[Seraph]

The winged warrior flapped his wings faster and faster, the sound mere flaps of feathers against the cold air, snow landing against his down as his fists shook in front of him, eyes clenched for a long member, wrinkles creasing in his forehead, down from his brow to the bridge of his nose. His vision was met with brilliant white, opening his lids wide, releasing warm, salty tears to race down his cheeks to drip from his chin against the snow, his pupils no longer their violent crimson, replaced, once more, with almost blindingly pure white, leaving nothing, not even his pupils, to be seen. the shade, the entire hue of his eye, what was meant to be white, red, and black, suddenly twisted away from white into a pale, almost soothing color of blue, the same blue flickering on his fingertips, pulsing and growing, becoming thick beacon of energy.

"How . . . dare you . . . damage such magnificance of grace . . . or faith . . . itself!" he suddenly turns, wings whisked around himself and spreading to have him facing what would seem to be his own demise, the pointed tops of the steeples, which once and meant to stand proud upon the cathedral, to reach that small bit higher to the heavens, to the faith of a white and warm afterlife, now ripped from their perch and used as mere weapons of violence. Eyes now flashing blue, echoed color now engulfing his entire ahnds down to the wrist, arms flexing and biceps bulging as they both stretch forward, mouth opened in a soft cry as such warm energy poured out from his fingers, digits releasing a wash of blue light that hit the steeples moments before they would rip through his skin and tear him asunder.

A glare hit against the light, something brilliant, almost painful to look at for a moment, causing Galefore to turn away, cutting off the last bit of his speokn word, no explosion, no grandure, it was like nothing at all happened give the flare of the lightshow, as Galefore turned his head quickly, eager to see blood, the blood of the angel paint the snow red.

What he saw was something surreal, something out of one's imagination as the steeples seemed to be frozen in mid-air, even his own magnetic pulls couldn't budge them, and as he blinked, he suddenly realized why. Base barely in the snow stood a monolith, a behemoth of light blue quartz, a pure and nearly invisible against the soft snow crystal that had poured out soft and like water from the angel's hands, and enveloped the pikes of metal whole, they just sitting there in the hard crystal as it shimmered and shined in the soft, white light of the sun reflecting off the snow.

Seraph turned, teeth gritted as he stared down at Galefore from his perch in the air, fingers still glowing and eyes flashing that hypnotically soothing blue. "You want to turn a place a faith into a weapon?" he asks calmly, as his eyes seem to turn to look at the pikes locked in crystal, the gem suddenly jerking slightly and seeming to soften, as the crystal pulled the tips of the metal outward, before hardening again, creating a small section of the quartz ertupting with every sharp tip, pointed deaftly forward. "Then so be it!"

Hands moved garcefully in the air, as if a conductor directly his orchestra, and the crystal obeyed, as everything give the hard tip holding the pikes of the steeples softened and turned pliable, acting as if it had a mind of its own, jerking before coiling back, much like some sort of deadly snake, a cobra who has spied its prey. Galefore tried to move, but with another jerk of the angel's hands, the monolith of angelic quartz shot forth, part of it slamming to the snowy ground then lifting its 'head' upward, and chasing Galefore, its own body of work eager to drive the points of the holy steeples into Galefore's body.

The snow catched Galefore's foot and he slips, just slightly, as Seraph's fingers turn to fists and push forward, sending the cobra to bite, pikes ready to drive through Galefore's body and drain his red into the white of the ground.