Promises, Secrets, and a Pair of Wings

Marianna could finally breathe again as Anahera lead her away from the crowd, refreshments in hand, she settled next to her partner and began to notice her feet were quite numb from all the dancing. She couldn't help but laugh at Anahera's teasing and gave him a playful push and an eye roll. "I'm just relieved I had a partner with such a high pain tolerance with getting his toes stepped on." She teased back, taking a sip from her refreshment she later discovered was alcohol. Better be careful with that, she thought to herself. She noticed how close they were on the bench and cleared her throat. The navy ribbon on her neck began to feel a little tight on her thin neck. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, looking back at Anahera, noticing a change in his expression. It was a rather out of the norm type of look he seemed to give her. He looked like he could almost swallow her up in that moment.
"You look divine in that dress."

Goosebumps shot up Marianna back as she felt her body shiver from Anahera's warm breathe so close to her ear. Those very words in particular would swoon any young lady, and Marianna was no exception. Her blush had brightened and was a scarlet hue now. She realized they had been playfully flirting back and forth throughout the night, but she didn't realize it would be like this.
Marianna could quite tell if it was the alcohol that was taking over but she placed down her drink and layed a hand over his. "Anahera... I.. um..." she couldn't form words to offer a comment in return without sounding like a stutter fool now that he had left her a melting puddled mess. "My they make these drinks strong" she stated quickly, trying to once again change the subject. Suddenly taking a big gulp of her drink, hoping to get as much liquid courage that Anahera seemed to have suddenly gotten.
 
Anahera chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. "If you're that thirsty, water will do you much better than champagne." He took the nearly-empty glass from her hand and set it on the banister. "If you will do me a favor, ma chérie, at least wait until later in the evening before partaking more. I don't want my lovely dancing partner to lose her footing while we gallivant around the room."

"Speaking of gallivant!" came a sudden, booming voice, "you two are simply m--"
"Hush, mon amore! Can't you see that these two shouldn't be disturbed?
"But, Celeste, they--"
"Can be talked to later. Let the young enjoy themselves as only the young truly can."
"Mon ange, I don't think only the young can enjoy themselves like that." A chuckle and replying flirtatious giggle faded back into the merry buzz in the ballroom.

Anahera's eyes, half-lidded, hadn't left Marianna's face the whole time the loving duo had been in their proximity, and now he chuckled. "Discerning lady, wouldn't you say?" He carefully picked up her free hand and placed it in his. "Now, what was it you were going to say?"
 
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Crap..

Marianna felt her cheeks grow in warmth. When was the last time she had really drank? Hiccup. She left out a displeased sigh as Anahera took her drink away, explaining she needed to slow it down. She felt the room getting a little warm, as well the corset underneath her dress becoming a little tight. "Anahera, how do you do that..." she muttered clumsily, as she looked from their hands to his face, locking eyes with him. Her eyes were dark and glossy, cheeks and ears scarlet red, clear signs of the beginning of light-weight tipsy woman. "How do you know of all of the right things to say... hiccup and make me feel so weird inside." She scowled at him for a moment before shaking her head, and fully interlocking her fingers with his, and closing what little distance they barely had left. They were eye to eye, lips dangerously close to brushing lips. "Anahera... you have bewitched me... I've never let a man get this close to me, yet here you are." Her long eyelashes began to curtain her golden iris as she unconsciously began to stare at the man's lips. "Anahera... am I just some other woman you've been secretly planning... hiccup.. to sleep with?" She released Anahera's hand and pulled herself away, allowing a quick gasp of air to finally make itself known in the air. She began tugging at the ribbon around her neck, untying it to allow more breathing room and to help relax her tipsy state. "I do not wish to be someone's spring fling.." she mumbled again
 
Anahera jerked back, the smile dropping from his face to be replaced with consternation. He was up, off the bench and six feet away from her before either of them took another breath, his angelic speed used without him even realizing it. He stared in horror at Marianna, sudden realization of what barely hadn't happened and the meaning of Marianna's state striking him all at once. He jerked to spin away from her, running his hands into his hair--loosening the ribbon tying it back in the process. "Merde. Merde!"

One breath.

Two.

"What have I done."

One breath.

Firmly, "We have to go home."

He quickly spun back around, face flushed and tight. He started to stride to Marianna but suddenly pulled up, conflicted. He probably needed to help her, but he wasn't sure what she might do in her volatile state if given the opportunity to get close to him.
He...
He forced himself to swallow.
He couldn't allow her to get close to him again until she was either asleep or sober, but how was she supposed to safely get home without someone to help her?
Just as he opened his mouth to demand that Marianna not touch him again as he helped her, an event attendant approached them.
"May I offer you any assistance?"
Anahera slumped in relief, eyes briefly closing. "Yes. Thank you so much. I'm this woman's flatmate, and she's imbibed an unfortunate amount of alcohol. Her behavior is erratic toward me. She needs to get home, but I don't think it would be a wise idea if I took her home myself. Can I pay someone to drive her home? I'll pick up her car tomorrow."

The woman's smile was understanding and sympathetic. "Yes, sir. Of course. You have nothing to worry about. She shall be in the good hands of Maria on her way home."


Forty minutes later, a hotel car pulled into an empty parking spot, and Anahera stepped out of the apartment--now back in his normal clothes--to receive his friend from the car. He handed the woman in the driver's seat a crisp $100 bill and thanked her for her trouble before forcing himself to face his friend. In the moonlight, her eyes shone darkly, and her cheeks were still flushed. Anahera immediately cut himself off when his eyes started drifting over her face again.
None of this would have happened if he hadn't given up control of himself and behaved incredibly inappropriately. It was entirely his fault, so there was no way he could indulge any more of those thoughts.

"Let's get you inside," he said gently.
 
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"What's wrong Anahera?" She questioned innocently, as she noticed he created a great distance between them, hestiant to get close to her. Everything else was a blur to her, she just remembers a nice woman named Maria suddenly take her gently by the arm and helped her into a room to get her out of her dress and back into her street clothes and later drove her home. "Anahera's such a dummy... I just don't want to be left alone again." She mumbled on the way home on the drive. Staring at the blurring lights as her intoxicated state lingered. Once she was dropped off at home, Anahera payed the woman for her services and lead the stumbling Marianna back to their flat. "Anahera... hic.. I'm fine!" She muttered in light frustration. Even in this state, Marianna hated having someone having to look after her. Once inside, Anahera had helped her find a seat and something to help sober her up faster before creating a great distant between them once again. Causing the girl to scowl... "Anahera, we're just leading me on?" She began to pout, "I thought we were having a good time earlier... did I hurt your feet while we danced?" She questioned sadly, oblivious to the previous conversation. "Anahera, I'm really sorry please don't be mad.." She soon stood up from her seat, wobbling slightly from not having much balance, trying her best to get closer to the man. Although his best efforts to stay a good distance away from her, she managed to corner him in their all too tight kitchen. "Anahera, why do you keep avoiding me... please tell me what I did." Hiccuping once again as she reached out for his hands,"Just before you.." she did her best to keep steady in her wobbling, but it soon began a bit too much. "Anahera... I..." Marianna's eyelids began to close, seemingly hitting her limit as her body began to go limp and fall into Anahera. "I'm... I'm sorry to put you... in so much trouble.." she mumbled as her body went limp and relaxed. She would surely have a killer hangover in the morning.

"I really.... had fun with you...tonight.."
 
Soundtrack: Faltering Prayer (Dawn Breeze)

As Anahera caught the girl's body as she began to tumble to the floor, tears filled his eyes. She was completely asleep by the time he lifted her into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he breathed as he carried her out of the kitchen. He pushed the door of her room open with his foot and carefully laid her on the bed. He pulled off her shoes and lifted the bed covers over her, gently tucking them around her. He tenderly brushed the loose hair off her face. He let his hand linger on her forehead longer than was strictly necessary. "I am so so sorry, Mari." One of his tears dripped onto her cheek, and he carefully brushed it away with his thumb. "I'll never let myself do that to you again. Don't worry. I'll never let you know how I feel about you. I won't cause you that pain." Before he could stop himself, he briefly pressed his lips to her brow. "Sleep well, mon coeur {my heart}," he whispered as he rose to his feet. He softly shut the door behind him and padded to the living room, where he sank onto their couch and allowed his tears to fall.

Tears turned to sobs, and he clenched his hair to the point of pain. "Why? WHY?"

Hours later, Anahera the angel fell asleep crying.

*****

Anahera rose before dawn and slipped his phone into his pocket before dragging himself up the flights of stairs and through doors--all the way to the flat roof of the apartment complex. There, he looked out over the sleeping city of Louisetown. His eyes filled with tears, and he let out a roar of grief as his wings exploded from his back.
They instantly caught the wind, and he unfurled them to their fullest extent, panting as shimmers of gold across them soothed his tortured heart and calmed his aching mind. For now--for this moment--he had peace. He slowly sank to the ground, his knees folded to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. As he sat on the roof of the apartment building, the glinting gold on his wings was joined by the cold, first light of an early spring day. He stayed there, wings catching the wind, until the sun had fully risen, and there was risk that he could be seen. He folded his wings away, stood slowly, and with shaking hands, texted his manager to ask for his work shifts to change. He could not see her.
 
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A few days pasted since Marianna woke up from excruciating hang over headache. She had begin to noticed that the dynamic of their relationship had change extremely since the night of the ball. MJ hardly ever saw Anahera anymore, and when she did, he would quickly find an excuse to leave and go out or hide in his room, stating he was tired from work. With work being a topic, she began to notice that he had changed shifts from her, leaving her to walk to and from home to work alone in the afternoons. What exactly happened at the ball to make Anahera avoid her so much? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Honestly, it made her feel confused and lonely. She missed hanging out with Anahera and going out and trying new things around the city, but now she was like the plague and he wanted nothing to do with her, although he would never actually tell her directly. She felt like one of his fangirls at work the way he push her away when she did manage to try and confront him about what was going. Instead of explanations and ways she could apologize and figure out was going on, she was only met with avoidance and excuses. "Fine, if my existence bothers you so much, then leave!" She had blown up one evening. Her heart was on the verge of breaking once again as she felt a similar loneliness creeping up again. She did her best to be subtle when she would get calls from her family and they would ask about her homelife, however people began notice the change in the duos perception of each other. Even their flat neighbors began to ask Marianna if she was doing okay and if her and her "boyfriend" had gotten in a quarrel. Work was no better when the girls at work began to try and take advantage of the separation.
She found herself replaying that night over and over again, trying figure out what she was missing. They danced the night away and had the occasional flirting back and forth. Did he maybe not feel the same for her like she thought that night. She couldn't change the past, Anahera was now avoiding her and she would have to continue her life like how she did before she met him. She wanted the questions to end. She wished for her friendship back..
ding!
Marianna was laying on her, doodling in sketch book once again. You could clearly see her frustration as her sketch was not going the way she was wanting and she had eraser shaving all over her bed and floor.
ding!
Noticing her phone going off, she picked it up to see a co-worker had asked if she'd be able to cover a evening shift at work due to a family emergency. Not wanting to hide in her room all day, she picked herself up and got ready for work. Packing her things before walking out of her room towards the front door. Anahera was in the kitchen, not even sending a glance her way as she made her way to leave. "I have to work late tonight. Don't wait up for me." She muttered quietly before shutting the door behind her. She made the short walk to work and did her usual routine as work. Although the evening shift wasn't really her favorite due to the type of customers that game to drink late at the bar, you made good tips. Marianna was cleaning up a table when noticed a strange, but alluring man drinking at the bar, chatting up a younger lady. gross.
She thought, as it was clear the woman had intentions to take the man home and he was more than happy to oblige. Unlucky for her, they had stayed a little longer than what she would like before leaving the restaurant together, hopefully next door to club, or at least anywhere not at the restaurant. She did her best to help the manager get things cleaned up before locking things up. She couldn't help but notice how late it was a checked her phone, the blue light, illuminating her features as she stared at the numbers displayed on the screen. 3 AM.

Although Anahera and Marianna's relationship was strange, she knew Anahera wouldn't let her walk home late, especially this late at night. She had to do her best to contain the slight grin that was trying to escape her lips as she read Anahera's text to wait for him to get their to walk her home. "At least I know he still does cares... big dummy." She sighed, changing back into her street clothes that she brought, before following her co-worker leave the building through the backdoor towards the alley to finish locking up the building for the night. They made small talk before her co-worker stated they had to leave and wished MJ safe travels home. Once she was alone, Marianna couldn't help but have a weird gut feeling hit her. Causing her anxiety to leave tight feeling in her throat. She felt goosebumps travel up and around her thin frame as she hugged herself from the chilly night air. She began to make her way towards the street so Anahera would clearly be able to see her when he came to pick her up.
 
TW: SA
Soundtrack Grandma (Destruction)


Shayton exited the club through the back door into the alley, licking his lips—still thirsty from his last female conquest from a moment ago. He looked to the right, deeper down the grimy alley, then to the left. The street, thirty feet from him, empty and still at three in the morning, was all there was to se— oh hello. There was a girl two yards down from the door. She was alone, looked nervous, and was quite the delicious treat on the eyes.

She also hadn’t noticed him yet.

He smirked, then on silent, undetected feet, he slid down the alley until he was right next to her. He put his left elbow against the brick beside her head and propped his head on his fist.
“Hello, little lady,” purred Shayton, reaching a hand to stroke the auburn curls of the girl pressed against the brick alley wall next to him. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out on your lonesome on such a dark night?” His fingers moved to run along her jaw, his lazy grin showing a little teeth.
“You never know...” he continued, voice dropping to a whisper and eyelids drooping lower as he ran two fingers around the underside of her jaw to press hard against her fluttering pulse point, “there might be monsters in the dark...” His eyes, bright with evil desire, flicked up to hers, and his grin grew, becoming even more predatory.

“Don’t worry, though,” he cooed, moving his other hand from propping up his head to move her hair away from her ear as he leaned very close and whispered in her ear, “If you’re with me, nothing else will touch you.” Moving closer still, he breathed into the arch of her scarlet ear and pressed her pulse-point harder, “I swear with all the honesty I’m incapable of that you won’t want anything else to touch you.”

His head dipped slightly in order to bite her earlobe, but before he could get a real grip on the tender flesh, a tremendous THUD in the darkness deeper down the alley stilled his movements. Shayton pulled back slightly, looking over his shoulder into the darkness.
The thud was followed by a serious of odd crinkling and crunching noises as though whatever had made the sound was trying to move in the mess of burst trash bags that Shayton had glimpsed when he had stepped into the alley.
“Hmm...” Shayton tilted his head far to the left as though he were a curious puppy.
The sounds stopped a moment later, and Shayton shrugged fluidly and turned back. “Just a cat,” he rasped into his next conquest’s neck.

Tink tink tink clatter clatter tchhhhh
Shayton again raised his head and looked over his shoulder, this time with a slight frown, to witness a lone beer can roll out of the shadows in a weak semi-circle across the pavement.

Before Shayton could react to this unexpected and unwelcome distraction from an otherwise pleasurable tormenting, something of greater import emerged into the weak streetlight leaking into the alley. A foot. Followed by the rest of a tall, muscular, irate, blond man with a bread.
Said blond man stood, fists clenched and chest heaving, just barely into the light. Shadows still laced all the crevices of his lowered face. Shayton frowned.
“Who’re you?”
“Shayton, get your hands off her,” growled the stranger.
“What, this?” Shayton turned his head to look in a mock-puzzled fashion at the girl he had almost pinned against the wall. His fingers still massaging roughly on her pulse point were the only points of direct contact, but the way his body was just slightly around her made it very clear that she couldn’t run.
He looked back over his shoulder, blinking innocently at the man. “For what reason should I not have my hands on her?” He could use a fight. He hadn’t beaten a human to a pulp in a week, and it was way past time he enjoyed that pleasure again.

“Because you don’t belong here, and I’ve here to take you back.”
Shayton stilled, his fingers freezing in their place on the delicious life point and his body tensing. This human couldn’t know the truth, could he? Besides, even if he did…
“Oh?”

The strange man let out a growl, and suddenly, Shayton noticed something large shifting in the shadows behind him. Two somethings.
Shayton chuckled softly, relaxing. “Ahhh. I was genuinely wondering if any of you were smart enough to figure out how to walk through an open door if I were on the other side. Honestly, I presumed finding me anytime in the next millennia was beyond all of you. Well done, I suppose!” He chuckled again, darkly. “I suppose now you’re going to give me some spiel about how the poor, defenseless humans don’t deserve a little fun in their puny, insignificant lives and how,” he adopted a babyish, condescending tone, pouting his lips and tilting his head back and forth with each mocking word, “big, bad, nasty demons belong tucked safely away in their cages far away from life and happiness?” His tone deteriorated even further. “How it is your sacred dooty to pwotect the bits of flesh and fweelings that get to pwossess the Earff?”
Abruptly, he dropped the act, grinning nastily. “Come outta the shadows, you big feathered sissy. How old are you, anyway? Coupla hundred? Three? Figures they’d send a baby after me. The big fuzzballs upstairs think you need a little testing, eh? That I’m not worth sending anyone noteworthy. Let me guess,” his malicious grin grew, “you’re still dewy eyed over His Lordship, Anahera of the Golden Feathers? Maybe you’ve never even seen him—he is a big, lofty superstar where you’re from ya know. Even I’ve heard of him!”

Shayton was about to continue when the man stepped fully out of the shadows, and... oh.
The demon barked out a laugh. “What an honor, your lordship! I suddenly feel so special!” He fake bowed with his head, his hand still not leaving the human’s tender throat.



Anahera’s fists were trembling with contained rage and power, and he finally spread his white wings to their fullest extent, each tip cresting the bricked-in windows on the second floors of the buildings to their sides. True to his title, his wings did shimmer with a golden glint as they shifted in the light. The gift was a mark of highest honor, bestowed to him as the angel who went against orders and single-handedly rescued his thirty wounded brethren from their torturous imprisonment in the deepest bowels of Hell during the Earth time of the First Crusade.

The young Anahera, only one hundred and seventy at the time, had fractured something deep within himself in the action, and the honor bestowed upon him in thanks for his valor had brought with it a powerful mystical balm. Whenever wind caught his wings and made the gold show, he was washed with endorphins and an adrenaline boost to get him out of his depression.

Well... he wasn’t depressed now, so the added adrenaline only made it harder to control the power tingling on his fingertips, and the endorphins utterly failed in calming him.
That demon was touching Marianna! She was trembling, and Shayton was smirking about it! Indeed, as Shayton undoubtedly noticed Anahera’s attention, his fingers moved from her neck to her forehead where he gently stroked back her hair in an entirely mocking fashion.
“Don’t worry, Anahera,” said his smirking quarry. “I’m not gonna hurt her.”


“After all,” Shayton moved his hand from the human’s forehead to the side of her face, stroking her smooth cheek with one long finger, “not even a demon would want to harm such flawless beaut—whoops!” He allowed the tip of one black claw to emerge, carving a tiny divot of skin out of her chin. Beads of blood immediately burst up, and Shayton pretended to look guilty, grimacing around gritted teeth and using his fingers to tap futility at the blood. “Did I do that?” Then he locked eyes with Marianna and popped his fingers, red with her blood, into his mouth.
“Mm!” he exclaimed as though remarking on a wine. “Sweet, flowery, and—oh! A virgin’s blood! A rare treat.” He winked lewdly at Marianna. “Not for much longer, though, my Sweet-Blood Treat.”



Anahera let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and rasping cry of horror. The anger melted from him, chased away by the utter despair he felt when he saw Marianna wounded. He moved forward, eyes trained on her pained expression but found... what in his way? Empty air, hard and cold as the demon’s heart, prevented him from moving forward. Hands pressed against the immovable wall of force, he watched in horror as Shayton reached with his free hand and moved aside the collar of his gray sweater, displaying a tattoo that shouldn’t ever be on a demon. In fact, it only belonged on one man. Oddly enough, though, Anahera drew a blank on the angel’s name.
“How—?”

“Did I get this? What,” Shayton snorted derisively, “do you think me getting out was of my own doing? I was helped. Helped and prepared. This little beauty was stolen off the chest of... your blood-brother, actually. You never did find him when you broke into Hell, did you? Thirty-one angels went down, and only thirty-one went back up. Hold on,” he crooked a cruel smile at Anahera’s shattered expression, “you actually forgot your own blood-brother? It was hard enough for my predecessors to burn the memory of his existence out of the rest of the angels. They tried on you, as well, of course, but I didn’t think it would work.

“I had been born only a few weeks earlier, but the child who was my birth was already so smart and bitter when it died that I didn’t need any adjustments whatsoever! I knew immediately, although I saw neither you nor your brother before you were both gone, that your bond was too strong.
“Although, I guess...” his voice was full of taunting laughter, “I was wrong!”

Anahera thought he was about to pass out. The world was spinning around him, and way too things were happening at once inside him that he felt he might be sick.

Shayton’s cackles broke through his dizziness. Anahera looked up, hair in eyes, and beheld Shayton’s hand, wandering freely under Marianna’s shirt, move to fit exactly where his brother’s Power Mark had been. Several inches above her heart, Shayton’s hand mocked on Marianna’s skin the past home of Anahera’s gift to his brother when they created the blood bond.

The mark... Aoith’s mark... was on Shayton. Anahera let out a roar and slammed his fists against the wall of force... Aoith’s wall of force! Tears ran from his eyes, and he slammed his fists against the invisible blockage again, trying, and failing, to break his brother’s blessing. In despair, Anahera’s wings drooped to the filthy alley street, then impossibly folded behind him and out of existence.



Shayton clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “What a disappointment. I thought you might be some amount of fun. Certainly not a threat but at least some fun. I guess all the stories about you are just the gossip of starstruck ninnies. Such a shame.”

Shayton would pay any amount of wealth to get a painting of Anahera at this moment. The angel’s head, bowed in pain and grief, was so glorious to witness that he almost wanted to dance. This was far better than anything he could have hoped for. With words alone, he had cowed the unbeatable Lord Anahera. Words. Words! Were all angels this fragile?
He shook his head, grinning wickedly, and looked back at his human prey. He leaned close. “I’ll still have plenty of fun with you, though. I’m sure you’re full of all sorts of delightful surprises I get to ravage.”

Suddenly, there was a great, ear-splitting SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH! as though nails were being drawn over a chalkboard. Shayton let out a cry of surprised pain and whipped his head around to find Anahera standing straight and proud, wings fully extended again, a glittering halberd in his hands throwing off sparks as he dragged the point along Shayton’s wall of stolen power. The expression on the angel’s face was nothing short of murderous, and it made Shayton laugh.

“Really? Really? It’s the girl that gets your attention? Oh, oh, this is priceless! A girl? A human girl is your true motivator? Pathetic! Although... I can see the appeal.” Shayton rubbed his chin and studied the girl from head to toe. “Certainly worth attention.” He ran his fingers deeply through her hair, “Nice silky hair,” his hand moved to her mouth, running a thumb roughly over her bottom lip before using the thumb on her chin to force her lips apart. Leaning nearer, he said, “Her teeth are nice as well. As for her body...” Shayton shot a cheeky grin at Anahera and, again using his elbow on the bricks and his hand to prop up his head, ran a finger from beneath her left ear, across her neck, and down to settle in the hollow of her throat. He shot another look at Anahera to make sure he was watching before continuing lower, but he paused, staring in baffled wonderment at Anahera’s broken expression.

“You’re... Are you... No, no! No way... No way, this is too rich! Are you in love with her, Lord Anahera?”



Anahera trembled, staring at Marianna beneath Shayton’s hand. His poleaxe had vanished the moment Shayton had touched her lips. He felt like he was a china bowl that had fallen from it’s precarious station on a shelf, cracked apart in countless pieces, been glued back together, but was, once again, on the brink on falling and shattering.

“Hm!” buzzed Shayton brightly. “Well, now, this does make you fun again!”
Anahera stared at Shayton’s hand in horror as it dropped from her throat to her rib-cage, just above her breasts. “So, she’s still a virgin, and since all you angels are such goodie-goodies, I’m sure you’ve never touched her. I’m also sure you want to be the only one that touches her, so me doing this,” he brazenly swept his hand between her breasts and down to her navel before sweeping it back up. He stopped right where his thumb was brushing the underside of her chest, but he hadn’t yet touched her breasts, “just kills you.”

Shayton shouldn’t touch Marianna like that. No one should touch Marianna like that without her permission, and she very clearly wasn’t giving it. Anahera’s fists clenched against the one thing keeping him from tearing the demon in half. The one, single thing preventing him from rescuing Marianna.

He needed it gone.



Shayton watched Anahera in amusement as the angel, once again, scanned the emptiness beneath his fists for some way to break through the spell. “There is no way to break it, Hera-baby. You should know that considering you were the one that made the spell for Aoith. I have no doubt you put every fiber of your sappy being into created the perfect shield. Impenetrable by everything expect oxygen. Such a good brother you were, making sure that nothing could get to the brother you so thoroughly forgot after he disappeared. You have no way in. No way to stop me doing whateveeeeeeer~ I want with this little doll!”

So saying, Shayton decided to move again. He lifted his flat palm into an arch and scuttled his hand along her abdomen, then moving his hand with the vile lyrics he sang, “The itsy bitsy spider went up the human’s chest. One breast was nice, but the other was beeetter. Her youth made it full like a juicy sweet cherry. ‘Yum!’ thought the spider, and so he took a bite!”

“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Shayton looked back at Anahera, expecting to see him irate yet still helpless, but to his surprise, he couldn’t even see Anahera’s body through the flashes of cracking white light irrupting from the space in the shield in front of the angel. For the first time, the entire shield became visible—a great, transparent dome currently visible because of the iridescent colors and patterns of a bubble rolling across it.
Through the shimmering barrier, Shayton saw that Anahera’s wings were more than just glimmering with gold. Interspersed with the white plumes, there were feathers of pure, golden light.

“Whoa...” breathed the demon, eyes wide. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his neck and jerked away from Marianna, hissing. The mark. It was hurting! Shayton’s eyes flicked back to the light to see a pair of hands appear through it, knuckles to knuckles, tearing apart the spell! Shayton’s mouth, unbeknownst to him, dropped open. So much for invincible! If that old demon ever managed to escape Hell, Shayton would have a few words with him.
He hissed again and cursed, clapping a hand to his burning neck. Anahera ripping apart the physical shield seemed to be ripping apart the spell itself—burning both out of existence. Shayton swore again and stamped his foot in agony as the pain grew, now spreading down his chest and into his head. The vision of his left eye was blanking blazing white every few moments, and Shayton didn’t know what else might stop working.
However, joy of joys, the shield prevented him leaving, so until Anahera completely destroyed it, he was trapped. “Just like Hell...” he muttered.

He was not going back.

He launched himself at the human, pinning her arms from behind with one hand and lifting the other, black claw fully extended, glistening, serrated, and dripping with poison. He pressed the claw into the very same pulse spot he had massaged earlier, not drawing blood but with just enough pressure to break layers of skin before blood.



When the spell finally collapsed completely, in spite of the irrevocable destruction of something so priceless and unreplicable, it wasn’t showy or loud. A flash of white light, a soft pop, and a suddenly empty thread in the tapestry of creation.

Anahera, on the other hand, was showy and loud. He stood, feet spread wide apart, fingers a gory mess, chest heaving like a bull in a ring, and face a mask of bestial blood-lust. All gentleness, kindness, and angelic care gone. The eyes that pierced Shayton’s gaze through a veil of sweat-drenched hair were glowing the pure, deadly white of powdered strychnine.
His vision and focus immediately narrowed to the poisoned claw pressed into Marianna’s throat. He couldn’t hear his own rasping breaths nor could he hear Shayton warning that he “will kill this girl” if Anahera didn’t stop walking toward him right. now.



“Your loss...” breathed Shayton and tried to pierce Marianna’s throat. He didn’t even get the chance, though, before Anahera was on him, wrenching his arm safely away from Marianna and crashing them both into the alley street.



Anahera was strong, with or without the passion power, but Shayton was faster, and the demon was on his feet before Anahera could get a proper grip on him. Anahera launched himself into the air, the wind current off his great white wings sweeping every piece of detritus about them into a single, whooshing spiral down the alley.

“Shayton, demon of the fourteen degree—”

“Twelfth, actually. The tattoo boosted me a coupla levels.” Said in such a conversational tone, with the casual posture of leaning one shoulder against the brick wall of the building across from the club, Shayton seemed utterly at ease despite the terrifying angel—who had just lived up to every one of the legends—pronouncing his sentence from the sky.

Anahera didn’t continue, his gray eyes stabbing Shayton with a vehemence Shayton should absolutely be quailing under.
Shayton raised his eyebrows. “Oh, no, go ahead. I didn’t mean to stop you. Don’t mind me—continue on with your spectacularly cliche monologue; I won’t interrupt anymore.”

Anahera growled, low and deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he dropped to the ground and tried to grab the demon. But he had vanished.

“Well, I’ve had so much fun with you two,” said Shayton, now parallel with Marianna. He gave a mocking bow to her as Anahera barreled toward him. “Really! We must do this again some time! But for now—” again, he vanished before their eyes into a swirl of shadow before appearing once more. This time he was half standing in the same shadows Anahera had emerged from, “I gotta dash.”

Anahera reached the space just in time to slash a hand through the demon’s leftover shadows. He stood, back to Marianna and whole body trembling, for a long moment before he thrust his fist into the brick wall with a roar of frustration. His fist punched several inches into the solid red brick, and a car alarm started.

One last sound, this one a groan of exasperation. He folded his wings back and carefully removed his bloody fist from the wall, frowning at the mortar and brick fragments that tumbled down in his wake. “There had to be something, didn’t there?” he asked himself bitterly, wings rustling in irritation. “Couldn’t leave a place even once without doing some sort of damage, eh?”
 
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Just as Marianna was beginning to reach the end of the alley, she was taken by surprise by a sudden male figure walking beside her. It was the man that was in the restaurant earlier that evening speaking with one of the female customers. She couldn’t help but feel her skin crawl as his sudden appearance caused her stomach to turn slightly in fear. She was a single woman walking home late at night, she wasn’t naïve to the chance that a male may approach her, but not like this. Something was different with this one.. Just as she tried to ignore the dark haired man’s attempts to speak with her. She found herself cut off from her only exit, basically pinned to the wall. “U-um excuse me sir.” she muttered weakly, trying to avoid making eye contact with the stranger. Damn it Anahera, where are you? She thought nervously as she felt herself pressing her back further into the wall, doing her best to make herself small. The man made small talk, his words dark and clear with his intentions. “P…Please let me alone..” she spoke in a whisper. Usually she was confident enough to break out of these types of situations, but the more this man leaned into her, the more her body froze and refused to move. He playfully teased her about monsters lingering, his features trying more predatory as minutes went by. He began to play with one of her loose girls, touching her more intimately by her face before leaning in to nip at her ear. She did her best to muffle out a cry, but nothing seemed to come out. It was as if she had lost her voice out of fear. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to simply disappear, only to be interrupted by someone who seemed to have caught the stranger’s attention. For a moment she thought she was saved only to have her heart sink once again when told it was just a cat. Or so he thought... His warm breath grazed her neck before being interrupted again. A familiar figure stood within the shadows. Anahera? She thought, almost begging as tears began to form in her eyes.
The two men exchanged a conversation, the stranger who had entered the alleyway knew of her captor and had every intention of stopping him. She felt her breath catch as she saw two somethings appear behind the man in the shadows… not only was it.. Anahera. Anahera was an angel. Her eyes were wide in bewilderment as the man called Shayton continued to tease Anahera about his prey. In the midst of their quarry, Shayton looked to continue to push Anahera’s buttons and cut Marianna cheek, causing her to wince, and become disgusted as the now known demon tasted her blood. She scowled at Shayton as he commented on her being a sweet treat and turned her head to focus more on Anahera, pleading with her eyes to get her out.

She felt dizzy from all the action, poking and prodding from Shayton as he continued to piss off his foe. Because of what was going on, she tried to focus on something else to risk not fainting. However her mind snapped back to the cold touch of Shayton wandering hand under her shirt. She whimpered softly as she was violated in such a way. She tried to dissociate but to no avail. Before she knew it Anahera was doing his best to fight through the barrier to save her. The quarrel continued until finally he broke through, injuring his hands in the process.
Before she knew it, Shayton was gone, leaving only an injured Anahera, and a traumatized Marianna in his wake. She felt her knees wobbling as she slowly approached Anahera. “P-please… lets go home.” She pleaded in almost a whisper. She clung to herself tightly, her skin crawling from Shayton’s touch. The light in her eyes had nearly dulled out as she tried to collect her thoughts on what was going on. She just didn’t want to be alone.
It was quiet when they finally made it home, once they got settled Marianna made Anahera take a seat on the couch, and without a word she brought out bandages to clean and bandage his wounds. “Anahera… Please tell me what is going on. I need answers.” She stared at the man before her, confusion and fear still lingering in her expression. “Who was.. He.. Shayton I mean.. Are you actually an angel? And… demons…” She bit her bottom lip hard, almost enough to draw blood if she bit down any harder. “Why me..?
 
“P-please… lets go home.”

Anahera turned around at the plea, making sure to keep his wings tucked in so they wouldn't hit her.
When his eyes landed on Marianna, his throat tightened, and his eyes began to burn. His eyes beheld something he never, ever wanted to see. The light in Marianna's eyes, normally bright and warm, was almost entirely gone. Her face was white, making the messy blotches that Shayton had created of her blood, now dried to black, stand out all the more.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms--hold her close so no one would never hurt her again--but if he touched her now, he would get blood all over her, and he wouldn't do that.

He looked up and around the alley. "Merde, I don't knew where Shayton is. I wouldn't put it past him to try to jump us on our way home." He grimaced and looked back into the flat eyes of his Marianna, his decision made. He took two steps forward. "Don't panic, please. I'll be gentle."
Without any more warning than that, Anahera swept Marianna into his arms like she weighed nothing more than a feather and, with one sweep of his massive wings, launched them into the air. He held Marianna close to his chest, trying to avoid getting any blood on her, during their brief flight.

He dropped softly onto the roof of the apartment building, folded his wings away, and began to set Marianna's feet on the ground, but when her knees proved to not be strong enough, he lifted her again and, eyes darting around for any sign of his foe, he sped down the flights of steps until he reached their floor. He unlocked the door and followed behind Marianna into the apartment, neither saying a word.

When the door was safely locked behind them, he made himself turn to face her. They stood in silent darkness, staring at each other, for several breaths before Marianna stepped to the lamp of the side table beside the couch and switched it on. She made Anahera sit on the couch and left to return with rubbing alcohol, warm water, cotton balls, gauze, and bandages. When she showed signs of planning to push the coffee table closer to the couch so she could sit on it to tend to his hands, Anahera reached out while sitting with a hand and, with one gentle flex, moved the table two feet closer, all without showing effort.
Neither of them met each other's eyes, and the only things that were said for several minutes were Marianna's soft directions for what he should do with his hands. Neither of them moved after she was done.

“Anahera… Please tell me what is going on. I need answers.”

Anahera felt her eyes on him, but he couldn't meet her gaze.

“Who was.. He.. Shayton I mean.. Are you actually an angel? And… demons…”
A pause.
“Why me..?

Anahera forced a slow juttering breath, and he finally met her eyes. Only for a moment though before he blinked rapidly, and his eyes dropped to her injury. Without saying anything, he took the supplies she had used on him and, leaning close, began to clean the wound with gentle fingers and tender care, eyes still not meeting hers.

"I am an angel, and Shayton is a demon. He escaped Hell in autumn of last year and came here. We don't know why, but a demon loose from Hell is dangerous enough. That's why I'm here. I was tasked with the responsibility of finding him and taking him back." His eyes dropped. "Not that I've obeyed my orders while I was here. I let being here, being with you," a flash of eye contact before he continued on her face, "distract me. I was meant to appear human to ease my completion of the task, not abandon it entirely in favor of living a human life. I've failed my responsibilities and my superiors and..." his face tightened and his hands stilled, "and my brother." His jaw moved for a moment before he made his hands move again, finishing up his ministrations. "More sacred than fulfilling my task is keeping the secret of the supernatural worlds' existence which I also failed. As for you..." he cupped her face and smoothed the bandaid over her cheek with his thumb before meeting her eyes. "Originally, you were just there at a convenient time for Shayton, but now he'll seek you out. He'll try to find and harm you, and Mari...," he shook his head and ran his thumb over her again, "there's only one thing more dangerous than a demon specifically targeting someone, and that's an angel specifically protecting someone. I will not let him get you. As Michael is my witness, I swear that Shayton the demon will not harm you."
 
A tear rolled down Marianna's cheek while she met his gaze. Questions invaded her mind such as why such events were happening around her. For what reason did this happen to her...Her father's death, becoming flat mates.. with an angel? And now being hunted by a demon?
She flinched at Anahera's touch, although he was gentle when cleaning the stingy wound left by Shayton. She hoped it wouldn't leave a scar. Marianna did her best to sit still as Anahera carefully worked at cleaning and bandaging her cheek, should search for gaze once again, hoping for some kind of answer only to be met with nothing back.

"I am an angel, and Shayton is a demon. He escaped Hell in autumn of last year and came here. We don't know why, but a demon loose from Hell is dangerous enough. That's why I'm here. I was tasked with the responsibility of finding him and taking him back."

"Not that I've obeyed my orders while I was here. I let being here, being with you, distract me. I was meant to appear human to ease my completion of the task, not abandon it entirely in favor of living a human life. I've failed my responsibilities and my superiors and..."

A slight pang poked at her heart at the thought she was a distraction. That is was her fault for being here. A knot began to form at the hallow of her throat, catching what ever sadness she had building up from over flowing and causing her to croak. "Anahera... your brother.. I-" She felt the words were hard to form as she tried to take everything in. Every bit of information she was gathering was beginning to become overwhelming, so much so that she felt like she was back in the alleyway.. about to be swallowed whole by the darkness. Right before she thought she would finally crack, a warm hand cupped her now bandaged cheek.

"there's only one thing more dangerous than a demon specifically targeting someone, and that's an angel specifically protecting someone. I will not let him get you. As Michael is my witness, I swear that Shayton the demon will not harm you."

Marianna's lips parted, almost to say something, but took a swallow breathe instead, "Anahera.. I'm scared. More scared than I have ever been in my life." She began, her words cracking as she tried to stop her shaking voice. "I always thought god hated me... He took my father away, took part of my life away.. and now.. this..?" She swallowed hard before sighing, collecting herself and reaching to grab Anahera's hand, cupping it with her own. "I trust you, I have nothing else to lose. Everything is happening for a reason.. and.. although I never dreamed of something like this and.. youll have to give me time..." she joked half-heartly, she searched for comfort in Anahera's warm as she shut her eyes and eased into his touch. "Promise me...no more secrets from now on." She asked softly before pulling away slightly.
 
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No more secrets...

A sweet male laugh. "Anahera! You promised me no more secrets! Why aren't you going with us to Hell's border?"
An answering laugh. "Aoith, I can only reveal secrets that are mine to reveal, and aren't you a hypocrite since you won't tell me why you're going?"
"Ah ah ah! I didn't promise that I would tell you everything. If I had, then I would be a hypocrite, but I haven't, so I'm not!"
More laughter.
"Well, say hello to Rachmiel while you're there. Tell him he still owes me a duel of wits."
"Oh, now, I think that's asking too much of me, isn't it, brother? Rachmiel may be your friend, but may I remind you that he doesn't like me?"
"That's not true. Aoith. He's merely rough around some edges."
"Mm, he has to be, with the task that he has been given."
"Indeed."
A moment of somber silence before Aoith pranced several feet away and turned around to face his blood-brother. "If you win a race against me to the gate. then and only then will I tell Rachmiel what he owes you."
"You're on!"

As the vision from the past faded, Anahera dragged his eyes up to meet Marianna's expectant, intense gaze. He tried to speak, but found his voice trapped, and only a strangled croak came out. He stood, accidentally making Marianna lose her balance from the proximity. He caught her by the forearms before she fell backward over the table and said softly, smile sad and eyes remorseful, "If I could make you that promise, I would in an instant, Marianna, but it's not my choice to make, and they aren't my secrets to tell. The things I know... The things I've seen... The things I've done..." His eyes drifted down to her cheek, and his gaze turned even softer. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm not sure what I w--"
taptaptap
Anahera was over the table and across the room before small noises had even stopped coming through the wall. He pressed his ear to the wall, eyes flicking around. After a few seconds of intense listening, Anahera pulled back from the wall and retreated to the middle of the space, eyes flicking over the walls and floors and ceiling of their little home.
"I have to put protection over the apartment. Now. I don't know how quickly Shayton may find us, but I don't take any risks. He will probably enlist the services of arachnids and carrion as well. The sooner protection stands, the better."
 
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Marianna began to forget the earlier trauma as she began to notice Anahera’s pained expression due to the remembrance of something in the past, she reached out to comfort him, only to retract her hand and hesitate. How could she comfort him if she did not know what was wrong. She was taken by surprise by his sudden movement, nearly knocking her over the side table she had been sitting up to be more eye level with him. She was caught however and steadied before he continued. "If I could make you that promise, I would in an instant, Marianna, but it's not my choice to make, and they aren't my secrets to tell. The things I know... The things I've seen... The things I've done..."
She stared at Anahera in worry, gently reaching out to hold his hand to comfort him, or at least attempt to. He was close, but his thoughts seemed so far. He had a heavy weight on his shoulders that he was not yet ready to share.. Just as she was about ask him carefully about what caused him say such words, he changed the subject and turned the attention back on her, before suddenly being interrupted by a strange noise. In almost inhuman-like speed, Anahera was on high alert, slightly scaring Marianna. “A-Anahera.. Please calm down.” Her voice meek. She stood from her seat on the table and reached out to grab his arm gently. “Please.. You’re scaring me.” Anahera's frightening and alarmed expression caused Marianna’s face to pale in color, she did not wish to see Anahera hurt himself further and she did not wish to see Shayton’s face again.
 
"A-Anahera... Please calm down."

Anahera rounded on her suddenly, his face thunderous, and he opened his mouth to tell her that this was not the time to be calm, but her small hand slid around his arm before he made a sound.

“Please.. You’re scaring me.”

Anahera's face fell, and so did his shoulders. Her face was pasty and strained in the limp light of the single lamp, and the idea that he was causing that reaction in her broke his heart. She was supposed to feel safe around him--not scared. "I-I am? I--I'm so sorry, Mari. This..." He sank his bandaged hands into his hair and looked around again, over Marianna's head. "This never should have happ--" His voice shut off as his mind flashed back to the alley. The look on Shayton's face as he had violated Marianna, the terror in her eyes, and density of Aoith's Gift under Anahera's hands. Aoith.
A small moan slipped from his lip. He murmured, eyes closing, "This never should have happened."

He gave himself almost ten full seconds to breathe before his eyes popped open again, and he stepped away from Marianna, turning away.
"I have to shield the apartment, and then I'll leave for a while. I need to think."

Without waiting for a response, he carefully unwrapped just his fingertips and went from room to room, murmuring strange words under his breath and leaving trailing vines of pure gold behind him wherever his feet walked or his fingers purposely grazed. He spent the most time in Marianna's room, breathing on the window frames and the door frame and the bedpost and leaving behind puffs of gold that swirled to encase the surface he had commanded. He ran his fingers along all of her room, focusing particularly on the wall facing outside, the corners of the room, the windows, and her bed. Leaving her room practically glowing from all the shimmering light in it, he stepped past the staring MJ in her doorway, saying as an explanation, "Demons are especially powerful in dreams. If he finds your dreams, he won't let you wake up until you are entirely within his control."
He ended on the front door, completely unwrapping his hands, now only covered in scars, and running them over all the coated steel, whispering to it, and finally tracing a white glyph in the middle of it with his fingers. When he was done, he leaned forward, pressed his lips to his creation, and stepped back leaving the sigil throwing off arches of golden light like a solar flare.

He turned around, face grim. "I'm going to fly around and look for any sign of him." As he spoke the next sentence, golden wisps escaped his lips and zipped around Marianna before vanishing in her exposed skin. "You'll be safe in here until I return. I can't use this full level of protection all the time," he gestered around the space which now glimmered in thin rivulets like the sun on running water, "but it fits the occasion, and there are no issues caused with me using this much power right now. I'll be back before the sun rises."
 
Marianna stared in awe and wonder as Anahera began to bless her room. making sure to not miss single inch. She crossed her arms, hugging herself once again for comfort as she stood in the doorway. She press her lips into a thin line and starting twirling a strand of her curly hair around a finger, only to be disguised with herself as she remembered Shayton once again. Shivers went down her spine as she shook her head and tried to focus on Anahera. Once he was done he explained to her just how powerful demons were, especially in her dreams. This left a lingering fear in the back of her mind, although it seemed Anahera didn't mean to quite scare her with the information. She watched in bewilderment as he completed his sigil on her door, leaving a golden glow in its wake.
"I'm going to fly around and look for any sign of him."
Just as Marianna parted her lips to protest in fear of being left alone again, she was surprised by the golden wisps that seemed absorbed within her skin, leaving a linger warmth. Although he seemed his best to reassure her that she was safe, she couldn't help but want to reach out for Anahera and ask him to stay. But she didnt. She simply nodded her head in relucant understanding and watched as he made his way out. As soon as he left, she felt as him he had took all of the air out of her body along with him. "Please becareful Anahera." she spoke softly, as she decided to make her way to wash up the lingering cold touch of Shayton. She was careful not wet her bandage and soon enough made her way to her bedroom to try and relax. She pulled a big shirt over her head and places on comfortable shorts and crawled under the covers of her bed. She did her very best to shut her eyes and sleep, but after tough fight of remembering the events of the night, she fell asleep, clutching tightly to her covers..
 
At first, Anahera flew high above the city, into the cloud layer. He lost himself in stratocumulous memories of his brother. Holes in his memory—unnoticed before—suddenly filled in with Aoith’s face, his voice, his laugh. Conversations made sense, he was in certain locations for reasons, he was getting in trouble for reasons. He found himself laughing through his tears as memories of the trouble that he and Aoith had gotten in as young angels. They had been created together and had done everything together as much as it was in their power. They were inseparable.

They had been inseparable.

How could he have forgo— His wings suddenly folded, and he let out a shout of surprise and horror as he dropped twenty feet in a moment.
“Time for grief some other time,” he chided himself, shoved away the feelings and stabilizing his flight. Those feelings were immediately replaced by memories of what he had done in the alley. He pulled his hands up against the wind resistance and stared at the scars radiating from his fingers in jagged lightning bolts. He had torn apart an invincible magic spell with his bare hands.

His own blood was still spattered on his clothes and uncovered arms and face. The pain had gone unnoticed in the wake of his rage, but not anymore. In the wake of adrenaline and rage, the memories rushed back.
Pain.
Light.
Sparks.
PAIN.
RAGE.
He had ripped the flesh of his fingers down to the bone in his strength without even realizing. When he had launched into the hair to sentence Shayton, the wedges of skin had still been loose, but by the time Shayton had fled, the angel’s fingers had been in a semi-intact state, and none of the bone was exposed anymore by the time Marianna had tended to his hands.
Using his protection magic had healed his hands the rest of the way. He would bear the scars for millennium though, he knew. The rest of his body was still crisscrossed with the battlescars from when he had descended to Hell to rescue his fellow angels. When had he forgotten Aoith? He couldn’t remember that. He remembered hearing the news that a small army of demons had ambushed his friends and that they were trapped. He remembered hearing a voice scream Aoith’s name until it broke. His breath caught and his wings folded. This time he let himself fall, twisting to dive through the clouds.
That had been his voice!
He raced the moonlight to reach the Atlantic Ocean first as he allowed his mind to race through the past.

Flashes—blood, darkness, light
smells—iron, sulfur, sunlight
tastes—tears, flesh, blessed water;
sounds—ignored commands, laughter, s c r e a m s;
feelings—terror, anger, pain, relief, and finally s t i l l n e s s
pulsed through him, buffeting him as the wind did.

He was screaming and his face was already wet when he plunged into the black water. His wings pushed him deeper, deeper, deeper until there was no moonlight was visible above him anymore. There he stayed, cloth and hair swirling around him, wings slowly pulsing to keep him still. The fish joined him in minutes of his presence in their domain, and he found himself smiling as the creatures of the ocean came close to comfort him. He turned his face upward and lifted a silent “Thank you” to the Sender of the comfort as a shark’s smooth skin slid under his palm and tiny lips sucked on his ear.

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent underwater, but when his head broke the surface, salt on his lips, an ominous gray had appeared on the horizon. There was no time to look for the demon. He had to get home.

His hair and clothes, still stained with blood, were caked with salt as he twisted the now-blessed key in the door and slipped inside amidst the morning’s first birdcalls.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness after the morning light. Marianna must still be asleep. Anahera slipped his salt-encrusted shoes and socks off at the floor. He winced at his crinkly passing down the hall and entering of his room. A few steps past the threshold, a sudden itch caught under the crusty shirt between his shoulder, and before his door was shut, with a sound of urgency he shed his shirt to relieve the crippling tickle. Once his skin’s need was sated, he turned to look at himself in the mirror attached to his chest of drawers. He sighed and walked forward, staring at his reflection. The plethora of scars covering his arms and chest, small ones, claw shaped ones, popped out at him, and he was drawn back into his memories. So drawn in, in fact, that he didn’t hear a door opening or the few footsteps warning of an approach, It was the gasp that snapped him back to the present, and his eyes popped up to stare at the girl reflected in the mirror.
 
Marianna stirred in her sleep for what was left of the night, hardly sleeping at all. She was worried about Anahera considering he had injured himself greatly when breaking through that strange wall while in the alley. He was not fully calmed down yet and she was worried he would rash and do something he would regret. Her mind kept being invaded by the trauma that Shayton had exposed her with. She never once had ever felt so vulnerable, nor let anyone touch her like that. Except.. He wasn’t just anyone..
The sound of a key unlocking the door startled Marianna out of her worrisome daydreaming, She jolted up in fear, only to realize that the glowing golden light from Anahera’s protection sigil was still lingering. She stayed still for a moment to collect herself, and truly awake from her sleeping state. She rubbed her eyes and listened to the creaking of the floorboards, noticing it was Anahera who had gotten home. He must have been out all night. She made her way out of bed, pulling the covers off to the side and adjusting the oversized shirt in more appropriate manner. She wanted to check on him- see for herself that he was okay from the previous nights’ travel. She quietly made her way towards Anahera’s room at the end of the hall, luckily the door was already open, giving her the impression that she could simply walk in. Wrong idea.
“Anahera I-” She cut off herself mid sentence as she noticed his disarrayed state. He still had blood from the previous night, as well as the addition of salt from what she question was from the water, and- the scars..

Marianna faced flushed a scarlet red color, as she quickly turned her back towards Anahera, embarrassed to have walked in on him. “I–i-i-i–i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to see- I mean, you look good and all- I–i-i- mean! GAHHH!” Marianna was a jumbling, stuttering mess as she buried her face inside the collar of shirt. Her voice was high-pitched out of embarrassment. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts, still having her back turned towards Anahera, “I.. I was really worried about you… You were out all night, a-and you still have blood on yourself.. You don't need to strain yourself.” she mutter in almost a whisper, twisting a strand of hair around her finger quickly out of nervous habit, turning it in a tight coil. After a silence pause, “Those scars. There is so many… you didn’t just get those overnight.. Do they.. Do they hurt?”
 
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“I–I-I-I–I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to see-- I mean, you look good and all-- I–i-i- mean! GAHHH!”

Anahera's hands locked onto the edges of the dresser, heart pounding out of his chest and his breaths loud in his ears. What had she just said?

He tried to speak, eyes pinned on her back, "This--not-- I--" His voice gave out in a whoosh, and he just forced himself to breathe. He couldn't take his eyes off her reversed image.

Her voice was so low, he almost didn't hear it over the roaring in his ears.
“I.. I was really worried about you… You were out all night, a-and you still have blood on yourself.. You don't need to strain yourself.”

Didn't need to strain himself? How little she knew. He was still depleted from the amount of power he had used to protect their home while he was gone, and he felt like he could barely stand from exhaustion--emotional even more than physical.

“Those scars."
His breath caught.
"There is so many… you didn’t just get those overnight.. Do they.. Do they hurt?”

Anahera closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the cool glass, the dual ridges that barely showed past his hairline left by Munrav's remaining two fingers as he fell under Anahera's bare hands nine hundred and twenty-five years ago shooting out sparks of painful memory.

He sighed, his breath steaming the mirror. "Not anymore," he said quietly. "Only the memories, now."
 
She had to listen carefully as he answered the scars were nothing more than painful memories now. The comment caused a tug at her heart. She took a quick breath before composing herself enough to turn to face him once again. Her expression turned empathic as she noticed his tired, yet pained expression. The weight she had seen earlier from the mention of his brother had seemed to be taking a bigger tole on him than she originally thought. She carefully approached Anahera from behind, being gentle enough to not scare him away again. "How.. how did you get these, Hera?" she asked gently, unconsciously reaching her hand out and lightly brushing one of the many lines that carved his back. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry not understanding what is going on. But... its not your fault." she whispered softly as she continued to brush his back with her fingers, than her palm. "Anahera, what ever weight you are carrying.. You don't have to carry it alone. We are in this together now." She did her best to offer the man comfort with her words. "I may not understand now, but I will do my very best to try." She carefully grabbed Anahera by the arm to turn him to face her, before cupping his cheek with her hand. He looked.. tired. She missed the dorky man he once was weeks ago, she wanted to laugh until her stomach hurt, and bicker about the crumbs that she would forget on the coffee table. She wanted to be a shoulder to lean on and protect, even if it wouldn't amount to what he did in the alleyway that previous night. "I don't care how long it takes.. take you time."
 
Soundtrack: Phantom of the Opera Overture - Single Album Version



When her fingers brushed his skin, Anahera shivered, his head ducking lower. His blush was barely visible in the faint light through his closed curtains as her fingers, then her hand ran over the scarred canvas of his back. When she turned him, he dragged his eyes up and met hers--brittle, exhausted gray to gentle, compassionate brown.

"I don't care how long it takes.. take your time."

Anahera closed his eyes, gently leaning his flushed face into her touch for several seconds before his eyes shivered open, and he met her gaze.
"My brother," he finally said. "Well," he snorted bitterly, "not my brother. Not in the end. He--Aoith--he and thirty others of us, Nathiul, Hedesi, Hyam, Erelim, Inias, Rismael, Salimsa, Varadel, Territh, Turilin, Makla, Kabshiel, Peniel, Sareash, Abraxos, Anthaiul, Regeon, Hilgadon, Amphiphion, Ultamron, Ennyius, Nafefil, Mezisrion, Bephael, Monlemphos, Yimraendil, Lellunnyos, Guzrerius, and Culgus," he paused, heart pounded. He hadn't said all of their names together in centuries, and they came with them visions--both good and ones that never should have happened--came to the forefront of his mind as each of their names filled and left his mouth.
"They..." he looked down into the eyes of the woman who had his heart, and the final pieces of his stability bloomed and strengthened. He managed a smile, following his fingers with his eyes as he gently ran his fingers down the side of her face, tracing over the freckles that had captured his attention since they had met. "They went to the gates of Hell. They went into Hell. They were supposed to get something, I don't know what, but they were ambushed and... and captured--captured by demons." He met her eyes again. "When I was told that Aoith had been taken, something in me just... snapped. We had sealed our bond only weeks before. His Power Mark," Anahera moved his hand and placed it on Marianna's chest, just where he had laid it on Aoith when he had bestowed his brother with the shield of love, "my gift to him, was still glowing even when Aoith wasn't using it to prank me." A sad smile. "He messed with me all the time--with all of us. Full of joy was--is?" he frowned, "my brother."
His frown didn't relax as he kept speaking, his eyes watching but not observing his hand slowly sliding up, brushing her chin, to cup her face, and then wander over her face. Fingertips over brow--eyelids--lips. "I asked what was going to be done for them. I wanted Michael, himself, to lead a legion of soldiers straight into Hell to destroy the demons and bring our friends out safely. I was told no. I was told that no one was going, and I was forbidden from going myself." A soft laugh and forefinger brushing in the dip above lips. "I wasn't about to accept that answer.
"I went into Hell myself. Alone." His eyes dropped, then lifted to meet hers again, filled with pain. "I wish I had waited. I should have waited... I went alone. And I almost died." His body shuddered, and his wings spilled out as pristine plumes over the floor without him even seeming to notice. "I was fine against one hundred. I was fine against five hundred. But thousands?" His face twisted, eyes desperate. "I couldn't stand against thousands. Thousands with weapons. Thousands with our weapons." His hand on her face tightened, his whole body tensing. "With Aoith's weapon. (0:37) I remember. I remember, Marianna. I still see that blade in the hands of the demon who sank it in my shoulder here," He abruptly jerked her free hand to his chest, pressing it into a long scar, "and here," he moved her again, down two inches, just above his heart, "until it broke... here." One final move. One final spot. One final wound, right in his heart.
His eyes dropped from her's, his shoulders slumping. "My friends were all wounded. They were barely able to help me. When I couldn't be seen for the amount of demons flooding me and the blades driven into me, all they could do was fight for their own lives." He took a deep breath. "None of us died, but not from any merit of mine. (1:18) Michael was coming anyway. I was told no as a test, not because it was true. A test which I failed clearly. I did, however, earn a reward for my valor and what I did accomplish. Healing and my wings." He lifted them slightly, still not looking at her. "A gift from God, Himself. A balm to soothe and strengthen. He gave me my title with His gift. Anahera of the Golden Wings, a warrior whose legend was spread through both heaven and hell." He breathed deeply and lifted his eyes again. "But, Marianna. It was too late. I went to save my brother, and I didn't. Nothing would be different if I had obeyed my orders. Aoith was forgotten by everyone. He remained there--is still there--despite my greatest efforts. So, in the end, it was all a waste."
His hands dropped from her, his wings folding away again as the angel, himself, drew in, eyes on the floor.
 
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