BELIEVE IN GRACE AND CHOICE ; private

[Amren]

[color=#414a4c]✴ ✴ ✴

Amren's relationship with her own father was one that could not be more different than Thomas'. To the woman, he was not so much her father but instead, her creator and in that, came his restraints and rules on what she could and could not do in her home dimension. He had delegated her the task of death angel all of those thousands of years ago and gave her strict instructions: deliver the souls to purgatory, no more, no less. Amren had not been interested in that though, not when she was much too fascinated by the stories they had to share as well as their own usefulness to her. She began stealing the souls for her own purpose, successfully enraging her father and forcing him to exile her from their dimension. In retrospect, her banishment had been a gift. He knew his daughter, his creation of fire and electricity and rage and smoke, needed bigger things. Better things. And she knew her father could not operate knowing that someone in his direct ranks was so effortlessly disobeying him.

Thomas' gift had been a sword.

Amren's had been freedom.

She still missed home though. Or perhaps she missed her raw, unfiltered power, the light that burned her soul and the fire she wielded so effortlessly. She knew she could never return and so, she resigned to not thinking or wishing for any other alternative. She was happy here. She had food (she still hated how weak mortal bodies were- to rely so heavily on substances for energy was such a human thing). And most importantly, she had a small treasure trove of expensive jewels, gemstones, and jewelry that she hoarded more furiously than a firedrake. What more could a girl want?

Oh she knew.

She knew the moment she saw it gleaming through an open window.

Amren had displayed particularly dodgy behavior before but this... this was a new low for her. Regardless, she balanced precariously on tip toes and attempted to grab the hilt of the sword transfixed by the brilliant golds. The weapon itself looked only to be a few days old and yet, she could feel its history just as she felt its weight in the palm of her hand. Interesting.

She peered into the moonlight-illuminated room for a brief moment, searching for its owner and releasing a frustrated sigh as she realized it was Thomas. He'd probably gut her if he discovered she stole the thing. She'd have to barter for it then. [b][color=#414a4c]"Boy, boy wake up," The wicked beast hissed into the darkness, [color=#414a4c]"I want to buy your sword."