TW: Blood, mention of injuries
The wind had been knocked straight out of Hezekiah upon landing flat on his back on some random street in Hell. He had never expected that the term 'Fallen' was so literal.
"Hezekiah I can't have you raising any noise about this. I don't know how you found out but I can't have you speaking about this," Sera said as Hez stood at the very edge of Heaven, clutching the X shaped wound on his face, golden blood staining his hands.
"I'm not going to let this end quietly Sera. I swear it," Hez said looking at the Seraphim in front of him.
"I'm sorry it had to come to this Hezekiah. But you are now Fallen and I wash my hands of you," she said as she turned her back right when the Exorcist who had come along pushed Hez over the edge, sending him hurdling towards Hell.
Hez landed with a sickening crunch as his left wing snapped on impact with the ground. It certainly didn't take long for Hez to realize he had drawn a very unwanted crowd of sinners eyeing him hungrily. He could barely get his feet under him, not to mention the extent of his injuries and blood loss was catching up to him quite quickly. He did manage to get away from the crowd and hiding in an alleyway nearby, trying to figure out what to do next, looking at where he landed, a small pool of distinctly golden blood on the ground as well as the very clear trail of blood following behind him. He slid down a nearby wall, trying and failing to staunch the flow of blood coming from his wound, however his head was incredibly hazy from the pain he was in as well. He was shocked he wasn't double dead. He had to try and take stock of his injuries.
Hez obviously knew about the wound on his face and his broken wing. The wetness in his hair told him he'd hit his head and he was bleeding there. He was pretty sure he had some broken ribs as well from the landing. His leg was fucked, his arm. Everything was fucked. He wasn't even sure what to do from this point but he knew he had to stay out of sight of the sinners beyond the alley. If there was one thing he knew, he knew that any soul worth their salt was going to try and make a deal with him. Owning an angel's soul, fallen or otherwise, well, that was a power anyone would want on their side.
He could hear footsteps heading his way but he couldn't get his vision to focus well enough to see who or what was headed towards him.
