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.: Angel :. |
Name: Angel
Gender: Female
Rank: God
Crest: Halo
Tail: Horse
Pattern: Solid white
Feet: Hooves
Rare Trait: Cyborg
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.: Stats :. |
~Coming Soon~
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.: The birth that was not meant to be... :. |
It was a dark and stormy night.
It's strange, isn't it, how terrible things always seem to happen on nights like these. They never occur when it's convenient; no, they always pop up in the black of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with cold, sleeting rain piercing your very soul. And that's the type of night this was. A new moon did nothing to lift the inky shadows that loomed over the lonely dirt road, and puddles were swiftly forming in the ruts and dips of the earth.
A lone figure plodded its way along the miserable trail, the downpour making a dull thunk-thunk-thunk noise as it struck the metallic form. A hooved foreleg plunged into a murky pool of mudwater, splashing dark brown onto the pure white fur. Rivulets of rain, dripping steadily off of the elegant form, had already begun to wash it off before it was noticed.
The Radiyan femme hung her head low, using her crest to help shield her eyes. Her sides were swollen with pregnancy, and her breath came in short, panting gasps. Occasionally she let out a low moan, but she kept forging diligently onward.
Suddenly, she keeled over, curling up onto her side like a giant caterpillar hiding from a hungry bird. Her frame shook with effort, ragged moans escaping her parted jaws. Her flanks rose and fell, rose and fell, shuddering with rythmic contractions. She couldn't believe it...she was having the baby, having him right here...
Her head thrust back and she let out a long, low wail, her sides rising in a single, massive heave. And, slowly, the tip a tiny snout nudged out from under her tail. Groaning, she pushed again, and a miniature hoof thrust out, then a smooth, white belly...until, finally, incredibly, her son lay sprawled over the sodden ground, regarding her with doelike eyes.
The new mother gave a sob, this one not of pain, but of joy. "Archangel." She said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "My little Archangel." She reached outwards, nudging the tiny form with her muzzle until it gave out a squeak, then a high, keening wail. "I know, little one, I know." She clucked, smoothing out the fur with a rough, pink tongue. "It's okay..." And her voice trailed off with a shudder. Her breathing, now calm, was suddenly so much harder to maintain...
She gave a low, long moan as another bout of excrutiating pain wracked her body. Twins...she was having twins...with a cry, she heaved again, her muscles struggling to extract the unborn child. But this time, something was wrong...it was so hard to breath, so hard. The female sensed her vision narrowing, and struggled to stay conscious, giving another violent heave.
But she was losing the battle. Whisping tendrils of black slowly crept across her vision, darkening her world, until all she could see were the piercing blue eyes of her treasured son, staring at her with wonder and curiosity across the infinite, black void. "Archangel..." She said weakly, as the world swam further and further away. "Arch..."
Her head fell to the earth, intelligent eyes rapidly dimming of life. As a second tiny form spilled forth into the unforgiving world, she uttered the last word she would ever say, a mother's dying call to her beloved son:
"Angel."
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.: Ghost in the Machine :. |
For all her life -- even in birth -- Angel has been trailing behind her brother's footsteps. He is larger, and possibly stronger, with talents far beyond those that she could ever hope to have. They were seperated shortly after birth: a traveler spotted Archangel and scooped him up, missing Angel because she was currently sleeping in what limited warmth she could find underneath her dead mother's tail. She awoke to find him gone.
Leaving on unsteady legs to try and find him again, she eventually reached the city. The Radiyans there accepted her readily enough, but she has always been a bit of an outcast, living mostly in the dark, neon-bathed streets of the old red light district. She is passive and even a bit shy, preffering flight to a fight. She battles when she must, but doesn't have any major aspirations. Mostly, she just exists, trying to fit in as best as she can, waiting for someone to find her...
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