A soft, white light lights up my feathers, startling me out of the trance-like state I'd settled into. The color plays through the reddish feathers that encase my blue skin, sending strange patterns across the smooth canvas. What had I been doing?
Memories of the last few days come flooding back in a hailstorm of blood and battle cries. I sit perched atop an archway outside of Primium Fortress, the main Asmodian stronghold in the Abyss. Fighting had been intense the last couple of days, and I had laid down to rest after a particularly rough battle, folding my soft wings around my battle-hardened body and falling quickly asleep atop high atop the fortress.
Standing up, stiffness swels through my body, loosing a small groan from my full, orange lips. In an effort to limber up, I unfold my impressive wings, my emerald eyes sliding shut in contentment at the feeling of my wide wingspan stretching out behind me. I was still getting used to this set of wings. Until recently, wing modification had been a foreign concept to me; I had been using the same set I'd ascended with. Recent instruction had informed me of the modifications available to Daevas of a certain prowress. The strength of my new wings still baffled me as I recalled my old ones. It was easy to understand the draw for new Daevas to modify their wings. The felt so good. I was glad I'd taken avantage of the opportunity to improve my feathers.
Furling my wings back up behind me, I sigh as they disappeared from view, leaving me feeling rather grounded. The surrounding emptiness calls to me: fly, and soon enough I'll acquiesce. I carefully straighten my clothes, brushing the abyss dust off of my skirt tails. My shirt clings tightly to my body, I note appreciatively. The piece had just recently been given to me by the vendors here in Reshanta, courtesy of my efforts in support of the Asmodian cause. I absolutely loved the new threads. Not only were the colors pretty and vibrant, but the shirt appeared to be somehow tied into my personal flow of aether, resulting in a curious effect when I began to channel the energy in battle.
Brushing one of my orange locks behind my ear, I start to pull aether from the air around me. Similar to stretching out my wings, it is always nice to get a little aether flowing after to liven you up. What a rush! I quickly pull out my orb as the aether lights up my body. Who would have ever thought that death could look this good.
Thoughts of my recent expeditions and battles bring a smile to my face as images of fallen white feathers rain around me. Pigeons were so soft. They didn't have the claws to face us in battle, choosing instead to lurk around and prey on the younger, more inexperienced Daevas. Well, they'd better start watching their hairless backs, because I'm becoming a force to be reckoned with. I fight fire with fire... and ice, and earth, and whatever other elements I feel like conjuring up to do my bidding.
Now that my blood is flowing, I look around for Awrath, my partner in crime. It is hunting time again. A light gust caresses my smooth skin as a bundle of burgundy feathers tumbles to a stop beside me. Awrath totters precariously on the edge of the archway for a moment before regaining her balance and smoothing out her short leather skirt. She's still getting used to flying and the challenges of Daevahood. Where the wind had embraced me as merely another breeze, Awrath still had a tendency to fight it. I'm not saying she isn't also an impressive Daeva, because she certainly is. Her stealth has taken many an Elyos warrior by surprise, leaving them helpless beneath the barrage of her twin blades and sending bloody feathers through the air like some sort of morbid pillow fight. She's just a bit awkward in the air still.
With a nod, our wings flare out beside us as we take to the sky, the chaos of the Abyss whirling around us. Word was spreading that an Elysian strike force had assembled near Sulfur fortress and was preparing to strike. Our wings flap furiously as we hasten to aid in it's defence. As we approach, we note that the attack has yet to begin even though a sizeable flock of pigeons sit eagerly just outside the range of the fortress archers, obviously preparing for an assault.
We quickly check in with the fortress defence and stop by the chamber in the heart of the fortress to gaze in awe at the last line of defense. What an impressive Daeva, but what's more, our wings are starting to look more like his. Perhaps some day we'll be as powerful.
Shouts from above indicate that the bleached bastards have begun their assault. I glance over only in time to see Awrath's backside as she sprints up the ramp and out of the chamber, pulling her bow out on the way. Gathering in aether, I too prepare myself for battle, releasing my orb from it's perch on my arm and causing the air around me to crackle with energy. Those pigeons are going to pay for the Asmodian blood they've spilled. It is on.
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