He seemed not to believe her when she promised he had won, but why? What did she have left to barter for their lives? If anything, her orders to Vehran to stand down only seemed to anger him further. She had felt the shift in the crowd at the werewolf's insistence that he was not the god he claimed to be--it had been a subject of heated debate among both kingdom and rebels, though within the kingdom nobody ever dared speak such things where someone might hear. At the god-king's growl, she looked to him worriedly, unsure what new cruelty he was planning. He whirled on the crowd, his fury causing them to shrink back in fear. Even Aryel felt a quiver of unease run through her at the venom in his voice. He wasn't posing for the audience, he was well and truly angry. Had her mind been clearer, she might have noted that as a weakness, it seemed that though he had taken the crown, he had little confidence in his position.<br/><br/>She could only watch as he ripped the poor angel from his torturous perch, tearing deep gouges in his hands. Gabiriel barely had any energy left even to cry out as he did so, and was helpless as Dradiro dragged him off. Her heart twisted with pity for the angel, but at Dradiro's next orders, she blanched and began to struggle against her prison once more, heedless of the near-suffocating shadows enveloping her or the cruel metal spikes digging into her hands.<i>"You can't!"</i>she roared, fury once more kindling in her voice. They had a deal. She had surrendered, he wouldn't hurt them. Vehran found like a demon in his own right, fur and fangs erupting in a violent flash, but the guards were able to overpower him through sheer numbers and dragged him to the cross. He was lost to her sight by the mass of armored bodies, but an agonized howl told her enough. Aryel practically screamed her fury, throwing herself against her bindings with renewed vigor. Licks of tiny blue flame flickered at her feathers and eyes, snuffed out almost immediately but quickly springing back to life. There was no room in her mind for thoughts now, only rage and pain. It was the rare demon who could go berserk, and even rarer still among those only partially-demon, but she was teetering over the abyss of violent, unfeeling insanity. It was only when Dradiro's frigid tones rose once more that she paused her thrashing just long enough to stare at him with the look of a rabid beast, pupils so dilated her irises could barely be seen.<br/><br/>Even then, his cruel display was enough to shock her back to her senses. The angel's wail was an almost-inhuman sound, a shriek that chilled her to the bone and sent a twinge of pain running through her own wings. Her stomach heaved as Dradiro tossed the torn-off limbs below her, the white-feathered wings still twitching pathetically as blood leaked from their stumps. She almost vomited at the sight, nearly missing his threat to do the same to her. He still seemed to believe that their rebellion had not truly failed. "What more do you<i>want?"</i>she demanded desperately, becoming vaguely aware of a searing pain in her arms and chest once more. In her rage-fueled struggles, she hadn't felt the way she was practically tearing herself apart in her efforts to escape the cross.