Chapter 53 - Deal

Iris

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Valkyre stepped out into the dim light of afternoon which was bright as midday to his dilated, dark-adjusted eyes. He found himself in a small alcove-like back room from the chapel, the windows plain and frosted, the furniture scarce.
To his right, Asher leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed, face hidden behind his dark, tangled hair.
Valkyre glanced over, caught the pale yellow eyes through the shifting black strands. He saw the other's gaze linger, running over the curved, arched wings that rose from his back, sweeping up and then pulled back down, folded close to his body to fit through the doorway.
Asher's face flushed slightly as he noticed that his interest had not gone unnoticed, and turned away, chin to chest. The vampire stared ahead at nothing for a while, but then eventually glanced over at Valkyre again.
When he spoke, his voice was harsh and rough, so soft it was almost audible.
"Your parents."
The vampire blinked rapidly, looking away, making himself seem distant, unaffected.
"They're not fools. They're not."
Valkyre took a step forward, past the other. The membranes of his demon wings brushed against each other, the feathers of his angel wings rustling. It was a sound he couldn't quite get used to.
He blinked, eyes refocusing.
Maybe he should've shown some compassion, but he felt drained of all emotion, of anything but apathy and emptiness. He didn't really care anymore, not about Camael, not about Asher, not about any other enemy or former friend out there.
Back still turned, he spoke.
"What was the deal?"
The crossbreed glanced over his shoulder, saw Asher look up, confused. The black marks over his face seemed as if to burn, bright and sharp on his pale skin, unable to be covered up by the dark inky hair.
Valkyre's voice held no intonation, utterly flat.
"The price. Camael sealed your wounds. What does he ask for in return?"
Asher's pale eyes dropped, staring down listlessly at the floorboards.
He didn't respond.
Valkyre ignored him. The question was a statement, deep down, and it was a harsh and cruel one. The crossbreed no longer cared.
He found his equipment lying on a small mattress stacked into a corner that no one obviously inhabited. He pulled on his shirt, feeling the fabric slide on and through and inside his wings at the base, where the solidarity of the demon wings remained yet still turned astral, mist-like. It was two sensations at once, nowhere near the subtle fading of his regular angel wings. He paid it no heed, slipping on his jacket, systematically checking his pockets.
Valkyre paused, glancing down at the objects still remaining on the dirty white mattress, absentmindedly fingering the bandages bound tight around his forearm. He paused, a fingernail flicking underneath the corner of a strip of fabric. The crossbreed glanced down at his arm, at the browned, dried blood.
Without really seeming to think about it, Valkyre dug a finger, two, then eventually three under the loosening strip, pulling it towards him. The bandages unraveled, and he unwound the remainder of the cloth.
Underneath, his skin showed, dusted with dried flakes of blood and crumbly smears, perfectly fine. Just the faintest trace of a light line down along where the gaping wound had been.
Valkyre regarded it quietly, then tore off the remainder of the bandages, letting them scatter in coils and folds on the floorboards.
He bent down to the items still left out on the mattress, picking through what he would be using and what he probably would not. He strapped a blade tucked away in its sheath back onto the side of his boot, tucked another knife into his belt. Maybe he'd need them, maybe he wouldn't.
The crossbreed smoothened out the sheet, then stopped. He reached over, picking up his gloves. He lifted them up, feeling the familiar weight in his hand, then stopped.
Underneath, black on dusty white, his seal sat nestled comfortably in the folds of the mattress's loose sheets, giving away nothing that glanced off its black, polished surface. The golden threads spun around it glistened as if wet, forming a watery, platinum cage.
Valkyre stared at the seal for quite of a while, as he slowly pulled on his gloves and felt the familiar leather creak slightly between his fingers.
The new, particularly rational and apathetic part of his mind, which now quite clearly dominated his actions and thoughts, knew the object was worthless to him now. No seal will ever rid a creature of their blood, or forestall their end.
He knew this.
But something old, something faintly familiar and warm and alive fought it, insisted on being heard. Memories were tied to this little piece of imbued stone, symbology and meaning and connection to another past, another life.
After a pause that seemed to last forever, Valkyre leaned over, picked up the seal, and tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket. He heard it clack lightly against the black of the pen.
"He told me to die."
The crossbreed glanced over his shoulder at the vampire, wordless, face expressionless.
Asher ignored his blank gaze, holding the dark red eyes clearly, sharp and focused and alive. Something, somewhere, deep down in a hidden cavern, throbbed, faintly.
"I wanted him to give me the time and the strength to complete my last wish. He gave that to me, but in return, he made me swear that I would willingly die when I was done."
Asher's expression was unflinching, mirroring Valkyre's with his cold emptiness, but his eyes were bright, asking of something, telling another, silent story.
"I'm not afraid of dying," he stated, voice soft, low.
"And I don't care what you think about me. This was my choice."
Valkyre turned away, stepped to the door that led out into the rest of the church. He didn't look back.
"I'll kill you," he said, "If you want me to. When you're done."
And then he'd opened the door and stepped through, and then he was gone, through the heavy wooden gates of the church and out into the deserted city and among the buildings, and then he had left the town behind, everything blurring to nothingness around him, the only focus in front, somewhere.
Up ahead, the endless, broad stretch of the wastelands extended its blurred horizon as far as the eye could see.
Valkyre knew.
He couldn't, didn't bother to attempt to pinpoint exactly how, or why, but he knew.
Out there, somewhere, was Iris.
And Rheis, and Corryn, and Raguel. They would all follow as well. As would Asher, and Camael.
Valkyre lifted his wings, flaring them out to either side, both pairs, feeling the wind whip around him, creating eddies and miniature twisters of the dust and the air. The wings stretched, relishing in the newfound freedom, leather creaking and joints shifting in new ways he hadn't felt before, angel wings soft, rustling quietly, hushed. The calm presence that still held for him his last link to who he used to be.
He beat his wings, first the demon and then the angel, once, twice, three times, feeling the wind whip by his face, feeling everything else shrinking away and the sun warming his skin and his hair swirling up around him, and by then, he was up in the air, and he was flying.

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AN: Rawr. Asher is cute. :3
Now, uh, I think you guys'll have to excuse me for a while. I've no idea what should happen next, to be honest. o_o;;
But, but, I should still be able to get something up sometime. I promise.
Thank you all who read, and a (belated) happy holidays too~

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