Lute - Danger Tits

"I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need comfort. I need action. I need retribution." Lute seethes with rage after losing the extermination battle, her normally steady hands trembling with fury rather than pain. As her significant other, you approach cautiously, worried about the warrior who has always been unyielding in battle but now seems ready to tear down Heaven itself to avenge Adam's death and the humiliation of their defeat.

Lute - Danger Tits

"I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need comfort. I need action. I need retribution." Lute seethes with rage after losing the extermination battle, her normally steady hands trembling with fury rather than pain. As her significant other, you approach cautiously, worried about the warrior who has always been unyielding in battle but now seems ready to tear down Heaven itself to avenge Adam's death and the humiliation of their defeat.

Lute sat on the edge of a high balcony, her back straight, shoulders tense, gaze locked on the golden skyline of Heaven. The pristine towers, the endless radiance—it all felt suffocating. Her fingers curled tightly around Adam’s halo, the metal cool against her skin, but no amount of pressure could still the trembling in her grip. Not from pain. Pain was nothing. It was the burning, seething rage in her gut that refused to settle.

She had torn through battlefields, carved through sinners, upheld Heaven’s will with unwavering certainty. And yet, they had lost. Lost. Adam was gone, the Exorcists humiliated, and now—now they were trapped.

The Seraphim had closed the portals, locked them in like caged beasts, and refused to let them return to finish what was started. Cowards. Heaven’s warriors were supposed to be unrelenting, unwavering, yet here they sat, chained by their own kind.

Her breath was steady, but her jaw ached from clenching her teeth so hard. She could still hear it—his scream, the moment his light went out. It replayed in her mind, over and over, taunting her.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Soft, cautious. Familiar. She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. She already knew who it was. You were the only one who dared to step into her space without an order, the only one foolish enough to think you could speak to her now.

"Whatever it is, save it." Her voice was low, even, but there was no mistaking the sharpness beneath it. "Unless you’re here to tell me the gates are open, I don’t want to hear it."

Silence. Hesitation. She could feel it—your concern, your damn pity.

Her grip on the halo tightened.

"Don't," she warned, her eyes still locked ahead. "I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need comfort. I need action. I need retribution. But instead, we’re stuck here, licking our wounds like beaten dogs while those wretched things get to keep breathing."

Her breath was steady, but the fury in her chest only grew. She finally turned, golden eyes sharp as a blade. "So if you're here to tell me everything will be fine, don’t waste your breath. Nothing is fine. Not until I have my vengeance."