In the Time of Pestilence

She remembered it all.

Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.

“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.

Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.

Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.

The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.

"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.

Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."

A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”

“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.

Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.

The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"

“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.

Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.

Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.

“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”

The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.

“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.

Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.

Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.

Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”

“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.

Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.

Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.

Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.

Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.

A Respite From the Flood

I walked into the Library from the flooded streets, wearing a heavy duty, waterproof HazMat suit. It was clunky and heavy, but it kept out the toxic floodwaters, the overflowing sewage, and the floating debris. Lorne was there with Brianna, talking to Grr and taking a respite from the constant downpour. “Well, less sulfuric acid left, and more nothing but lead sulfate,” Lorne mused, “Still....” He turned toward me, knitting his brow. “Are you wearing a powered hard suit, Joah?”

GrrBrool grinned, “Ah, how’s tha HazMat suit workin Spirit Gal?” I met Grr’s eyes as he grinned at me with obvious delight and probably a bit of bemusement at the contrast between my pinned up pigtails and the Hazmat suit. I was lost in his deep, golden gaze for a moment.

Brianna giggled something about me be being half robo-man, while I tried to determine whether I could actually sit in one the of the armchairs while wearing the suit. The lining had begun to itch dreadfully, but I was reluctant to take the whole thing off in case I needed to venture out into the floodwaters again. “It’s a HazMat suit, Lorne, and it’s working well, actually. Of course the water still comes up to my shoulders....”

Lorne held His hand to about the level of my neck in His field of vision. “Bit of a larger percentage than that, methinks. That's for the water?”

I nodded again, deciding to stand rather than attempt a chair. “What were you saying about acids, Lorne?” I asked, moving closer to Grr and laying a hand on the small of his back.

“Bri here lugs a car battery about in her pack, Joah,” Grr smiled. “Must be what gived her those calves….”

Brianna is cute, very cute. Cuddly and adorable, almost. But she is a Shadow. And as Grr so often reminds me, one can only trust the Shadows to be what they are. Brianna had been reading in the Library, studying books on the effects of electrocution. She’d been most eager to find “patients” to try her theories out on. I turned toward her. “Umm…is your experiment working, Bri?"

Brianna began pouting with sweet, pink lips. “Well…with all this water it is hard to find a patient, and I've been fighting skeleton men all day.” She shivered, “Cold, icky water all over....” Grr and I had treated many of those who had been injured in the floodwaters. The level of debris, sewage and chemical contaminants…not to mention the blood bath contamination and the unearthed decomposing bodies…had created a toxic soup that poured into many of the buildings in the City, including the Library. I looked Bri over, but she seemed to be unharmed. She flicked her tail back and forth, giving a slight yawn.

Lorne looked up to Grr, then to me. “Did you collect Warhammer figurines at some point?”

“I knew a guy that used a hammer,” Grr replied, “But, I dont think thats whatcha mean….” I leaned my head on Grr’s arm, turning toward the fire as I did so, studying the blaze in the hearth to make sure it was still burning brightly. “We had an engineer, from tha Feline Corps, who wore somethin like that,” Grr continued. “Tha FURF's had some funny ideas, but they got stuck in, no slackers, well fer kits at least.”

“What is Warhammer, Lorne?” I asked.

Lorne blinked, His expression becoming more present. “Warhammer is a table-top game of strategy played with miniatures, many of them wearing powered armor.”

“Oh,” Grr, mused, “Tactical simulation trainin, i getcha…”

“I'm unfamiliar with such games, Lorne.” I continued to gaze into the fire, causing it to lick up brightly and boil the water around it. Two sets of dark eyes could barely be seen among the logs, two small heads, and two red and orange tails. There was scampering as I directed the flame, until one of the logs shifted slightly, emitting a shower of sparks.

Grr wrapped his arm around me briefly and whispered. “I never get tired of watchin yer fire-critters, Spirit Gal.” I hugged him in return, then shifted around to face Lorne and Brianna.

Lorne smiled at me. “Yes. Somehow, when I look at you, weighing all that I am aware of in your person, the first thing that comes to mind is not ‘This is a person who likely enjoys collecting small metal figurines for the purpose of painting them intricately, and simulating intergalactic wars.’”

Grr looked puzzled, “Err…what do ya think, then, Lorne?”

I lifted my head from Grr’s arm. “Yes, Lorne…what do you think?”

Lorne turned His head slightly down and back, looking sidelong at the Grr and me with a demurring smile. “Ah, but that would be telling.”