<strong>Vorianne - Mercy Hospital - A Race to Save the Undeserving</strong><br/><br/><br/>Vorianne made good time, better than she could have reasonably hoped for as she raced down the alleys towards the hospital, careful to keep off the main streets.  She couldn't risk other modes of transportation, not with the fragile burden that she carried that cried out at the slightest jostle.  Flight, even at the lowest speeds, would have put an unacceptable strain on the Infernal even had she dared to attempt it.  Without the glamoring abilities that many of her kin possessed, flight had always been a dangerous proposition for Vorianne and only resorted to in the most dire situations.<br/><br/>As well, she could hardly avail herself of a taxi with her blood drenched passenger, the same logic ruling out subways or other public transportation.  And so she was left cradling the wounded Infernal in her surprisingly strong arms, carrying his solid weight as easily as a Nephelim might a small animal.  She made her way as quickly as she could through the darkened alleys until she reached the hospital, it's smooth white exterior glinting softly in the lights of the city.  She felt the creature's breath become more ragged and shallow as long strides ate up the distance across the carefully manicured grounds as she approached the ER's entrance, a single ambulance parked just outside the sliding doors.<br/><br/>She caught sight of two figures as she approaching, and it was a testament to her preoccupation with her charge that she failed to recognize the first until she was almost on top of the pair.<br/><br/><em>No, no.  Not now.</em>she thought as her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest at being in the presence of her Lady.  A small corner of her recognized it as merely one of her other selves, a very real but less . . . glorious version of the Seraphim.  It made a convenient excuse for not having sensed her earlier but Vorianne still felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of her.  The gentle flow of her long raven black hair as it framed her expressive face and warm, inviting dark eyes.  The soft flutter of her black tipped wings as well as the slow shifting of the silky dress she wore, the fabric moving as if in an invisible breeze to always show the Seraphim at her finest.  Not that Vorianne believe for a moment that it was possible for her to look otherwise.<br/><br/>The arch angel felt her heart swell with the unconditional love and devotion that her Mistress's presence always evoked in her as well as . . . .certain baser desires that the Seraphim's angelic being also brought forth.  Closing her eyes for just a moment in frustration at the unbidden feelings Vorianne ruthlessly suppressed them, berating herself once more for ever<em>daring</em>to think of the Lady Izuriel in such a fashion.  Of contemplating the soft curves that lay beneath the flowing dress,  of the caress of those full lips . . . .<br/><br/>Once more Vorianne pushed such things away, locking them away in a silent corner of her soul as she always did, a ravenous hunger that she could not allow to be sated.  They subsided and slowly left her and after another pregnant moment she opened her eyes once more and took in the woman next to the Seraphim.  A Nephelim.  Attractive with short, almost boyish hair and a slim figure that filled out the EMT uniform she wore quite well.  The eyes were quick and intelligent, though apparently dulled somewhat by lack of sleep and . . . .something.<br/><br/>Vorianne blinked, her eyes shifting for just a moment to a lighter, almost glowing blue as she stole a glimpse at the girl's soul.  It was not enough to see the Nephelim as she<em>truly</em>was, or even as the girl imagined herself (sadly with the Nephelim, quite often two very different people).  But it was enough to provide a quick series of images.<br/><br/><em>Awakened, or at least on the cusp of it.</em>Vorianne thought to herself as she crossed the last few feet between herself and the pair, bowing as deeply as she could to Izuriel with her burden and nodding slightly to the Nephelim<em>And one our Lady sees fit to court into the Fold herself</em>.<br/><br/>The arch angel felt another emotion pierce her heart for just a moment before she forced it too away.  Jealousy.  That the Lady herself would come visit the Nephelim, to seek to bring her to the Light with her own hands rather than trusting it to another.  That she would value the mere mortal such . . . but no, it was not proper and in fact dangerous to think such things.  And so she smiled faintly at the Nephelim, certain that her blood soaked appearance as well as the state of her burden would unnerve her and seeking to somewhat temper the image before turning back to her Lady.<br/><br/>"Lady Izuriel." she said softly, her smooth voice a worshiping whisper.  There would be time for her report later, for now the Infernal lay very close to death "I bring the one they captured.  He is fading quickly and I fear I may have rescued him too late." she bowed her head and continued "What would you have me do, my Lady?"