...Today's the day, the one that they've been loathing ever since the day they met the executioner's apprentice.
The day that the tradition is passed on, the day that the kid will become a real executioner.. the day that Abhorson dies by Nyx's paw.
They trudged through the path they must have walked through hundreds of times by now, their mind wandering as they think of many things about Abhorson and Nyx.
Selfishly, they didn't want Abhorson, the angel they've been taking care of since they were just a fledgling, to die; but it's necessary for them to pass the baton. Though, honestly, Nyx seemed to care about Abhorson so much that they could see them agreeing with that statement..
But that thought is shaken off, as it's most certainly just wishful thinking on their part; what needs to be done needs to be done.
They pass by Nyx walking the opposite direction, seeming to be in a hurry. It's odd seeing them considering how protective Abhorson is of the kid, and would almost never let them leave their sight like that. God, how would Nyx even feel after all of thi—
Ephraim had felt sick the entire day, both physically and mentally. They had no say in the word of the Council, they knew how this worked, but that didn't stop them from being mortified.
They had refused to document the execution. Of course this didn't work. They were met with severe backlash and repercussions, but they didn't care. Nothing could hurt as much as what was about to occur.
As the seraph walked to the supposed site of the execution, their head was hung low, notebook and pen all gripped tightly to their chest. Their wings were pulled stiffly to their back, their tail low and practically between their legs.
They were so lost in thought they almost didn't notice the blue flurry that passed by them. Once they had processed who had passed, they stopped in their tracks, whipping around to face-
Ephraim called out to the young angel, trying to ignore the trembling in they own hands.
