WIP Whenever

Tagged by @boethiahspillowbook, thank you m’dear! I tag @nostalgic-breton-girl, @sheirukitriesfandom, and @dirty-bosmer, with no pressure as always. <3

To set the scene: The command room in Drezen, Anevia and Irabeth have just stepped out, and Isanna thinks she’s going to have some time relatively alone with Regill when a certain someone shows up—

“Hulrun!” Her wings flared outward in excitement—excitement so pronounced that she hardly noticed she had run one of them directly into Regill—and she couldn’t stand up fast enough. She hurried toward him with a grin, wings spread wide and halo burning bright, and stopped short just in front of him, gazing at him with breathless wonder. “Isanna,” he said with equal wonder, unable to take his eyes off her. “You look like you’ve just descended from Heaven itself.” She laughed softly and said, “You said you wanted to fight alongside the angels, didn’t you?” They gazed at each other lovingly, and she added, “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” Then indignantly, recalling Anevia and Irabeth’s timely exit, “No one told me you were coming. Ah, no matter.” Not caring that there were guards present, she took him in her arms and held him close, and as his arms found their way around her lower back, she folded her wings behind her and relaxed into the embrace, only for him to tense and gently push her aside. “What’s this devil worshiper doing here?” he demanded as he brushed past her. She realized he must have spotted Regill over her shoulder, and when she saw that his hand had moved to his sword, she quickly threw herself in front of him and spread her wings again to stop his advance. “Hulrun, no,” she said, her voice a low warning. “Paralictor Regill Derenge is here at my invitation as a trusted ally. You will show him the same respect you show me.” “You invited a devil worshiper to sit at your command table?” he asked. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his hand was still resting on his sword, so she summoned all the authority she could even as she felt a flash of irritation. “His expertise has proven invaluable to the crusade,” she said. “It was his strategy that allowed us to take Drezen with minimal losses. Please, he worships Iomedae just as you do.” “What he worships is a heretical caricature of the Inheritor,” he said icily, eyes boring into Regill’s behind her. Seeing that her own piercing stare hadn’t wavered, he added more as a statement than a question, “You trust him.” “I do,” she said, and she felt her heart start to pound. “I trust him implicitly. With my life, and the lives of my soldiers.” His lip curled in disdain, and Regill finally spoke. “Not going to take the word of an angel from your precious Heaven, Prelate?”