Goddess on my Knees (Seraphiel)

[Isabella]

G i v e M e Y o u r E n e m i e s

So long without him, years it was not; but the many lonely hours without a caress of a hand made her weary and cold.
A loyalty that never faltered once, only became dormant as a leave took place. Isobel, she left because her soul was troubled and the massacre of worlds around her only burdened her load. It was painful to leave, but he would be there when she returned. He would be there, she knew, and for so long he waited he deserved a willing reward. The halls of his home had not changed. They hadn't moved since the last touch she had placed upon it, and it eased her heart to gaze at such normality.
Isobel was back to claim her rightful place at Seraphiels side.

The smell of death was the odor she seethed. Blood, tears, all other things seemed to leak from her body; foreign as they were not her own. That little power that he had given her to survive had grown into something remarkable. It changed so many features about Isobel, her body lean, her skin heavenly glowing with life. And those eyes. The ones that had seen a thousand others close and bow at her hands. Stained with the color that of the bracelet on her wrist.
The power had corrupted the calm green they once gazed, burning them with a dangerous Gold.

So where was her knight in shining armor?
It was a site yet to be seen by these new golden orbs.
The fingers on both hands made their venture up her body, black dresses always a fancy of hers. It was made of the finest snake skin of the black viper, it's sleek shine tight to her body to give away every romantic curve and crevice. Her lips were painted with blood, the color a lush, vibrant vermilion that tasted all the sweeter. Eyes lined with black as catlike orbs scanned the hall of his house.
Her look was vicious, but sultry in a sadist. Whether he would be delighted with her jaded transformation or disgusted, it was a look of her own, the weakness not present in her posture any longer.

But weakness still held the knife close to her throat with a threatening smile that told her to tread carefully.

Her hair lay astray across her back and along her shoulders. Some strands rested on her breast, hanging off like a waterfall of black, brushing the small stomach beneath.
Isobel knew her strength would crumble once her eyes found that of Seraphiel's. Still human, with human thoughts, human emotions, and a human heart. All things that held knives ready to pierce at the whim of a wielder.
The mortal had died in ashes, A goddess taking her place.
Isobel stood waiting, for the long hours were nothing compared to the minutes awaiting her reuinitment with her lord.
Hope embraced her and told her to smile, for she was home and a welcoming was in need.

All this distance was never resistance.