A rustle drew his attention, the fallen angel bodyguard he had heard of stepped beside Wrath. She was similarly dressed, though she bore no helm. Stringy black hair hung in front of her face, even if her eyes were downcast, they were hard to miss. Light green with the same silver irises that stood out on Tarith. A sword hung loosely from her fingers, half hidden by a wing that bent to cover one shoulder. Leif blinked a little and peered closer, noticing the way she rubbed her cheek against the wing. Well... it was soft. He would probably do the same.

“I’m glad to see pretty girls here, finally,” Bruce cackled from his tree, swinging down to look at them closer. Eleysia’s head snapped up, eyes widening for a second before returning to normal. Within that second, Bruce’s head fell from his shoulders.

Leif yelped and hid behind Ozel, face pressed against the lacy back of his dress. Marcius had been right, the angelic powers were nasty. In a violent, cruel way... not in a gross way. Well, it was sort of gross, but by now he was slowly becoming accustomed to gore.

“Uhhh.... Ele? What did I say about cutting off people’s heads?” Wrath glanced at her bodyguard.

“Should be done cleanly,” the soft voice replied, eyes blinking innocently.

“...The other thing.”

“Ah... no beheading of people outside your dominion.”

Wrath smiled. “Riiiiight. Now tell the nice man you’re sorry.”