It Reeks of Plague [Open]

Ah, so this is what Lucifer had done with what his pride had given him! It smelled of deteriorated flesh and a vile green miasma was present just like a faded mist. Lord Michael had said that Asmodeus was granted domain over this hellish plane that resembled what Mortals called "Barcelona". Placing the tip if his finger to his chin, his grinned. God's children were so imaginative and artistic with the freedom that God let them keep. They built monoliths and sanctuaries to deities, fake and real, and their minds crafted song and visual beauty. Zadkiel made sure people didn't abuse ultimate freedom. Come to think of it, maybe He gave Lucifer too much freedom. He remembered standing beside Michael, as God tossed him down to Inferis. He remembered seeing a faint glimmer of doubt in the prideful Lucifer's eyes as he reached out. His grin faded as he sighed. The thoughts quickly left his head. His feet casually stepped over every crack in the dismantled Spanish street, as he looked at the diseased corpses that laid on the ground without care.

Stopping at the side of a mangled body, Zadkiel furrowed his brow as the being slowly moved its arm, its withered and bong fingers reaching out to him in shriveled and dull hostility. The demon's gas mask had its glass eyeholes pierced, and black sludge oozed from within. Narrowing his eyes, he let out an exhale with a tint of anger and disappointment. This was what the once majestic and heavenly Asmodeus ruled over now? It made him sick to his stomach. He remembered all of Lucifer's lieutenants in heaven's light. Mammon and Asmodeus, caring and elegant. He was on good terms with all of them before they blindly followed Lucifer. After a few billion years, he could only imagine how monstrous anu warped they were, down to their presumably evil and warped souls. Clenching his fist, he took another glance at the decaying and suffering demon. The demon was weakly clenching his pant leg, as if to ask for euthanasia. Lifting his clench fist up, his fingers unfurled slowly, a wisp of crackling, violet flame. He didn't want to needlessly draw his sword and use a full inferno, but a small flame would suffice. Swinging his hand down towards the being, the flame enveloped the demon as it convulsed for a few moments, before letting go. He didn't believe former beings of light could cause such malice. Bringing his arm to his side, he exhaled. Those flames would burn until there was nothing left. Maybe the fire would even spread and burn this wicked sphere down. It was unlikely, but it would be awesome.

Stepping forward, he proceeded to walk as he looked around. Coming to a clearing, he stopped, the long fluffy appendage on his shoulder swaying some in a caught breeze. "I know you can here me, Asmodeus. I, Zadkiel, Saint of Freedom, request audience!" His aloof attitude was shed for a more serious tone. "Any and all communicable life in this sphere, your ears are my audience. The saint that granted you the freedom to live your previous mortal lives, I request thee! The once elegant Asmodeus, who granted warmth before, I know you are curious enough to meet me once more!" He didn't restrain his holy aura, as a violet tinge wrapped him. He was sub par compared to the Archdemons, but he had confidence in his ability.