"Therefore, my dear friends, just as you have always obeyed, so now, not only in my presence but even more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God who is working in you both to will and to work according to his good purpose. Do everything without grumbling and arguing, so that you may be blaless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the world, by holding firm to the word of life. Then I can boast in the day of Christ that I didn’t run or labor for nothing. But even if I am poured out as a drink offering on the sacrificial service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. In the sa way you should also be glad and rejoice with ." -Philippians 2:12-18
______________________
The door gets violently kicked open by the bottom L’Orient’s boot and the fragile door smashes to bits against the wall.
L’Orient DæMon: "Jean..."
The interrupted young blonde swallows her spit, nervous of the vibe her superior is giving off.
Jean DæMon: "Y-Yes, Mizz-Mrs. L’Orient?"
The tiny advanced Seiõr user with the body of a child, floats up a few inches off the rocky floor.
Her hands beco covered in and orange/red Seiõr and ignites the two perched torches high up on the wall on both sides of the room.
The decent amount of light reveals another treacherous, cold, stone rooms, but in the middle of the area, is an electric chair, but the wire that sends the voltage to the sitting occupant is not hooked up. It seems as if soone had ripped it out of a prison and placed it in the dieval torture dungeon.
The dangerous Scandinavian witch with one blue eye and one red eye lands back on her feet and points at the electric chair while ignoring her concerned colleagues questions.
L’Orient DæMon: "...Just put the giant in the God Damn electric chair!"
...
In the darkness, the sounds of aggressively thrown and landing punches, on a squishy surface echoes.
The grunts and sobs from anger, vengeance filled, rage induced violence are coming from an ambiguous young man.
’Ambiguous’, until the familiar voice starts laughing manically and in a low growl as he speaks...
Katsu’s Voice: "I...win...Saku...that was ... for...for...who was this all for again?"
...
[About 600 Years Before Leviathan’s Invasion]
{Northern France}
During this ti period, in middle of the Hundred Years War, within the confines of a 15th century stone ho, the wailing and crying of a baby girl can be heard in the quiet night.
Inside the ho, by candle light a washed baby girl is wrapped up and handed to a sweating woman. Now cald down, the new momma smiles while breathing heavily.
The woman who helped deliver the baby is washing her hands off in a bucket of water.
The "nurse" dries her hands off, and then gives a dry cloth to the exhausted new mother.
Nurse: "Well Mother, what will her na be?"
Momma: "Joan.
Her na will be Joan."
[Thirteen Years Later]
In the ho she was born, a familiar long legged French girl with pink eyes, but brown hair.
With her glistening but sad pink, lovable eyes, she stares at the palm of her hand and then closes it into a fist.
Joan: "Why am I so much stronger than even the n?
Mother and the visionaries says it’s because of ’God’..."
While laying down in her room, on the second floor to her ho, the young lady is surprised when from her window, a small cloaked figured is perched.
The cloak having red and blue dwarf weeping willow trees printed on, indicating 15th century L’Orient DæMon, but obviously under a different pseudonym.
L’Orient DæMon: "Why hello there, first ever 2nd Generation."
Spooked Joan jumps to her feet and starts to tremble at the sight of the obviously powerful being.
Joan: "Who are you?! How did you get up here to my window without a ladder?"
L’Orient DæMon: "I’ll give you three guesses as to who I am.
Give all three of your predictions at once."
She snickers while waiting for a response from the confused, but intrigued young 13 years old.
The young lady sits back down on her bed and takes a mont to think. Until finally...
Joan: "Are you St. Catherine, St. Margaret of Antioch, or Archangel Michael?"
The mysterious and cloaked being jumps through the window and floats over to the intimidated young lady.
As the distance between the two shortens, Joan can make out 2 blue glowing eyes from under the shadows of the hood.
L’Orient flips upside down while smiling at the cowering and confused young lady.
L’Orient DæMon: "Trick question!
I’m stronger than all three combined."
Joan swallows her spit and a drop of sweat lands on her hand.
Joan: "Wh-What do you want?"
Carelessly floating around the room, looking at the sewing machine and other trinkets around the room while speaking to the young religious lady.
L’Orient DæMon: "It’s not what I’m looking for, my dear. It was you who was just whining about your ability to overpower and defeat the greatest of n.
Was it not?"
Joan: "I wasn’t ’whining’!
I’m just... I’m confused..."
L’Orient DæMon: "So you’re looking for answers?"
The young lady with straight brown hair nods and a curling smile grows from the 1st Generation DæMon’s little lips.
L’Orient DæMon: "If you want the answers to your life’s most concerning problems, live a pious life and remain a virgin.
Over the next three years I shall return and teach you more about that which stumbles you, dear child."
The small figure begins to float out the window and put into the dark night
Joan: "Wait!"
L’Orient DæMon: "There is no waiting, little one.
Only endless perpetual movent through space."
She floats up and out of the vision of the young Joan. The 13 year old runs to the window and looks up with tears in her pink eyes, but the visitor has vanished.
Joan: "Take with you..."
[Three Years Later]
In the sa room, while sewing, what seems to be a blanket, older Joan, now 16, has longer, slightly wavy hair looks up and talks as if knowing her cloaked visitor has arrived once more in her cut out window.
Joan: "So you’ve returned, Archangel.
Do you have more techniques of God’s Seiõr to teach , or perhaps to tell not to listen to those who tease ?"
L’Orient DæMon: "Neither, budding 2nd Generation.
In fact, I believe it is ti for you to show not only , but the entire world your new abilities."
The 2nd Generation DæMon shoots up from her seat and spins around to see nobody in the window.
Now laying on the peasant girl’s bed, L’Orient looks up at the ceiling with her hands behind her head.
L’Orient DæMon: "For the past few decades, the unfortunate people of France have been and are currently being conquered/overthrown by England’s superior army and war tactics.
However, it appears neither side wields a warrior mutually acknowledged by Seiõr...yet."
Joan slowly turns to face the multi-hundred year old witch setting the historical exposition.
L’Orient DæMon: "Tomorrow morning, I want you to request a eting with Charles."
Joan: "Th-The King?"
The sarcastic "Archangel" shoots a dissatisfied look at her young prodigy.
L’Orient DæMon: "No, the town fool.
Of course the King!"
Joan takes her seat back at the sewing table and thinks about the task given to her.
Joan: "And what do I tell him?
I may be known around the town as the strongest, but I’m still a female.
n don’t respect a woman’s demands and not to ntion he is in Chinon, over 500km away.
It’s pure suicide."
The DæMon in her respective tree patterned cloak kicks her feet up and launches her body up and floats towards the questioning girl.
L’Orient DæMon: "Go to Vaucouleurs, there find a man by the na Baudricourt, he shall be the catalyst to the next Chapter of your tale."
[24 Hours Later]
It is late evening and Joan is walking back ho, through her city muttering to herself and rubbing a red right ear.
Joan: "Throws out.
Fuckin old fart."
...
[8 Months Later]
Riding on horseback, with a bow and quiver full of arrows, there are two wild boars dead, and hung to the side of the saddle.
The sounds of fire and shouting are coming from the young woman’s village.
As she steps off of her horse, the horrible sight of her ho and the area she grew up in, ransacked and left tornted by the enemy forces.
Behind her, sitting on the aggravated Joan’s horse, L’Orient sits backwards with the back of her head resting on the back of the four legged beast’s cranium.
L’Orient DæMon: "Yes, young one.
Know the true aning of this world. Let that feeling swell up and be released through every pore in your body.
You are going to beco a legend, ’Jean DæMon’."
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