Thread: Fallen (Battleship & H a r r i e t)

For as long as Farren could remember, her duty was to serve those who she was assigned to. At first, she was a Guardian, someone who had to earn her path in becoming a Warrior. Her job was supple protect the minor leagues of Heaven with a handful of other Angels. It was an easy task, considering the only demons that ever tried to attack were Kamikaze attacks set to fail from the gecko. A way for Hell's minions to try and prove any worth to the Black Sheep of all Angels, Lucifer. Every pathetic attack had been a test to see how strong the Angels entrusted with the gates were. Because of Farren's ethic, and her strong-willed power, she had been given charge of the unit protecting Heaven's gates. Of course, with her taking charge, things were kept strictly in hold, and a demonic presence didn't get anywhere close to reaching the gate. Her efforts didn't go without a reward, and before she knew it, Farren was assigned into God's very own army. Over the decades, she only grew in strength and mental capacity. However, unlike other Angels, Farren also had a mind of her own. She listened to God's every command, followed by her leading Commander, Torelius. Apart from those two, Farren chose to listen or ignore at her own will. Most Angels viewed her as a sour being, one with high expectations. Most chose to try and stay out of her way, thinking that at any moment, if she wasn't happy with their posture or the way they smiled, she'd snap and put them under. Farren knew that everyone's opinion varied on their unit, and who they were to God. She knew that some were scared by her, cowering whenever her gaze swooped even close to them. She knew that some were jealous, thinking she was sucking up for the sake of making a name for herself, instead of repaying God for the life he gave her. Farren knew all these things, she could read them on their faces whenever she entered a room, but did any of these opinions bother her? No, of course not. Despite what anyone thought, she didn't value her life over any of her fellow comrades, or think of anyone as beneath her on a scale. She didn't care what people thought, and she didn't react to any of their snarly remarks, or their jealous comments in which they didn't think she could hear. The fact that she gave them no reaction most likely made them believe their hunches all the more, but Farren wasn't one to bother with useless arguments. There weren't many female Angels that had ranked nearly as high as Farren did. She excelled in quite a bit of traits that most of the women didn't bother with, either. She was a warrior at heart, and even though she was an Angel, she was almost as ruthless as they came. God had questioned in making her a woman quite a few times, considering her heart and mindset were both of a superior male, but no matter how many times he offered, Farren chose to remain the way he had originally created her. Her hair was as fine as silk, the fiery strands reaching to the middle of her back. Darkly rimmed red eyes were usually set in a narrowed glance, rarely ever widening in surprise or terror. Farren's skin was almost as pale as a porcelain doll, and even though it looked just as fragile, it wasn't hard to tell that she was anything but. High cheek bones and a slender face was what she had been given, full red lips usually wearing a lopsided smirk positioned under a small pointed nose. If it weren't for her breasts, and the small height difference between her and male Angels, it would be a task to pick her out of a crowd of male Angels. With the orders of battle still fresh in her mind, Farren watched over members of God's army as they readied themselves. She stood against a wall, her eyes narrowed in an observing manner, still in her red gown. Ignoring a few scowls from the Angels who thought that she should be getting ready herself, Farren cleared her throat. Pushing off the wall, she toed towards one of her comrades and gestured to the back plate of his shoulders. You're leaving yourself over if you don't properly lace up your equipment. Unlacing the strings and starting them over, Farren pulled them harshly against his body so his skin would get used to the feeling, so he'd know how to lace them by touch, instead of thought. The last thing Torelius needs is someone falling in battle because they couldn't put their armor on properly. Leaving the opposite one for him to tie himself, Farren let out a tiresome sigh and slipped into her person quarters. It was the only thing she had left to do, and it would be a lot better than nit-picking at how inexperienced some of these warriors were. Pulling the cream-coloured sash loose from her waist, Farren kept walking, her dress' material sliding from her body. It landed silently, and in a matter of seconds, she had forgot that it had even been wrapped around her body. Extending her hands, she opened a door, eyes gazing over her armor. Slowly, she started to grip things off their station and fasten them over her body. The first piece of armor was a chastity belt, the black armor strong and fastened with red enchanting gems. Steadying it in place, she soon pulled on a matching breast plate, the black armor hugging against her breasts comfortably. Farren had been doing up her shoulder plates when she heard a familiar voice. Slowly, her eyes traveled to his figure, before fixing on her hands as they tied up the buckles and made sure that the armor was fastened securely. You'd be foolish to expect anything else, Torelius. Lastly, she pulled on her boots and gloves. Flexing her wings for a moment, she padded towards a mirror. Lifting two thin needles, she put some of her up, leaving strands for bangs to frame her face, but not enough to distract her from battle. When she was finished, she turned to look back at Torelius, hands gripping the ledge of the vanity table, head tilting with curiosity. You seem a little more confident than usual. Is there any particular reason for that?