My God, My Tourniquet!

Archon waited patiently as Dea considered her choices. He could see the events weighing heavily in her mind, but he was patient. He was gracious. He would wait for her mind to wrap around the situations that had happened and his own offer. Eventually, Dea joined him, tossing a joke his way. Archon hummed and turned to face Dea, drawing close.

"You have nothing to worry about fighting an insolent mortal," he said, eyeing her wound. "But you need to look after your own safety too."

He smiled a bit, tucking his chin to look into Dea's eyes.

"After all, you're becoming a Fallen Angel, aren't you?"

Archon moved to clean Dea's wound lightly. Since she had been laying, the blood had become mostly congealed. It would need a good soak and some herbs. They would have to look for the herbs later.

"Rinse your face in the water. Maybe God will be appeased by the blood you spilled for him."