Actions

Work Header

Awww ww heck its some Diablo ficlets

Chapter Text

They always stereotype the females to be the ones that cry in the relationship.
Not always is that true.

All that were left of her was a bloody mess, maimed beyond comprehension.
...
Pitiful, horrendous, selfish, incompetent mortals.
That's what killed her.
What killed them.
...
"Imperius," Auriel said in a voice that was forced to not shake, "my love, look at me..."
He did so, his tear-stained golden eyes still dripping.
"She is free of pain," Auriel offered, a broken smile on her beautiful face.
...
It wasn't fair. Why did they have to kill her? She did nothing to them.
...
"She n-never knew... who he-her pa-parents were... I-I... I didn't al-alert you fast enough, A-Auriel, n-nor did I arrive in t-time," Imperius said in a choked voice, another harsh sob wracking his body.
...
His daughter was dead.
It was because of those mortals.
...
He was more broken than most knew--due to his ruddy past with Malthael, his brother. He'd never admit all he wanted was a good relationship with him, to have a happy family.
And now he was paying dearly for it, with the remains of his daughter slatering the ground like some twisted painter's canvased art.
...
Auriel kissed his mouth briefly, keeping a hand under his chin so he could not withdraw his golden eyes from her pink ones. "It was not your fault--blame the mortals... they will suffer for what they have done."
...
It appeared that this, too, had broken Auriel--the Aspect of Hope. Tears stung her pink colored eyes, and a bitter sadness clung to each word she spoke.
But she needed to be strong this one last time; for Imperius.
Something easier said than done.
...
Imperius didn't respond--only sobbed, into Auriel's chest. His wings were so drooped they touched the bloody ground upon which the pair stood, and he seemed to be weaker than anyone had ever seen him--even when faced with a grevious wound. Auriel rubbed his back lovingly, whispering comfort to him.
But this comfort hardly helped.
...
The humans /would/ pay heavily for their sins.
Auriel knew that much.
...
As the two Archangels stood, male and female, Hope and Valour, both twins in their unity of a broken hope, a broken happiness succumbed to despair.
Patiently, Auriel waited for the distant sound of carrilion bells that always signified Malthael's appearance, like some gag in a mortal's horror movie when a cemetary was mentioned.
Until he appeared, her false hope would have to sustain.
...
There rung the church bells, and behind them stood the Archangel of Death and Imperius' brother--Malthael.
He looked over the scene at hand. Almost like an artist with a twisted mind's beautiful but horrendus masterpeice--splashes of red showing the blood, with a twinge of white for bone, and perhaps rags of clothes, and the fading sunset bleeding crimson into the sky as Allithrius' body bled crimson into the night, and the two Archangels--Hope and Valour.
...
'Valour will turn to Wrath--as all Hope is swallowed by Despair.'
The Prophecy of the End Days seemed as good as any angelic scribe's prophecy, now.
Malthael knew how this would end--Auriel would never be the same, happy and bubbly induvidual he knew, and Imperius would seek to unleash his anger upon all of humanity in a wrath.
...
To this, Malthael shook his head lightly, gliding silently to the body.
"Life truly is too short to care, at all. Know this; she would have died one way, or another. As much as it may pain you to hear it, that is such the fate of a mortal."
He said this without turning to his brother, nor to his brother's partner.
This caused Imperius to bristle. "Are you t-telling me to not ca-care that my daughter is DEAD? Do /you/ not care that your niece is dead!?"
"I never said that," Malthael responded evenly, now crouching next to the dismembered corpse, "I merely said that life is rather short for mortals. In the end, they all die, no matter their triumphs, their losses, their sins... such is the cycle of life, my brother."
Imperius seemed to wish to reply, but he only could let out another choked sob.
...
"You two, return to the Heavens," Malthael murmured, still not looking at them.
Auriel nodded, murmuring to Imperius, and soon the pair dissappeared in a sort of light.
...
Extending a hand, Malthael took up some of the blood on his finger. He studied it for a moment, before shaking his hand, sending the driplets splattering everywhere. "They will recieve payment for their trangressions," He muttered bitterly, hoisting himself to a stand.

...

Already had they lost three of them in exceedingly gruesome ways. Now it was down to just him. Screaming, begging for forgivness, the man back his way to a wall--to his doom. The dark hooded figure loomed over him, streching their skeletal wings. "Forgivness cannot be given for a sin such as yours. You will recieve retrubition for what you have done--mark my words."
And faster than a lightning bolt, so it seemed, the angel's arm flashed out, enclosing sharpened talons around the man's neck. He lifted him high into the air, letting his talons lazily pierce his skin, watching in contempt as the crimson life-blood ran down the man's throat.
Then he released him, sending the man falling 9 feet and crumpling to the ground. All he could do was make gurgling noises.
The angel kicked at him, the sharp point of his boot causing yet another wound, as well as sending the man tumbling. Now, the dark angel crouched, easily unrolling the man and streching him out straight. Then, he buried his taons deep into the man's chest, and worked the fingers of his other hand deep into it too, letting the man scream.
And then he began pulling in two oppisite ways. The mortal's screaming intensified.
As soon as a loud crack could be heard, Malthael withdrew his hand, making to let the man be.
Or so it seemed.
Instead, he grabbed one of his scythes, and swiped at the man's stomach, sending a dark spurt of blood across the two, as well as the scythe, and cut the man clear open.
Peeling the skin back, ripping it in the process, reduced the man's screams to whimpers, as he could not scream any more.
The angel eyed the organs with contempt, before reaching his taloned hand into the cavity.
And he began pulling out the organs, rising the man's whimpers to muffled, garbled screams.
Out came every organ that was not in the ribcage, piling next to the man like some twisted, bloody salad. Now there was a good inch of blood in the cavity, and yet still the angel plunged his hand into the cavity, down to the wrist, groping around for any more organs he'd missed. Ah, there was one--a smaller bit of an intestine. The sound of ripping flesh could be heard, and blood splurted at an upwards angle, splattering the dark angel's chest and arms.
"You mortals have mucn blood to spare," the angel muttered as he tore the rest of the stomach's skin off completly, layers of fatty tissue and muscle visible , as well as the forming blood. He promptly tossed this slab of skin aside, and looked passively over the man, before returning his hands to the deep pools of blood made by his fingers. Again, he slid his fingers into these, and began tugging again. Another loud crack was heard, and with a jerk, the man's ribs gave way completly, offering a full look into the man's body, which was now opened from stomach to chest.
However, his lungs gave way with the ribs, ripping from their places and coming to a rest behind Malthael, deflated sacs of air, flesh and blood.
The man choked, attempting fruitlessly to breathe air into lungs that no longer resided in his body. The angel 'harrumph'ed softly, looked across the dying man. "I believe I will leave you here," he rumbled, "as a reminder to those who sin--to fear my name; Malthael, the Angel of Death."

Chapter Text

The elder lay on the couch, a book in front of him, wrote in runes. Into the room loped Imperius, and upon seeing this he squinted. "Are you aware that this is my couch."
Malthael snorted, without looking up from his reading, his violet wings rippling lightly. "Yes."
"Move," Imperius commanded, making to sit. All Malthael did was sit up, not taking his eyes from the book.
For heartbeats, they sat in silence, and Imperius noticed how tired Malthael was. "You need sleep."
Malthael glanced momentarily over. "I am fine."
"No. Sleep--I can be used as a pillow," Imperius demanded softly--he did care for his brother's health, ad he knew his brother's tendancies. Huffing, Malthael closed the book and sat it aside. But he did not move.
Now Imperius gently forced his brother into a more comfortable, resting position. Malthael sighed at this, but meekly rested his face against Imperius' shoulder, leaning against him, letting his body relax.
The pair sat like that, and Auriel happened by. She blinked, looking at them, and Imperius gently patted the seat next to him. Gladly, Auriel sat, chirruping softly and putting her face to Imperius' chest, wrapping her arms around him from the side, smiling as he wrapped his free arm around her waist. She briefly kissed his jawline, casuing him to blush immensly, and returned her face to his chest, letting her eyes flutter shut. Around 10 human minues later, Nitharael stumbled upon them. She made to leave, but was stopped by Malthael, who had opened one eye. He had gotten her attention by patting the couch roughly, and then to offer her a spot, raised his left arm slightly. Nitharael obliged, cuddling into the elder, sharing a kiss with him, and purring, her face to the front of his left shoulder.
Now Itherael walked in, wondering where the others were. Upon seeing this, he blinked, whispering his question if he could join. Nitharael pulling him down beside her was all the answer he needed, and he gingerly curled up, resting his head in her lap, silently smiling and closing his eyes.
It was Tyrael that was last to arrive, baffled by the lack of the others. He was making to ask Imperius, but seeing this was all he needed to know. Auriel patted the couch next to her, and Tyrael sat himself down, leaning against Auriel and exhaling a soft sigh. The six rested like this, and then Imperius began purring--a resonating noise from his chest that soothed, and all shifted subconsiously to near it; Auriel finding her face in the middle of his chest, Tyrael with his arms and a leg gently around Auriel, his head on her shoulder, Malthael now against his brother's collar bone, purring loudly as well. In turn, Nitharael was halfway on Malthael's lap, purring softly, her face to his chest as she listened to his steady heartbeat and the in-sync purrs of he and his younger brother, and Itherael was cuddled to both Malthael and Nitharael now, his body more to Nitharael but his face on Malthael's shoulder.
And there they rested.
Xalius, Nitharael's lueitenant, passed by some time later. He smiled upon this rare event, looking on as the six members of the Angiris Council rested.
"Humans would call this a cuddle puddle," he murmured, walking away, so to not disturb the sleeping Archangels, alloting them all to get the rest they needed and deserved.

Chapter Text

Purrs rose from Auriel's throat as she massaged the wounded Archangel's back, his gray skin streched tense over his muscles. His brilliant flame orange wings ruffled as he muttered something along the lines of "Must I stay here any longer."
"Yes, until I am able to fully heal you. Relax your shoulders, Imperius," responded the female angel as she moved her hangs up to the tense area of his shoulder muscles. "Auriel, how long must I stay here?" Imperius complained in the most polite tone he could offer at the moment, "It is not right for me to be cooped up in a room--I am a warrior! It is not that I do not enjoy your presence, I just..."
Auriel giggled, continuing to massage the male's tense shoulders. "I know, I know. You feel trapped in this little medical room--I understand that. Think of it this way, though; at least you're going to recover quickly from your wounds. The only other healer you could have gone to is Mistress Nitharael, and she is tending to Malthael's wounds at the moment... honestly, I'd expect better from you two; as you two are brothers."
Imperius huffed, ruffling his wings. "He's a controlling bastard..."
Auriel rolled her pink eyes, sighing. "I'm sure he's saying the same about you to Nitharael."
"And she'd take his side too, since they're bound by holy matrimony," Imperius muttered distaintfully. Auriel sighed, draping Al'maiesh around the male's shoulders as she continued to massage him. "I can tell by your voice--you wish you had that with someone."
"What? N-Nonsense!" Imperius responded quickly, a dark blush coating his cheeks, which were thankfully covered by his helmet. Auriel however seemed to be able to sense this, and the faint lines of a smirk traced her face as she murmured, "Don't deny it Imperius... you want to have someone you can take into your arms and call yours... I understand that... But you don't have many options, for females, anyway. There either me, or a lesser angel... And I doubt you'd be interested on male-on-male..."
Imperius blinked. "You'd not be interested in me, anyway. And I don't approve of male-on-male, and I refuse to partake in any relationship with a lesser... I'll be fine."
"Is that so?" Auriel asked, continuing to massage his shoulders, which were slowly but surely getting less tense. "Regardless, I have no place for love. Malthael may, but I sure as hells don't."
"Of course you have time for love," Auriel said softly, "you just don't see it because you haven't made it."
"What do you mean by that."
"You simply need to make time for love--you'd be surprised at how easy it is. You seem to believe that Malthael just always had time to love, but that was not so... Often would he come to me, simply to rant that he did love Nitharael, but he had no time to. I told him what I'm telling you now; simply /make/ time for it."
Imperius huffed. "Auriel--you do not understand, I am the brawn of the Angiris Council. He is but the brains."
"Again, that matters not. Simply /make/ time."

_

"Do you remember all those millinia ago?" Auriel asked softly, massaging the other's shoulders, her wings drooped over his body. "Fondly," Imperius chuckled softly, his wings relaxed, gently dipping downwards. Auriel kissed his cheek--which this time was not protected by the helm--and giggled quietly, brushing some of her black hair from her face and nuzzling her cheek to his. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, stopping just in between her shoulder-blades, whilst Imperius' dark hair was short, his bangs not straying to his face, but rather were pushed back and to the side. His golden eyes glimmered in the light as he smiled, showing his teeth, and he kissed Auriel's cheek, keeping his lips there for 2 seconds before pulling away, his golden pools of light peering into her pink ones, and he murmured, "I love you."
Auriel smiled, pecking his lips. "Didn't I tell you all you had to do was make time for love?"
Imperius sighed. "Yes, my love."
Auriel giggled softly, twining her wings with his. "I love you too."

Chapter Text

Only barely could Malthael make out Nitharael's shape, huddled behind him to the left. Perparations to return to the High Heavens were being made, but for now they could not be forfilled. Despite being somewhat small, the camp that the Angiris Council had made was plenty big enough for all six Archangels to be comfortable in. By firelight, Nitharael pored over her scrolls, just as Malthael, by firelight, rested his tired body, allowing his royal purple wings to droop to the ground and his tense shoulders to go lax. Somehow, Malthael caught his eyes straying to the other's wings--such a beautiful, sleek crimson color. He shook his head and focused his gaze across the horizon. Damn her and her wings. Again, his eyes wandered to her, but simply to observe her whole body--slender, beautiful, even petite, and yet he knew she was still dangerous. A ruffle of her wings as she shuffled some of the scrolls she held snapped Wisdom to reality once more, and he stole his gaze away, with difficulty, from her to stare at the darkened sky, to look at the still twinkling, long-dead stars. Damn her. The knowledge that he could never have her stung him like the bite of a demon's sword, but he knew it well to be true. Regardless, public displays of affection were frowned upon, and how else would he have a chance? Bluntly tell her, "I like you?"
He shook his head lightly. He would have to accept that all they could be was friends.
Unless they were alone. In a tent.
He, however, hurridly pushed this thought from his mind. Such nonsense... thinking about anything like /that/, let alone trying to love someone.
Again, he turned his head, just so he could barely see her out of the corner of his eye.
He would observe her like this. And that he did, watching as she huffed, shuffled the documents, and began reading another, her body's movements graceful and attractive.
He only hoped this would not result in any... excitment.
All other Archangels, save for himself and Nitharael, had drifted to sleep in their tents.
So they were, in essence, alone.
He could feel his wings involentarily raise slightly at this (This is called a wing boner, and it is when male angels get... excited, and their bodies decide to take their toll. It is characterized by the wings being raised and stiffening. As well as this, male angels will also get normal boners, too). He hastily ruffled them, trying in vain to look as if he was not, in fact, getting excited over thoughts, but instead relaxing his wings more.
It was a good thing Nitharael didn't see, as he did a very poor job at this.
Again, the little voice in the back of his mind said, you're alone.
Again, his wings raised, and by now Wisdom was blushing profusedly. Damn being male.
Shut up, he scolded the voice, but it paid him no heed.
You could bang her and be done with it.
Shut up!
With each thought from the voice, his wings would raise a tiny bit more. His entire face was lit up with heat, and he hunched over awkwardly so any evidence of excitment in his lower body would be concealed by his shadow. Damn her.
As soon as the words were thought, the same Archangel made her way over to gently sit herself next to Malthael on the large stone at the edge of the flames. "You alright?" She asked. Normally, Malthael was a calm person, always speaking in smooth sentences, but now he was incredibly flustered. "H-Hm?" He responded very quickly, his normally smooth voice cracking, only making him blush more. "I-I'm fine, Nitharael-!"
Nitharael gave him a skeptical look, running a hand over his unusually stiff wings. This caused her eyebrows to shoot up. "... Malthael? What's going on?"
Malthael cursed mentally and bit his lip. Damn being male.
"N-Nothing," Malthael responded, his voice raspy and even a little high-pitched.
Again, Nitharael ran a gauntlet down Malthael's stiff wings. "Explain this, then."
"St-stress, Nitharael, stress."
"You act as if I am newborn--I know how a man's body works. You're clearly having a wing boner. Anywhere else that displays your excitment?" Nitharael responded, and her dark eyes flicked momentarily down to his lap. Malthael's blush darkened, and at that moment, he wished he could dissappear. Subconsciously, his left hand reached to stroke Nitharael's wings, which lightly shuddered under his touch. It was a habit for him, to stroke her wings. He then sighed, turning on the rock to face her. Gingerly, he pulled her to sit in his lap, biting his lip rather hard as his member presed against the inside of her thigh. His wings, among other things, grew stiffer.
For a moment, they only looked at each other silently, female and male, Life and Wisdom.
And then his fingers found her chin, and he pulled her face gently forward, as he leant forward, and he kissed her.
For a few moments, Nitharael was frozen in shock. Malthael's lips were cold, but they offered a gentleness and warmth that could not be explained. He snaked his right arm around Nitharael's waist as he kissed her, his lips gently tugging at hers, prompting her to kiss back, his wings incredibly stiff by now. Nitharael placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him, and slowly began to kiss him back, letting her wings relax and droop around Malthael. For what seemed like an eternity, they kissed, Nitharael having closed her eyes. Finally, they broke away from each other, and Nitharael rested her head meekly against Malthael's neck, panting slightly. She shifted, and Malthael let out a little grunt, and now more than ever could Nitharael feel his member against the inside of her thigh, now farther up. For a few moments, save for their gentle panting, the pair was silent. Then, Malthael let three of his fingers gently sweep across Nitharael's cheek. They were cold, but it was a gentle, loving gesture. "I love you," He murmured, his voice a flustered rumble. Now he wrapped his stiff wings around her, and lifted her chin with his fingers so he could look her in the eyes. "Tell me, Nitharael; do you love me?"
Nitharael silently nodded, murmuring, "I do, Malthael. I love you, too."
And they kissed again, their wings entertwining themselves, creating a deep mauve color. They were alone, they could show all the affection they wanted. In time, Malthael had her pinned down to the rock, but instead of doing anything to her, he merly laid on top of her, purring, his face next to hers. They fell asleep like that--Malthael draped across Nitharael like a blanket, she purring, her face in his neck, arms around him, wings tangled with his.

_

Auriel and Imperius were the first two to awake. Upon exiting their tent, Auriel was the first to notice the twin black shapes. She floated up a few inches, and saw that it was none other than Malthael and Nitharael. Imperius followed suit, scoffing at the pair. Auriel, however, smiled. "I knew it would happen... I was simply waiting for it."
Again, Imperius scoffed. Auriel gently entrapped his hand in her own. "Aren't they adorable?"
Imperius only harrumphed. Auriel giggled at this, pecking his cheek. "I love you."
Her lover exhaled a huff. "I love you too, Auriel... But why do they have to be so openly affectionate?"
"Oh, let them be, Imperius..."

Chapter Text

Death looked upon the notes scrawled out upon the papers that crowded his desktop, and ruffled his wings. His elbows resting on the desk and his fingers linked in front of his face, he knew that everything was falling into place, as planned. His unrest was taking its toll on him, yes, but he was sure that, if only given a few more days...
"Come in," he spoke, not turning to see who it was that stood in the archway, as he knew well who it was. Nitharael, the Archangel of Life--he could sense her as if she were standing nect to him. Such is the result of a close bond. Slowly, Nitharael came to stand by him, her presence strong, worry pulsing off of her. She let her arm rest on the back of the chair, between Malthael's wing pauldrons.
Malthael turned slightly, to see Nitharael better. Curse his blinded left eye.
"You are tired," Nitharael said softly, looking down at the elder angel with concern glinting in her eyes--both blind and seeing held equal ammounts. Malthael allowed himself a sigh. "I suppose I am," he blandly admitted, "but I will be fine. I believe that since the decrease from the light of the arch, it had fundamentally weakened us all, even you and I, as Archangels. Perhaps us moreso than lesser angels. However, my research has indicated that if we are able to restore the light resonation, and perhaps even strengthen and brighten it, this will turn the tide of the Eternal Conflict in our favour. It is... a matter of time, however, before I may confirm this theory to be true."
He het his tired form slump slightly. "It has been a complicated process," he muttered distastfully.
Nitharael let her hand travel to his shoulder. "You're rather confident in yourself."
"Of course I am," Malthael responded blankly, "Why should I not be."
"How long has it been since you last slept?" Nitherael asked, her crimson wings rippling with worry for the male. Malthael slowly shrugged.
"This, I am not sure about. Not for a while, to say the least, but it plays no matter in such a subject."
Nitharael scowled. "It plays quite a matter, in fact."
Humourlessly, Malthael smiled. "Itherael sent you here, to check on me, didn't he."
"No, I came on my own accord," Nitharael huffed. Malthael looked up at her, blinking. "My sleep is not important in this matter."
"Yes, it is," Nitharael protested, seating herself promptly in the man's lap.
He sighed. "You do not understand, Nitharael. The answers are within grasp, I simply need a small ammount of more time."
Nitharael rolled her eyes, and briefly her lips met Malthael's. Upon pulling back, she said, "It matters to Itherael, to Auriel, to Tyrael, to Imperius... to me."
Malthael's arms encircled her tightly, but in a tender, loving way.
For heartbeats, they sat in silence. Finally, Malthael broke it with the words, "You worry about me as if I am a newborn kit; to be fretted over. I shall be fine, my darling... I can promise you that with truth."
Nitharael leant forward, resting her forehead against the front of Malthael's shoulder. "Malthael... I worry for you, even so.... such a lack of sleep is not benifical for anyone."
"My health is not relevant, nor important, to this process," Malthael responded evenly, one hand slipping up to rest between the female's wing pauldrons gently. "Yes, it is," Nitharael murmured, wrapping her arms around the Reaper. To this, Malthael turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek, though he could feel his body screaming at him to just sleep there, like that, wrapped in the warm embrace of his lover--the one person that he loved more than anything or anyone else, the one person he would sacrifice anything to protect from any harm. "Nitharael, my love, I will be fine."
He could tell that Nitharael was noding off as she murmured, "Not unless you sleep..."
WIth that, he heaved a sigh, knowing that he would not win this argument. He stood, making sure he had ahold of Nitharael tightly. This caused her to suqeak loudly and quickly wrap her legs around his waist. Malthael nuzzled her cheek affectionately, carrying her to the bed, on which he let himself droop. Nitharael chirruped softly, nuzzling herself close to Malthael's body, which was cold, but all the same warm, and cuddled him. Malthael purred softly--a deep, calming rumble of a resonation that sounded from his chest. Nitharael instinctively shifted to be nearer to the noise, purring in sync, nestling her body on top of his, her wings splayed out across him and his wings, and in turn Malthael wrapped his arms around her, only moments away from falling asleep, a slight, content smile on his face. "I love you," were the last mumbled few words issued from his lips before he drifted off. "I love you too," Nitharael murmured, soon following the other into slumber.

Chapter Text

Life's to short to even care at all, oh
I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control, oh oh
These fishes in the sea, they're staring at me, oh oh
Oh oh oh oh
A wet world aches for a beat of a drum
oh

Damn the sickness they caught from a couple of rogue demons. Damn the sickness /she/ caught from a couple of rogue demons. Blind in one eye, and sick now, too, Archangel Nitharael relied completly on Archangel Malthael for everything; love, cuddles, right down to spooning her cough syrup, as the sickness was sapping her strength.
"Malthael," she rasped, swivling her face to look over at the other Archangel. Malthael was hunched over a desk, his violet wings held erect, his hands scribbling away furiously upon the papers. Upon hearing his name called, he abruptly halted all activity, looking over at his bed in which Nitharael resided. "What is it, Nitharael?" He asked in his quiet, soothing voice. With all strength she could spare, Nitharael lifted her arms lightly, for about 2.5 seconds before letting them drop.
"Love me," she demanded quietly.

If I could find a way to see this straight
I'd run away
To some fortune that I, I should have found by now

To this, Malthael sighed. "I've documents to write, demonic samples to study..."
This elicted a soft whine from Nitharael. "Malthaelllll..."

I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down

With a sigh, Malthael gathered several scrolls, papers, quills and ink bottles into his arms, walking the length of the room awkwardly, nearly tripping over a pile of boxes and papers that had toppled, and dumped the things gathered on a desk by the bedside. He then plopped down in a chair next to the bed, letting his purple wings drape over Nitharael's body. With the strength she could expend for such a ginger, simple movement, the female rolled onto her side, burying her face into his own side. "Love me," she asked softly.

Life's too short to even care at all, oh oh
I'm coming up now, coming up now, out of the blue, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
A dark world aches for a splash of the sun, oh oh

Malthael rubbed his wings tendrils across his lover's body. This only made her whine more. "Love me," she asked again, coughing immediately afterwards.
"See?" She murmured, her eyes flitting shut--as the energy from her being sapped made her rather tired, "the lack of love is killing me."
This graced a slight smile on Malthael's features. "Sure it is, Nitharael... sure it is."

If I could find a way to see this straight
I'd run away
To some fortune that I, I should have found by now

"I promise you, it is," Nitharael wheezed, coughing again. Malthael absently leant down, kissing her temple--his mind was occipied with stressful subjects, such as samples of the blood and flesh of healthy demons and the infected, the primary weaknessess of the demons...

And so I run now to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down

"Don't retch," Malthael advised softly, "that'll mean that you'll have more than just one dose of the cough syrup left."
This thought made Nitharael cringe. Again, she expended most of her strength to tug feebly on Malthael's arm, then to nod to the bed. "Please? I know you're stressed--we all are--but you aren't helping either of us by poring and overthinking a few samples of flesh..."

Life's too short to even care at all, oh oh
I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control

"So, please, love me?"
"Nitharael, my darling... I'm so close to the answer I need..."
"You haven't slept in 8 human months."
"Bah, that doesn't matter.--my love, I'm so close to the answers."
"Those answers can wait..."
"I'm trying to protect us... to protect /you/."

If I could find a way, to see this straight
I'd run away
To some fortune that I, I should have found by now

Now Malthael hunched over a vial of a black substance, and a vial of a red substance. They were labled--infected and healthy. Nitharael groaned, rolling onto her other side with a grunt. Malthael's eyes flicked to her, and he did feel bad--because he loved her more than he'd loved anyone or anything in all 15,716,480,300 years of his life, and he hated seeing her like this; in pain, and sad. But he practically could /taste/ the answers with how close they were. He just needed to be able to catch them.

So I run now to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down

But then, he'd given his lover's words good consideration, and she had a point. As well as her intentional point, she had an unintentional one she'd proven, too; what good would his answers be, if he hadn't slept for 8 human months? He was so tired, he couldn't be absolutley positive in them. Slowly, he set the vials down, and slid from the chair to the bed. He wrapped his arms around his lover's from behind, and he tangled his wings into hers in a sincere, loving motion. "I love you, Nitharael. With every fiber of my being."
Nitharael was barely able to crane her neck enough to kiss Malthael's lips. "I love you, too, Malthael."

One more spoon of cough syrup now, woah
One more spoon of cough syrup now, woah