Solomon

Like most of his species were, or at least considered themselves to be, he felt like he'd been... good. No. Not—dutiful, that was better.

He'd been dutiful. From creation all the way to the end, which—judging from the excruciating pain caused by his lifesource escaping from his open wounds, the way he was really struggling to focus his eyes on the open universe above, and how his thoughts were scattering—should be any moment now.

But at least he'd been dutiful, always diligent about fulfilling whatever task was asked of him. And, and, at least he wasn't alone. Which was probably kind of cruel to think but he'd prefer to be laying in wake of battle, just another dying or lifeless body among hundreds, than being alone and... and...

... hallucinating?

Solomon tried to concentrate on focusing his eyes on the blinding blob of shimmering lifesource that was crooning at him, but all it did was cause his eyes to sting—maybe from the brightness or maybe because, distantly, it was so much like the soft sounds he heard when he was young.

"Are you..." he managed to choke out; a bit more literal than he'd like to admit.

"Am I?"

Why he expected a straight answer from a figment of his dying imagination he wasn't sure, but... hey he wasn't alone. He took a ragged breath, choosing to ignore the liquid that was valiantly attempting to drown him, before trying again."To take my life."

"Ahh..." the light answered, sounding sad. "Is that what you seek?"

Did anyone truly seek their death? What kind of question was that? "Are," Solomon paused, swallowing hard. Too many words to ask such a pointless question. "No."

"I see." A pause, filled with a chiming hum of... something unidentifable. "Then you seek life, is that your answer?"

He made a noise, one that probably would have been a laugh if he was capable, closing his eyes because it wasn't worth trying to stare at something that wasn't real. Because whatever this thing was, that his unraveling mind decided to fabricate, wasn't real. Nothing living would be this... who would ask a dying seraph if they were seeking life or seeking death.

"I am afraid I don't understand."

"Sure," Solomon agreed to... something. That he wanted to live, that he didn't understand either. Both, probably. His answer earned a puzzled chirp. Figures his mind would create something confusing. "I seek living."

"Very well than, young Relay. I will assist."

"You..." was the only word Solomon managed to say before the already bright lifesource blazed, turning his world white even with his eyes closed.

---

"You're real," Solomon said, for the fourth or fifth time in a row.

"I do not see how my response should change from the first time you made this statement," the not dying hallucination replied. For the second time, but with the same amount of curious patience.

"I guess that's fair."

"Guess?"

Solomon squinted, giving the seraph yet another once over since everything went white, then red, and at some point waking up like he'd never had so much as a scratch. "You're a reaper, right?"

"Ahh, no," the liar responded, convincing neither of them. "I suppose I should say, yes but also no."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I..." he grimaced, a hand gesturing at nothing before his red eyes narrowed. "I do not know if my answering is in your best interest."

Solomon must have had some kind of look on his face because the guy let out a sad little chime and hunched in on himself and letting his wings cover his body like a shroud. "I should not be here... I should not be seen."

"Uh huh," Solomon nodded like he understood even if he absolutely did not understand. "What did you abandon your division or something? Go rouge to instead save some random relay? Look, not that I don't appreciate it and all, but if you—"

"I command no one and only the original would dare to command me," the wing bundle stated with such ire that it caught him off guard.

"Okay, alright!" Solomon attempted to placate the guy. "I just don't get it."

The wings shifted some, just enough for glimmering red eyes to glow from behind them. "You will die if I give answers to your questions."

"WHAT?!" Solomon yelped, leaning as far back as he could without flat out skittering away. "Why would you save me just to kill me?!"

Eyes widened, the dark tainted wings finally opened up, and without warning he was descended upon; an expression full of threat with the power to back it up glared down at him. "I would not waste my time nor my energy on saving what I deemed worthless. The promise of death comes not from me but from those you serve!" the seraph spat, voice sounding akin to metal scraping across metal.

"Who..." Solomon swallowed, allowing his nerves to settle as the other Seraph retreated just enough to stop looming over him. "Who exactly are you?"

"You wish for that answer, even if it means death?"

Absolutely not... should be his answer. But. But this guy saved his life, for reasons unknown, and this odd behavior and the warnings... if Solomon didn't understand this would drive him to ruin.

"Yes."

"Very well," the Seraph said, taking a few steps away to spread both his wings and his hands wide. "I am the one called Azrael. The virtue of patience, both reaper and relay. One of seven who are bound to none, commanded only by the first. I have absolved myself from isolation and am instead seeking the truth of this war. Now answer my question, who are you?"

---

Solomon will admit, in hindsight, he should have probably listened to that Azrael guy. Or, better yet, asked to die instead of live. MightWould have saved a lot of time and a great deal of pain in the end.

Turns out Azrael was right.

That knowing the Virtues exist, knowing where one was sighted, being saved by one... yeah, turns out admitting to any one of those was not only a death sentence but also several weeks of excruciating torture until they got every single possible detail out of you.

Who knew everyone, from reaper to commander, were terrified of these seven Virtues. Not only because they were more of less completely unstoppable but because not a single one of them cared all that much about decorum.

A fact he only knew, now, because he'd been at that point where he had so little lifesource left no one knew he was still a little bit alive.

(Whimsical, one of the two Seraph carrying his almost dead body had said. Frivolous, even! Well they were told to ignore the war, the other had said, but at least there's only seven of them.

The last thing he'd heard before he was dumped in open space, was: do you think they were sent away for their sake or ours?)

Actually, he was still at that point. Nearing death a second time. Floating aimlessly in the vast nothingness of space.

Maybe he should have begged for death, before. At least he wouldn't have died alone. A sad thought, one that would have been among his last... that was interrupted by a tinking laugh.

"I see your plan did not go as well as you expected."

Solomon slowly cracked open one eye, vision bleary but still focused enough to see none other than Azrael hovering off to his side. "What do you think?"

That earned him a whistle of a hum, before Azrael smiled ay him with his sharp teeth on full display. "I think, you are quite interesting and I believe you would be good company in my search for answers."

"You know what... sure. " Solomon shut his eye, not that it'd matter. "Save my life and you've got a deal."

"Very well then, Solomon."