A Glitch in the System

The job was just like any other - a lesser demon had been summoned across the veil, and Kasei was on the spot in the pass of a handful of minutes. The demon itself put up little to no fight, one of the weaker of its race, perhaps - either that, or it remained no match for eons of careful study and deliberation. Kasei was anything but new to the sword, and over the course of thousands of years she had yet to be bested. But there was, of course, a first time for everything.

When preparing to leave, she found herself incapable of doing so; her mortal body (a physical shell donned in order to fight) was trapped upon the earth by a heavy curl of power emmanating from a nearby figure - likely the summoner of the demon. While infrequently seen by others, she had never - in all her years - been pinned to the earthly domain, and her demands of the hooded figure were sharp with an authoritative stringeance that could have turned water to acid. His questions, persistant and forceful, earned grudging and irate answers as the baffled angel continued to rage, aggression finally culminating in the draw of her sword and the onslaught of a fight for her freedom. If she won, he released her; if he won.. she was His.

To the credit of both fighters, the battle was not a short one. Blade struck blade in a continuous mesh of sparks and sound, a lengthy battle of wit and skill that one was destined to lose. But to grow learning to wield weapons against the guileless and mindless force of a demon is far different from fighting one with true skill in the blade and a mind to match; the press of time began to tell upon the angel, and it was with a last, sharp parry that the man (the Shade, Vahn..) thrust her back against one of the nearby trees, painfully jarring wings that she could no longer fully conceal with weakened glamour. Slender and falconic in nature (a far reach for the usual massive and bulky wings of artistic depictions), their pale, pearlescent lengths were banded in striking tiger-stripes of a deep, soft silver-grey. The demands came in firm, quick succession, and to each she acceded with a bristling pride. Her blade was dropped to the earth below in an unspoken deferment of the battle, little more than a paltry clank of sound betraying its fall. Through coersion and finally yet another show of force, her wings ended up painfully spread to their fullest grandeur, on display for his eyes (and with the symbolism anything but lost upon the agitated, shamed Power.

But if respite was what she desired, it would not be hers for some time. As if noting the lack of effect force had upon the fire-willed femme, the Shade turned, instead, toward Touch. The silk of her dress was raised, hiked to her waist by her own hand (at his command) as the subtle, knowing trail of his hand began a downward spiral she was helpless to stop. For one raised with only chastity and purity permissable, the angel was lost to a world of sensation and pleasure never before known, one that coaxed yielding, desirous reactions of a heat that left her shuddering and wanting in its wake. She did nothing (could do nothing) to discourage his explorations, breath and mind lost in a lapse of numb desire. Even when he removed his own clothing, set on taking the angel in the midst of nature, with storm clouds threatening their own violence overhead, she said nothing, could think of nothing beyond the novelty that surrounded her in a haze of bliss. She yielded because it was all she had ever known - the Divine commanded, and she obeyed, and it was a system which she had lived by since time immemorial. This changed nothing, except what power it was she clung to.

When all was said and done, she was left there, breath a hapless pant of shuddering need, gaze blurred over by the recent activities. Vahn moved away with little more than a quiet, suggestive promise that she return to him if and when she came to any conclusions, and was soon gone from her sight. The angel, condemned but not yet Fallen, was given back her freedom to depart, and depart she did. Mind a torrent of uncertainty that could find no resolution in the world beyond His touch and voice. Night had barely fallen one day later when she appeared on his doorstep, a tentative knock announcing a decision she had not yet consciously made.