Claimers: I own them. Or as I normally type; I won them.
 
 
Elle's POV
 
LaOC XIV - Strike One
 
I sit in the bathroom, watching myself in the mirror.
I wasn't treating her like a child, I was trying to... protect her.
I was treating her like a child.
Damn.
 
I don't want to see her hurt.
I remember Jude during the battle.
She was... is a fearsome warrior, and also the worst kind.
One without conscience.
 
I stand and walk to the mirror, touching my face in it.
How pathetic, not even being able to keep my Angels under control.
I'm God, and I can't stop an office brawl from escalating into something more dangerous.
 
Pride is now involved, and it is the most treacherous of all our emotions.
It colours us blind, removes true thought, twisting it into actions that would not normally be considered.
Pride, one of our greatest sins.
 
I click my fingers and I'm in Jude's office.
 
'Your eminence, a privilege to see you.'
 
The words roll from her mouth, dripping heavily in sarcasm.
 
'Jude. This is ridiculous. The challenge I mean. Discord will apologise to you for her actions.'
 
I'm sure I can get her to.
I will have to.
A laugh washes over me, as she opens her weapon's cabinet.
 
'I don't want a forced apology, your eminence. I want her job. It's one of your laws after all.'
 
Taunting me.
I can feel it in the unspoken charge in the air.
A dangerous game, Jude.
I am not someone to play with.
Cute Elle, cuddly God, look how nice she is?
I proved myself with Abaddon.
 
She picks a large knife up, testing the weight in her hands.
 
'The law was meant to be repealed, you know that.'
 
'I do know that. But it wasn't. Do you think we should go with knives or swords? I prefer the intimacy a knife gives you. You can look into someone's eyes when you push it in them, see them leave their...'
 
'Enough! There'll be no battle. You call me your eminence, but treat me with disrespect. Unwise, Jude.'
 
'I never claimed to be wise. You made me this way. I am your creation.'
 
A smile from a traitor.
She should have gone with Lucy and the others.
Quisling Angels, doomed to be removed from my grace.
 
'My creation? Then I will be the first to admit it. I failed with you.'
 
She jams the knife in the desk, hard.
The sound reverberates round the room and the inside of my head.
 
'This is your chance to get rid of me. You even get to use your lover to do it, that way you don't have to get my blood on your hands. Your eminence.'
 
Again with her taunts.
Oh Jude, how silly you are.
 
I walk up to her and pull her knife out from the desk.
 
Sometimes we must teach our children the hard way.
A lesson must be remembered, after all.
 
I grab her hand and slam it on the desk.
I bring the knife down, stabbing the blade through her palm; quickly, brutally.
She holds her scream in, as her teeth bare and her body shakes.
 
Hurts doesn't it, can hear it in your head.
 
'I have your blood on my hands now. Say goodnight to your mother.'
 
Her mind fills with violence and pain, as I press my lips to her forehead, kissing her goodbye.
Then with a final smile, I flash myself into my office.
 
I know one thing; I've learnt my lesson.
I've realised that a heart full of love is often no match for a stab in the back.
 
I almost lost Dizzy before.
 
 
 
And as I am witness to my own statement; it will not happen again.