Chapter Text
Back against the wall, Vaggie aches.
Trails of golden blood, her blood, follow her down the path of the alleyway she slumps against, feet trailing sluggishly as she begs herself to keep going. Yet, body weak, it isn’t long until she succumbs to her heavy limbs and sits, leaning against the dirty, cold metal of a dumpster. Not the most glamorous way to die, and all because she was merciful.
Is this what it means, then, to fall?
God, how did Lucifer ever do this?
Did they break his wings, make an eternal collapse from the mighty heavens quicker with nothing to break his star shattering momentum? At the very least, Vaggie finds that she hasn’t fallen from any great height — no, she was ripped of her life whilst pressed against the dirt, all she was worth. Nothing but a speck upon Adam’s boot, “finest soldier” be damned. Cast from on high, robbed of flight, plucked of sight, maybe now all she is to do is sob, scream and plead; repent. Beg forgiveness for daring to spare a sinful soul, to see the child as more than the hellborn scum she was trained to kill.
It was a child. But that’s no excuse.
There’s no one to listen to her, no chance to exonerate her fault or pass off this split second decision as a blurry minded mistake. No God shall look at her down here, bloody and trembling, and find someone worth saving. So, here she lies, allowing the pain flooding through her body with every pulse of her fragile heart to punish her further than Lute already has.
Lute. Her superior, her… something. The final words of her fellow Angel rings faintly through her head; Sinful filth like you has no place in heaven. After that, Adam was happy to take her halo, her final connection to Heaven, and take off with a grin. Betrayal follows at the memory, anguish churning in her gut whilst her vision fades, her body growing colder than it ever has. Vaggie closes her one remaining eye, giving up, and waiting for what little life remaining inside her to dwindle and extinguish. A flame that used to burn so powerfully, now dying out, perhaps this is all her life was ever going to be. Whether or not she wants to accept this, it doesn’t matter, the death of her soul will not care if she finds some way to put herself to peace, it only waits to claim.
Her head tilts backwards unnaturally, slack and senseless to the world around her. She’s all burned out.
Yet, a light approaches her.
“… u hear me?”
A voice, sweet and more gentle than anyone Vaggie has ever spoken to, pulls her back into the world from the edges of her fading mind. Her eye opens slowly, finding a young woman looking over her.
A demon.
Not at all one she was expecting. Tall, smartly dressed with a red suit, adorned with curly, long, expressive blonde hair that extends to her waist, tied back to keep it at bay. Pure white skin, black lips, red circles upon her soft cheeks, and a look of pure shock as she steps closer to her wounded body. Vaggie flinches weakly as the demon shifts and digs into her pocket, pulling out a roll of bandages and kneeling to reach out towards her face. Fingertips skim lightly across the surface of her cheekbones, moving further in order to delicately guide her head forwards so the stranger can begin wrapping the gauze over the haunting chasm of her left eye socket. In these few seconds, Vaggie is stunned to silence, her body selfishly absorbing every scrap of warmth it can gather from the feathery touches of her rescuer. The bandage is cut and tied neatly — and Vaggie smiles.
Fucking smiles.
As if moments ago she wasn’t accepting her lonely death.
Her expression is noticed by the stranger, growing shy from her shifted countenance. It appears her charity has not been appreciated often, if at all. Any other Sinner would chase the young woman away, fight back or make some attempt to terrify her. Vaggie; the Exorcist, should have been doing much worse. Yet, she remains still, and her lips remain upturned.
She never realised Demons could be pretty.
The stranger’s touch hovers just a breath away from her now bandaged eye, inspecting it carefully, brow knit with thoughts and wonders Vaggie couldn’t imagine herself deciphering. Demons were usually so predictable, so narrow minded, yet this one — just the silence she carried through the air leaves her enthralled for more. She wants to hear her voice, see what answers her inflection provides of the deeper inner workings of her mind. It isn’t long until her wish is fulfilled.
“Are you alright? Sorry.” The woman quickly apologises, appearing to have been temporarily lost in thought as she looked over Vaggie’s injury. She pulls away, “I’m here to help… Well, so far you’re the only one who’s let me help them today. My name is Charlie, can you tell me yours, if you can?”
Throat dry, Vaggie’s voice comes out hoarse as she tries to pronounce her own name. Seeing her struggle, Charlie eases her gently instead, reaching out her hand to place it upon her raised knee.
“It’s okay, don’t force yourself! I suppose introductions can come later.”
Distant sounds of chaos echo through the secluded chamber of the alleyway, as the last of the Exorcists appear to be satisfied by their annual cleanse, and are now beginning to return to the skies above. Despite its end approaching, Charlie dreads this point of the Extermination the most, as she’s seen many unfortunate Sinners being cruelly picked off out of spite by the Angels. A few extra kills for good luck, for their roster. It’s not her people’s fault, they just assume that if their tormentors are leaving then it is safe for them to go back out onto the streets to find the remains of their friends or loved ones. But no, Extermination Day is not safe until complete silence falls over the realm.
With that, both women flinch as they see Exorcists flying overhead, still scanning the streets even as they take their leave. Charlie sighs out a breath when they aren’t noticed, then doubles down her focus towards Vaggie.
“Listen, it’s not safe here. We should go to a hospital, see if we can find someone to help with your eye.” She explains, offering out her hand.
Without much hesitation, Vaggie reaches out, further upward to grasp onto Charlie’s forearm instead for a better chance at pulling herself up. She grips with both hands and uses all the strength she can gather to push her body from the ground. Regrettably, it’s only seconds until she’s wailing in agony and falling back against the dumpster.
Her wings.
Charlie attempts to soothe her pain, eyes darting around rapidly for any chance an Angel could hear them. She reaches for Vaggie once more, this time pulling her towards her body to hook her arms under hers to try bringing her to her feet. It’s then, Charlie can see the wounds upon her back. Not bleeding anymore, but deep, torn through skin and muscle — all the way down to the bone.
It makes sense, Lute literally pulled off pieces of Vaggie’s body, but the sight still shocks her saviour. The fact that she is even conscious should be impossible.
Charlie swears as quietly as she can, pausing to let Vaggie rest against her as she pulls off her suit jacket. “Okay, okay, I’m going to try carrying you, that’s our quickest option. Is that alright?”
The wounded Angel nods weakly, breaths now wheezing as the pain of her shredded wings returns through the fog of numbness her brain had forced upon her for her own sanity. Hiding pain is a regular form of training for Exorcists, and now Vaggie feels even her muted winces are too much for Charlie’s eyes to see. Weakness is exploited, especially by Hell’s people, it will get her killed.
It's normal for Vaggie to be afraid. And yet, the arms that wrap around her and lift her from the ground do not strike fear into her veins.
Her body almost feels left behind as Charlie carries her, suddenly so lightweight, foggy to the world around her. Consciousness fades in and out, leaving Vaggie’s memory of their journey choppy. First, they are making their way through back alleys and hidden passages in order to avoid the eyes of Heaven, then it’s through panicked crowds of screaming Sinners, all bloodied and dying in their own ways. Vaggie blinks, and then they’re at the front desk of a hospital, she leans further into Charlie’s embrace whilst she speaks to the jaded receptionist.
“Look, Miss, we ain’t got any extra beds! Extermination ended literally ten minutes ago, all hospitals in Pride are full of Sinners and Hellborn, and all of them are yelling for help.”
“I-I know, but please, even just some extra bandages would work, this woman has open wounds—!”
“There’s nothing we can give out! The staff are already being pulled in every direction, we don’t have time to rummage around storage for shit we haven’t got! You can sit in the waiting room, or you can fuck off and go home, let me do my job!”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I have supplies at home, this was just my closest option.” She hears Charlie’s voice, defeated and tired, yet still it offers some hope as she turns to walk away. “I’m sorry about this, I wish you all good luck.”
The receptionist couldn’t care less for empty words.
Vaggie is uncertain how much time passes until she’s opening her eyes once again. As she does, she realises that the surroundings are surprisingly quiet aside from the now faint sounds of the city behind them. Open land, dimly lit by the path of street lamps and leading up towards a towering building. In large, bold lights, a sign reads “Happy Hotel” upon the roof. The sheer confusion of reading the first word of the sign is enough to wake Vaggie from her haziness.
Her head tilts to the side to lean against her rescuer’s chest, just above her heart. “Charlie…”
The demon looks down at her when she’s called, giving a reassuring smile as she adjusts her hold, not realising her arms had slowly been dropping the longer she had been walking. “It’s okay, you’ll be safe here, I promise.”
Charlie walks up to the doors of the hotel, tilting her head upwards to peer at one of the few rooms that seemed to have lights on. She whistles a clear, long tune, listening to it echo around the silence surrounding them. As Vaggie’s eye finally begins to close properly, the last thing she sees before drifting off to sleep is two small creatures popping their heads out the window, chirping happily at the sight of Charlie.
Razzle and Dazzle, Charlie’s loyal bodyguards and companions fly down from the window to greet her, becoming surprised at the sight of the unconscious Sinner in their master’s arms. Charlie shushes them quickly before they get too curious, holding back a chuckle as they both nuzzle against her hair and cheek.
“Alright, alright guys, c’mon be careful!” She insists quietly, feeling a shift in her pocket as KeeKee decides to wake up and transform from her key into her feline form, trotting over to the door before unlocking it for all of them. “Looks like we might have our first guest, she needs help, let’s get her upstairs, okay?”
Charlie steps inside, trusting her friends to close and lock the doors behind her as she makes her way up the stairs as quickly and carefully as she can, so as not to jostle the stranger in her arms and wake her up by accident.
“Have a look around the rooms guys, I’m gonna need all the medical supplies we’ve got.”
Currently, Charlie regrets having her bedroom up so many floors, as well as wishing that she had just convinced herself to fix the stupid elevator to the far right corner of the entrance before this year’s Extermination Day had been and gone. However, she can kick herself for that mistake later, she needs to focus.
It isn’t too long until Razzle and Dazzle join her in her room carrying a medic box between them. They wait patiently as Charlie delicately puts the Sinner on her soft bed, wincing sympathetically as she watches her flinch in her sleep. Then, she slowly turns her over to rest on her stomach instead so that her wounded back isn’t under any pressure. After gently turning her head to the side for her bandaged eye, Charlie fully takes in the scale of the attack this poor woman must have faced.
Luckily for Vaggie, with the brutality of Lute’s methods it wasn’t exactly clear that wings used to adorn her body. Instead, the wounds appear more akin to two claw marks, or a blade of sorts being sunk in and twisted around a few times. It wasn’t exactly a clean attack, nothing very surgical about being cast from Heaven. So maybe her post-mortem will be perfectly vague and confusing for any conspiratorial Demons.
How fortunate for her indeed.
Charlie doesn’t allow her shock to dissuade her from acting. So, taking the box from her companions, she sets it down on her bedside table before kneeling besides the unconscious woman. Rummaging around for a pair of scissors, she takes a deep breath and hopes her work is enough to help this stranger recover.
- ───────────────── •
Agony. It’s all that follows her.
Over and over again, Vaggie’s wings are torn from her body. Each time, the grotesque sound of bone and flesh ripping becomes louder in her ears. Then, Lute’s voice follows, spitting venom as she stands over her, vitriol dripping from her tone as she personally damns her for eternity.
“Sinful filth like you has no place in heaven.”
Was she so disposable to her? Was Vaggie foolish to think Lute would spare her, did their history mean nothing?
It repeats endlessly. A moment in time frozen and transformed into a cage just for Vaggie, a flightless bird constantly crashing into the earth. Even if she tries to run, or fight back, or beg, there’s no escaping the loop — Lute always wins, and Vaggie always ends up beaten, alone. Her heart cracks and splinters with every bone her fellow Angel breaks, with each bruise that’s beaten into her skin and every cut driven through by her blade. Each time, it hurts worse than the last.
Vaggie never asked Lute to love her, and the same could be said on the opposite side. Living the life of an Exorcist, some among many searched for physical relief in ways other than fighting or training. They happened to be one of those few. And it never needed to be anything more. And yet. And yet, and yet, and yet.
Betrayal still carves its way through Vaggie’s chest, some kind of mourning bleeds through her wounds alongside the tears that fall down her face as she raises her hands to the relentless blade that strikes her down again and again.
Abandonment. Agony. And death. Then it repeats.
“Sinful filth like you has no place in heaven.”
Filth.
Filth.
F̴̢̛͖͛̀̎̍́̌̕͘ì̵̛͓̀͂̒̊̆͘̚͠l̴̢͚̟̤̰̻̜͎̂͊́͠ţ̶̯̻̰̩̠̀͋ͅͅḧ̴͓͙͙́͊̂͆͋̍̈́̕͠
Vaggie startles awake in shock, cold sweat on the back of her neck, yet her body remains still on her stomach. Gasping breaths release from her mouth shakily, and the ache in her body returns, dulled only slightly compared to the last time she was awake. When her eye decides to focus on what’s in front of her, she realises there is one staring right back at her.
KeeKee appears unamused to have been woken up from her sleep, but it’s what she gets for laying beside the face of the recently traumatised Fallen Angel.
But, she’s also a cat, so what does she know.
She leaps down from the bed, and Vaggie watches her as she steps across the room and eventually jumps up onto a desk. One that is occupied by someone now slightly familiar to the Angel.
“Charlie?”
She’s immediately alert to Vaggie’s weak call, pausing her affections towards her one eyed pet in favour of spinning rapidly out of her chair, and almost falling over in the process. “Hey, woah! You’re awake!” The Demon clears her throat roughly, collecting herself and lowering her volume as she approaches, kneeling beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”
Vaggie sighs, wishing the memories of her nightmare could seep out of her alongside the long exhale. “I’ve… been better.”
Charlie laughs slightly, mostly out of surprise for her more casual response. It’s quickly extinguished by concern and a little bit of panic as her guest begins to try pushing herself up on her arms. “Easy, easy! I— uh, don’t think you should push yourself too far right now, your body will be exhausted.”
Still resting on her elbows, Vaggie manages to crack her remaining eye open through the burning pain upon her scapula to see that Charlie isn’t quite looking at her, and instead darting her gaze all around the room whilst she fumbles to explain. It’s then, Vaggie realises that Charlie’s coat is still draped over her shoulders, but her shirt is barely hanging off her front. Vaggie quickly folds her arms to try and keep her chest covered.
Whoops.
“Sorry! I had to cut open the back of your shirt to put the bandages over your wounds.” Charlie explains, now deciding that the carpet looks especially interesting. “I-I kept you covered up if that’s what you’re worried about! A-And I can fix your shirt for you!”
Seeing a Demon so flustered was odd, yet somehow a little endearing. So far, Hell hasn’t been anything like how Vaggie was taught it was back in Heaven. Hellborn and Sinners were always described as selfish, ruthless, and a threat to the very safety of all Angels. Yet, here she is, conversing with one, and not a drop of blood has been spilled between them.
Something about this Charlie girl makes it shockingly easy for Vaggie to forget the current tragedies she’s facing. She decides to lie back down in order to give her some mercy, and so they can actually look at each other properly again. Charlie smiles sheepishly, trying to hide her worry of potentially ruining the trust of what might be her first — damn, maybe her only ever — guest.
“Don’t worry about it, I understand.” Vaggie replies, a huskiness to her voice that quells both of them into relaxing a little more. She speaks once more, this time uttering something she never thought she would say to a Demon. “… Thank you. For helping me.”
Charlie pauses completely, shocked by her gratitude. Vaggie has a feeling she’s not heard that often, maybe not ever. It makes her honoured, in a way, to now be one of the first. She watches Charlie, how her eyes remain slightly wide just from hearing what she said, alongside a silent stuttering, as she realises it would be polite to reply to Vaggie’s thanks.
Even with just one eye, she can see the question that’s long been lingering on the Demon’s tongue since her awakening, and finally, she decides to satisfy her curiosity. Going against all of her training.
“It’s Vaggie. My name is Vaggie.”
Charlie nods, filing the name away in hopes it will become an important one. She’d like it to be. “Nice to meet you.”
And what a way they’ve met, indeed. Vaggie looks back to what must have been only hours ago, how rapidly one of the most tragic moments of her life has now changed into something — not perfect — but relatively better by most standards. The bed is certainly better than that freezing alleyway.
Which…
Which still has what remains of her belongings…
Fuck.
Charlie is just about to open her mouth whilst Vaggie desperately reaches out to grab her by the collar of her shirt, using it to lift herself up once more whilst pulling her close.
“Mierda. Charlie, listen please, I need you to do something for me — it’s very important.” Despite the panic, Vaggie tries to go about explaining her situation as calmly as possible, simultaneously calculating exactly what she needs to say in order not to compromise herself and reveal her angelic lineage.
Luckily, Charlie is the empathetic type, a true bleeding heart. “Uh, y-yes! Whatever it is, I can help.” She was alerted by her guest’s sudden change in demeanour, but supposes that it must be vital given how tightly Vaggie clings to her. Instead of pushing her grip away, Charlie rests her hand atop of her tightly wrapped fist.
“There… an item I need you to get.” Vaggie explains whilst her demonic saviour listens intently. “It’s not safe to leave out on the streets for anybody to grab, so I need you to go get it and bring it back here. It should still be around the place you found me, but only time will tell.”
“I understand, what is it?”
“It’s… an Angelic Spear.”
- ───────────────── •
If Charlie had known that this year’s Extermination would end in her searching through the streets for a valuable piece of Heavenly weaponry, she might have assumed that she’s finally turned insane.
Still, here she is, trying to recall the location where she found Vaggie. Darkness draws near over the Pride Ring, the brutal day finally coming to a close to allow some shade of normal to return to Hell’s life. As normal as an annual culling can be, she supposes. The sky rumbles in waiting, warning survivors to head inside and sleep away the tragedies of this day.
She steps cautiously through the hidden passageways of the streets, picking up a large tarp and pieces of rope as she continues onwards, aiming to wrap up the weapon before she takes it back to the Hotel. If it’s actually an Angelic Spear, that is. She doesn’t want to accuse Vaggie of lying, the situation is too risky to cast doubt — but it still feels a little crazy, for what appears to be a new Sinner to be in possession of such an item. Charlie already knows of the illegal dealings of Heaven’s weaponry, Overlord Carmilla isn’t exactly subtle with her business, and many weapons are left behind by prideful Angels who see no point in taking their possessions out of her people’s bodies. Heaven will never run out of weapons for them, that Charlie is certain of. Still, even if it just keeps one weapon out of the streets, Charlie will search for it.
Finally, the familiar spot appears before her. She begins looking around the dumpster, pulling it away from the wall to check behind it and ducking low to look underneath.
“Fuck, come on…”
Charlie sidesteps down the alleyway, looking all across the wall and ground surrounding it. Unbeknownst to her, she’s drawing nearer to the trash heap hiding what remains of Vaggie’s uniform.
It was something she feared would happen as a result of sending Charlie after her spear, but dammit getting that weapon was just more important. She needs it, to defend herself, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.
Charlie keeps looking, rummaging around until she finds herself kneeling on the ground, the sensation of something sticking to the fabric of her pants causing her to grimace. She looks down to expect some disgusting waste staining her knee, but instead, she gasps at the sight of blood.
Angels blood.
The ichor is still drying on the ground, leading a trail further down the path she kneels on. Her heart runs cold. Angels rarely bleed on Extermination Day, because no Sinner dares to challenge them. Those that do, usually don’t last.
Did Vaggie fight an Angel? Is that how she got the spear?
If that was the case, it’s a miracle she survived. Although, it also makes her injuries more logical, providing a much needed answer to how Vaggie was found in such a condition. Perhaps, it was a few split moments that saved her, the recall of Angels could have been the only thing keeping Vaggie alive long enough for Charlie to find her. Her stomach twists at the thought of the other outcome, so she finds herself a little more grateful for the current circumstance, with her guest resting safely.
Moments later, a reflecting light glints right into Charlie’s right eye. She flinches from it, screwing it shut as she looks towards whatever the source could be. There, haphazardly buried under trash and rubble is the shine of a dangerous metal. Pulling it out, Charlie now finds a spear in her hands.
Vaggie wasn’t lying.
Her thoughts pause completely, but she doesn’t allow her awe to stall her any longer, and quickly takes to wrapping up the spear in the tarp she found before anyone else can see it. Tying it tight, Charlie stands and immediately starts to make her way back to the hotel, her heart pounding in her chest from the shock.
It seems that a little piece of faith decided to take kindness on Vaggie, as just a few feet away was the trash cans holding her tattered uniform. By her luck, Charlie never saw it.
- ───────────────── •
Vaggie isn’t exactly resting.
With teeth sinking harshly into her bottom lip, she forces her body to sit up and plant her feet off the side of the bed. Her vision swims, head almost too heavy for her body to support, yet she keeps herself upright with what little strength she’s managed to regain. Exorcists don’t falter, they can’t be weak.
All of Charlie’s companions attempt to help her, but Vaggie swats them away with an annoyed groan. She shouldn’t need help, just because Charlie has offered some kindness doesn’t mean she should get comfortable around here. Her paranoia builds as each minute ticks by, leading her down a path of silent spiralling.
What if Charlie doesn’t find the spear?
What if she does, and she pieces together that the weapon belongs to her?
What if she turns on her?
She’s a demon, after all, she’ll likely take any chance to take revenge on an Angel that causes so much suffering across this city. Especially an Angel like her. Vaggie was a proficient killer, a monster in her own right. If Charlie ever knew what she was, what she’s done, then it would be her head getting tossed out the window and onto the streets below. It’s already a one in infinite chance that the woman that found her was kind enough to help her, she can’t take any more chances. Vaggie needs to heal, then she needs to get out of here, and find her way back into Heaven.
Outside the bedroom, footsteps begin to draw closer.
Vaggie turns her head just in time to watch the door open. Charlie enters, her expression downtrodden, tired. Despite it all, the Angel reaches up to the headboard and pushes herself to stand, Charlie doesn’t protest. “You… found it.”
The young Demon nods, but that’s all she does. After entering the hotel, Charlie unwrapped the spear from its tarp and carried it alone upstairs. Now, she holds it in a tight grip, eyes downcast to catch herself in its reflection.
It’s a big shift in her character, this sudden quiet. Vaggie can’t help but feel on edge because of it. “Are you alright?”
Turning her head up to look past her guest, towards the window, Charlie recognises the gloomy sky shifting overhead, alongside the wreckage of her city billowing up as smoke and sirens call out the tragedies of her people. Extermination Day might be over, but the wound still remains wide open, raw. And once again, just like every year, Charlie is safe.
Safe.
As if that mean s anything to her. The hotel was built in the early days of Hell by the King, now it’s just an empty building, a reminder that Charlie can have all of this space, all this freedom, and the rest of the city can just suffer while she rests. Now, this spear is a reminder of that.
“It was dangerous for you to go out there for me.” Vaggie suddenly says, pulling Charlie out of her head. “Thank you, I appreciate what you did, even if it was a risk.”
“I would never have been harmed.”
Her response surprises Vaggie — how she said it, like she wasn’t proud of that self proclaimed fact. “I don’t understand…”
“I’m untouchable.”
There’s no pride in her words, if anything she sounds disappointed; ashamed. Charlie’s grip tightens unnaturally strong around the neck of the spear, her eyes following its blade as she plants the base of the weapon beside her, looking back to her guest. Shoulders taut, goosebumps rise suddenly on the back of her neck, and she finds she has one more question for her saviour.
“Who are you?” Vaggie mutters.
“I’m… Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell.” She replies slowly, a heaviness to her gaze. “I’m Lucifer’s daughter.”
From behind them there's a flash of lightning, the skies finally unleashing a build up of fury to wash away the stained streets of Pride.
For the briefest of moments, Charlie’s shadow changes.
Adorned with tall horns, a tail, and menacing wings, a completely different person towers over the room, a figure carved by the formation of her name. The milliseconds of the flashing light bleed as nothing but Morningstar, unto her pale skin, dilating across her eyes. It’s this singular moment, that Vaggie feels fear towards the woman in front of her.
But the lightning fades, and that shadow melts back into the corners of the room.
“Everyone finds out who I am eventually, it’s not usually the first thing I like to introduce about myself.” She admits.
Silently, Vaggie takes it all in, the momentary glance of what power Charlie possesses — what it all means for both of them. Through this, she realises it’s not the Demon she fears; it’s her title. What it stands for.
What it could mean for Vaggie’s fate if she ever knew what she truly was, what her blood betrays her to be.
A Fallen Angel, in the presence of Heaven’s greatest enemy.