Loki hadn't so much managed to continue with his duties as fought with renewed conviction. Jeremiel had shown him what Pestilence was really like. How she'd tricked him into thinking he was more than just a conquest. He hadn't been back to Heaven since because he didn't need to. He knew his path
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Comments 15
When Stupid had set her down in India, she hadn't know what to do. Her mind was already foggy from the diseases ravaging her body and she could not think clearly about her direction. So, she walked.
Dressed in a widow's white, she was ignored and looked upon as a curse. She infected a few in each village with minor ills, enough to keep the worst of her pain at bay, but she had to be careful. He would see her. He would find her.
One day, like any other fevered day, she went into the marketplace. It was crowded and perfect for infecting a few without any trace that it was her. He couldn't catch her scent. He would never know.
Hunched over, she pushed her way through the throngs of people, leaving tonsillitis and gangrene and chicken pox in her wake.
Then, she looked up.
How had he found her? Plain as day, he stood there, radiating light and strength and...it was over. It was the end.
Pestilence ran.
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Travelling by foot wasn't something he was used to, but he was fast. Faster than she was. He couldn't blame her. Couldn't hold it against her because the last time he'd seen her he'd judged her.
"Pestilence." And then softer, "...Pes?"
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But he was close, so close, and he was hunting her. Stalking her. She was prey to him.
She heard his voice, close at hand, and it registered only as words without meaning. He had no meaning. He was here to kill.
Skidding into an alley, she looked up. Dead end.
No...no...
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"Pestilence. I haven't..." He wasn't sure how to say what he needed to say.
"You're safe."
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