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Abaddon's eye twitched, suppressed rage boiling too close to the surface. "I was beautiful," He whispered, looking down now. The rage seemed to ebb away, replaced by something akin to sadness.

"I was...majestic. I had strong wings, beautifully feathered. Everyone was envious of them. I was a strong warrior, too. One of the strongest."

Abaddon glanced back up at Camael, looking vaguely pained. He was out of control and he knew it, hated it, but could do nothing to rectify it. Not now.
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Camael blinked, trying to imagine the demon with the wings he described. For some reason, the image wouldn't register in her mind. She couldn't imagine this broken and dark man as something more, something like... She gasped. "Were you an angel?" She almost scoffed at her thoughts. This demon couldn't have been something as amazing as an angel. And if he was, Camael would have remembered or recognized him. She had been alive for longernthan the earth was formed. Surely, if he had been one of them and fallen into sin, she would have known.
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Abaddon was silent for what seemed like hours but was truly only minutes. "I was dissatisfied with how things were going in heaven. I was bored and felt suffocated," He glanced up at the sky, as if in a silent beg for forgiveness. "You would never know how persuasive a few pretty words can be to someone who felt as I did."

He was, of course, referring to his master. The one loathed by above and feared below. Lucifer. The fallen angel didn't fall without reason, nor did he do so alone. Afterall, his plan had been to overthrow heaven. How could he do that by himself?
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Camael shook her head. "No. That can't be. I don't remember who you are - were, I mean." She shook her head again, denying what Abaddon was telling her. It was impossible. Angels fell, yes, and when they did, she was usually tasked with dealing the final blow - cutting off their wings. But Abaddon... Camael didn't remember him, not when he was an angel nor the moment he fell for temptation. Something didn't feel right, and it made Camael's stomach twist in ways she didn't like.

She took a step back from him. Angels fell, and in their hatred they sometimes took others down with them. Angels fell to temptation and never came back. Ever. Camael was determined to not be one of them.
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"Do you truly believe that you have knowledge of every angel that ever was or is?" Abaddon asked in a slightly surprised tone. Surely this angel couldn't be so self-assured.

"Do you know how many are in heaven? There's not even a number for it. And yet, you doubt me simply because you don't remember me?"
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"Yes!" Camael shouted, her cool slipping from her grasp. "I am the Creator's flaming sword. I am the one delivers the judgement He has passed." She gestured towards Abaddon. She still couldn't remember him, so either he was lying or something had happened to that bit of Camael's memory. While the former is very likely, the demon's confidence in his words shook Camael. If the latter were the truth... No, it couldn't be.

"Tell me, demon, who was responsible for your downfall? Who wielded the sword if it wasn't me?"
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Abaddon looked at Camael, silent and judgemental. "The Morningstar," He responded after his moments of silence. "Lucifer. He fell and all his followers fell, too. Jack came down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. Is that so surprising?"
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"I still don't understand why you would turn your back on the Creator," Camael muttered. She'd conceded defeat. It was obvious that whatever happend to Abaddon was something she would never fully grasp. All she knew now was that he was a lost soul. Was there a way to bring him back to the right path? She certainly hoped so. It would mean that there was a way to end everything, to change everything for the better.

Camael shook her head at him. "It doesn't matter now."
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Abaddon sighed and stepped away from Camael, moving to the edge of the roof that they stood on and clasping his hands firmly behind his back. He appeared to be deep in thought and once again allowed the silence to stretch onwards at a lethargic pace.

"You're wondering if it's possible to save me, aren't you." It wasn't a question.
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Camael sighed and nodded. There was no use denying it. Besides, she would be lying if she did, and that would go against what she was. She focused her attention back to Abaddon, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "It isn't possible, right?"

She looked back over the city and wondered, "Is the same to be said about the world?
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Abaddon laughed shortly, though it was mirthless. He didn't turn to look at the angel, instead focusing on the city. He could hear a thousand voices, more even, the thoughts of the sinners below. He wondered distantly when exactly the city had fallen. Abaddon didn't doubt that he had had a hand in the rise in the faithless.

"No. I can't be saved. I don't think even the Creator could save me now. I'm too far gone." There was a note of sadness in his voice, as if he had once harbored the hope of salvation.
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Camael was silent, lost in her thoughts. "You're wrong," she finally said, turning to look at the demon. "Everyone can be saved, no matter how far gone." She had to believe that. If she didn't, then she should have just conceded defeat from the start. She had to believe that, believe that the people ad those like Abaddon could be saved. "What kind of angel would I be if I didn't believe in the power of salvation?"
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Abaddon turned back to Camael, his expression conflicted. He was unsure if she truly believed her own words or if she simply hoped them to be true. Even if they were true, what made him worthy of salvation? What made her willing to help him? This is all hinged on possibilities - far fetched but still possibilities.

"Are you saying that you would be willing to help me find salvation?"Abaddon asked, watching the angel carefully.
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"Perhaps," Camael mused. Perhaps she would help him. Maybe, just maybe, it could mean they'd be one step closer to ending the war that had plagued the world. Perhaps if she was able to find a way to offer him what he needed, she'd find a cure for the darkness that had made its root in the city as well. She held on to those hopes, those possibilities, with a level of optimism that she normally didn't have. Had her long times with Kristiel made her akin to the young angel? No, that couldn't be it. Maybe it was just some blind hope guiding her, or maybe this was the Creator speaking to her; lifting her heart and telling her that she'd be able to find a way. If anyone would, it was her.

With that in mind, she nodded to Abaddon with confidence that she lacked before. "I am willing to do all I can."
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Abaddon allowed a genuine smile to form, a rare occurrence. He stepped closer to the angel, hands still clasped firmly behind his back. Now, more than ever, he needed to show her that he meant no harm; it was easier said than done.

He was actually surprised that Camael had agreed without any prompting on his part. However, worry still persisted. His ruler would be watching, perhaps not now, but eventually he would check in on one of his best. He could only hope that he had found salvation by then.
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Camael almost gasped at Abaddon's smile. She truly didn't expect the action, but appreciated it nonetheless. Though there was one thing... "I have no idea where to begin, but I will do my best. I only ask for your cooperation. I am not like the Creator, I am not all knowing." She gave him a small smile. "And this will not be an easy task."
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Abaddon's smile faded as he cast his eyes downward, breathing a quiet sigh. He had held some hope that the angel would know what to do; the revelation that she didn't shouldn't have disappointed him as much as it did.

He turned from her and shrugged off his jacket, allowing it to drop to the ground carelessly. The cool air helped him to concentrate, sharpening his senses. "I don't know, Camael. But someone must."
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"If you could tell me all that happened," Camael paused as a powerful breeze blew by, sending a cold air to envelop her body. She savoured the feeling for a moment, her eyes fluttering close. As the air stilled again, Camael let her eyes open. She continued her statement, "Perhaps I could find a person to help."
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Abaddon savoured the breeze just as Camael did. It was not often that he was able to truly enjoy something so simple. He bit his lower lip briefly, thoughtfully. "I do not know where to begin," He admitted. "Perhaps we should move this conversation to a more comfortable environment? Where we might sit and talk?"
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"A more comfortable environment?" Camael narrowed her eyes. From what she'd known with demons, comfort coincided with sin and temptation. As an angel, she'd grown to learn that avoiding any sort of comfort was the way to go, but a part of her trusted Abaddon even just a bit. She was helping him, after all. So she nodded and pushed away all her doubts. "Lead the way, de- Abe."
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