Well, here you go a brand new story. :) Anyone watch the CW show Supernatural? (Leave me a comment if you do.)If you do you'll notice some familiar faces in this story. I've become completely addicted to that show and would recommend it to any nonhuman lovers.
Thanks, and enjoy!
SSG
***
You are humanities last and final hope.
Arabella woke with a start, with those very words plaguing her ears. She could feel those words ringing through her very being, her soul. They washed over her like a blanket of fog, or a gently wave among a sea of tremulous ones that were all unforgettable. No, these words were her. She could taste them, like a bitter prophesy spoken only as last words, that Echo1 herself was doomed to repeat for the rest of eternity.
You are humanities last and final hope.
Those words coursed through her again, but this time violently. The word were spoken harsh, quiet, and over enunciated; as if meant to make the words overly clear so they stuck in her mind and haunted her, stocked her from a distance, always there even if unseen. It was like a curse, she could hear the statement even now with her mind at a different task.
As she lay in bed covered in sweat and her hair matted to her forehead, she knew those simple seven words would change her life forever.
--
Castiel stood on the edge of a platform looking down at the twisting dark clouds below him that were quickly and orderly devouring the bright blue and pink sunset. It looked as if a dark predator of the night was stocking an innocent white mouse.
He himself looked like a dark predator, suited in black armor that reflected light at his every movement; it was as if his suit was resurrected black diamonds. It fitted tightly around him and his sleek feathery black wings. He himself was dark, from the light tan of his skin, his short dark brown hair that was ruffled by the wind, and in complete stark contrast to it all was his eyes; they were a light green with a swirl of blue. It looked as if God couldn't decide between the two. It was a mesmerizing mixing pot of swirled colors.
That was far from the first thing that caught your eyes at first sight it was the intricate black tattoo than ran all the way from his left hand to the left side of his neck, but it wasn't a tattoo. It was a prophecy, a prophecy he refused to follow.
"The prophecy has been delivered." A deep voice called from behind him that obviously knew the tone leadership. This man was suited like him and looked very similar except his eyes were black, the complete void of color or depth. No one could read them.