Sword squinted at the blinding vibrancy of life that choked the roof of the prison he had been confined to. The polished metal of the chains that trailed from his wrists flashed with the sudden movement as the devil lifted a manacled hand to block out the light. He refused to turn away from the sun's ruthless attack on eyes that had only glimpsed the light that flooded Heaven through minuscule breaks in the thick clouds that blanketed Hell. It was the first time that the devil Sword had ever been far enough into Heaven's territory to see how damnably bright and shiny everything was.
From the prisons to the buildings to the clothes worn by those accursed angels, every last thing Sword saw was either white or some shade that was suspiciously close to white. It hurt his eyes. As if the sun wasn't bright enough on its own without helping it along by whitewashing everything!
That had to be the reason why the angels' main colour was white, Sword decided. It wasn't because they were good or because they lived in Heaven; it was so they could blind devils by flying through sunbeams.
Sword sneered at the wildlife that apparently lived in the deceptively peaceful garden that decorated the roof of the angels' prison for devils. He walked towards an open space that had nothing more offensive than grass and a few pungent flowers and gazed out at the landscape of Heaven. Floating amongst wind-blown clouds like gigantic stone balloons were what Sword could only describe as flat-topped islands. They were connected with a network of flimsy curving staircases and pathways that all seemed to either lead towards where God and the Archangels lived, or downwards, down towards Hell and the distant sea of boiling black clouds.
He gazed longingly at storms that raged over Hell's landscape and shifted wings that, while by no means had the size or strength of a full grown devil's, were enough to bear the young devil past Heaven's defences. Unfortunately, the rest of his body lacked the power to do more than cause a disturbance among Heaven's ranks. Massive chains clinked against the warded silver bands that wound around the joints of Sword's wings to tie them shut. The angels took no chances with any devil they captured alive and took to Heaven. If metal inscribed with holy magic failed to restrict a devil's movements, then the sheer weight of the chains would keep any winged prisoner from taking flight without crashing painfully to the ground after travelling a few metres.
Such an ill-fated flight had already been attempted by Sword after he freed himself and before he managed to escape the winged pursuit. He was just grateful that Heaven felt it was important feed their prisoners and, thus, allowed Sword to regain enough strength to defeat the guards that wrongfully felt that Sword's less-than-graceful landing was a source of amusement.
He grinned at the memory of the fight. Those angels were really no match for a devil of his calibre.
"I must admit, I can't help but admire the determination of a devil intent on causing trouble." A clear, young voice called out.
Sword whirled around, a fist raised instinctively to release a blast of demonic power even though the warded manacles would prevent such an action. He braced himself against the momentum of the chains that threatened overbalancing him with the extra weight. The target of his ire smiled. 'That's a boy, right? Or is it a girl?' Sword couldn't be certain by just looking at the winged person before him. The angel's next words confirmed Sword's thoughts.
"I'd warn you not to do that but it would be useless to say so at this point," the angel --a boy, Sword decided, after listening closely to the voice-- said smugly.
The male angel stared pointedly at the web-like burns that radiated up Sword's arms and away from his wrists with such an air of authoritative disapproval that the devil found himself crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Sword hissed slightly at the pain the action caused.