The Fall

                                    

                                          
Falling from the skies above to the flames below was not an easy stride. Alastor never imagined that it would be, especially when he was bleeding from a few holes in his body. Not once did he ever lose any kind consciousness, no not at all. He wanted to be awake during the entire ordeal. He wanted to feel every bit of the sensation, and wanted to relish in the phenomenon. After all, you only get to fall once. 
His scowl of pain slowly lifts into a smile of insanity. His quietest of chuckles turns into a barrel of laughter that could only echo through the void in between both realms. Once he enters through the red opening, his skin immediately begins to burn. His eyes are filled with tears of blood that could only be from the overwhelming amount of agony that traveled from the tips of his hooves to the the ends of his ears. 
'Truly a Hellish feeling...! My skin feels like it's peeling from the bone, my blood is boiling, and I can feel my very bones breaking and regenerating over and over again!' 
His eyes are flashing between their brighter shades to a deep bloody red, with the sclera bleeding into a shade of black. His cuffed wrists shiver in pain as the skin peels from the bone only to grow out fur of black and claws of red. The transformation was now beginning. 
He is no longer an angel. He was now a Demon. 
His claws dig into the scalp of his head, the tips digging into the skin as his blood just flies passed his body from his scalp while splashing a few droplets onto his face. His smile never falters with several huffs of laughs breaking through his teeth that were now beginning to break through the gums that distorted from their healthy color to black. His teeth are driven out with the blood pouring from beyond his lips. His claws grab onto his face with a cry of lunacy. He couldn't tell whether he was enjoying the pain, or if he was just coping with it by using his madness as a cover. 
His eyes catch a glimpse of the ground where he was doomed to crash. His smile widens revealing a new set of yellow sharp teeth. He laughs and laughs—he crashes in the middle of a dead forest—and boy did it all fit him so well! He throws his body up in a rage, his antlers growing up from the top of his head to extend to the lengths of the trees. They just fall from the top of his head in order to make room for his new pair to grow through. Blood gushes from the top and pours over his face as the new pair of antlers explode from the opened gaps. His hands press to the ground with his voice being overshadowed by the howls of a deer until a more aggressive cry unleashes from deep within his throat. 
The cries of a wendigo. 
His claws dig through the dirt as his back arches up high with his spine crackling from underneath the skin before settling down underneath his clothes. His skin by now is covered in a more paler shade, with several areas covered in a layer of fur that matched with the deer that was native to his home state. He huffs out a heavy breath and just smashes his forehead into the ground with the means to knock himself out. But it doesn't seem to work. 
His glasses are broken and shattered—his hair is falling out with newer strands growing in length to his chin drenched in a shade of red with the ends carrying on the black coloring. His clothes are now drenched in red with the fluids soaking through every individual thread. He breathes in and chokes out the blood that couldn't be coughed up during his fall, and heaves it all up. He crawls away on all fours away from the puddle as his body finally manages to adjust. He falls onto his side with his eyes staring at the ground that was now covered in his peeled skin, fallen hair, burned feathers from his second pair of wings that had turned to ash, and the microphone staff that he was given by the very Seraphim who betrayed him. 
'They must have thrown it down after shoving me over....' 
He slowly tries to reach for it, but his wrists refused to even move  an inch. The heavenly cuffs were still wrapped around them, and now that he was no longer angelic, they were just burning his skin. He chuckles lightly and curls up on the spot with no desire to really go anywhere. Surely, no one would care to see a corpse laying around in the middle of the woods. It was Hell after all. 
He glances back to his back where the most of his pain still resided. Who knew that the tearing of his wings would hurt more than the fall itself. He gazes back up to the heavenly sphere that just proceeded to mock him from above. He didn't really want to harm the Heavens, no he'd rather just torture the Seraphim and first man along with the lieutenant that stood at his side. Maybe, one day he will get the chance but in the present moment, resting was all he could do. 
"Oh my....you sure don't look well hun! You've even left a giant clutter of yourself behind!" 
His eyes that had closed for a moment, open slightly only to be greeted by the face of a woman with features resembling that of a skeleton. She smiles kindly and crouches down to wipe the blood from his face. 
"Looks like that fall did a number on ya. It'll take a few days to recover from that, so just take that time to recover. You'll be in good hands." 
Alastor isn't able to respond, in fact, he honestly didn't care to. All he wanted to do was to sleep and hopefully never wake up.