@more-things-in-heaven-hell continued from ☕︎
☕︎ ——— Nova should have known better than volunteering to be on the front lines. Sure, she was born more well equipped than any other sinners there, but it didn't make things any less precarious. Not to mention the fact that she still hadn't come into contact with Lucifer or anyone else that might have known her great grandfather; it was still unclear to her how that situation would go, when she came across it. To her knowledge, he wasn't much of a fan of anyone, so she knew she wouldn't have to worry about any special treatment. Not in any positive light, anyways— she didn't know much about his fall, but she was sure Michael had played a role in it.
But making a name for herself to her fellow sinners was important to what she was trying to do. In order to take vengeance on Heaven, she needed support. What better way to get it than succeeding in building out their home?
She'd have to make it out alive for that, though, and that was proving more of a task than she'd thought it'd be. She'd already had to sew her head back into place once, and she was covered in wounds that would surely only add to her scarred appearance, blood lightly shimmering against grey skin as she pushed further.
That was when she heard a muffled scream of pain, ears twitching towards the direction of the sound before her feet followed. As much as she knew it was a risk, she wasn't getting what she came for without taking those, and it wasn't like she had the option to turn back. When she came upon the boulder she'd heard the sound coming from, her eyes widened as she was met with the fallen angel himself.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!!!
Her eyes fell to the ground, concealing their gem-toned hue from who could only be her King— she couldn't think about family now or ever, and she didn't want him recognizing anything about her. "How can I help?" She asked nervously, chancing it to lift her head just enough to get a look at his wounds from where she stood. It seemed he'd lost a decent amount of blood, but his wounds didn't appear to be shedding much more thanks to the efforts that had brought her to him. She'd have to get a closer look to be absolutely sure, but she wasn't sure she was getting that.
"I know wound care. I can help get you moving again, but I need you to let me," she said, sounding much more sure of herself this time; no matter what the reason, she couldn't just leave him there like this. Glory, the right thing, a favor— nothing mattered but the task at hand.
