she last saw Zoe fall and to where Cassiel now stood, caught in the most brutal of the fighting that she’d ever seen. The angel hurt to look at, her eyes burning from the flames that shone above the rest of the chaos as she pushed herself back to her feet.

It didn’t take long before she made it a little further, only to see out of the corner of her eye another figure moving in her direction and wildly taking stabs in any which direction that they could reach. She didn’t have an escape, not when it was blocked on all sides as she scrambled backwards and as far away she could get, shrinking into herself in hopes that she’d make a smaller target, one that wouldn’t be seen. 

Adele watched them get closer, panic rising as she felt her heart leap into the back of her throat and force some semblance of a scream out but nothing came. Nothing but the silent prayer that she kept making, over and over again, calling out for help and an end to the bloodshed that was everywhere they looked. Someone had to stop this. Someone had to do something to save the countless lives that were being slaughtered through the ministrations of the Horsemen who only looked upon them all with glee. It wasn’t her friends anymore, loved ones who were there but other beings who took and they took and they took. 

They wouldn’t stop tonight. But someone had to take the first step. Cassiel, she called out again, praying to the angel who acted more like a guardian of sorts than a distant revelation to those who believed and didn’t. Cassiel, please. But as she prayed, the knife sliced through the air between the two of them as she yelped and backed into moving bodies that shoved her towards the knife. Only it wasn’t there when she fell, this time landing in blood as well as what was left of the man that had been close to cutting right through Adele. 

Bile rose up her throat as she moved to her hands and knees, finding them coating in his warm blood as it made the floor slick while she fought to get to her feet once more. Cassiel had saved her, but that didn’t stop the way they fought through the crowd as if the people were nothing more than branches to be cut down. The people didn’t stand a chance if the angel didn’t control their actions, finding her pure rage savage in the moment when not one of them could be helped. It wasn’t their fault, none of them, when it was the Horsemen pitting them all against each other in hopes of destroying them all. Cassiel. Stop. Please, help them. Help me. Her prayers kept running through her mind, even as she felt hot tears falling down her face as she stared helplessly at the death that was in every corner.

It was too late now, one body fallen at their hand and then two more who lunged at them, Cassiel reflexively cutting them down easily before they could advance far enough. War had driven the crowd mad and violent, and Cassiel saw no souls to save in this chaos: this was not God’s war. A prayer still pulled them forward, focusing their attention on a goal other than clearing this room of its forsaken inhabitants. Adele.

The girl was half-broken on the ground, spirit wilted and marred to mirror her bloodstained finery. She was nearly unrecognizable in Cassiel’s War-influenced fury, but her prayer was strong enough to cut through the red fog and bring them enough sanity to sheath the grail once more. Arms like steel shoved away a straggling aggressor who hadn’t been caught in Cassiel’s initial onslaught, leaving him to the mercy of the screaming horde behind him.

Reaching Adele’s side, they assessed her quickly, asking her “are you wounded?” Their voice was near-alien to the tone they had become accustomed to adopting around their mortal companions, deeper and more authoritative, resonating in the brusque voice of a soldier.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

the showdown | cassiel & belial/war

[swordofcassiel-blog]

prayhavoc:

Belial was having the time of his very long life, or at least, for the near future. There was still so much havoc to wreak, one little awards show would never be enough to sate him. Not until every inch of the world itself was ripped asunder, and the folly that was all of their existence would be over. It was only a matter of time at this point, and yet–he turned to see Cassiel in all of their ‘avenging’ glory, with a shiny little grail held in their hand, “Well, don’t you look delightful. Were you wearing that armor under your dress this whole time?” Cassiel would have to be far older, and far more powerful if they ever hoped to get a rise out of the once-demon-turned-horseman. “Are you enjoying the show?”

Standing in this close of proximity to a fully integrated Horseman, and between him and his Farrier, would be enough to rip any mortal in two. The ground was already littered with the bodies of humans who had inflicted such damage on themselves and others when Belial unleashed his force on them minutes prior--Cassiel, though, had been primed for this since the moment War’s energy started searching for a host.

He had tried to recruit them once before, and it had nearly killed Cassiel to resist. They felt none of that temptation now. Just the desire to kill him. He was either unafraid--foolishly--or hiding it to mask his weakness from them. Cassiel refused to play his game, taking their stance, facing him as a challenger ready for battle-- “You talk too much.”

[swordofcassiel-blog]

abaddonian:

“Positive things about you,” Abaddon remarked, grin looking more like a baring of her teeth than anything. “Let’s not get our wires crossed, dear. This world showed little kindness to me in recent years. I simply seek to pay it back: no one likes a debtor.” She’d lost her pride, her titles – even her wings at some point; her mouth grew bitter with the grinding of her molars, every growing second a venom in her veins – there was little left for her on this plane.

“After all, evil is relative and boring,” she quipped, pressing in closer, eyes fixed on the grail their hand remained unmoved from. “But philosophical musings aside, let’s not have a fight over this now. I’m simply here to enjoy the party.”

She was not even trying to maintain a façade of subtlety. Abaddon was fixated on the grail, apparently bent on keeping Cassiel distracted or at least still--for what? Until she could steal the blade for her new commander, or allow the Horsemen to get past unnoticed? If Kiara had sent her pet demon on this mission, it was foolish; if Abaddon was choosing to make small talk with Cassiel on her own, it was practically suicide. After centuries of fighting wars on opposite sides, Cassiel felt, for the first time, that Abaddon was their enemy now.

They ignored her drivel--chatting, wasting time, predictable Abaddon tactics--and removed their hand from its place hovering near their weapon. The demon had moved closer, bringing the conversation to a lower pitch, Cassiel’s feet planted solidly in place against the other’s advance. The height difference between them became more pronounced at this distance. They’d exploited that, a handful of times, in those rare ocassions the two had come face-to-face in conflict. And, once, in a time when Cassiel had nearly thrown their duty at the foot of an empty Heavenly throne in favor of returning to a balanced existence of chaos and order with the demon who seemed to understand it best.

Abaddon’s teeth were bared, what was intended to be mirth glimmering in her eyes and overshadowed by whatever motivations had driven the former Prince of Chaos to this end. “You have spent too much time with mortals,” they answered. “After millennia of existence, you measure in years and debts. What end do you seek? Bring the world to its knees, Heaven and Hell at your feet, and then what?”

[galgadotsource]

Gal Gadot © Jay L. Clendenin // Los Angeles Times.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

heaven has always been on fire | cassiel & adele

[swordofcassiel-blog]

davisadele:

The screaming, chaotic crowd had made fast work of the exits ― blocking them with their bodies as well as locking them in to face the wrath that was War, Pestilence, and Famine unleashed on the masses. Everywhere she looked, Adele saw people losing their self control and attacking each other while others fell down dead where they stood; each affected by the Horsemen’s influence while she scrambled back to her feet after being knocked down by a man running in the opposite direction.

After Elijah’s speech, introducing the Horsemen to the world on a national level ― she lost sight of him but hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from the fight that broke out on stage. Cassiel took on Belial, or rather War and she watched as the demon that she’d once befriended fell by the angel’s grail. But that didn’t stop them. Not when she watched them rise once more, something that shouldn’t have been possible as she watched Cassiel leap off the stage and head straight into the throws of the fighting.

Belial disappeared too, but her attention fell on the angel ― needing to be near the other before they caused as much damage as the Horsemen when she knew that War’s influence was next to impossible to break, having seen people fall under his manipulations and not let up until they were dead. Usually by others in the same position. They didn’t have any control, or know what they were doing, and Cassiel looked to be in the same boat as she ran towards the angel. People were everywhere, slowing her movements as she was knocked aside and squeezed through the bodies while blocking wild punches and kicks that were thrown in her direction.

Working with Cassiel had helped her self defense, making it possible to avoid as many hits as possible but an elbow caught her just below the eye and sent her to the ground on her hands and knees. Her face throbbing slightly from the hit, Adele watched Cassiel rage through the people. Cassiel, please stop, she prayed to the angel, hoping that the other could hear her over the chaos as she struggled to stand and get closer.

They caught sight of Zoe, unconscious, and lost visual just as quickly. Frantic, their panic got a hold of them, merging with renewed anger every time War flexed his power in their general direction. Somewhere behind all of the rage, they struggled to regain control--War had them locked inside their own mind, their body his pawn.

There were more voices now, whispers in their head, fighting with War’s loudest orders and Cassiel tried to shake them all. Twisting, they threw punches without seeing clearly where they were aimed, pulling apart couples locked in violent embraces, tossing bodies aside without checking that they fell safely. They so rarely encountered wars like these: where everyone was an enemy, easily taken down, where restraint was not strictly necessary.

One of the voices was familiar. Not in the way War was familiar, with Belial’s voice goading them along, the ghost of once-was. It grew louder as they moved, and Cassiel attempted to focus on it, to pinpoint its origin, because something about its resonance felt right. Adele. They knew her voice.

Head spun to locate her based on the prayer, black and red blurring their vision, hallucinations of Zoe’s bloody face and Maria’s lifeless body and Adele--that one was real, though, it had to be real because it was less graphic than the imagined ones--

They honed in on the prayer, and their vision cleared somewhat, enough for them to see Adele dazed on the ground, half-obscured. Enough to see the threat approaching, a crazed man with a pocketknife in hand, frantically stabbing at whomever he could reach. He stumbled and reached and fell in Adele’s direction, and the black-and-red blur returned and their limbs moved instinctively--

The man’s body fell, bloody from the neck down, Cassiel kneeling--now three feet closer to Adele, a path cleared--with the Grail clutched too tightly in their hand. Blinded with rage, a foreign hand grabbed their arm and the attached body received the hilt of the sword in their collarbone, a punch that had them reeling back and Cassiel turning to wield the blade again.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

heaven has always been on fire | cassiel & adele

where: the oscars, or what’s left of them when: post-stabbing belial closed to @davisadele

They lost what was left of their sanity, hearing War laugh through Belial’s body, seeing their Grail fail as it cut through his flesh. It should have killed--it was made to kill.

Cassiel had failed, and the Horseman had won.

They found they no longer controlled their actions. Unleashed upon the masses, at the will of Belial’s apocalyptic influence, Cassiel moved on instinct blinded by rage. They were a machine of war and this was their element; untidy though it was, this battlefield was not unfamiliar. Protect. Destroy. The voice in their head was wrong--not Adon, not Raziel, not their God, but carrying the strength of reason nonetheless. Cassiel was designed to follow orders, a machine of war, and so they turned toward the crowd, distracted by conflicting imperatives.

Hands clasped the edge of the stage, smearing it with blood, scrabbling for purchase--one gripped a makeshift weapon with snarling intention, and Cassiel’s boot came down without hesitation, smashing bones and loosening the grip. Where was Zoe? Where was Adele? Had Maria succeeded in using her Grail? Their mind rushed, Belial’s insiduous voice creeping inside. Find Maria. They leaped down from the stage, that vague idea in their head, losing purchase as the crowd converged around them.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

the showdown | cassiel & belial/war

[ closed to @prayhavoc ]

They dropped Zoe with precision and seconds later landed hard, wings propelling them to slam into the stage with a force that rattled the rafters. This was their role in the universe, in God’s plan, and the stakes had never been higher. Nonetheless, their grip on the Trepanum Blade was stronger than ever, the rush of its power surging through them, the grail as relieved as they were to be reunited.

War was running amok, boiling the blood of everyone around them, but Cassiel fought it off enough to stand upright before once-was-Belial and look him in the eye without throwing themself into the screaming crowd. They were glad Zoe was behind them, shielded by their wings, so she could not see them terrifyingly angelic, murder in their glare. Elijah had yelled, ruining the element of surprise, alerting Belial to their arrival--but he was still taken aback somewhat. Or so they hoped.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

castitas-etsuko:

Zoe ducked to give Cassiel more room to elbow potential assailants, spinning the knife in her hand around so the blade was tucked against her arm and not just out in the open where she could accidentally impale someone. At Cassiel’s question, Zoe looked up towards the stage where Belial and Elijah were lording over their rage fueled subjects and a fresh wave of anger bloomed in her chest. 

Zoe’s mind was working a thousand miles a minute, trying to come up with something that might work to get Cassiel to the stage. They had decent enough seats, but now there were people absolutely everywhere attacking anyone or anything that moved. “We’ll… go over them. Cass, we need to go over them. We can’t go through, it’ll take too long.” Moving to step in front of Cassiel, Zoe pulled one of the angel’s arms around her waist and explained, “Fly. Drop me on Elijah, that will be plenty of distraction for him. Plus it’ll be fun to punch him in the face.”

Their minds went to the same place at the same time:

In the midst of the chaos, screams and flailing bodies, the odd cackle from Kiara and Belial echoing like cracked church bells, Cassiel gave a shrug and wings emerged from their shoulders, the force of their unfolding knocking out the two closest people on either side and scattering several more. It was freeing--it had been so long since they’d been able to walk about with their wings outstretched.

It introduced points of risk for the rage-infused crowd, who spent only a few moments bewildered before recovering and flinging themselves into the fury once more. It didn’t take long for flecks of blood to appear on the pure-white feathers. One arm already partially encircling Zoe’s waist, Cassiel wrapped the others around her with otherworldly strength and lifted them off the ground, firm in their group to ensure she didn’t fall. Flying was not something humans did often, and Cassiel hadn’t flown with a partner in several centuries.

[oraftel-deactivated20201025]

we know war to the bone; but of a peace that follows after it we do not know and have not ever known (x)

[swordofcassiel-blog]

castitas-etsuko:

Zoe had leaped into action, pulling the knife from her clutch and abandoning the bag somewhere on the floor. She didn’t really need it anyways. She had tried to usher people out, to get Grace and Isaiah to get themselves to safety, but she couldn’t focus too much on that when anger was roaring in her ears and boiling in her chest. She had to do something, that’s what they were here for.

She was beside Cassiel in a heartbeat, ducking and dodging more than throwing punches, but for the first time in her life she considered that might not be a bad idea. She nearly got tackled by Casey Affleck on the way over, but her renewed vigor at noticing who had a hold of her caused her to automatically butt her head into his the way Cass had taught her, landing a blow on his solar plexus as he reeled back. “Stay down, asshole!”

Registering Cassiel’s words, Zoe raised her knife and let her eyes keep tracking through the crowd, trying to place all of her people and find a way up to the stage in the same moment. 

“What do you need? Anything.”

They nearly reached out to intervene when a flurry of movement threatened Zoe--and immediately stayed their hand when Zoe took care of it herself. They were quick to doubt humans’ ability to protect themselves, but the humans alive on the planet in its current state were more resilient. Not to mention that Cass had taught Zoe most of that self-defense.

Still, it was unnerving to see the pacifist girl wielding a dagger, fire in her eyes masking the panic Cassiel imagined she was feeling. They gestured to the stage, making a quick move to get between Zoe and another attacker and jabbing an elbow into their nose without looking behind them. “I can’t take Belial and Elijah at the same time. Can you distract Elijah?” It was a theoretically simple question, but difficult in practice. Elijah was potentially deadly in his current state, and Zoe was not a seasoned fighter. But Cassiel trusted her--they had to.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

where: oscars when: shit goes down closed to @castitas-etsuko

Cassiel was on their feet before the words came out of Belial’s mouth--War’s mouth. Uproar was exploding all around them and the angel had a strong feeling very little of it was natural. Even they could feel blood-hot rage building within them and adding an electric shock to their skin. This was dangerous; incredibly dangerous. But they were prepared.

Elijah was a complication. Cassiel had no qualms about killing him or any of the farriers, but the logistics of it were slightly more difficult when he had the power of War behind him. Taking on a Horseman was hard enough without his protegée getting in the way. A wailing partygoer clawed at them and Cassiel’s war-honed mind refocused, taking in the chaos around them. They did not have the time to save anyone here--they had to sacrifice this in favor of getting to Belial. Zoe was beside them suddenly, knife out, looking for all the world like a warrior that the dress was incongruous.

“I need your help.”

[meiringen]

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

[lifeinpoetry]

Tell me I am a premature burial; / Tell me existing feels like being buried alive sometimes; / & it’s okay to feel that way;

George Abraham, from “The Olive Tree Speaks of Deforestation to my body,” published in Crab Fat Magazine (via lifeinpoetry)

[swordofcassiel-blog]

abaddonian:

“You know,” Abaddon interjected, stepping in between Cassiel and their intended target, grinning – she didn’t actually care to guard Donato much; that much would be Heath’s problem, not hers. “All these eons, and I really do love this decade the most. Leather jackets suit you well, Cassie,” she said, hand moving to suppress their hand as it reached for their grail. She wouldn’t be enough to stop the angel if they were determined; all these years and she’d only learned how to dodge them effectively, not fight.

“Careful with that thing,” she said flippantly, though she eyed it warily – to do anything but regard the grail with wariness while it was being wielded by Cassiel would be disrespectful. “Let’s not cause a scene here, dear. If you have any quarrel with me ghosting, we can sort it out in better ways.”

Their words held only the barest hint of politeness; Cassiel no longer deemed Abaddon worthy of niceties. So long as they had been opposite sides of the same force fighting the Horsemen, Cassiel had felt a sense of kinship towards the demons. They were no longer enemies, or even opposed. But Abaddon had forfeighted their not-quite-friendship when she’d decided to assist Kiara with destroying the population. Cassiel did experience regret at this change: they had enjoyed her company in the stretches of time between Abaddon’s chaos.

“You have such positive things to say about a world you assist in destroying,” Cassiel remarked, hand not moving from its warning stance. They did not particularly want to kill Abaddon, but if it was necessary, they were unhesitating. The demon’s general appeal to them would not prevent them from striking her down if she proved herself desirious of such an outcome. They found it particularly annoying that Abaddon was warning them not to cause a scene--as if causing a scene wasn’t the entirety of her own character.

[swordofcassiel-blog]

catastrophically-aware:

Moving around in long, fancy dresses was not a skill she’d had to utilize in her last several lives, but she had not forgotten. It would likely have been more practical for her to wear something different, but practicality had gone out the window with the plan for the evening. She was not a fighter. Even her weapon was not a weapon, but a goblet. It was tucked safely in her purse and she could only hope she’d find a way to use it without causing more chaos. 

She scanned the crowd, noting Cassiel prowling the sidelines. Maria followed their line of sight to Donato, noting the way the warrior’s body tensed. Not good. Moving quickly, she put herself in the angel’s path, relieved not to be bowled over. “Not yet, Cass,” Maria said softly. “We have to get them all.”

She may not be Mary any longer, but her eyes betrayed the depth of the Virgin Mother all the same. Few could have stopped Cassiel with so little effort; yet she was one of the Nephilim, and one the angel would always respect with a reverence echoing back centuries.

Cassiel stilled and shifted their stance into something more resembling a relaxed pose. Their muscles were still tense, but they could feel Maria’s steeled determination and the way she clutched her own Grail. Maria had been responsible for recovering the three--Cassiel owed her many debts. “When?” they asked, matching Maria’s soft tone (lacking the other’s gentleness, Cassiel sounded more like they were biting letters off their tongue).

[swordofcassiel-blog]

Where: the Red Carpet When: early in the evening Availability: open

The neutral getup was not purely Cassiel refusing to play along with the world any longer: it was practical, too. Easy to move, to conceal weapons inside their jacket without alarming anyone (armed security notwithstanding, the angel always preferred to secure their own protection in case of emergency). They had their Grail back--finally--and its presence was a calm cold steel in the midst of wild tension.

They moved instinctively, skirting photographers and moving away from those dressed too conspicuously, hugging the edges of the crowds. Cassiel had no idea what to expect here, so they were behaving more like a bodyguard without any particular charge than a partygoer. When Donato’s familiar bitter visage moved within their field of vision, they moved instictively toward him, hand going to the hilt of the blade surreptitiously. They were so focused they almost didn’t notice someone moving to stand in their path and stopped short before running them over. “Excuse me.”

[swordofcassiel-blog]

Challenges 032: With a Bang

Cassiel is tired of playing games.

They have played so many in these past months. All intended to keep others satisfied, to present in certain ways to achieve the right goal, to match expectations or change perceptions. Cassiel is a knight--by definition, a knight on someone else’s chessboard.

In the plainest of outfits, Cassiel refuses to play any more games: not those of gender nor affiliation, likewise fashion and opulence. They did their best with the requirements of the past events, but this is the end of their last resorts and the Horsemen have little control over them here. The smell of salt clings to their hair and their plain features render them nearly invisible with stars like Elijah and Grace so near. Black on white reflects so mundanely compared with Isaiah’s bright threads. Just as they intend; just as they prefer.