An Immortals Tale
The March to Heaven
"Long Boring Excuses"
"Hey!" Jon called after the girl, but she picked up her pace, repeating something the immortal couldn't hear. As she further distanced herself from him he tried to give chase, but it was obvious his body was not ready for that kind of exertion, just yet. Three shuffling steps and one more 'Hey!' Was all he could get out before he collapsed, face first into the harsh and unforgiving pavement. As he laid there he could finally take tally of all the broken bones and other oozing wounds that decorated his body. Just like his chase, it was short and he succumbed to unconsciousness.
After some time he was aware that his body was being moved, but could do nothing about it. He was also aware of a few voices muttering about help, another advising to just let him die. Then the dreams began. Horrid and bloody, his city covered in smoke and ash, the sky above in flames as the angels battled their own and every other kind of creature. The people around him, not running and screaming and seeking shelter, were staring at the war above them, in either horror or disbelief. Jon screamed at them to run as bolts of blue and gold lightning fell to earth, ripping the world asunder, tearing the people to streams of blood and gore. They didn't hear him.
His face was hit with the remains of a person, and he gasped awake, trying to sit up, but unable. As Jon tried to slow his breathing he took stock of where he was. Leather straps over his chest, hips, and legs held him tight to a small cot. Iron cuffs bit into his wrists, separating his powers from him. Gray concrete walls held no windows or decorations, save for a few decaying posters of a tv show about zombies that had ended years ago. A few fluorescent lamps hung close to the ceiling gave the room, and apparently his naked body, a bluish glow. Though his throat was hoarse and dry, he worked up enough saliva to croak out a "Hello?"
In a room nearby something got dropped and two voices played through the doorway that was put of Jons view.
"Oh, my! He's awake!"
"Yes, Marea, he is."
"Aw, and now he knows my name!"
"Yes, Marea, he does. You can't lie to a paladin, anyways, so it'd be pointless to try."
"Well, I wasn't gonna."
"Of course not, dear."
Jon was more than confused, but was trying to be friendly. He was, of course, at the disadvantage, "Uh. My name is Jon. And...it'd be very nice to meet...You. If that's alright." He even smiled after he said it, hoping to add to the friendly demeanor. The voice not belonging to Marea spoke above his head, "Do you know who we are?" Jon tried to twist his head to get a look at the woman, but couldn't, "I'm guessing... Attuned. Seeing how they always exist in twos."
"Very good, Paladin. You-" "Jon. My name is Jon. I'm a paladin, but, my name is just Jon." it took a moment for the woman to continue, "Okay, Jon, cut the bullsh-" "I'm sorry. I didn't get your name." "Uh. Saena." Jon was holding out that the Attuned were as sensitive to the needs of others as he'd heard, "Saena. I like that. Listen, if you could please untie me I-" "Oh, we'll be doing nothing of the sort. You were in league with those other Angels." The restrained immortal tried to figure out which ones, "You're gonna have to be a little more specific. I'm in contact with a lot of angels."
Finally the woman to whom the voice belonged to stepped into his line of sight, "The ones that turned you into what you are now, Jon. Those monstrosities." Jon mimicked a nod as best he could, "Those guys. Yeah. They're all gone, now." He studied her, short, medium build, long hair, almost to the back of her legs, and tanned skin. Bright green eyes peered out from under her dark brow and ebony hair, seeking the lie in his voice. The immortals patience was beginning to wear thin with the two women.
He took a long breath and let it out, and was about to begin his story "Yes, I was involved with the Seraphs, but I-" "I believe you. But I'm not cutting you loose, just yet. I've got to get word from the proper authorities." Jon felt a cold worry begin to grow in his stomach, "Wait. What do you mean 'proper authorities'?" It was her turn to explain, but it was her turn to be interrupted, the door was knocked on. "Whatever you're about to say would probably be a list of long, boring excuses and I'd rather not hear it. I called the church."
Worry turned to panic as the other woman came from beyond his vision to answer the door, dry washing her hands as she went, "Oh. I hope it's the men here to clear up what's going on. Does anyone smell frankincense?" Her hand touched the handle as Jon screamed out, recognizing the scent, "Don't open the door!" But it was already done. Two preachers with silver crosses and beads around their necks walked in, looking directly at Jon, reaching into their robes as he screamed again, "They're Spriggan! RUN!"
