#with adatiel

[conquestofuriel]

September's Strike

Date: End of August Location: Former Asphodel House Characters: @conquestofuriel , @azraclx , @pestilencedumah , @adatiiel Note: MINI SELF PARA. Not a starter because there's too many of us bitches and little time BUT feel free to reblog with a general reaction or just to reblog

Hyrsam's stunt was unfortunate to say the least. Uriel wouldn't speak of it, not now. Time was running out until the Senate acted on the Necromanteion and it was clear now that The Eye had done nothing to stop what plagued the Seraphim, no matter what Michael had asked of them in turn for his assistance. So then it truly was time to send a plague of their own.

The four Seraphim congregated in the home that they had conquered for themselves. Uriel explained how hope for Michael, patience for Ulthar, recruitment of refusing Fallens and a certain fey's company and tranquility had distracted him from the mercilessness that they needed to show, just as they once had in the past. Collateral damage could no longer be something that bothered him, just as it never was before. He asked Azrael to sharpen his blades and Adatiel to prepare herself. Uriel explained how he'd spoken to Robin and gave their Autumn fey ally the opportunity to protect her own now. Conquest then produced a folder of what information he had compiled of The Eye headquarters from sources and from Iskander Binici's own information. Then he addressed Dumah. He smiled wrly to his younger brother as he asked him to explain what had been on his mind since last they spoke. The four would then begin and end that day with discussion.

[xastarothx]

        a gift for @adatiiel,

notes: adatiel is just universally loved by all her siblings and i think that’s neat

          They’ve always looked upon Adatiel with fondness, as all their siblings had, and Astaroth often wonders if their shared sentiment stems from her neutral territory. Their celestial powers had been plucked from the cosmos and pieced together with a purpose. Michael was the first Blade, but others such as Astaroth had followed; they’d not been sanguinary creatures but they’d spilled ichor and blood; watched as the earth turned from sulfuric pestilence to a place which mortals would come to thrive. The Discordia was a scribe who wrought new beginnings, but Adatiel was a harbinger of something else entirely, the whisper of a finite end. “I can only hope you’re not here on Ulthar’s decree,” there’s jest in Roth’s voice though curiosity spills forth in tandem. Adatiel is privy to matters beyond what even Roth could understand, the intricacies of what is yet to unfold in the world; if the scribes have yet to command their will to paper, Adatiel is the closing of the curtain, the final say to the world which is hanging on by mere threads.

[shadowseveron]

Time: Right after the Blessed brought down the water towers, right after the Soratami invasion Location: An apartment complex nearby the water tower Characters: @adatiiel & @shadowseveron

The Soratami had bolstered Lloth's efforts and made every bit of difference when it came to the technological advances Severon expected to make for their people. But the Moonfolk could not supply him with what a seraphim would, not even those ancient beings had that sort of soul. And so with strengthened magic and weaponry stolen, the Artificer took to a renewed plan. When he learned through Somniar's rats of what was planned, it was important to get it all done sooner rather than later - before their full celestial strength returned. He waited only a few hours. The four seraphim were seperated now, each apparently tasked with their own responsibility. It might have been nice to be able to disrupt it all had Severon not realized that it would be useless in the end - so he let Adatiel finish as he prepared the trap. It would surely be after her victory that she'd be the most vulnerable - all confident and joyful and eager to meet up again with her siblings.

But the sweet angel of peaceful death, surely she wouldn't be able to resist the call of a dying child. A poor, abandoned human child, one the drow had taken from a far away hospital and who had no chance of survival. And then one of Somniar's humans, a mindflayer within them. The controlled adult played her part, praying over the wailing child in a nearby apartment he had commandeered that morning. Severon remained far from this, awaiting to attack the seraphim with a few warriors of Lloth at his side should Adatiel not fall for the trap. And if she did, the angel would have no power to leave the room once she entered and had remained for a few seconds.

"Finally-" The woman gasped, opening the door after the knock. The seraphim had arrived. Severon thought through everything that she needed to say in real time, connecting to the mindflayer with his own technology. "Are you the new in-home nurse?" Tears streamed down her eyes as she cradled the wailing child. "Please, please he's in pain. I don't know what to do. I don't know what he wants. Please come in."

[viktorofada]

@adatiiel location: Rome's Ruins notes: Love u mom

Good and evil. Viktor hadn't taken it seriously when Adatiel had said that to him, but then again he'd never seen a real battle. He'd fought, he'd trained, and he'd hurt his fairshare of people but this warzone had dissolved into anarchy and chaos. Harellan had shown him his mother, but by the time Viktor had broken away it was too late, everything was coming undone and there was nothing but panic and fear in the place of where certainty had once been.

A ripple of lightning, a flash of blonde, and then Viktor was running. "Mom!" Came the nephilim's shout as he forgot about the fighting entirely and pushed his way through the crowds and forced his way towards Adatiel. "Mom!" He shouted again- he'd feared- he'd thought- tears streamed as Viktor stumbled and lost his balance mid run, only to regain it and keep going.

[pestilencedumah]

@adatiiel location: Court of Drow notes: missed u sis

As far as Dumah was concerned, Adatiel was the only one among the Blessed that was worth a damn. Death followed Pestilence, they were younger than the others, and their proximity made it so he understood the burden that she carried best of all. Uriel charged in, Azrael swept the field, Dumah whispered over the remains, and then Adatiel carried them away. He hadn't been able to believe that something as common as a drow had managed to capture her, but the call of her Grace wasn't something that was easily stilled. What drow he'd found and tortured had spilled the rest, a seraphim hidden in the bowels of the former Fairy Court, his sister attacked after she'd aided in a birth. All the pieces were there.

The great bulk of the drow's forces were elsewhere, in Rome where they'd been battling endless. In a great flex of power, and a flourishing display of the might of a Blessed, he bore through the drow's boundaries and landed amidst the laboratory that fell to pieces around him. Death was rejecting everything, but his seraph blades embedded the things that he came across, pinned them to the ground before he broke apart Adatiel's cell.

"Oh Ada-" Dumah breathed, the others needed them, perhaps now more than ever. The final battle had begun, and their forces had been diminished long enough. No other Blessed had come to Rome, Ganymede had arrived but was as useless as ever. Ulthar was not here: it was just them, alone. "can you stand?" Can you fight?

[sincreator]

starter for @adatiiel event: Midsommar Night's Dream

"You wouldn't mind if I used that on you, would you, my sweet Adatiel?" the cake resting on top of the tray was practically stuck in place, not moving one bit. The fallen seraphim rolled her eyes, then. Would this really be how the blessed spend their time? "Let me guess: Azrael made you agree to this." Atarniel nudged her blessed sister, "or are you just here to lighten everyone's mood?"

[fearnabi]

closed starter for @adatiiel location: parco savello note: *taylor lautner voice* dream dream dream dream-

Nabi often found herself in her own little world. Well, in actuality, it was a massive world that she played out in her head far too much. Her mother had always told her it wasn't normal how much she ended up daydreaming, but there was a whole life she felt like she was missing out on. She was halfblooded when she wanted to be a fey. She deserved to be one if her mother was, but instead she was left with all of these human emotions that she couldn't quite comprehend. Fear was one of them. The park was not where she liked to frequent because of it, but her mind would wander on her way to work. Then she would end up there and at a loss for how she had gotten there in the first place. That was how she had ended up there now at least and everyone around her felt scared of something. She could feel it radiating off of them, but it wasn't her place to take it away or make it better. Doing it for herself barely worked because it always ended up coming back. The faiman stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, there was someone there and she was not in the same spot. "Oh. Hello. Did I just..." She pointed in the direction she thought she had come from. "I guess I got all turned around," she stated with a laugh.

[fxllenpythia]

@adatiiel​

The smiley face was a clever move, one that brought a hitch of a smile to Adatiel's mouth even as their search turned up empty. Being the angel of death meant that she reaped everyone who fell, allegiance didn't matter when their days came to an end. She wasn't to fight, her hands didn't call for violence as she was the result of whatever came to be. Adatiel often satisfied her whims, whenever she wished to see someone she did. It was why she felt that a conversation with her wayward sister was long overdue. "Are you happy with the wraiths that you trapped within your walls? Spirits that remain and grow in vengeance can become a dangerous weapon. The spirits are very angry with you."

_

Was she? Happy? As if to make crystal clear, Pythia's smile grew to maniacal proportions, the feint giggle that slipped between her lips eerie at best, and horrifying in the shape it took. "Sister, don't take it so personally. If anything, you should be rather grateful that I led you right to them. The pesky little things." Those that lingered within the walls, wraiths that screamed endlessly, clawing at every sense of humanity that remained, every ounce of their blood riddled empathy had risen as a symphony in the halls of the Asphodel. "Angry? At me?" The pout that settled against porcelain skin feigned innocence that would never look quite right, "Then consider their anger a gift, in the efforts you and the rest of them should make to try and stop me. I daresay, you'll need it."

_

"I don't need your help to find the dead" what ego but Pythia did always carry one, spirits have always beckoned her and she is the angel that is there in the last moment of life. Adatiel was to not be confused with a guardian angel as she did not protect nor decide who lived and died, merely knew when their time had come to an end, when the hourglass had finally run out. Those that died while being tormented or moments of great emotional impact became wraths. As someone who holds death and life in equal care, it is difficult for the seraphim to accept such cruelty. "I wish to hear it from your lips sister, tell me how you wish for this to all end. Do you really wish for darkness to blot out the world?"

_

“No? You’ll have to forgive me for my lacking faith in your.. abilities.” For a millennia, so many of her kind - their kind had done little more than squalor their potential. Bending to the whims of a father who cared for lesser creatures before his own children. Sighing heavily, something more of contentment than anything else, the Pythia smiled quietly to herself. “And why shouldn’t it?” Tongue clicked against her teeth and the brunette eyed the other with irate mischief, cold and calculating - unyielding. “Because daddy dearest said so? They’ve done little but squander the world given to them. Destroyed and plundered a place they’ve never sought to earn. I say, - burn it all to hell.”

[seraphimichael]

@adatiiel​ location: who knows in this great mysterious beyond we call life notes: family things

The little sister who wore death like a cloak, gentle and kind. One of the last of their kind to be created, it was Adatiel’s fate to stand at the edge of creation and close the curtain when all was said and done. Michael, eternal as he was, did not envy the fate that rest upon her shoulders. “When last I spoke to Uriel he was resigned to burn this reduce this realm to ash as we did in the past, rip out mortality root and stem and start again. Or start something new.” Michael thought of Nathaniel, he’d never thought that things would become so dire in the nephilim’s lifetime but a choice was barrelling towards him: to choose between one family or another. He’d failed Lucifer once, the sibling who’d refused to kneel was struck down for it. If Michael had done more... if he’d convinced them to see the light, maybe things would have been different. He needed to do better this time, somehow. “Where do you stand on things? I am not yet convinced that this world is beyond our saving.”

[hayliel]

closed starter for @adatiiel​

Why had they decided to stop by Hell’s Bells of all places? Hayliel was sure that there were other establishments these seraphim could find themselves in. It almost seemed pointed that they were wandering in here. If he saw another one of them, he was absolutely positive he would try and pack up and go off to a different country. He would make sure to bring Yavie with him so the eladrin wasn’t upset about it. Or he would ask at least. As he finished singing Bohemian Rhapsody, he hopped down off of the staged and walked over to the blessed. “Why are you here?” There was regular music playing now that had faded into the background as he looked at her. It wasn’t that he hated them. It was just that he would rather talk to literally anyone else in the world than them.

[fearnabi]

@adatiiel

[ezekielurquhart]

@adatiiel location: Rooftop ruins somewhere, midday notes: feel the sun on ur face bb boy

Time under the light of day felt rare these days, the clouds were too thick most often from the smog coming off the industries established by the Great Old Ones, and if that wasn't the case then there were too many demons, lithids, or serpents patrolling the skies to be outside. Perched on a roof overlooking a dilapidated city, overgrown by nature and vines, Ezekiel muttered indistinctly to Rhiannon. Seemingly having an argument with himself as the ravenskull necklace hung on his chest.

"I know- I know-" Ezekiel muttered before he heard the footsteps and felt the seraphim's familiar presence. Adatiel was a welcome face, death on vacation again, wasn't that neat? "Oh, hey. Here for the view?"

[thanatcsx]

@adatiiel​ location: the HOSPITAL notes: mentee connect

Death wore a violent mask, so many feared the other side - and to some that fear was justified. Divine creations had forged prisons like the Inferno and Elysia, but even these had fates that were written in the stars. Adatiel was a seraphim, the pale rider that came at the end of war and famine. An old friend, even she was not without her fate. “It’s a shame you’re forced to hide your true face,” Thanatos commented, though he had no problem perceiving the creature that lived beneath mortal bones. “but I can appreciate this one too.” People died everyday in the hospital, all over the world really, fate was never fair. It didn’t care if you were good, or if you tried. It didn’t care who wanted and who hated. The wheel didn’t want for anything, it couldn’t, no more than the river wanted or the mountain. 

[conquestofuriel]

Time: Night Location: Outskirts of Rome Characters: @adatiiel & @conquestofuriel

He knew her when he saw her, and he’d finally found his last sibling. Or rather... she’d found him. “Ada,” Uriel greeted, his lips curling into a soft smile. The final Seraphim, the one who would clean up the mess of what they began. How appropriate that he’d find her over a corpse. A human that he’d been obliged to dispose of, a human that had been unfortunately taken by a demon whom Uriel suspected had ties to Leviathan. The Seraph blade faded to light as he walked past the body. “Finally. It took you long enough to find a vessel, sister. I was beginning to worry for you.”

[viktorofada]

@adatiiel location: home sweet home, somewhere not in Rome notes: Flashback because she in prison, maybe a few days before she went to Rome

Viktor didn't go home as often as he should have, maybe he was a bit of a disappointment in that regard, but he still went home. Rather, called his mom who was never far away by virtue of her own telepathy. By moral standards he wouldn't have called himself good, from everything that Adatiel had begrudgingly told him about her siblings it didn't sound like any of them were particularly good. Maybe she was the exception, pallor and death, her candour made a great deal of sense when you took that into consideration.

A blade in hand, Viktor moved and turned it with practiced grace and ease. He remembered the face that she had made when he'd conjured his first seraph blade, proud in a motherly way, but sad in the sense that she'd have to watch him potentially follow in her family's footsteps. "Mom," the blade blade dissipated, "I wasn't expecting you." He smiled and moved towards the seraphim to embrace her.

[pestilencedumah]

@adatiiel​ location: adatiel’s place notes: younger sibling bonding

“Ulthar sent us here to put a stop to everything.” Dumah commented, truthfully it didn’t feel like they’d done much of anything, Michael wouldn’t lead them, and the others were more distracted than Pestilence had seen them before. He wasn’t complaining, it more or less meant that Dumah could do whatever he wanted, but they’d all seen apocalypses before, it should have been clear to anyone paying attention what was going to happen. Conquest and War were violence incarnate, reverent in their attempts to gain their father’s favour and fulfill his missive - Pallor and Pestilence came after. They knew that things did not end with a bang, but a whisper. “How do you think this is going to turn out?”