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sophi-s · 4 years ago

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Cost of Kindness

Chapter IV: Complications

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,656

Characters: Raphael, Original Female Character (OC), Fury

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Swearing (a lot of it XD)

Summary:

After far too many close calls and an adventure that will last her a lifetime, Nicola and Raphael finally make their way towards Haven. Unfortunately, not everything goes as smoothly as it could.

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Many, many centuries ago taking off to the grand skies has become one of humanity's greatest dreams. They always wished to be able to fly, envying birds their wings and wishing to join them in their aerial conquest. It took many more ages to even try to think of it seriously and even longer for the humans to create the first working airplane and fulfill their dreams as the gravity kept thwarting all their plans. But once this seemingly impossible goal was accomplished, this event has been recorded on the pages of history as one of the most remarkable inventions of the human race.

When she was little, Nicola dreamed of flying on her own as well. She loved watching birds, tracking the planes soaring through the sky, so far away they looked like ants, and thinking about how it would be to have her own wings. Her dreams eventually were abandoned as she grew older, more serious and more reasonable. But honestly, if a week ago someone asked her if she would choose to have wings if she could, Nicola without hesitation would reply "a huge YES". Now however, she realised something she didn't really take into consideration before. While humans wished to rule the skies, they absolutely were not created for this. They have been made flightless, earth-ridden creatures and for a good reason. Her very apparent fear of heights made it awfully clear to her.

These thoughts were all Nicola could hear aside from the rustling of feathers on the wind as she desperately held onto her angel friend, her heart hammering in her chest, eyes wide and stomach making somersaults while everything was spinning around like a carousel. At a certain height the human body just starts to give up and refuse cooperation. For those who are afraid of heights the gap is even smaller and the symptoms more severe. All that was keeping her from fainting or throwing up there and then was the fact that she refused to look down to see how high they actually were but imagining the small buildings below her wasn't making it much better. If she survives this, she will never ask any angel for a fly again and - if it will ever be possible after the apocalypse - stay the heck away from any sort of working plane. Ground was where she belonged. Flying was not her cup of tea and no one will ever convince her otherwise.

Raphael seemed oblivious to the silent prayers spilling past her lips and just kept flying, fully focused on his destination, as she was absolutely certain she's going to die. Her muscles were completely stiff, as though she looked Medusa in the eye. She couldn't even see anything with how her face was buried in the rumpled fabric of Raphael's clothes but she assumed they were getting closer and closer. Focus on anything else than the height. Anything! She kept telling herself when her jaw started to hurt from how she was clenching her teeth. Easier said than done. Nicola knew that Raphael wasn't going to drop her. He promised her and lately she learned to trust him but the pull of gravity beckoning her down into the abyss and to a long plummet ending in a painful impact and certain death… The last time she was this panicked was when the Fallen jumped her out of nowhere. Speaking of which… God, please, let this be a smooth flight. No demons, I'm begging you..

Encounter with stray demons was the last thing they needed now. She didn't doubt Raphael's ability to defend both her and himself but if a flying demon was to attack them from surprise… Not a single part of her already malfunctioning brain could produce a scenario that wouldn't end in either of them dying or at least suffering grave injuries. In short words, any sort of aerial confrontation would mean serious trouble. And trouble wasn't something Nicola missed. Especially after the last night..

Seems like her prayers have been answered. So far nothing noticed an angel and a human passing overhead. And those demons which did apparently decided not to bother them since it didn't seem worth it or had no way of giving them trouble from where they were standing. Nicola stopped counting seconds of their journey long ago and the only indication of the passing time was the wind rushing through her hair slowing down as Raphael started to try and spare as much energy as he could, gliding whenever possible on his wings simply stretched out on both sides and flapping them only to keep the right height, out of range of any demons that could be sulking below when he began to grow weary. His stamina wasn't probably in the best condition after the time he spent in hiding and most likely not moving much.

When she gets back to Haven, Nicola is going to first, eat a solid lunch since her stomach was displeased again - though now she couldn't really feel it twisted in panic like that - second, go the fuck to sleep for the rest of the day. Even though she spent the last night sleeping like a dead woman, she didn't feel that well rested. The amount of stress she had to endure exhausted her and a few hours of rest weren't enough to regenerate her full strength. High on her bucket list was also taking care of Raphael, to at least make him look decent and dress any wounds he carried. Elanya could do that too but Nicola couldn't imagine that Raphael would let a maker he doesn't know do anything to him. She remembered how distrustful he was in the beginning. And after she gets back, no more escapades if not necessary. At least two weeks long break. Ulthane is going to make sure she stays there anyway so she might as well spend her time on sleeping and some light activities.

Speaking of Ulthane… Nicola wasn't actually sure what she'd say to him once she suddenly showed up in Haven after all that time with a traumatized, crazy angel at her side. To say it will be awkward as heck, would be a severe understatement. It's not even about Raphael. How is she going to explain herself to the overbearing maker who is standing on his head to save the last survivors of her kind while, by nearly killing herself three times already, she acted nothing if not ungrateful? And honestly, she wasn't in shape to wonder about it now because her mind refused to focus on anything else than this one thought of the lethal distance between her and the ground. Damn it all.. Why does she have to be afraid of heights and find out this very unpleasant way? Really, if someone tried to take her from Raphael before he landed or too short time after, they'd probably need a crowbar to pry her off him.

While Nicola thought that the flight itself was awful, the moment her stomach seemed to move up into her gullet as Raphael dipped towards the ground she unwittingly shrilly cried out in fear. And that was a mistake. The angel, startled by the quiet human he'd been holding this entire time suddenly screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, tried to halt his descent to figure out what's wrong but it was already too late for that. As a result the landing was rather rough. Nicola closed her eyes and so she didn't see how Raphael clumsily hit the ground and barely kept himself propped up not to land on top of her as she slipped out of his grasp and lost her grip on his robes. The expectations of a long fall made her throat tighten and trap her voice inside. All the bigger relief once after barely an inch or two, her back connected with the surface, drawing a soft and strained "oof" from her.

Still scared, disoriented and confused, Nicola opened her eyes to see wide-eyed Raphael hunched over her, hands on either side of her head - with the staff to her left - and gawking at her with a slight panic on his face. Goodness, he was way too close. Pulling her arms close to her body in a helpless attempt to regain her personal space, she smiled awkwardly.

"H-hi there!"

The moment he saw that nothing was wrong and her face regained some of its color, Raphael breathed with relief and got off her, once again offering his hand to help her up. Once back on her feet, Nicola nearly cried out when she felt the solid ground under the soles of her boots. Blessed earth, she could literally kiss it right now. But the fact that they were not in Haven yet disconcerted her a little. Looking around, she noticed they're in an empty street in the middle of nowhere. Casting a questioning glance at Raphael she didn't even need to ask. The way his wings were slumped against his back, his breath heavier than before said it all. Plain and simple, Raphael was tired. Too tired to keep going. Still, he was eyeing her cautiously.

"Why… why were you screaming?"

Still feeling the nausea and the shaking of her knees, Nicola scratched the back of her neck and turned her eyes away ashamed.

"Ahuh… I'm not-... I'm not used to flying, that dip scared me a little. Sorry about this.."

Raphael said nothing to this, simply nodded, and lowered himself to the dusted road to have a seat by one of the decrepit stores. Nicola decided to let him have his five minutes to rest before going any further. Store. She suddenly realised. And not just any. A grocery store. At the mere thought her stomach rumbled. Not only could she have something for herself but also gather some stuff for others! If anything there is still edible that is. It wouldn't hurt to check. Every bit of food is precious.

"Raphael, can you wait here for a bit? I'll be back in a jiffy."

Out of the corner of her eye she already saw him shift in apprehension and almost begin to stand up. Probably because she ran once already and in his mind could do it again. She proceeded to calm him down immediately by pointing at the building she intended to search.

"I'll just go in there to look for stuff, don't worry. I will come back."

Staring at her for a couple of intense seconds, Raphael eyed her from head to toe twice before his concerned gaze softened a bit.

"Promise me…?"

Nicola smiled reassuringly and nodded. There weren't many options for her if she did want to run off. Besides, she wasn't quite sure where she was just yet. Her orientation in terrain was… less than decent as of late.

"I promise."

She offered and once Raphael sat somewhat comfortably back down, she took her backpack and shotgun - just in case - and stepped in through a broken window. The inside of the store was in utter disarray and even that was putting it lightly. Most of the shelves were toppled over, some even in pieces. Glinting shards of glass littered the floor, crunching under Nicola's feet every time she made a step. Unsurprisingly, nothing was working. No lights, no freezers, no ventilation. No time to waste. Nicola began her search immediately.

Approaching the fruit stand greeted her with bitter disappointment. Apples, oranges, pears and many other fruits were already rotten and sometimes even coated in white specks of mould. Definitely not good. With vegetables it was exactly the same. The only carrot that looked acceptable at first, turned out to have been completely wilted. Tossing it aside, Nicola moved on. She didn't even bother looking for meat. The stench hit her the moment she came inside and were it not for the smell of decomposing corpses that drifted around the sewers when she was there, she probably would've thrown up where she stood. Instead, she just covered her mouth and nose with her bandana.

Any dairy products were off the table too. Without working freezers every single one of them has surely gone sour by now. A diarrhea was not something she wanted to have in Haven and most likely neither did the makers. Nicola didn't dare to so much as touch any eggs that still were somehow intact. Bad idea. A smelly one as well. There's no way some of them haven't gone bad yet. The risk wasn’t worth it. Passing by one of the mostly whole shelves, she absent mindedly grabbed a bag of dry cat food and stuffed it into her backpack. It was highly probable that most of the survivors would be feeding the kitten with any leftovers but.. just to make sure the poor thing doesn't starve to death.

Most of the jars have broken during initial earthquakes but two small jars of pickles seemed to be mostly alright. Without giving it much thought, she placed them in her backpack. Four bags of freeze-dried fruits quickly found their way into her pockets once she got a hold of them. Under a broken shelf, Nicola spotted an edge of some packet. Assuming it was just crackers or something, she reached into the rubble for it but once she pulled it out… she immediately regretted her decision. It was, in fact, not a bag of crackers. It was a whole, torn bag of soured cabbage coated in some strange growth - probably mould - she didn't get a chance to really look at because her attention was caught by something inside the bag. Probably squeezed in through the tear and got stuck, a small, bloated body of a gigantic, hellish critter. Instinctively, Nicola yelped quietly and without giving it much thought she lobbed the thing across the whole store before wiping her hand on the nearest piece of rag that wasn't her clothes. She didn't even get any of the spilling juices on her but… gross. Just gross. Ew ew ew! Ignoring the wet splat the bag made when it hit the floor wasn't an easy task. Still shaking off the disgust, she continued her search, noting to herself never to touch something she isn't sure what it is.

From there it thankfully was starting to go much smoother. Two packets of crispbread, some dark chocolate and a box of tea were found and collected. Nicola nearly cheered out loud when she spotted a few Snickers on a shelf. One she immediately opened and eagerly ate while the rest landed safely in her backpack. It might be mostly sugar with a bit of peanuts but it was a good snack that could deceive the brain for quite some time. To be frank, Nicola lived half of the high school on those whenever her lessons lasted too long for her breakfast to keep her sated. Besides, she couldn't imagine others would mind her bringing a bunch. Especially Marie. Jacob will most likely strangle Nicola if his daughter eats too much sweets but in the end it'll be worth it. Anything would be worth putting a smile on that sad little face.

Somewhere on the floor, Nicola even found a box of vitamins which luckily was not out of date yet. With a deficit of fruits and vegetables, those could be lifesavers. Especially for Leslie. She needs the most of it. Unfortunately, the space in her backpack was very much limited and soon she couldn't put anything more in there. Rearranging the contents of it, she put in one bottle of water, careful not to crush the crispbread and chocolate. At least she found something. Her escapade wasn't all for nothing when it comes to supplies. But even without those, she wouldn't say she regrets it. Against all the odds, she lived. And most importantly, she gained an otherworldly friend. And in times like these, a friend is something to be treasured.

Slinging her now much heavier backpack on her shoulders, she picked up her gun and headed towards the broken window she used as an entrance before. Peeking out from the store, she saw Raphael where she'd left him and a very much awake cat playfully attacking the longest quill of his left wing. His head perked up when she dropped onto the sidewalk beneath the window and she could've sworn she'd seen the corner of his mouth twitch upwards for a second there. Smiling, she unfolded her hands and shrugged.

"See? I keep my promises."

The angel hummed quietly before leaning his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. Nicola was about to ask if he's good to go but let the thought perish when she noticed his eyebrows furrow and his chapped lips twist into a slight grimace. Soon after, his right hand wandered up to his chest as he took a couple of quick and shallow breaths through his clenched teeth. If Nicola didn't know any better, she'd have said Raphael was having a heart attack. Can an angel even have an infarct? She honestly had no idea. In fact, she didn't even know how old he is. She couldn't tell. All the angels she'd met so far had white hair so that's not a hint to go by and his face didn't necessarily look old or young. He seemed as ageless as the time itself. Still, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Raphael? What's wrong?!"

She asked as she crouched beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him if needed. Raphael simply slowly shook his head and turned to look at her tiredly. And in his blank eyes she saw the already familiar pain and a spark of a silent plea.

"Just a little longer.. Let me rest a while…"

It took everything Nicola had in her to stop the sigh of relief. It didn't sit right with her that Raphael was still suffering and she could do absolutely nothing about it but hearing he's mostly fine, with only the usual ailing him, made her feel a tad easier. When his breathing grew slower and calmer, she even let herself slip down to the floor beside him.

"Sure. We have time, I guess.."

It was still relatively early, barely an hour or two after noon and Nicola wasn't that eager to return into the sky so soon. Only thinking about it made her feel a little sick. Hopefully, it wasn't too far to Haven from here. Even though Nicola really wanted to finally get home, she decided to be patient with her companion. He was wounded and most likely ill but he still tried his best to help her, even though he hadn't known her that long. He deserves a moment. Nicola too needed to sit down for a second as her thigh was still a bloody nuisance. Just a few more minutes. It wouldn't do harm to have a little break now, would it?

Yes. Yes it would. Nicola suddenly realised when she saw the kitten arc its back and puff its tail out. It hisses loudly before scurrying away into the store she just left and soon enough Nicola realised why once she looked into an alley ahead of her. The sight of a massive, winged shape made it painfully obvious. Her heart nearly ceased and Raphael beside her tensed at the sight of an enormous demon with curved horns and teeth, each the size of her palm, resembling a set of barbed knives made specifically to cut meat. The edges of long healed wounds that left behind terrible scars on her abdomen began to itch as she gawked at the familiar monster that nearly took her life. Flapping of gigantic wings that covered the sky with its expanse… Razor sharp claws curling around her body… the same talons tearing into her flesh as Ulthane attempted to free her from its grasp. And this shriek… oh God, this shriek…

Despite the apparent pain and exhaustion, Raphael slowly - not to agitate the demon - got up to his feet and raised his wings threateningly as he stepped in front of aghast Nicola. The fact that due to its bulkiness this thing seems almost twice as large as he is doesn't make an impression on him. Or maybe it does but he doesn't show it. The Fallen stared at Raphael with its small red eyes as a pair of Phantom Guards rounded a corner and joined the beast. Each carried a jagged blade that could easily tear through angelic armor. Nicola had seen it happen. Following them was another bloody Goreclaw. But these three she barely even noticed. Her wide eyes were focused on the larger demon. She felt her muscles refuse cooperation and seize. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her mind repeatedly screamed No nono no NO! Not like this!!

With excited roars, the lesser demons charged towards the angel standing between them and the weak, pathetic and helpless human as the Fallen spread its wings and took off into the air. Even as Nicola kept stone still, Raphael remained sharp and ready to act as always. One spell spilled past his lips and the flying demon instantly went rigid before plummeting back onto the ground and crashing into a broken car, setting its annoying alarm off. It didn't discourage the other three but it let Nicola find will to move and clutch her gun tighter. Ever since she'd met Raphael, he'd been doing nothing but getting her arse out of trouble. Taking a shaky breath she decided to start repaying favors.

Though, once again she didn't really have a chance to do anything as she was dumbstruck by the following scene playing out before her. As the hellish monsters charged, Raphael took his staff in both hands and held it before himself, closing his eyes and muttering an incantation in his melodious language. The moment the first demon stepped a tad too close, Raphael's eyes snapped open, burning like two white suns and a sleek ethereal blade materialized from the tip of what Nicola previously thought just an ornament or a walking cane. It glowed like the purest light ever to exist. Another assumption Nicola made about Raphael turned out to have been false. The last thing she can say about him is unarmed. He carried no blade, no gun or anything but who needs a weapon as lame as those when in addition to powerful sorcery you have a freaking lightsaber?

Everything lasted less than a second as the angel led a wide, sweeping slash of his spectral sword… spear thing… and promptly relieved the Phantom Guard of its horned head, before stopping the pouncing Goreclaw with a flick of his free hand, suspending it in the air growling and hissing. The other Phantom Guard had no chance to either attack the vulnerable angel or retreat, when Raphael was busy cutting down the quadrupedal demon, as Nicola came back to her senses and, instead of running like she always has, jumped forward and fired her shotgun. The resounding bang travelled through the entire city, bouncing off the walls and drifting far into the desolate town but it had the effect Nicola counted on.

The Phantom Guard staggered backwards with a chest full of buckshot, wheezed a couple times and tripped over onto its back never to get up again. With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Nicola stared at the either dead or dying demon in wonderment, her brain trying to process what just happened, before releasing a breathless laugh of triumph. She killed one. She actually killed one! Raphael too seemed rather surprised but not unpleasantly so as he let the blade fade away.

"I got it! Did you see that?!"

"That indeed, I have.."

He said as he eyed her carefully, probably just to check if she's fine. Aside from a little fresh blood on his boots and hands, Raphael didn't seem to have gotten hurt in any way. Well… more than he'd already been at least. Nicola beamed up at him nearly bursting with pride at her actual first kill on a demon larger than her shin. And he seemed happy for her, if the soft smile he regarded her with could be an indication. But this victory didn't last long. Her own smile faded when she saw the Fallen stiffly getting up from where it slammed onto the ground, pure rage on its monstrous face. Her pulse began to race again but this time she refused to let the panic get a hold of her just yet.

"Watch out!!"

She cried too late, just a sliver of a second too late. Raphael whipped around to face the attacker and all he managed to do was raise his hand before the charging demon swung its head to the left. And with the force of a truck driving at the speed of fifty miles per hour, slammed it into the angel, making a formula of a spell die on his lips as he was sent flying through the air and crashing against a nearby building. The force of the impact caved in the wall and the kind, mad angel disappeared in a cloud of dust. All that was left were a couple of white feathers slowly falling to the ground.

"NO!"

Nicola didn't pay any mind to how her voice broke and squeaked pitifully when her heart leaped up into her throat. She could only stare at the place where Raphael vanished with a rumbling crash as the enraged demon growled in the same direction. Not a single part of her being agreed with what she'd just witnessed. A second before he was standing right there, like nothing was about to happen, distracted by her gushing over her first serious kill. Nothing should have happened, why did the demon unravel Raphael's magic just like that? Even a Shadowcaster didn't manage to do that! Why would this one? And why… Tears welled up in her eyes as her lower lip trembled… why did it have to… end the way it did…?

To make matters worse, the Fallen was still before her, still furious and thirsting for blood. Not wasting more time, Nicola pulled out a handful of new bullets and tried to reload her weapon but it proved almost impossible with how much her hands were shaking. Thank Christ, the demon was taking its sweet time as it faced her and began to lumber towards her on all fours, huffing out breaths stinking of rotting meat. Faster, faster, damn it! Nicola cursed inwardly when she dropped a couple of shells before she finally managed to place the ammunition where it should be. But when she looked up, the Fallen was on top of her already. Parting its jaws wide, ready to swallow her whole.

The scream of anguish that felt so tempting in the back of her throat never came to be. In a second, Nicola thought about all the horrors she'd lived through. All demons she'd met, all shambling corpses of former humans brought back by vile sorcery. All friends she'd made and lost.. Raphael, do just one thing for me. She gritted her teeth as her knuckles turned white from how she was gripping her weapon. Despair started to turn into rage. Burning bright and white hot inside of her, the flame Raphael had helped her see. Please, be alive when I come for you… The demon lunged forward to sever the string of her measly life by biting her in half. But Nicola wasn't going to let it get her so easily. Her fear was forgotten as she stuck the barrel of her shotgun into the monster's opened maw. She didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. For once she wanted to have a say over her own fate. Over the date of her demise. She is still young, she had a whole life ahead of her. And all those demonic dickheads with the Destroyer leading the charge decided to ruin everything and not only for her, but for every human who lives still and who has perished. And those who are yet to be born. She refused. She will not die. Not here. Not killed by that thing.

"FUCKOFF!!!"

And she fired. Partially, the sound was muffled by the demon's mouth snapping shut just barely missing Nicola's arms as she let go of her gun. The Fallen recoiled and began to shriek in pain, spitting out its own blood onto the concrete at its feet. Nicola didn't have delusions she could kill it but it gave her the precious seconds she needed. She ran for the closest hiding place available, which was the store she just left. Nicola leaped in through the broken window and quickly made it to the opposite wall to put as much distance between herself and the writhing monstrosity as possible. And it was a good choice. A loud roar from the street made her heart fall into her heels as the injured demon finally gathered its bearings.

Nicola looked at the Fallen that was coming her way with murder in its eyes. The unexpected bout of courage has long faded and the petrifying fear once again had Nicola in its chilling grasp. Even with the mouthful of bullets, the Fallen did not intend to give up on its prey. And here she hoped it would piss off if she fed it with lead… Snarling and panting, the demon approached the broken window with its own blood pouring from between its sharp fangs. It only added to the menacing image of the beast that had Nicola trembling and frozen.

Think, Nicola, THINK! What can she do against an opponent far bigger, stronger and more dangerous than a single human without a weapon? The Fallen was trying to fit through the window, reaching out with its clawed paw to try and get her. Nicola looks around in panic, looking for anything that could save her. In a grocery store. Good luck. Eventually, she says "fuck it" and grabs a most likely rancid egg. The laughably small projectile splatters over the face of the demon with a squelch and even from far away Nicola is sure this egg was definitely rotten. Even the Fallen stops for a second to shake the disgusting goop off of its head but before it's done, another egg flies through the air and cracks on its head, just as stinky as the previous one.

"How'd ya, like that, asshole?! Wanna have some more?!"

Nicola yells at the demon, holding yet another egg, fully prepared to just chuck it at the monster. Unfortunately, all she managed to do was piss it off even further as its efforts in reaching her doubled. Pieces of plaster and bricks were coming loose as the demon tried to wriggle into the shop to finally kill that annoying pest lobbing small, smelly things at it. As a result, an egg once again hit the demon while Nicola kept shouting out profanities that probably made her poor mother toss and turn in her grave. She's not going down without a fight, even if the said fight is done by throwing eggs and all the gross shit she found on the floor. But she knew she isn’t getting out of this one.

And so, this is it. Nicola couldn't believe she would die by the claws of the same creature that nearly killed her once before. Was Ulthane rescuing her only delaying the inevitable? What a sick joke… Why does fate insist on being cruel? There was so much she wanted to say, so many apologies she had to give… so little time… There was nothing she could do. At least… she will see Nicholas again.. her parents and every friend she'd lost in this cursed apocalypse. A miracle would've been nice. A tiny one. Just this once. Please?

And boy, did she get her wish. A sudden force violently tearing the Fallen out of the shop nearly startled her out of her dirty and tattered jeans. Hardly believing her eyes, she watched as her would-be killer screeched in rage and surprise when it was wrenched free from the ruined window and was gone from her vision. A sudden tremor shook the whole building, sending small bits of debris raining down on her head as a mighty roar reverberated through her very bones. But it wasn't the Fallen. It was something meaner. Something… Nicola swallowed thickly at the thought… bigger. Or at least as large as this fucker. Then came clacking of metal, ungodly screeching of the demon. A second later Nicola saw as it was flung through the air like a sack of potatoes and crashed against a block of flats. Instant karma. She thinks with bitter satisfaction when she remembers what that faggot did to Raphael. I need to somehow get to him. Honestly though, she doesn't really want to know what managed to just YEET a Fallen like a skipping rock.

Unfortunately, she finds out and finds out quite soon. From her hideout, she sees an enormous creature, nearly as big as the demon that threatened her, charging towards the stunned monster still bleeding from its mouth. If Nicola had been terrified of the Fallen, then she was on the verge of having a straight out SCA after seeing this chunk of a behemoth. Whatever this thing was, it was the size of an average tree. Its armored hide was burning with red and white flames which were enveloping twin jagged, metal whips it held in its hands. Vestigial wings were trembling with wrath as it turned its radiant white eyes at the battered demon. Between a pair of sweeping horns that crowned its head was a flickering blaze that flared with each step the monstrosity took towards its quarry. Right.. What's the best way to get rid of a monster? Sic a stronger monster on it. The Fallen shrugged off and growled at its new assailant, challenging it to a fight.

While the two beasts were circling one another, battling she couldn't even guess what for, Nicola braced for what was to come. This is a horrible idea. Breath in and breath out. In and out. And when the Fallen pounced at its attacker, she bolted. Not stopping, she ran. Through the street the demons were fighting on, past them - so close she could feel the heat radiating off of the newcomer - and into the building Raphael disappeared in. Nicola hoped she was ready for what she was about to find. She really did. Jumping in through the punched in wall however, she soon found out she was, in fact, not ready. The moment she entered, she immediately caught the sight that made something squeeze inside of her.

On a pile of rubble from the destroyed wall was Raphael coated in dust. Still. Not moving, his mesmerising white eyes shut. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh God, oh NO! Not thinking, all fear and uncertainty she ever felt in his presence was long cast away, Nicola rushed over to him pleading, begging everything that would listen for him to be alive. Don't leave me here like this… Dropping at his side into the rubble, Nicola lays her ear on the top of his chest and doesn't let herself relax until she hears a heartbeat and a shallow breath within. Words cannot describe how much she deflated once she did. He's still alive.. but he doesn’t look good.

"Raphael! Please say something! Can you hear me?!"

Thankfully, angel's eyes lolled open as she spoke to him, hinting that he indeed can hear her. Trying his best to keep his unfocused gaze on her face, Raphael furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his upper lip in a pained sneer as his hand wandered up to clutch at his side where the demon's heat struck him.

"Nnn… Nnii… co…"

He weakly attempted to speak but without much success. No joke, he must've hit his head really hard and she dreaded to think about the state of his ribcage.. But hey! At least he hears and understands what Nicola is saying. And it's a good sign.. right…? Wasting no more time, Nicola helped him sit up, keeping her hand on his forehead to steady him as his own palm rested over hers. Even squinting in pain, Raphael kept looking at her, as though she was the only point of focus he could think of.

"Hang in there, okay?! Please, Phel.. We'll be fine…"

Liar. Something snaps at her. They're pretty much defenseless and vulnerable with a very livid demon still threatening them. One or the other will come out victorious. And to the victor go the spoils… Raphael tried to say something but still couldn't formulate words properly due to the splitting headache pulsing through his entire skull. Though even through ringing in his head and pain in his chest that somehow rivaled the one he constantly felt, he found something in this human's words that baffled him. In her panic, Nicola doesn't catch a puzzled look he sends her way.

Phel?

A choked up cry of a dying demon made them both jump a little and look out through the hole Raphael made when the demon gored him. Just in time to see the flaming beast standing on top of the Fallen and strangling it with its whips. Then, the creature of… quite blatantly feminine curves gave one sharp tug and the demon's head was brutally severed from the rest of its body. And everything fell silent.

Instinctively, Nicola halted her breath and ceased any movement, watching the winner (Nicola felt fully comfortable with calling it per "she" now) shoot a glance towards her and Raphael who by this point tiredly laid his head on her shoulder, heaving in attempts to draw a proper breath. The creature approached slowly, keeping Nicola frozen in place and desperately holding onto her injured friend. When the demon was at the wall, only her massive legs were visible. Seconds ticked by as a set of claws rested above the opening to the house, and a monstrous head loomed through the hole.

That would be more than enough to make Nicola pass right the Hell out but.. Something about this creature intrigued her. It didn't have a snarling, toothy maw but an almost featureless face with the curve of a nose and a pair of bright and ferocious, intelligent eyes. It stared at her with more understanding than any demon Nicola had ever seen. Whatever it was, it didn't seem aggressive for some weird reason. At least not yet.. Then, unexpectedly, the creature was enveloped in red flames as its humongous form began to shrink and reshape into something much smaller but still a good two heads taller than an average human.

From the hot light emerged a very humanlike woman in intricate metal armor. Black tattoos marked her stern face around her luminous, white eyes and on her forehead, right below the line of incredibly dense magenta colored hair which floated freely around her head, defying gravity like it's the most natural thing in the world. Whoever it was, even with an intimidating aura of strength and resolve, her close resemblance to a human calmed Nicola somewhat. Plus, she had to admit that this woman had the looks. Men would probably be killing one another for her. Honestly, Nicola felt kind of jealous.. But considering she was still pretty much helpless with a half-conscious angel leaned against her, it didn't put her fully at ease. At least until the stranger spoke in plain English. Then Nicola finally released the breath she was holding. Crossing her arms, the tall lady sneered slightly at the human and angel before her.

"Well, would you look at that. Guess it's your lucky day today."

--------------------------------------------------

It's finally done, my goodness! This one was hard to get right but I made it. Don’t ask me how i managed to finish it with two pictures, I have no clue :I

Fury makes an appearance! Badass as always. :D

Also, can I get an F for Raphael's poor ribs?

#darksiders #darksiders 3 #darksiders fury #darksiders raphael #raphael #fury #darksiders OC #human survivor oc #CoK #cost of kindness #chapter IV

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ghosts-n-whores · 5 years ago

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I’m drunk again and I’m sick and I feel like I have to tell this story and get all of this out of me before I fucking explode. Also this is hella fucking long. I tried to shorten it but frankly, all of these were big, life-altering moments. If i’m going to spew out a lifetime worth of unspoken trauma, I’m gonna tell it all. Let me have my moment.

The first time my weight was ever brought up as an issue I was 5 years old. Me, my mother, and my sister were getting ready to take family portraits at the church we attended. My father was too drunk and too ashamed to be a part of it. Dads drinking and drug use was the worst kept secret in the fucking world but mom did her best to put on a good show. It obviously embarrassed her though and when she gets upset anyone can become a target. Mom had dressed us all in matching purple shirts. As she put my shirt on me she stopped, poked me hard in the stomach, and with a look of disgust told me to make sure I sucked that in before the flash went off. When we got home that night I stood in front of the mirror for the first time and recognized the flaws in my reflection.

My parents divorced soon after and my new stepfather arrived, bringing with him a new era of torment and criticism. It wasn’t all reserved for me though. Suddenly my sister, who until that point had been the golden child and light of my mother’s life, was coming under fire too. Everyday I listened to how fat her ass had gotten, that they couldn’t understand how a 14 year old had so much cellulite. She was so skinny, so perfect before. What had happened? (Spoiler: puberty had happened. She had developed hips and ass. And for reference here, my sister was a size 4. She was, and still is, a knockout.) I, too, faced scrutiny of course. My mother still insisted on dressing me every morning. And every morning of my life I listened to how much weight I needed to lose, how big I had gotten, how many rolls I had. Body shaming had become my new normal. The morning of school pictures mom put me in a floral print dress. I hated it. I sobbed hysterically. In retrospect, there was nothing wrong with the dress. It was pretty. The problem was that I hated me in the dress. The square neckline and spaghetti straps made my shoulders look broad, showed off how big my arms were. I actually found those pictures a few years ago. I immediately noticed how bloodshot and swollen my eyes were, how I had hunched my shoulders together in a subconscious effort to make myself smaller. My mom gushed about how pretty I was but all I could think was “that poor girl.”

I have a mole/birth mark/something on the inside of my labia majora. Mom discovered it when dressing me one morning and proceeded to pin me to the bed so she could look at it. Now, I understand as a mother you want to make sure there’s not some cancerous growth on your kid. But fully pinning them down while they scream and cry, because you’ve taught them their entire life that that is a private part and no one should ever touch it, seems a bit extreme to me. What I felt was by no means a sexual violation. But it was a violation of my privacy, my trust in my mother, my bodily autonomy. I realized I was viewed by all the parental figures in my life as a possession for them to do with what they wanted. Children didn’t have rights in my household.

The first time I ever stood up to my mother was also the first time I was ever called a bitch. I was 7, mom was telling me how fat I was again, and something in me just kinda snapped. I told her she wasn’t exactly skinny either to which she replied “Well, Savannah I’m 40 years old, it’s a little different.” I told her that meant she’d had 40 years to lose it then, huh? She told me I was a bitch and to dress myself from now on.

Things continued in much the same way for the next several years. My sister developed a drug habit, my father’s worsened, and my mom and stepdad became the bane of my existence. My sister’s boyfriend had introduced me to MTV and eyeliner. I was deeply enthralled with all things early 2000s punk rock. It was the first time in my life I connected to something. But I soon discovered that, to my mother, the only thing worse than having a fat daughter was having a goth daughter.

Now, this is something I still don’t understand. My parents were the generation that grew up in the satanic panic of the 80s. As an adult I discovered my stepdad, who was obsessed with Ozzy Osborne as a teenager, found himself part of a small town scandal involving satanic rituals when he was in high school. The rumors were obviously never true, and we all know that satanic imagery was just Gen X’s way of conveying shock value and rebellion. But to have lived through that, with that knowledge, and still think there was something genuinely wrong with me for claiming my own version of it is just....fucking asinine to me. But honestly that whole experience is another story entirely.

Back to my point, one day I was clothes shopping with my mom at target. (I’ll preface this story by telling you this was the last time I stepped foot in a target with another person until I was 19 years old. And even then, he just showed up and I nearly had a panic attack.) She and I had went to try stuff on and she barged into the changing room behind me. I begged her to get out, that I wanted privacy. She demanded to see how the jeans fit. They didn’t. I already knew they wouldn’t when I went in there and knew what she’d say when she found out. She berated me, loudly, about how the seams were going to burst. How she couldn’t believe I couldn’t even button a pair of pants. When I had been sufficiently reduced to a crying mess on a changing room floor she slipped out and sweetly told me to let her know how everything else looked. This is what she does, brings you to your lowest point and then suddenly turn on this sickly sweet charm. It simultaneously drives it all home and makes you look insane for being upset. My father does the same thing. I’ve never been able to tell who learned it from who.

It was about this time that MySpace became a thing. Mom knew I had one but was too naive to ever look at it. Social media felt like a safe haven to me. It had my music, my friends. I could obsess over whatever new band was breaking onto the scene. I could be myself without ridicule. Until one night, anyway. A cousin of mine had seen my page, reported it to my grandmother, who immediately called mom to tell her she needed to look at the “sick shit” I was posted on the Internet. My mother burst into the room, threw me out of my chair, and proceeded to pour over my profile. It was all studded belts and black lipstick. My profile song was “My Sweet 666” by HIM. My sexual orientation was listed as bi. My mother and I both very nearly stroked the fuck out as she took it all in.

My brain, in a last ditch effort to save itself, has repressed most of the conversation that night. I’m thankful for that. It’s a lot of the reason I’ve never really told anyone what happened that night - I can’t fucking remember it. But I do remember my mother telling me how disgusting it would be to be bisexual, and how even if I was (and she was adamant that I couldn’t possibly know what it even meant), it would never be something to admit out loud. This was her moment to tell me all the horrible things she had ever thought about me. I don’t remember what all was said, but I remember lying on the floor begging for her to stop. That I loved her. That I was sorry I wasn’t what she wanted. She never stopped. Eventually, she came to my weight. Again, I don’t remember it all verbatim but I do remember being told that I ever did was “eat and gorge and eat and gorge.” To this day, I can still hear those words when I look in the mirror. Ive spent a lot of time shoving them out of my head, but my god are they loud sometimes.

We moved to the lake when I was 12. My mom had recently had my younger sister and was working 5am to well past midnight some nights. That left me and my stepdad at home. My school bus would only drop us off at the end of the road but my stepdad refused to pick me up like the other parents did. He told me it would be good for me to get the exercise and walk. Our house sat at the end of a 2 mile long gravel road. The heat rose well over 100° daily. I was head to toe in long, black layers. I passed out on that walk more than once. Even when I did make it to the house, he would lock the doors and windows. He told me to go run laps and when he felt like I had done enough, he would let me in the house. He was going to force the weight off of me if he had to.

I told my mother more than once and she either outright denied it, refused to deal with it, or sided with my stepfather. She sings a much different tune now that their marriage has fallen apart and she’s searching for reasons to hate him, but the fact remains...it was abuse. Neither of them ever actually cooked so I survived off of energy drinks and crackers. Mom would come into my room, find the wrappers, and tell me I would be 300lbs one day if I don’t stop funneling food into my face. It didn’t matter what I did though, the weight wouldn’t leave. This was partly due to the fact that I was fucking 12 years old, and partly due to the fact that, to all of our surprise, I had a thyroid condition. I also had faulty ovaries which only further threw off my hormonal balance. The rest of that summer they were kind to me. Shoved food at me, coddled me. I always imagined it was because they felt guilty. But it didn’t last.

That summer I moved back to my dad’s. Up until this point my father had always firmly been on my side in this battle against my mother. That changed immediately. He put me on the Atkins diet and I felt like I was dying every day. Fuck, I even gained weight. I resorted myself to the fact that I would never have a happy home life but school would be different. I didn’t take into account that I had just stepped back into a small town and I looked like an extra on a Marilyn Manson music video shoot. People I’d known since preschool, who all claimed to be excited to have me back, ostracized me in one glance. I was goth, I’d gotten fat, and I was immediately tossed in the reject pile. I attempted suicide for the first time that night, a month shy of my 13th birthday.

A lot of things happened in my teen years that aren’t entirely worth mentioning here because it’s all the same. My dad started looking into plastic surgeons because he was sure I would have grotesque, loose skin once I finally lost weight. He also became fixated on the idea that I must have something wrong with me because “all that extra weight has to be putting strain on your organs. You have to have diabetes or damage to your heart.” I was taken to every doctor in the tristate area it seemed, searching for a condition that was simply never there. When a doctor would start questioning his reasoning for this, we would move to another doctor. I’m not saying I was a victim of Munchausens by proxy, I’m just saying the line was getting a little blurry. We never found a problem with my heart but it all later manifested as crippling hypochondria.

Eventually I just started blocking it all out. I stopped engaging when someone called me fat and started focusing on just getting the fuck away from them all. I refused to put myself down, out loud at least. I was going to train my brain to love the body it inhabited. And I did, kind of, for a while. I realized I never really had an issue with my body. I had an issue with everyone else having an issue with my body. Therapists, teachers, friends, family. Everybody felt the need to make a comment. And looking back, I nearly throw up. I was barely overweight. I was 150lbs when my father had me do my first glucose test. I will never understand how someone can become so fucking obsessed with the size of other people.

All of this was going pretty well until I went back to working at the haunted house. When you’ve spent years disciplining your brain into not hating everything about yourself, you stop hating other people too. You become a little kinder, a little softer. I was still new to this though and my newfound confidence was fragile at best. My new family quickly started to remind me of my old one. They were negative, toxic people. They were bitter at the way life had panned out for them and projected that onto everyone around them. No one was safe, and no one was your friend. When you’ve been on red alert since birth, you learn to recognize this pretty quick. So again, I just didn’t engage. I heard the horrible things they’d say but I let it roll off. The one time, in a moment of unbridled rage that I did stand up, I was immediately shot down. They pretended to handle the cause of the problem, but they looked at me with distain. It pissed them off that they had to take time out of their day to deal with a fat girl. They never said anything to me directly, but they always made sure I was in earshot. If I didn’t want to be called a whale, lose weight it’s not that hard. Stop being so sensitive. A stronger me would’ve said something. Burned the place down. Something. But I felt defeated. I was exhausted. These were supposed to be my friends and no one, NO ONE stepped up for me. It became crystal clear to me that no one would ever defend me in this life. All that negativity started to creep in, no matter how hard I fought it.

But I did fall in love at the haunt. And for a while he made me feel beautiful. I remember telling a friend of mine that it was the first time I’d ever felt comfortable sitting naked in front of someone without posing. But it brought to light a lot of insecurities I didn’t realize I was still hanging on to. He used to ask me to model lingerie for him anytime I bought it. I remember feeling overwhelming flattered that he would even want to see it, but also fucking terrified. So I refused, no matter how badly I wanted to do it. He eventually stopped asking, and my anxiety riddled brain concluded that it was because he didn’t find me sexy anymore. This idea backed by the fact that he only told me I was beautiful or that he loved me when he was drunk. He remained friends with the people at the haunt who put me down. I was left to assume he agreed with them. I want it to be known I don’t blame him for this. He had no idea what I was dealing with or where it all came from. I was afraid to have the conversation and my inability to do so is my own fault. He did the best he knew how to with what I gave him. I know that.

Sex has always made me feel empowered. It felt like a reclamation of my body. It was truly my liberation, but it would also be my downfall. To be as sexual as I am, I often don’t enjoy sex. I can never do the things I want to do, take control the way I want to, cum the way I want to, if I cum at all. I am forever thinking of what I might look like to them. What I smell like, what I move like. A fun side effect of severe hormonal imbalance is hirsutism, skin conditions, thinning hair. So not only am I fat, I’m hairy AF, have acne, and the hair that I do want is falling out. Do you know how fucking mortifying it feels to not be able to let a guy grab your ass because you know you haven’t fucking shaved it recently? And even when you do the window for feeling hairless is smalllll. My ex boyfriend probably only truly grabbed my ass a handful of times (there’s a pun there somewhere). But I couldn’t have that conversation with him. Wouldn’t. This is why I got into cosmetology so early. Fuck, it’s why I got into the tattoo industry too if I’m honest. If you don’t like the house, you paint the fucking walls right? It was just another (and admittedly much healthier) way of reclaiming my body.

If I am not the height of femininity, if I don’t ooze sex appeal and porn star magic, they won’t want me. I started placing a lot of my self worth in how sexually desirable I could be. Sex, at best, is an ego boost. And not a very good one. Since becoming single I’ve come into contact with a menagerie of men. They too have all had something to say. And they all play on a loop in my head. Here’s a list:

- “I’ve been with women with perfect bodies and ya know *side eye* not so perfect bodies.”

- “Ya know, if you were just a few inches taller you’d actually have a decent body.”

- “You remind me of Lardi B and she’s hot. I’m really into big girls. Send me a picture of your fat pussy.”

- “You know you’re a catfish, right?”

- “I’ll fuck anything, I used to hate fat chicks but honestly if you wanna fuck I’d be down.”

- “I secretly have a thing for bigger girls, but I’d never date one.”

I’ve shot down every invitation to hook up for the past year. I get on tinder for 5 seconds, immediately hear that catfish line in my head, and close back out again. I’ve stopped wearing makeup unless I have to. I dress in leggings and oversized tunics almost daily. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have an eating disorder but have discussed it with no one. I do not know how to proceed from this point. I’m not at my lowest, but I’m somewhere close. My insecurities are my own problem but I don’t know how to get the reassurance I need without making it somebody else’s. But telling someone to call me beautiful, to gas me up, to put my mind at ease negates the point. I can’t place my self esteem in someone else’s hands. But my healing requires the ability to have that conversation. And that’s the hardest part.

I’m a grown woman now and my mother still grabs my double chin, just in case I forgot it was there. She still balks at my stretch marks. She recently told me she admired me for the way I dress. Said if she was my size she could never because she would be too ashamed. It was meant as a compliment. Funny how backhanded those can be sometimes. I think about her a lot and what kind of mother I would want to be. Both of my parents struggled with eating disorders. My mom still does. I know it’s the root of all her criticism. But I don’t want to be her. I don’t want to project my own trauma into my children one day. I think a lot about what I would say to 7 year old me. I’ve written her letters. Told her I was sorry for not loving her, for not being kinder. That it wasn’t her fault that the adults in her life failed her. I think of what I would say to a daughter. To a son. I like to imagine that I tell them these stories one day and they look at me in disbelief. I want self love to be so deeply ingrained that the concept of body shaming is unrealistic to them. But I can’t give them what I don’t have. So for now, I’ll work on that.

There is no real conclusion to this tale, I just needed to bitch for a minute.

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