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Goddeth heaved open the brass door of her bedroom. Classes ended early. Her father’s right hand angel said something about a siege. She wasn’t really sure what was going on; she knew something was happening though, something bad.
Being the daughter of God had its advantages. Private tutors, golden halls; the best birthday parties… Like all things, these came with a price. Goddeth had to be a role model for the rest of the denizens of Heaven. An example of God’s grace, so to speak. Goddeth could also sense sin. No. She could feel it. It was like a sting, a bite, in the back of her mind. At first it was painful, then Goddeth learned to ignore it. But now… she lived for it.
Satan’s forces have become organized. And since that time, Goddeth’s father hasn’t had much time to actually fill the father role. For the past thousand years or so, Goddeth has been left to her own her own devices. Left to develop her own persona, her own tastes.
Goddeth had developed a taste for sin. She enjoyed the burning she got in the back of her mind. The cool and damp feeling that rolled in the pit of her stomach whenever she bathed in it.
She stepped into the dark of her bed chamber. Her four poster bed was securely in the corner furthest away from the door, draped in sheets of crimson. Weaponry of different sorts and times lined the walls. Bows and crossbows above her bed and swords on the right. Knives, from dirks to daggers to her favorite rapier, circled the doorway.
Tossing her bag on the floor, Goddeth sank into the leather chair facing the obsidian desk taking up the bulk of her room. The desk itself lie bare, save for two twin picture frames. The first picture was of herself and an exotic looking woman.
Upon closer inspection, one would realize that she were not a woman, but indeed a demon. Her healthy luster was overly pink, especially when coupled with her rich, amber eyes. And her raven locks streaked around her head, framing not only her face, but Goddeth’s as well. She wore white, causing her features to stand out more. Goddeth, herself, dressed in black and an assortment of grays. Her short auburn hair whipped her dark glasses in an immortalized breeze. Black jeans and a dark gray t-shirt covered her long frame as she gazed, unsmiling from the photo.
The other photograph showed herself, much younger this time, sitting on the lap of a grizzled old man. Striking blue eyes gazed out from thick pure white eye brows. He wore a regal looking azure robe that fell to floor length. Goddeth, grinning, had intertwined her small hands throughout the man’s long snowy white beard.
A much older Goddeth turned the picture to face the opposite wall.
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