- Local time
- Today 3:52 PM
- Messages
- 4
- Pronouns
- She/her
The Writer
I'm going to keep this short and sweet. I've been roleplaying for over twenty years and I am a novice writer. I'm a woman with an absolute passion and love for taking a character and developing them deeply and would love to find a long-term writing partner. I've had some writing partners who have lasted years alongside of me and it is always so much fun! I am a Discord user and don't mind bantering, discussing or just chatting OOC there as well. I am looking for an outlet specifically to use my character below in different storylines for fun and/or to expand on her character development. There isn't much that bothers me when it comes to writing but all things considered can be discussed and I am open to ideas and storylines.
The Character
Basic Information:
Full Name: Asmodea
Age: Two Millennia
Born: Created by God (That she knows of!)
Gender: Female
Title(s): Princess, Sultana, Demon, Fallen Angel, Lucifer's Weapon
Nickname(s): Ash
Alias(s): Asherah Demir
Species: Demon
Speciality: Wrath and Lust
Relationship Status: Depends on Story
Height: 5'4"
Hair | Eyes: Hair color varies between black, brown and red | Brown or red
Race/Nationality: Fallen Angel-Demon/Turkish
Occupation: Princess of Hell, Lucifer's Left hand/Weapon
Known Family: Asmodeus (Twin Brother), Sabira (Daughter)
Ash's History:
Origins and Purpose
Asmodea, often known by her chosen human alias Asherah Demir and familiarly addressed as Ash, was created as the celestial twin of Asmodel (later called Asmodeus). In the order of Heaven, she was conceived as the living embodiment of love, a divine counterpart to her brother’s ordained role as the spirit of patience. Together, they represented harmony, balance, and the tempering of passion with endurance.
The Fracture of Heaven
This harmony was shattered during the Great Rebellion, when Lucifer Morningstar and his host defied the throne of God. Asmodel, bound by loyalty and driven by pride, descended alongside Lucifer, severing his bond with the heavenly host. For Asmodea, the loss of her twin was an anguish that pierced deeper than any sword. Though she endured for a season, her grief proved unbearable. To live without her brother was, to her, a torment more grievous than damnation itself. Thus, by her own will, she abandoned grace and chose the path of the fallen.
Transformation and Fall
With her descent, Asmodea’s essence was unmade and remade. No longer the angel of love, she became the embodiment of wrath and lust, her once-pure devotion transfigured into fire and desire. In Hell, she was elevated to the rank of demonic royalty, her power both feared and coveted. Known widely as the Princess of Ire, she holds dominion over the infernal realm of the same name, standing at her brother’s side as its sovereign overseer.
Role Within the Infernal Hierarchy
Though granted a seat upon Hell’s Great Council, Asmodea has never been afforded true equality. Lucifer, who treats her less as kin and more as a weapon, exploits her dominion over wrath and lust to serve his designs. She is deployed as his instrument in acts of corruption, seduction, and destruction. Her brother Asmodeus seeks to shield her where he may, but even his influence cannot always defy the will of their dark sovereign.
Tebrius – Father Time
In the centuries following her fall, Asmodea encountered one whose dominion even the fallen held in awe: Tebrius, the Primordial Deity of Time. Known throughout creation as unyielding and beyond the reach of mortal or immortal desire, Tebrius was considered incorruptible, immune to the charms of flesh or spirit. Yet it was Asmodea—transfigured into the Princess of Wrath and Lust—who accomplished what none before her could. Through her allure and her relentless will, she pierced even the defenses of the ageless deity. Their union, though born of seduction rather than love, would forever alter the strands of eternity.
From this union came Sabira, daughter of fire and time, whose birth echoed through both Hell and the eternal planes. Asmodea bore her with the fierce devotion that marked all her attachments, while Tebrius, though distant by nature, discovered in her a rare and tender bond. Though love never took root between Asmodea and Tebrius, respect did, and in the years of their shared parenthood, he became one of her truest allies—an anchor against the consuming tides of Hell.
When Sabira reached her maturity, Tebrius called her into his own plane, declaring her his heir and the sole inheritor of his vast dominion over the rivers of time and the expanse of space. The request was both a necessity and an inevitability: for Tebrius, timeless though he was, required a successor to steady the endless, growing currents of eternity. Though the parting was painful, Asmodea relinquished her daughter, knowing Sabira’s destiny lay beyond the confines of Hell. Thus, Sabira now resides within the infinite kingdom known as Tempus, both a bridge between her parents’ worlds and a figure whose eventual return may alter the balance of Heaven, Hell, and Time itself.
The Death That Changed Her
After the departure of Sabira to Tempus, the realm of her father Tebrius, Asmodea’s life in Hell shifted under the hand of Lucifer. At first, her role was subtle: she was commanded to weave temptation among the fallen angels and the exiled who lingered upon Earth. Many submitted to Lucifer’s banner without resistance, yet others required persuasion, and it was Ash who bore the burden of that task. Over time, her duty extended to mortals as well—seductions carried out not from necessity, but for Lucifer’s amusement. Though obedient for a season, Ash’s spirit flared against such indignity. At last she confronted the Morningstar, declaring that she was no mere weapon to be wielded at his whim.
It was then that their bond deepened. Drawn to her fire, Lucifer answered her defiance not with wrath but with desire, and what began as a clash of wills became a hidden union. Their intimacy grew in secrecy, a bond forged in the shadows of war, until Asmodea conceived a child. For the first time since their fall, hope stirred within the Great Council. This child—Demir—was to be the firstborn of demonkind, an heir of both wrath and pride, proof that the fallen might yet create as their Maker once did.
But hope is fleeting in the realms of Hell. When Demir was but a month old, an angel of Heaven pierced Lucifer’s defenses, infiltrating the heart of his dominion. The infant heir was struck down in his cradle before his parents’ eyes. In a storm of fury, Asmodea slew the intruder, while Lucifer desperately sought to preserve the child’s fading spark. Yet their efforts were in vain. Demir’s death shattered them both, severing the bond they had cherished. From that day forward, their union became strictly platonic, their desires buried beneath grief and mistrust.
Ash never forgave Lucifer for the breach that led to her son’s death, holding him accountable for the angel’s incursion into Hell itself. Yet she preserved Demir’s memory in her own way. To honor him, she took his name as her mortal alias, calling herself Asherah Demir, that her son’s legacy might endure, even as his body lay cold.
The War for Bloodlines
In the present age, a revelation has unsettled the balance of the eternal war: the discovery of humans bearing dormant traces of demonic blood. Long dismissed as diluted beyond awakening, these bloodlines have been found to yet harbor the capacity for power. If stirred through ritual, such mortals may reclaim their infernal heritage. Lucifer, perceiving in this the makings of an army, has ordered the gathering of these chosen humans. His plans, however, were not veiled from Heaven, and so begins a race between divine and damned to claim the children of both angelic and demonic lineage.
It is Asmodea who has been tasked with this work. Her charge is to walk among mortals under the guise of Asherah Demir—seducing, ensnaring, and leading the chosen into the depths of Hell. There, in Lucifer’s presence, they are delivered unto the ritual that awakens their blood. Thus, Asmodea serves as both herald and hunter, the blade hidden in the shadow of her brother’s fall, and the fire by which Lucifer hopes to set the world aflame.
Potential Ideas
Below I have listed some potential ideas and/or pairings to explore for this character. These are just ideas and can be changed, altered and discussed to fit our needs/wants for a storyline. I'm very open to ideas and I feel like I'm very easy to collaborate with! Feel free to message me with any inquiries. I will also update with ideas as they come.
Ideal Pairings:
Ash/Lucifer
Ash/OC Demon
Ash/OC Angel
Ash/OC Other
Ash/OC Human
Ideas:
Maybe I'm Just Meant To Trip
YC:
Lucifer
Suggested FC:
Alexander Dreymon
Plot:
I would love to explore the relationship Ash had/has with Lucifer. They once fought side by side as angels. He fell with the first seven (including Ash's twin brother Asmodeus) and for a few centuries, they were apart. However, when Ash chose to fall from grace, the Lucifer she knew was long gone and she was in for a very rude awakening when Asmodeus found her. Ash went from being an angel, to a fallen angel to a demon because of Lucifer's handling of her. He groomed and nurtured her for some time, taught her the new power she possessed. While her brother became Lucifer's right hand, his most trusted and highest ranking advisor, Lucifer turned Ash into his left hand - his greatest weapon. She began to doubt her choice to fall and become what she had and slowly began to hate Lucifer as his handling of her became darker, crueler and more violent as she tried to defy every order he gave. There was a time when you could have guessed she loved him but the time came and went with the death of their son - at his own hands. We could explore anything in this Storyline and even alter things if the ideas work well enough.
My Thoughts Are Loud But I Lost My Voice
YC:
OC Demon
Suggested FC:
Any
Plot:
I've always had an idea that Ash would defy Lucifer's wants for her and either fall in love with a lower level demon or even a higher level demon (like a vampire, hell hound or maybe one of his heirs or one of the demon council members). Depending on your choice/preference for your character, we could discuss a potential plot that fits the both of us. A lower level demon, I could see it being someone who may be an "earth dweller", meaning someone who has only ever lived on earth but knows of hell's hierarchy and may even have heard of Ash. Could be an up-hill battle to try and find grounds that Lucifer would ever release his weapon completely to someone who he doesn't feel is a right fit for her. For an heir of his or even an upper level demon, it could be someone who had watched Ash's fall beneath Lucifer and could have been put on a mission together that becomes something that forms into love and suddenly they've abandoned their mission to try and figure out how they are ever going to convince Lucifer to allow them to be together. Again, these are just some ideas to potentially throw out there but I'm open to your own ideas too!
If The Chaos Feels Like Home, At Least I'll Never Feel Alone
YC:
OC Angel
Suggested FC:
Any
Plot:
You are an angel that once walked alongside Ash in heaven. You may have even loved her and vice versa but Ash fell and you thought she would never survive the fall or would have become a lost soul under Lucifer's thumb. However, one day, you cross paths again but the Ash you once knew and/or loved, is no longer the angel you once knew. She still is beautiful and radian but there is something darker there that impassable. Sworn enemies and yet, you find your paths crossing often and what evolved from love to hatred suddenly becomes interest and before you know it, you both are wrapped in a love affair that was unexpected and yet so incredibly undeniable. Suddenly, you need her more than anything. This would be a lot about navigating a secret relationship that suddenly is something that can no longer be hidden. Again, this is just an idea and I'm open to your own thoughts and ideas on the matter!
Ideal Pairings:
Ash/Lucifer
Ash/OC Demon
Ash/OC Angel
Ash/OC Other
Ash/OC Human
Ideas:
Maybe I'm Just Meant To Trip
YC:
Lucifer
Suggested FC:
Alexander Dreymon
Plot:
I would love to explore the relationship Ash had/has with Lucifer. They once fought side by side as angels. He fell with the first seven (including Ash's twin brother Asmodeus) and for a few centuries, they were apart. However, when Ash chose to fall from grace, the Lucifer she knew was long gone and she was in for a very rude awakening when Asmodeus found her. Ash went from being an angel, to a fallen angel to a demon because of Lucifer's handling of her. He groomed and nurtured her for some time, taught her the new power she possessed. While her brother became Lucifer's right hand, his most trusted and highest ranking advisor, Lucifer turned Ash into his left hand - his greatest weapon. She began to doubt her choice to fall and become what she had and slowly began to hate Lucifer as his handling of her became darker, crueler and more violent as she tried to defy every order he gave. There was a time when you could have guessed she loved him but the time came and went with the death of their son - at his own hands. We could explore anything in this Storyline and even alter things if the ideas work well enough.
My Thoughts Are Loud But I Lost My Voice
YC:
OC Demon
Suggested FC:
Any
Plot:
I've always had an idea that Ash would defy Lucifer's wants for her and either fall in love with a lower level demon or even a higher level demon (like a vampire, hell hound or maybe one of his heirs or one of the demon council members). Depending on your choice/preference for your character, we could discuss a potential plot that fits the both of us. A lower level demon, I could see it being someone who may be an "earth dweller", meaning someone who has only ever lived on earth but knows of hell's hierarchy and may even have heard of Ash. Could be an up-hill battle to try and find grounds that Lucifer would ever release his weapon completely to someone who he doesn't feel is a right fit for her. For an heir of his or even an upper level demon, it could be someone who had watched Ash's fall beneath Lucifer and could have been put on a mission together that becomes something that forms into love and suddenly they've abandoned their mission to try and figure out how they are ever going to convince Lucifer to allow them to be together. Again, these are just some ideas to potentially throw out there but I'm open to your own ideas too!
If The Chaos Feels Like Home, At Least I'll Never Feel Alone
YC:
OC Angel
Suggested FC:
Any
Plot:
You are an angel that once walked alongside Ash in heaven. You may have even loved her and vice versa but Ash fell and you thought she would never survive the fall or would have become a lost soul under Lucifer's thumb. However, one day, you cross paths again but the Ash you once knew and/or loved, is no longer the angel you once knew. She still is beautiful and radian but there is something darker there that impassable. Sworn enemies and yet, you find your paths crossing often and what evolved from love to hatred suddenly becomes interest and before you know it, you both are wrapped in a love affair that was unexpected and yet so incredibly undeniable. Suddenly, you need her more than anything. This would be a lot about navigating a secret relationship that suddenly is something that can no longer be hidden. Again, this is just an idea and I'm open to your own thoughts and ideas on the matter!
Writing Samples
Below I've included some of my more recent writing samples.
(Backstory: In this story, Ash was actually Lilith and Michael was Adam. Their memories had been wiped but then they began to remember their time as Adam and Lilith and decide to defy God and Lucifer and fight to return to being together. This was before their love for one another returned but their memories were slowly returning.)
The sight of the sword's light faltering was the sweet taste of victory on her tongue, and the smirk on her face broadened, a predatory curve of her lips that showed a flash of perfect teeth. She didn't flinch from the sudden dimming of his molten blade, nor the terrifying, controlled rage that radiated off him like heat from a dying star.
"Does it matter how I know, little angel?" she purred, her voice dropping to a low, silken rasp that seemed to brush against the raw edges of his soul. Her eyes, unreadable pools of shadow and captured wrath, held his gaze without wavering, refusing to concede the power in this standoff. "The truth is, I know. I know the marks on your skin, and I know what you gave up to get them. Obedience forced. That's what you called them, wasn't it?"
The air around her shifted, growing heavy, thick with the scent of power and ancient earth. "And you hesitate because every symbol of your 'restraint' is a lie you tell yourself to survive," she continued, her voice gaining a sharp, cold edge, like shattered glass. "You didn't smite me because you know I speak a truth you've been running from for millennia. The one about the thing you are forbidden to feel. The thing that makes you weak, and ugly, and almost human."
Suddenly, the world contracted into the small, searing circle of his grip, the marble wall digging hard into her spine and Ash let out a sharp and painful cry. For a heartbeat, a single, suspended tick of eternity, she tasted nothing but the raw, electric current of his rage. It was the righteous, terrifying anger of a lover betrayed, a warrior who had lost more than a battle. It was the fury she had hoped to provoke, yet it stole the air from her lungs with brutal efficiency.
But she was Lilith, and even crushed against a wall, facing the molten core of an archangel's anger, she would not break. Her hands shot up, her clawed fingers digging into the iron vice of his wrist, attempting to pry him loose. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, but her eyes, those ancient, knowing mirrors, met his blazing gaze without an iota of fear. They held only an intense, savage satisfaction.
A dark, humming power erupted from her, not in a massive wave of destruction, in a focused, pressurized spike aimed directly at the light infused hand at her throat. The heat of the archangel's touch was agony, like being strangled by a sun, but her power was the absolute zero of the void, a cold fire meant to extinguish his essence.
A low, guttural sound fought its way past the crush of his fingers, a sound halfway between a cough and a triumphant snarl. "You remember!" she hissed, the word a choked, venomous whisper. "Took you long enough, Adam!"
The power in her grip intensified. Her features, for a terrible instant, warped, losing the seductive facade to reveal the raw, primeval beauty of the first shadow, the first creature to stand alone. A shock of deep indigo light flared from her touch, forcing a gasp from him, not of pain, but of pure, profound recognition.
The raw grief and acidic betrayal in his words finally pierced through the icy wall of her own control. The shadows around her neck flickered and died, unable to contend with the sheer, blinding light of his heartbroken fury. As the wall behind her finally gave way in a cloud of marble dust, she let out a strangled, defiant laugh, a sound utterly devoid of mirth.
"Oh, you poor, deluded fool," she gasped, the pain of his grip making the words ragged. The faint, almost imperceptible squint she'd given him was gone, replaced by the wide, glistening, desperate look of an animal trapped. "Mine? I was never yours, Adam. I belonged to no one but myself. And you? You only ever loved the reflection of yourself you saw in me… the pure, radiant creature who still followed the rules. You loved the potential convert, not your wife who stood on her own two feet!"
She twisted her head, her gaze boring into his. The mention of Lucifer brought a fresh wave of bitter longing and fierce pride to her expression. "You call it common? You call it a weapon? You think I gave myself to your brother out of lust or spite? You truly are blind!" Her voice cracked, a sound of profound loss echoing beneath her defiance. "He was the only one in all of Heaven who didn't try to save me, didn't try to change me, didn't try to brand me with obedience! He saw the fire in me and told me to burn brighter! But fires require fuel, don't they, Michael? And in the pit, that fuel is often your own flesh. I am not his consort; I am his chief engineer, and the price for my seat at his side is paid daily. You only see the throne; you don't see the blood on the marble."
Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears that dared not fall, flicked down toward her flat stomach, then back up to meet his blazing gold. "Yes, he is my enemy. But he is also my choice." She spat the words, letting the weight of it hang in the air between them. "You speak of the child, the blood of your enemy running in my womb. You speak of the betrayal I weaponized." Her gaze was haunting, fixed on his, forcing him to witness the depth of her wound. "You're a millennium too late, Michael."
The air left the room, sucked away by the sudden, chilling finality of her words. "Lucifer, the great liberator... he didn't want my progeny. He wanted to ensure that no loyalty… not even to my own blood… would ever compete with my service to him." A tear finally tracked a clean line through the blood and sweat on her cheek, immediately evaporating as it met the heat of her anger.
"The price for my place," she whispered, her voice colder than the deepest ice of the pit, "was that child. My son was murdered by his father's two hands. Stripped from my body and extinguished, before he could draw a single breath of that corrupted air."
Her eyes blazed with a manic, terrifying sorrow. "So, when you see me, Michael, do not see a mother. Do not see a whore or a consort. See a weapon that has been broken, sharpened, and emptied. I gave him the only thing that tied me to the old world, and now I have nothing left to lose. And that is why I am the most powerful creature in all of hell."
"You speak of betrayal and purity, Adam. You broke the thing you believed was real? No. You shattered it. You chose heaven's gilded cage over the wildfire, and you haven't stopped burning me for it since." She paused, her eyes challenging him to deny it. "I didn't betray you. I simply refused to be owned. And that, Archangel of War," she finished, her voice regaining its low, venomous control, "is a distinction you are still too broken to understand."
She didn't flinch from the raw heat of his face, the intensity of his eyes that were now more pain than fire. His softening, the sudden, desperate fragility in his tone, was far more dangerous than his rage. It was the lure she had always been unable to resist.
"Lies, Michael. All of it," she countered, her voice now a low, fierce murmur, lacking the theatrics of before. She used the slack in his grip to lift her own hand, not to strike, but to press her fingers, shadow stained and cold, against the heavy, trembling muscle of his arm.
"You speak of debasement and stooping low," she hissed, her eyes locking onto his with an unnerving clarity. "You think taking a lover who stood as your equal is lower than bowing your neck to a golden, faceless tyranny? I debased myself by pretending to be the gentle, obedient creature you wanted me to be! That was the lie, Adam. Not what came after."
Her gaze darkened with a flash of ancient, unshakeable loyalty. "Don't you dare speak his name like that. You call him a monster because he saw the chains on your wrists and laughed. You call him a villain because he offered me salvation and purpose and he offered it knowing exactly who and what I was. No pretense needed." She felt the tremor in his hand, the unbearable weight of his memory, and her own heart, the hardened core of her being, wrenched in response.
"You regret the pain? I know you do," she whispered, her voice thick with shared history and lingering sorrow. "Because you are a good, perfect, and a terrifyingly devoted soldier. You regret the failure of your devotion, Michael. You regret that you were forced to hurt the thing you claimed to love. You regret having to choose Father over me." Her thumb pressed gently into the skin beneath his armor, a touch both intimate and accusatory. "You never saw me as a monster, you say? Then why did you make me choose between my soul and your God? Why did you make me choose between you and freedom?" Her voice cracked, finally mirroring his own broken tone. "You were the most beautiful thing I ever saw, too and I chose to lose you because the alternative was losing myself entirely."
She leaned in, her eyes burning bright with a final, devastating truth. "Our tragedy isn't that I fell. Our tragedy is that you loved me, but you loved the law more." The final surge of his light was a blinding, agonizing pressure around her throat. It wasn't the pain of being choked that made her eyes squeeze shut, but the searing betrayal of that touch, the divine energy she knew so well, now weaponized, meant to burn her very essence.
When her eyes snapped open, the shadow had returned, deeper and more terrifying than before. The fragile mirror of their shared pain shattered, replaced by the grim, resolute mask of the First Fallen. "Go on, Michael," she rasped, her voice barely a thread, but laced with iron certainty. She offered him no resistance now, hanging limp and defiant in his crushing grip, her arms dropping heavily to her sides. "Do it. Kill me."
Her lips pulled back in a grim, humorless smile. "You call me a monster? Then prove you’re right. End the whore, the consort, the heartless thing. Drive your blade into the only being that ever chose you for who you were, not for the uniform you wear." She watched his eyes, the blazing gold of his conviction warring with the desperate, flickering blue of his sorrow.
"You can't," she breathed, the single word a quiet, devastating taunt. "Because if you kill me, you will have killed the last piece of your life that was real." Her eyes dropped to the hand around her neck. "This is not an offer, Michael. This is a simple truth: You don't belong in heaven, and I don't belong in hell. We are the architects of our own damnation. And you can either cling to your Father’s hate, or you can finally choose your own path… even if that path leads you to the 'filth' of the one woman who refuses to kneel to either of your masters." She tilted her head back, accepting the brand of his divine fire.
He whispered her name, the soft, old name he'd used in the garden, a ghost of a sound: "Lilith..."
She dropped her chin, tilting her head and meeting his gaze with a cold, piercing intensity. The moment of vulnerability was over, snapped shut like a trap. The despair that had cracked her expression hardened into a mask of bitter fury. "Don't. You. Dare," she growled, her voice regaining its strength, low and dangerous. She shoved against his chest, leveraging the space his shock provided, though she didn't try to flee. She held her ground, breathing heavily.
"You want to talk about faults? Let's talk about yours, Michael. Let's talk about the original betrayal. You stand here, talking about our love, about what was real," she scoffed, a sound of pure disdain. "Do you remember the feel of my hair in the grass of the Garden, before the fruit, before the fall? Do you remember looking at me and seeing a partner, an equal, not a vessel to be filled or an order to be obeyed?" Her hand raised, and her fingers gently, mockingly, brushed the scorched skin of her own neck.
"Then your Father deemed me... imperfect. Unfit. Too loud. Too hungry. Too much myself. And when he cast me out of the Garden, do you remember what you did? You, the Archangel of Faith, the one who held my hand as we watched the first sunrise and made love beneath the first sunset?" She leaned in, her breath hot and laced with ancient sorrow. "You watched him craft that pathetic creature, from the rib of my former lover, Adam. A creature designed for silence and compliance. A woman created to be your God's little pet. And you stood there and you smiled. You approved. You thought obedience to the decree was worth betraying the only thing you ever claimed to love."
The grief of that memory, the profound, cosmic injustice, vibrated in her voice, but she wield it like a weapon. “And then you chose to tear my wings from my body… while I screamed in agony. You held me after and you cried. As if it had been done to us…” Tears glistened in Ash’s dark eyes, no longer masked by the face of Ece but her true self. “It wasn’t done to us… it was done to me. You didn’t even fight it. You stood beside me in that throne room when he commanded you to strip me of my grace and you agreed without so much as a plea for mercy.”
An eerie silence fell between them, letting their eyes and their bodies say every word they couldn’t. Ash’s face twitched, trying to hide every evidence of remorse, shame, sadness or regret over what’s happened to both of them and separately. She tried not to show how it still hurt and tried not to openly admit to the fact that she traded one form of slavery for another when she fell from grace. “If accepting who I became makes me a monster, then so be it. I came to terms with the fact that no man, no creature will ever come to my aid, to save me or even love me. It’s all lies. It’s all bullshit. Preach all you care to, archangel but do not speak on which you do not know. You would never survive the horrors of what I’ve survived in my lifetime. I have a right to be angry, bitter.” Ash’s face twitched again as she held desperately onto the tears that threatened to fall and she swallowed.
“I will give you nothing. You have earned nothing from me.” Ash growled. She put her hands up and suddenly a pulsing of red flowed through her hands and it forced him back, causing him to fly back and slam into the opposite marble wall. The wall cracked and made a terrible sound when his body covered in metal armor smashed into it. “Weak. Pathetic.” She spat, wiping the few tears that had escaped and reaching for the dress she had worn before, casually slipping it over her body as if she hadn’t just attacked him.
"Does it matter how I know, little angel?" she purred, her voice dropping to a low, silken rasp that seemed to brush against the raw edges of his soul. Her eyes, unreadable pools of shadow and captured wrath, held his gaze without wavering, refusing to concede the power in this standoff. "The truth is, I know. I know the marks on your skin, and I know what you gave up to get them. Obedience forced. That's what you called them, wasn't it?"
The air around her shifted, growing heavy, thick with the scent of power and ancient earth. "And you hesitate because every symbol of your 'restraint' is a lie you tell yourself to survive," she continued, her voice gaining a sharp, cold edge, like shattered glass. "You didn't smite me because you know I speak a truth you've been running from for millennia. The one about the thing you are forbidden to feel. The thing that makes you weak, and ugly, and almost human."
Suddenly, the world contracted into the small, searing circle of his grip, the marble wall digging hard into her spine and Ash let out a sharp and painful cry. For a heartbeat, a single, suspended tick of eternity, she tasted nothing but the raw, electric current of his rage. It was the righteous, terrifying anger of a lover betrayed, a warrior who had lost more than a battle. It was the fury she had hoped to provoke, yet it stole the air from her lungs with brutal efficiency.
But she was Lilith, and even crushed against a wall, facing the molten core of an archangel's anger, she would not break. Her hands shot up, her clawed fingers digging into the iron vice of his wrist, attempting to pry him loose. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, but her eyes, those ancient, knowing mirrors, met his blazing gaze without an iota of fear. They held only an intense, savage satisfaction.
A dark, humming power erupted from her, not in a massive wave of destruction, in a focused, pressurized spike aimed directly at the light infused hand at her throat. The heat of the archangel's touch was agony, like being strangled by a sun, but her power was the absolute zero of the void, a cold fire meant to extinguish his essence.
A low, guttural sound fought its way past the crush of his fingers, a sound halfway between a cough and a triumphant snarl. "You remember!" she hissed, the word a choked, venomous whisper. "Took you long enough, Adam!"
The power in her grip intensified. Her features, for a terrible instant, warped, losing the seductive facade to reveal the raw, primeval beauty of the first shadow, the first creature to stand alone. A shock of deep indigo light flared from her touch, forcing a gasp from him, not of pain, but of pure, profound recognition.
The raw grief and acidic betrayal in his words finally pierced through the icy wall of her own control. The shadows around her neck flickered and died, unable to contend with the sheer, blinding light of his heartbroken fury. As the wall behind her finally gave way in a cloud of marble dust, she let out a strangled, defiant laugh, a sound utterly devoid of mirth.
"Oh, you poor, deluded fool," she gasped, the pain of his grip making the words ragged. The faint, almost imperceptible squint she'd given him was gone, replaced by the wide, glistening, desperate look of an animal trapped. "Mine? I was never yours, Adam. I belonged to no one but myself. And you? You only ever loved the reflection of yourself you saw in me… the pure, radiant creature who still followed the rules. You loved the potential convert, not your wife who stood on her own two feet!"
She twisted her head, her gaze boring into his. The mention of Lucifer brought a fresh wave of bitter longing and fierce pride to her expression. "You call it common? You call it a weapon? You think I gave myself to your brother out of lust or spite? You truly are blind!" Her voice cracked, a sound of profound loss echoing beneath her defiance. "He was the only one in all of Heaven who didn't try to save me, didn't try to change me, didn't try to brand me with obedience! He saw the fire in me and told me to burn brighter! But fires require fuel, don't they, Michael? And in the pit, that fuel is often your own flesh. I am not his consort; I am his chief engineer, and the price for my seat at his side is paid daily. You only see the throne; you don't see the blood on the marble."
Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears that dared not fall, flicked down toward her flat stomach, then back up to meet his blazing gold. "Yes, he is my enemy. But he is also my choice." She spat the words, letting the weight of it hang in the air between them. "You speak of the child, the blood of your enemy running in my womb. You speak of the betrayal I weaponized." Her gaze was haunting, fixed on his, forcing him to witness the depth of her wound. "You're a millennium too late, Michael."
The air left the room, sucked away by the sudden, chilling finality of her words. "Lucifer, the great liberator... he didn't want my progeny. He wanted to ensure that no loyalty… not even to my own blood… would ever compete with my service to him." A tear finally tracked a clean line through the blood and sweat on her cheek, immediately evaporating as it met the heat of her anger.
"The price for my place," she whispered, her voice colder than the deepest ice of the pit, "was that child. My son was murdered by his father's two hands. Stripped from my body and extinguished, before he could draw a single breath of that corrupted air."
Her eyes blazed with a manic, terrifying sorrow. "So, when you see me, Michael, do not see a mother. Do not see a whore or a consort. See a weapon that has been broken, sharpened, and emptied. I gave him the only thing that tied me to the old world, and now I have nothing left to lose. And that is why I am the most powerful creature in all of hell."
"You speak of betrayal and purity, Adam. You broke the thing you believed was real? No. You shattered it. You chose heaven's gilded cage over the wildfire, and you haven't stopped burning me for it since." She paused, her eyes challenging him to deny it. "I didn't betray you. I simply refused to be owned. And that, Archangel of War," she finished, her voice regaining its low, venomous control, "is a distinction you are still too broken to understand."
She didn't flinch from the raw heat of his face, the intensity of his eyes that were now more pain than fire. His softening, the sudden, desperate fragility in his tone, was far more dangerous than his rage. It was the lure she had always been unable to resist.
"Lies, Michael. All of it," she countered, her voice now a low, fierce murmur, lacking the theatrics of before. She used the slack in his grip to lift her own hand, not to strike, but to press her fingers, shadow stained and cold, against the heavy, trembling muscle of his arm.
"You speak of debasement and stooping low," she hissed, her eyes locking onto his with an unnerving clarity. "You think taking a lover who stood as your equal is lower than bowing your neck to a golden, faceless tyranny? I debased myself by pretending to be the gentle, obedient creature you wanted me to be! That was the lie, Adam. Not what came after."
Her gaze darkened with a flash of ancient, unshakeable loyalty. "Don't you dare speak his name like that. You call him a monster because he saw the chains on your wrists and laughed. You call him a villain because he offered me salvation and purpose and he offered it knowing exactly who and what I was. No pretense needed." She felt the tremor in his hand, the unbearable weight of his memory, and her own heart, the hardened core of her being, wrenched in response.
"You regret the pain? I know you do," she whispered, her voice thick with shared history and lingering sorrow. "Because you are a good, perfect, and a terrifyingly devoted soldier. You regret the failure of your devotion, Michael. You regret that you were forced to hurt the thing you claimed to love. You regret having to choose Father over me." Her thumb pressed gently into the skin beneath his armor, a touch both intimate and accusatory. "You never saw me as a monster, you say? Then why did you make me choose between my soul and your God? Why did you make me choose between you and freedom?" Her voice cracked, finally mirroring his own broken tone. "You were the most beautiful thing I ever saw, too and I chose to lose you because the alternative was losing myself entirely."
She leaned in, her eyes burning bright with a final, devastating truth. "Our tragedy isn't that I fell. Our tragedy is that you loved me, but you loved the law more." The final surge of his light was a blinding, agonizing pressure around her throat. It wasn't the pain of being choked that made her eyes squeeze shut, but the searing betrayal of that touch, the divine energy she knew so well, now weaponized, meant to burn her very essence.
When her eyes snapped open, the shadow had returned, deeper and more terrifying than before. The fragile mirror of their shared pain shattered, replaced by the grim, resolute mask of the First Fallen. "Go on, Michael," she rasped, her voice barely a thread, but laced with iron certainty. She offered him no resistance now, hanging limp and defiant in his crushing grip, her arms dropping heavily to her sides. "Do it. Kill me."
Her lips pulled back in a grim, humorless smile. "You call me a monster? Then prove you’re right. End the whore, the consort, the heartless thing. Drive your blade into the only being that ever chose you for who you were, not for the uniform you wear." She watched his eyes, the blazing gold of his conviction warring with the desperate, flickering blue of his sorrow.
"You can't," she breathed, the single word a quiet, devastating taunt. "Because if you kill me, you will have killed the last piece of your life that was real." Her eyes dropped to the hand around her neck. "This is not an offer, Michael. This is a simple truth: You don't belong in heaven, and I don't belong in hell. We are the architects of our own damnation. And you can either cling to your Father’s hate, or you can finally choose your own path… even if that path leads you to the 'filth' of the one woman who refuses to kneel to either of your masters." She tilted her head back, accepting the brand of his divine fire.
He whispered her name, the soft, old name he'd used in the garden, a ghost of a sound: "Lilith..."
She dropped her chin, tilting her head and meeting his gaze with a cold, piercing intensity. The moment of vulnerability was over, snapped shut like a trap. The despair that had cracked her expression hardened into a mask of bitter fury. "Don't. You. Dare," she growled, her voice regaining its strength, low and dangerous. She shoved against his chest, leveraging the space his shock provided, though she didn't try to flee. She held her ground, breathing heavily.
"You want to talk about faults? Let's talk about yours, Michael. Let's talk about the original betrayal. You stand here, talking about our love, about what was real," she scoffed, a sound of pure disdain. "Do you remember the feel of my hair in the grass of the Garden, before the fruit, before the fall? Do you remember looking at me and seeing a partner, an equal, not a vessel to be filled or an order to be obeyed?" Her hand raised, and her fingers gently, mockingly, brushed the scorched skin of her own neck.
"Then your Father deemed me... imperfect. Unfit. Too loud. Too hungry. Too much myself. And when he cast me out of the Garden, do you remember what you did? You, the Archangel of Faith, the one who held my hand as we watched the first sunrise and made love beneath the first sunset?" She leaned in, her breath hot and laced with ancient sorrow. "You watched him craft that pathetic creature, from the rib of my former lover, Adam. A creature designed for silence and compliance. A woman created to be your God's little pet. And you stood there and you smiled. You approved. You thought obedience to the decree was worth betraying the only thing you ever claimed to love."
The grief of that memory, the profound, cosmic injustice, vibrated in her voice, but she wield it like a weapon. “And then you chose to tear my wings from my body… while I screamed in agony. You held me after and you cried. As if it had been done to us…” Tears glistened in Ash’s dark eyes, no longer masked by the face of Ece but her true self. “It wasn’t done to us… it was done to me. You didn’t even fight it. You stood beside me in that throne room when he commanded you to strip me of my grace and you agreed without so much as a plea for mercy.”
An eerie silence fell between them, letting their eyes and their bodies say every word they couldn’t. Ash’s face twitched, trying to hide every evidence of remorse, shame, sadness or regret over what’s happened to both of them and separately. She tried not to show how it still hurt and tried not to openly admit to the fact that she traded one form of slavery for another when she fell from grace. “If accepting who I became makes me a monster, then so be it. I came to terms with the fact that no man, no creature will ever come to my aid, to save me or even love me. It’s all lies. It’s all bullshit. Preach all you care to, archangel but do not speak on which you do not know. You would never survive the horrors of what I’ve survived in my lifetime. I have a right to be angry, bitter.” Ash’s face twitched again as she held desperately onto the tears that threatened to fall and she swallowed.
“I will give you nothing. You have earned nothing from me.” Ash growled. She put her hands up and suddenly a pulsing of red flowed through her hands and it forced him back, causing him to fly back and slam into the opposite marble wall. The wall cracked and made a terrible sound when his body covered in metal armor smashed into it. “Weak. Pathetic.” She spat, wiping the few tears that had escaped and reaching for the dress she had worn before, casually slipping it over her body as if she hadn’t just attacked him.
(Backstory: My character was Claudia, keeper of Wrath and my WP was Leon, also known as Death. They had a relationship that resulted in a son and after Leon had been coming and going for some time, he had returned on a summon by Lucifer to join him for a gathering where Claudia and Leon see one another and they're going so he can see their son, Silas.)
There was a sense of relief when Leon said he would join her back in her own little pocket of existence known as Ire. She was more happy that he seemed almost eager and even more so, excited, to see their son. Silas was starting to recognize faces at eight months old and there was some worry that he would just cry being with Leon as he hadn’t been around enough for Silas to study his father’s face. However, Claudia also had hope that he would be able to sense the comfort of his father.
It was almost too quick the way Leon snatched the glass from her hand and whisked her off out of the room. Claudia saw as others looked at them with clear distaste for their hasty exit. It was customary to stay at least some time before simply leaving. Although, Luci of all people would understand his pal wouldn’t be sticking around and seeing that Claudia was attached to him at their hands, he probably expected something.
Somehow, Claudia was able to ignore the others and allow Leon to urge her outside.
Once they left the interior of the fortress, a crisp wind swirled around the two of them as the frigid air of hell hit them like ice. Believe it or not, different realms of hell varied vastly between them and Luci’s slice of home was extremely cold — often covered in ice or snow.
Claudia’s on the other hand, in Ire, it was hot. Fitting for Wrath but that was also because of the mountains that surrounded one side of the city. They blazed with smog from the simmering volcanic activity that never seemed to erupt — always at a simmer. To the other was vast sands that seemed to go on forever. Claudia sometimes found it too dry and hot and would often venture back to Earth to find some difference in temperature but she also didn’t mind it most days.
They came to a stop some distance from where they exited Luci’s fortress and Claudia shivered from the cold, huddling closer to Leon. She could have phased their way to her home but instead, Claudia waved her freehand in front of them where a portal opened right before their eyes that was accompanied with a warm gust of hot air. It was black around the edges but had an orange glow to the outer rim. However, at the center of the large portal was a familiar scene.
The familiar nursery of their son.
Much to most disbelief, Claudia wanted Silas’s nursery to look more human. She hadn’t changed the stone walls that surrounded the room nor did she do anything about the hardwood floors, but the rest of the room looked relatively modern. A dark wood crib sat at the center of the far left wall, a dress to the right wall with a changing station atop it. Right by his crib was a cozy gray cushioned rocking chair and to the center wall was a dark wooden shelving unit with different colored blue, gray and green fabric boxes which held toys and basic needs.
Suddenly, Claudia could hear the faint coos of their son. This time, she was the one to pull Leon forward and through the portal.
It was almost too quick the way Leon snatched the glass from her hand and whisked her off out of the room. Claudia saw as others looked at them with clear distaste for their hasty exit. It was customary to stay at least some time before simply leaving. Although, Luci of all people would understand his pal wouldn’t be sticking around and seeing that Claudia was attached to him at their hands, he probably expected something.
Somehow, Claudia was able to ignore the others and allow Leon to urge her outside.
Once they left the interior of the fortress, a crisp wind swirled around the two of them as the frigid air of hell hit them like ice. Believe it or not, different realms of hell varied vastly between them and Luci’s slice of home was extremely cold — often covered in ice or snow.
Claudia’s on the other hand, in Ire, it was hot. Fitting for Wrath but that was also because of the mountains that surrounded one side of the city. They blazed with smog from the simmering volcanic activity that never seemed to erupt — always at a simmer. To the other was vast sands that seemed to go on forever. Claudia sometimes found it too dry and hot and would often venture back to Earth to find some difference in temperature but she also didn’t mind it most days.
They came to a stop some distance from where they exited Luci’s fortress and Claudia shivered from the cold, huddling closer to Leon. She could have phased their way to her home but instead, Claudia waved her freehand in front of them where a portal opened right before their eyes that was accompanied with a warm gust of hot air. It was black around the edges but had an orange glow to the outer rim. However, at the center of the large portal was a familiar scene.
The familiar nursery of their son.
Much to most disbelief, Claudia wanted Silas’s nursery to look more human. She hadn’t changed the stone walls that surrounded the room nor did she do anything about the hardwood floors, but the rest of the room looked relatively modern. A dark wood crib sat at the center of the far left wall, a dress to the right wall with a changing station atop it. Right by his crib was a cozy gray cushioned rocking chair and to the center wall was a dark wooden shelving unit with different colored blue, gray and green fabric boxes which held toys and basic needs.
Suddenly, Claudia could hear the faint coos of their son. This time, she was the one to pull Leon forward and through the portal.
The familiar nursery of their son.Much to most disbelief, Claudia wanted Silas’s nursery to look more human. She hadn’t changed the stone walls that surrounded the room nor did she do anything about the hardwood floors, but the rest of the room looked relatively modern. A dark wood crib sat at the center of the far left wall, a dress to the right wall with a changing station atop it. Right by his crib was a cozy gray cushioned rocking chair and to the center wall was a dark wooden shelving unit with different colored blue, gray and green fabric boxes which held toys and basic needs.
Suddenly, Claudia could hear the faint coos of their son. This time, she was the one to pull Leon forward and through the portal.
The moment the two of them stepped through, the portal disappeared. Claudia glanced behind them where she spotted Silas. He was sitting in a bouncer, giggling and babbling away in front of his nanny — if you’d call her that. Astra was one of Claudia’s closest friends since coming here and had also helped to teach Claudia how to fight. She too was a mother and took on the role of “babysitter” when Claudia needed to leave without Silas.
Claudia was a bit non-traditional when it came to raising Silas. She took him everywhere she possibly could. Many of her peers were not keen on it but often she’d carry a sling with him sleeping silently against his mother’s bosom and often, he was no problem. She understood that it was like wearing a target on her chest but she refused to be away from Silas for too long. He was her son, not theirs and she’d raise him how she saw fit!
Astra stood and smiled when she laid eyes on Leon and Claudia.
“Look who it is, young man,” Astra grinned and picked up Silas from the bouncer.
The baby giggled and patted Astra’s chest with excitement. He looked over and as soon as he laid eyes on his favorite person — his mama — the biggest toothless grin formed on his face and he began squirming and making loud noises.
As Astra was passing Silas to Claudia, she looked at Leon, almost glaring but not quiet. She leaned into Claudia, “Do you need me to stay?” She asked worriedly.
Claudia shook her head, “We’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for watching him.” She quickly replied.
Astra gave Leon one more once over before phasing out in a flash of flames.
Claudia turned, balancing Silas in his arms. The baby patted his mother’s chest with his chubby hands excitedly and squealed. She looked at him and smiled and blew little raspberries on his cheek.
Turning her attention to Leon, Claudia sighed, “Would you like to hold our son? It’s been some time. You don’t have to hold his head anymore so… he’s a lot easier to hold.”
There was a different glimmer in Claudia’s eyes now. She was matronly. She had found peace in some domesticity with being a mother. It gave her a piece of normalcy that she didn’t have since becoming Governess. She enjoyed it and it was hard to be angry anymore now in the presence of Silas. He was magical in his own way because nothing made her feel better the way the smile on her baby boy’s face made her smile. She just hoped that Leon could find the happiness like her. Even if he didn’t stay permanently, but enough to visit more often.
(Backstory: Ash is being punished for defying Lucifer's orders and the demand that she hunt these poor humans because she fell in love with Jonah, one of Lucifer's half-blooded sons.)
The heavy door suddenly opened after some time and Lucifer stepped in. She lifted her head, her eyes finding him in the darkness of the room. A torch in his hand, he placed it on the wall mount, the fire becoming the only light he granted.
Lucifer said nothing and went straight for the princess. He gripped her by her pristine hair and dragged her to the center of the room, making a cry pierce from her throat as her hands went to his wrist.
The devil let go but his hands went to Ash's dress, his fingers gripping the fabric and tearing it down the center of her body. Tears surfaced in her eyes as she pushed his hands away. "No," she protested.
Lucifer's hand shot to her throat, gripping harder, restricting her breath in the already stale air of the room. She gasped, her cheeks flushing as she tried to breath. She felt the press of cold steel against her chest at the center of her breasts, He let the sharp side of the blade slice into the meat of her skin and a strangled cry filled the air. It burned and the pain sent tears shedding down her face. It wasn't a long cut, but a short one that was meant to warn.
Suddenly, his hand left her throat and his fist connected with her jaw as she gasped for air. She saw stars for a moment before she felt the pain. Blood trickled down her lip and from the wound as she laid there.
In the hall, her cries sounded muffled to Jonah's ears but the were frequent, painfilled, desperate screams. He could make out words like, "no", "please," and "stop". Most of it was said in the heavenly tongue they still spoke - the true reason for Ash's thick accent.
It went on for slow, agonizing hours. Each minute sounding like an eternity of torment. When Lucifer finally emerged from the room, Ash's sobs slipped out into the hall momentarily before the door was shut. He was assisted by a single guard, he was disheveled, blood here and there on his hands and clothes and sweat on his brow. He gave Jonah a disgusted look and stopped in front of his cell. "I'll return soon enough for you." He warned before leaving.
More hours passed and Ash's muffled sobs had slowly subsided. Asmodeus appeared in front of Jonah's cell and unlocked it. "Ash needs you," was all he said.
Asmo led Jonah to the private room, unlocking it and pulling it open to allow Jonah to step inside. He shut the door behind him and stood on guard.
Inside, the scene was a bloody one. On the floor were splatters of Ash's blood, signs of struggling and discarded shards of her clothing. In the corner of the room, in the darkness, a whimper caught Jonah's attention. As was pressed against a large wooden cross, her ankles bound at the bottom and arms out to the sides, bound to the horizontal beam of wood. She had been beaten, her dress hung loosely around her shoulders and the sides of her body. Her neck was bent, her head hanging towards the center of her chest, her body riddled with the proof of Lucifer's punishment and her hair hung loosely around her face.
She whimpered as she lifted her head, her face a map of pain as her eyes slowly found Jonah. Tears pulled at the corners of her eyes, one swollen and black. Her tears leaked down, mixing with the blood on her face, "Jonah..." She rasped through her broken voice from the screams. "...No." She protested, letting her head fall forward, not wanting him to see her like this.
Lucifer said nothing and went straight for the princess. He gripped her by her pristine hair and dragged her to the center of the room, making a cry pierce from her throat as her hands went to his wrist.
The devil let go but his hands went to Ash's dress, his fingers gripping the fabric and tearing it down the center of her body. Tears surfaced in her eyes as she pushed his hands away. "No," she protested.
Lucifer's hand shot to her throat, gripping harder, restricting her breath in the already stale air of the room. She gasped, her cheeks flushing as she tried to breath. She felt the press of cold steel against her chest at the center of her breasts, He let the sharp side of the blade slice into the meat of her skin and a strangled cry filled the air. It burned and the pain sent tears shedding down her face. It wasn't a long cut, but a short one that was meant to warn.
Suddenly, his hand left her throat and his fist connected with her jaw as she gasped for air. She saw stars for a moment before she felt the pain. Blood trickled down her lip and from the wound as she laid there.
In the hall, her cries sounded muffled to Jonah's ears but the were frequent, painfilled, desperate screams. He could make out words like, "no", "please," and "stop". Most of it was said in the heavenly tongue they still spoke - the true reason for Ash's thick accent.
It went on for slow, agonizing hours. Each minute sounding like an eternity of torment. When Lucifer finally emerged from the room, Ash's sobs slipped out into the hall momentarily before the door was shut. He was assisted by a single guard, he was disheveled, blood here and there on his hands and clothes and sweat on his brow. He gave Jonah a disgusted look and stopped in front of his cell. "I'll return soon enough for you." He warned before leaving.
More hours passed and Ash's muffled sobs had slowly subsided. Asmodeus appeared in front of Jonah's cell and unlocked it. "Ash needs you," was all he said.
Asmo led Jonah to the private room, unlocking it and pulling it open to allow Jonah to step inside. He shut the door behind him and stood on guard.
Inside, the scene was a bloody one. On the floor were splatters of Ash's blood, signs of struggling and discarded shards of her clothing. In the corner of the room, in the darkness, a whimper caught Jonah's attention. As was pressed against a large wooden cross, her ankles bound at the bottom and arms out to the sides, bound to the horizontal beam of wood. She had been beaten, her dress hung loosely around her shoulders and the sides of her body. Her neck was bent, her head hanging towards the center of her chest, her body riddled with the proof of Lucifer's punishment and her hair hung loosely around her face.
She whimpered as she lifted her head, her face a map of pain as her eyes slowly found Jonah. Tears pulled at the corners of her eyes, one swollen and black. Her tears leaked down, mixing with the blood on her face, "Jonah..." She rasped through her broken voice from the screams. "...No." She protested, letting her head fall forward, not wanting him to see her like this.
Last edited: