She may have been knocked unconscious by the landing, permitted to escape the agony of transformation into a lost soul, but that mercy was quickly fading. Awareness slowly returned to the prone form, and with it,<i>pain</i>. Burned flesh and broken bones may have mended for the most part, but the memory of it still sang through her nerves, red-hot and all-consuming. Indeed, for a few moments there was nothing but pain--no memories, no awareness, only the sense that this was punishment of divine caliber. The fallen angel didn't yet open her eyes, but her breathing was growing more ragged, a tremble running through her limbs.<br/><br/>Soon enough, however, scraps of identity finally began to push themselves through the haze.<br/>Who was she?<br/><i>Eliza.</i><br/>Where was she?<br/><i>Hell.</i><br/>Why...?<br/><br/>A shudder ran through her body as she drew herself inwards, whimpering. Now she remembered. She had spoken out against a great injustice and been cast out for it. She had opposed His desires to destroy everything and start anew. She had said that it wasn't fair to the creatures of Earth, human and animal alike. They were worth more than a bored whim of their Creator.<br/><br/>And now, she was here. Fallen. Burned. Forsaken.<br/><br/>It was a laugh, like venom on silk, that pulled her out of her own mind and into the present. As a force pulled her up off the ground, the formerly-comatose angel suddenly convulsed and broke into a violent fit of coughing--sulfur and ash didn't agree with her lungs. On reflex, she tried to right herself, stomach immediately heaving at the sensation of bobbing in the air several inches off the ground. It was one thing to fly under one's own power, it was another matter entirely to be hoisted, and she had been rattled enough by the plummet that the additional bit of vertigo almost made her vomit.<br/><br/>As her vision cleared, she was able to more clearly see the speaker--and more worryingly, see that she was not alone. It would have been stupid not to expect to encounter demons in Hell, but she had hoped it wouldn't be so....soon. She wasn't aware of just how much of a scene her descent had caused. Eliza thrashed feebly, trying to break out of the invisible grip holding her, but being cast out had left her with barely a fraction of her power. "Zarathel..." The angel's voice was hoarse, her throat bone-dry, but the note of contempt was there all the same. There was no sense in trying to beg for mercy, and at the moment, the angel was more akin to a wounded animal--hurting, terrified, and defensive in a way that was clearly meant to mask it all. "Come to finish me off, then?" What did it matter if they killed her? She had failed, and now she was no use to anyone.