Chapter Text
After Hell and Heaven became best friends, the exorcist army's existence became symbolic. It continued on pure momentum; thousands of angels didn't have anything else going for them, so they just stayed.
Lute continued training the newbies. Exorcists continued saluting to her, continued executing her orders, continued reporting to the new head of the army on the daily basis.
Abel showed up sometimes, always with Saint Peter by his side, the mumbling pissboy that he is. The sight of him, painfully his father, plagued Lute's mind. She bowed before him, an instinct.
Lute didn't know what to do with herself. The rage rattled inside her bones but it always came up against that vision. Abel, in his exorcist mask, demanding her to step down.
Lute bites her lower lip until it draws blood. Her spear punctures the training dummy right through; the clanking sounds of exorcists sparring keep going. Lute tries to get the spear out, but it gets stuck.
"Fuck!" she yells, kicking the dummy. It topples over. No one pays her any mind. They're used to it. They know better.
"Fuck!" she yells again. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
The anger bubbles, boils, and burns. Lute squeezes her own hair and drops on her knees. "Fuck!!" it rips though her throat. Mortifyingly, she feels tears start to well up.
"Fuck!"
Lute slaps herself across her face. It burns. The pain doesn't register; she's fucking dead already, she doesn't need to breathe! What the fuck is wrong with her!
"Fuck!!! FUCK!"
Tears start sliding down her face, mixing with snot and her golden blood. She must look disgusting. Adam would've been so disappointed.
"Pull yourself together, you whiny bitch," he had once told her, way back in the beginning, when she wasn't his right hand yet. She had been on the floor, sobbing, pathetic, just like now.
But now there's no Adam to tell her to calm down.
Lute curls up on the ground and sobs, pulling on her hair.
Exorcists keep sparring.
*
"Emily."
Lute catches the Seraphim by her hand, getting out of the shadowy corner. Emily yelps and tries escaping; Lute winces and lets her go. Then Emily realizes it's just her and laughs, sheepish.
"Oh! Lute! Sorry I yelled," she looks apologetic. Lute can't wrap her mind around a Seraphim apologizing to filth under her shoes. She brushes past it, too far gone to make any effort to understand anything anymore.
"I think I'm sick," she gets straight to the point.
Emily looks immediately worried. Her smile drops; she approaches Lute and takes her hand into hers. Lute thinks to push her away but immediately stops that train of thought. What the fuck? Are you thinking of rejecting a Seraphim?
"Abel doesn't piss me off anymore."
Emily blinks at her. "Um. Good?"
Emily's fingers are cold. Lute haven't touched any other angels before, only the winners, and they're humans, so... it's interesting.
She thinks if Adam was cold or warm.
"So... uh... does anything hurt? Have you been eating? Sleeping well?"
Lute frowns. She already told Emily why she thinks she's sick.
"Abel doesn't piss me off anymore, Emily. I think I caught something."
Emily blinks at her again. Her wings flutter.
"You don't actively hate Abel anymore, and you think it's because of an illness?"
Lute nods. Emily hums.
"... Right."
They stand there, holding hands. Lute feels annoyance fill her up.
"So, are you going to help me? Or should I—"
"What do you feel about him now?"
Lute stops mid-sentence. That catches her off-guard. What does that have anything to do with her situation?
"Well, he's kind of competent. He doesn't fuck things up as much anymore. I don't want to kill him, I think. When he talks to me, I don't want him to stop."
Emily looks more and more elated the more Lute talks. Lute feels like she's missing something. Does Emily want her to die of this? She knew Seraphim wasn't as innocent as she pretended to be.
"... or something. I don't know. I think I need medication?"
Emily hugs her, then, and screeches into her ear, excited. "I knew there was a softie inside that snarl, Lute! You'll figure it out, I promise."
Then Emily lets her go and flies up into the air, smiling. "You're not sick, so don't worry. See you around!"
Then she flies off, leaving Lute alone, confused, and kinda angry.
*
Lute keeps trying to find a cure. She asks everyone. She goes everywhere. She talks to fucking Sir Pentious, for fuck's sake!
They all act exactly like Emily and run off, giggling. Fucking weirdos. They all should kill themselves.
She tries to avoid Abel because that weird fucking swelling inside her chest gets worse around him. He's definitely infected her with something. Fucking Abel.
It's harder than it needs to be, Abel being her literal boss and all.
He starts coming to morning drills and keeps trying to talk to her. Lute tries to muster that snark that was easy when Adam was around, but it just doesn't come. She just looks at his stupid face and listens to his stupid voice.
It drives her up the wall.
*
"Lute, have you been saying anything about me to anyone?" Abel asks her one morning, while they're watching exorcists go through their drills. His voice is calm and kinda annoying, like always. But there's something weird in it.
Lute's whole body locks up. Her spine straightens. "No, sir. I don't know what you're talking about."
Who was the fucking asshole that ratted her escapade around heaven to the only person they weren't supposed to? She's going to make them suffer.
"It's just that... everyone is looking at me weird, and like... giggling? And asking about you. So I thought..."
"No, sir. Please don't pay attention. They're fucking weirdos that put their nose into business that has nothing to do with them."
Abel backs off, frowning. His lips purse. "Right. Sorry, Lute. Um... I think I should go. There's a... meeting, or... or something. Yeah. Bye!"
He backs off slowly, then flaps his wings and flies off.
Lute catches one of the exorcists staring at her. She yells at her, ordering to shut the fuck up and keep practicing.