Of Taken Things
"It is it." It supplies, factually and calmly, an attempt at comfort. There was no sorrow in this matter, in its eyes.
*Missing context is that the mortal character in this was born with a soul mark tying her to It, and It has been acting as her protector despite its centuries of solitude and torment. Her guardian angel, as ironic as that is. It finds the soul bond cruel to get after all this time, but dedicates itself to protecting its human nonetheless.
"What's your name?" The mortal girl asks, eyes bright and curious. It does not reply, wings twisting around its face impossibly, ever moving limbs beyond comprehension. If it were feeling less kind, it's entire body would appear as it's face does. A mass of wings and movement, but the connection it felt to this mortal softened the cruelty it would enact upon others for its own comfort. It's body remains mostly solid, perceivable and nearly mortal in appearance. An itch tickles the surface of its skin, wings begging to burst free to the current plane, but it had long since gotten used to ignoring small discomforts. It's largest wings had been stripped from it, the wounds still bleeding, the pain still agonizing. In comparison, the mere tickle was nothing.
The mortal waits patiently, curious and open. She doesn't know how easily she could perish, how a mere flex of a few wings could snap bones and sinews. Teeth weren't even needed, with how fragile she was. But she had nothing to fear. It was her guardian, and thoughts of destruction and death were not malicious. Observations were to be made, especially by something that has existed for eons only to observe. And slaughter. Of its two purposes it would apply the lighter of its duties.
"It does not have one." It replied simply, head cocking as a few stray eyes appear between the plumage, curious pupils dilating. "It was taken from it, when it fell." There is little to no emotion in its voice, it's a statement, a thing long since past that it did not harbor any thought to anymore. It was a being between realities, accepted in none of them, there was little use of a name. It's mortal however looks deeply troubled by the revelation, distantly it even feels the echoes of her sorrow. Her sorrow was it's as well as hers. A connection that reminded it what it was like before the fall.
"It is it." It supplies, factually and calmly, an attempt at comfort. There was no sorrow in this matter, in its eyes. "It's name is long gone, but it is still here."
Its mortal frowns, rocking back to try and maintain eye contact the best she can. "Do you even… Have an identity?" She asks, sending another twist of confusion in its heart. What use was an identity? "Are you… A he? A her? A them? Do you take long walks on the beach, or prefer to stay inside and read books? Is there anything you like to be called?" She questions, prodding for pieces of it that were long gone. Things that would likely not return, even for her.
"It's mortal may call it these things if she wishes. It does not care for them, nor does it disdain them." It replies, simply uncaring for such things. "It does not have activities like she does." It blinks, disjointed, many eyes at separate times. It did not have hobbies or activities like mortals did. "It kills vile things, some demons, some mortals, mostly angels. Disgusting creatures." An edge of rage slides into its tone, the barest hint, but the shudder that it's mortal fails to suppress communicates that through their bond she feels it. It is satisfying, to be understood. "It observes things as well. In recent days, it protects its mortal." It calms, slinking lower, closer, nearly enough to touch.
"You… Hunt people?" She asks with the realization, a twinge of fear in her voice. The feeling tastes foul in its soul and it shudders, feathers twisting uncomfortably. It usually tasted fear when she was in danger, a sour note that hits the back of its thoughts and begs for help. She was not supposed to feel that in regards to it. There was no danger, not really, if there was she would already be dead.
"Bad ones." It supplies nearly instantly, voice partial whine and whimper. Pathetic, if it had cared, but it's mortal was allowed to see it in any form after she had held it as it bled. "It kills the monsters hiding in the flesh of the holy and unholy. Never good ones. It is not a monster in seraphim skin, it is only seraphim, fallen as it may be." It stretches, small wings of its twisting face stilling, feathers lightly touching its mortals cheek. She doesn't flee, despite the droplets of fear and wariness it still feels from her.
She moves on, instead of pressing the topic she clearly still had many questions about. "So you're… Just It?" She asks, head cocked, leaning into the gentle touch of her soul bond. It chitters, taking the reciprocation as an excuse to slink closer. She was safest when it was close. "That's all you want to be?"
"It is it" it repeats, pleased that their rather basic statement seemed to be understood.
"Thats good enough for me, then." She replies, without judgement, confusion fading. "Nice to become acquainted then, It." She adds, a soft smile on her face, hand reaching up to pet along the ridge of the nearest wing.