Robbed of the Asphalt that Cushioned His Face

Time seemed to creep by and yet, the scenery changed in clips and snippets. Valor was having a difficult time staying conscious as the dark seraphim beside him aided his steps. He had faith. Faith that the ash marked angel would guide him to safety. Even as his vision blurred, the edges of his mind fraying away to black, he followed her. He would follow her into hell if she but led the way.

The change in lighting and the difference between stepping on grass and stepping on stone let Valor know that they had come inside the large structure. The lady led him into a room where a fire blazed low in the hearth. The furs before it looked so warm and inviting. It was as though the fae read his mind and led him directly to it. Another whine of pain eked out through a grimace as Valor lowered himself to the furs. Obsidian sides heaved as his breathing quickened. Would he die after all?

Fiery eyes closed though he tried hard not to fall asleep. Something told him that sleep would surely mean death. He was so very, very tired though... The voice of the cherubim drew him back from the brink of sleep and the brute's orange eyes opened once more. His name? "Valor," he replied simply. No surname or anything of the sort. Just Valor. "May I be so blessed as to learn the name of my savior, Seraphim?" If angels even had names that mortals could understand.

"Valor"