Promises, Secrets, and a Pair of Wings

[Anaee]

"Interesting..." Muttered Sytry, a cheshire smile playing his lips. His gaze shifted to his master who beckoned him close,

"See to it that Shayton is punished properly... for disrespecting us."

"As you wish, my lord."

Sytry soon made his way toward the cage and waved a hand over the lock,

Click.

The lock was opened the door swung open in agony, it was clear that Sytry's close proximity caused dismay to the prisoner inside. But the demon said nothing as he reached and unshackled the prison with another wave of his hand, as soon as he was freed, the demon backed away, presenting their trade. "He's all yours Blondie." He spoke in a teasing tone. Allowing himself to put distance between the cage as the angel rushed over to his fellow brother's side.

Although the reunion was cut short, Sytry ushered the duo to make their way before his master changed his mind. It was rare to see a demon make a deal with an angel, however, the angel was the only person that could bring Shayton back to be punished for his betrayal towards his kind.

Personally, Sytry couldn't wait to see his old friend.

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Theme: Bring Home the Glory

Anahera lifted his broken brother into his arms as gently as he could--his heart breaking at the noises coming from his bloody mouth.

He stepped back, away from the cage, his eyes skimming the crowd of demons, then he looked at Kesres and solemnly nodded.
He didn't trust his voice.

Anahera turned his back to the wicked court and walked, quickly yet gently back toward the entrance to Hell, the new demon striding confidently at his side.

As he went, a crowd and the throng of demons gathered to silently follow the trio.
When the Gate came into view, Anahera turned back around to look behind him, and his throat tightened.

Anahera stepped back slowly, his eyes trained on the grounded demons. Trillions. It had been almost a thousand years since he had last been back in this pit of pain, and the amount of demons had multiplied exponentially. As long as there was no end to human children dying, there would be no end to demon birth, Anahera supposed, and deaths of children could never be prevented entirely. He slowly backed away, his emaciated brother in his arms and his shining halberd pointed outward at the silently watching throng.

The new demon—Sytry—was a few feet in front of him, watching his wary progress with a mocking smirk. Anahera didn’t have the mental capacity to really consider how he was going to house a demon in his home and how he was going to prevent him from running absolutely wild through the world. The demon’s intentions were obviously not really to help Anahera get Shayton. All he really wanted was to be free of Hell. Every demon yearned for that—it was part of their evil nature: to desire to defile and bespoil all good things.

Hopefully, he could convince Rachmiel to stay on Earth to keep the demon in check, but that wasn’t guaranteed. Rachmiel was unpredictable in strange ways. It was entirely possible that he would say that it was Anahera’s responsibility to watch him since he had brought him out of Hell and that his own responsibility was to guard Hell—the thing he was created for.
Then again, Rachmiel was just as likely to take personal responsibility for Sytry since it was his job to watch over demons and keep them in check and keeping one loose on Earth from creating absolutely chaos was a higher priority than returning to guard the border of Hell. Anahera could only hope his fellow angel would choose the second.

Anahera nearly stumbled on the uneven ground as he continued to back away. For some reason, he was having trouble keeping his balance, and his vision was turning blurry for a split-second every few minutes. As he slowly moved backward, his eyes continued to shoot around looking for movement—a threat—but none came. Eventually, the faint warm glow of the vestibule to Hell appeared around his edges, and he breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

When he passed through the gates, he felt an immediate rush of cool and refreshing air, and the smell of sulfur and burning of poisonous air which had been making it agony to breath lessened, and he relaxed.

“Hey!” came a sharp cry. “Who are—That’s not Aoith is it— Is that a demon???”

Before he could be accosted by the gate guards, Anahera dismissed his halberd, grabbed ahold of the demon, and they were gone—shooting in a blur up, up, up…

****

Anahera, Aoith, and Sytry appeared in the middle of the living room of the apartment.

Immediately, Anahera carefully laid Aoith out on the couch. The demon was looking around the apartment, so Anahera had a couple of seconds. He quickly skimmed the area for signs of Rachmiel and Marianna. There were dishes left sitting on the counter, and Anahera scowled.

“I’m gone for a few hours, and already, things are falling apart,” he grumbled.

“Anahera?” The stern voice of Rachmiel drifted down the hall.

“Yeah, I’m back.”

A moment later, the fellow angel strode into the room. Anahera was surprised to see the look of hostility on his old friend’s face.

“Rachmiel?”

“What the Hell was that, Anahera!”

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What were you doing down there—having tea and gabbing?”

“What? No!” Now Anahera was getting angry. “Why would you accuse me of that?”

Rachmiel’s eyes were trained solely on Anahera as he strode forward, fists clenched. “You were gone for two days, Guardian Angel Anahera of the Golden Wings.”

The blond angel blinked. “I was?”

“Yes, and in that time, I’ve been trying to put out fires caused by your absence. Did you know you had to pay rent yesterday?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Rachmiel,” growled Anahera. “It wasn't just come and go because Aoith was there, Rachmiel. I went to Kesres to talk about Shayton, but they had Aoith just there.”

Rachmiel’s face had gone blank as soon as Aoith’s name left Anahera’s lips. “A-A-Aoith?” he asked haltingly.

“Yeah. Remember him? My brother? Yeah, he’s been trapped in Hell for the last thousand years being tortured by the demons. You forgot about him as well, didn’t you.” Anahera's eyes moved over Rachmiel's shoulder to the couch, and he jutted his chin toward it.

Rachmiel turned slowly toward the couch and walked jerkily to it where he dropped to his knees. His hand rose to cover his mouth as he beheld the remainder of the once-spirited angel, now barely more than a corpse.

“Oh, Aoith. How could I have abandoned you?”

“We all did, Rachmiel,” said Anahera, his voice softer. “The demons used their magic to burn his existence out of all the angels’ memories. It was Shayton who first mentioned him to me which broke their spell.”

“For a thousand years—a thousand years—this man was so close to me, and I had no idea. If-If I had been paying better attention, I could have saved him.”

“No.” Anahera’s voice was flat as his eyes followed Marianna now entering the room. “You couldn’t have. He was deep in Hell. No one could have heard his screams—even if they were in Hell.”

Rachmiel looked over his shoulder. “Screams?” he rasped.

Then his eyes landed on Sytry.

He was on his feet in a moment, huge sword in his hands and glinting silver armor replacing his suit.

He pointed the sword at the demon, ready to kill.

“You brought a demon to Earth, Anahera? Are you INSANE? HOW could you have done this?!”

“We need him! He’s going to help us get Shayton. I couldn’t find the information I needed in Hell, but who knows a demon better than another demon! Sytry is going to help us capture Shayton, and then I’ll send him back.”

Rachmiel was sputtering in rage, and he slowly turned to face Anahera, his face crimson in fury. His head snapped sharply to glare at the demon.

“You. If you move, demon, I’ll make you pay. I’m a Sentinel of Hell, and I know what it takes to make a demon scream. Do I make myself clear?” He didn’t wait for an answer before turning his rage on Anahera again.



Theme: World of Tanks Studzianski Soundtrack

“I knew you were sometimes careless, but a fool? Anahera, you disgust me.”

“Oh, THAT’S rich. Do you really presume to know what it takes to do what I do?"

"You've been chilling around on Earth for almost a year, developing emotional bonds with humans who aren't worth your time and taking forever to capture a single demon. What you do is pretty straightforward: be unproductive."

"Ha!" Anahera's fists were tensed tight. "May I remind you of the Wards lacing every bit of this apartment? Shayton has actively gone after Marianna and her sister, and I've been busy fending off his attacks."

"What were you doing the other months of your time on Earth? Oh, wait, I know!" He lifted a finger in the air, his face open like he had had a breakthrough. Abruptly, his relaxed mouth twisted into a sneer of utter disgust. "You've been sharing sacred secrets with a human. She knows WAY too much about the ways of Heaven and Hell for a human, and only you are to blame. You know the rules, Guardian Angel Anahera of the Golden Wings, yet you have flagrantly broken them—SO many of them. Of course, you know what that means about you, Anahera, don't you? You're weak. You're so emotional and feeble that you lack even enough control to protect the secrets that humans aren't meant to know. The most basic rule, yet you cannot control yourself enough to hold to your orders. Weak, Anahera. You're weak."

"I'm not weak!" Anahera's eyes burned with unconstrained fury, righteous indignation… and hurt. "If I were, I would have died a thousand times over my life. If I were weak, I wouldn't have made it out of Hell," he snarled. "Not once, but twice. I wouldn't have been sent on this mission, and I wouldn't have been made a Guardian Angel. I just haven't locked my emotions away beneath a shell of haughtiness and callousness and cruelty like someone I could mention. Just because I'm not afraid to trust and open up and show more than pride and hostility, it doesn't mean I'm weak. I’m not you!”

"That’s clear enough! If it’d been me in charge of the mission, there would be no creature from Hell free.”

"Oh, now you think you should have my job? You think YOU should be going after Shayton?”

“One thing’s for sure. If I had, Shayton never would have gotten to Lucia OR Marianna.”


Anahera lunged at Rachmiel, his face twisted in beastial rage.

He wrapped his hands around the Sentinel of Hell’s neck, shoving him backward into the wall with a snarl.

“Unless you’ve spent one hour trying to live the life I have been, you have no fucking right to claim superiority.”

“‘Claim superiority’?” Rachmiel seemed nearly unphased by the hands of his fellow angel around his neck although his eyes were slightly pinched in pain. “I don’t need to claim it, Anahera. I’m stating a fact. Guardian Angel you may be, but I’m a Sentinel of Hell.”

Suddenly, Rachmiel grabbed Anahera’s wrists, and he pried them away from his neck. He twisted Anahera’s wrists sharply, extracting a cry and causing Anahera to lower himself slightly in an attempt to keep his shoulders from twisting backward to the point of pain.

“I’m faster, stronger, and fight better than you. I was made to be, Anahera. And demons are my prey. No demon, no matter who it is, will do better against you than me in a fight. Face it, Anahera, I’m infinitely more capable of taking down the demon than you are, and he wouldn’t have gotten away with what he has if I had been the one sent to get him. I—stay out of this, human."

Ah, that was one step too far.

Anahera was free from Rachmiel's grasp before the sentinel even realized he was trying to get free and was standing in front of Marianna, who had tried to step in to break up the fight, the angel's body blocking Rachmiel's view of her.

Anahera's eyes were slitted in rage. "Insult me all you want, but show Marianna the respect she deserves, or God so help me, I'll MAKE you."

Rachmiel lip curled. "You think you could? That's twice now you've tried to attack me, and twice I've beaten you without any effort. Face it, Anahera, you don't stand a chance against me."

Now, it was Anahera's turn to smile, and it wasn't a nice smile at all. He slowly allowed the Sacred Flame filling his veins to wreath his body as he spoke. "Physical might isn't the only weapon that exists, Sentinel. As a Guardian, I outrank you."

Rachmiel's flickering smugness pleased Anahera even as the elder angel's anger grew. "Are you threatening me with Archangel Raphael's gift, Anahera? I don't think he would be pleased to see you abusing it."

"Oh, no, I'm not threatening you with the Sacred Flame." Anahera's smile hadn't lessened. "I've just decided not to hide it anymore. I want to use that power for other things."


—--------

Rachmiel's eyes narrowed, and the strategist in him checked his fury. Anahera had lost his sense of reason and developed the most dangerous flaw—haughtiness—since they had last met. He had lost control of himself more than once during his time on Earth—that much was clear to those who could be the signs. There were scars, invisible to most eyes, on Anahera's well of power. Those didn't come from normal usage of ability. He had done some terrible things while he had been here, and he couldn't be underestimated.
Anahera was a lot more dangerous than he had been in the past. He wasn't in control of his power like he needed to be, and Rachmiel had to outthink him before he could physically put the lesser angel in his place. Fortunately, Anahera was an emotional dumpster fire. It wouldn't take much to outthink the angel so clearly made vulnerable by his messy emotions.

His hand flicked toward his sword, catching Anahera’s attention. As the younger angel’s eyes flicked downward, Rachmiel rapidly shot a look at Marianna. She was more intelligent than he had first given her credit for, but that didn’t mean she was smart enough to be helpful. He caught her eye and, with the slightest movement, twitched his head toward Anahera.

Distract him, his eyes said. If Marianna could distract Anahera, his guard would be ruined, and Rachmiel could take him down.

 

[Anaee]

Two days..

It had been two days since they had heard of any sign of Anahera. Marianna couldn't help but worry dispite the angel's promise to return. Her worry and uneasiness was not helped by any means by their new arrival and her new assigned protector for the time being.

Rachmiel was VERY different from Hera. He was closed off and secretive, making her feel like she was just an extra body for him to "babysit". This situation was all business and she seemly added to his irritation at the mentioning of Anahera's job at the restaurant and their responsibility to pay the rent for their apartment.

The worrisome thoughts seemed to plague her mind until they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside of her bedroom door. "Rachmiel?" She called out, getting up from her bed and opening the bedroom door.

"Anahera!"

Marianna felt a wave of relief at the sight of her friend, unharmed, in the flesh. Her bright smile quickly faded however at the sight of an injured man on their sofa, and another male with long dark hair standing a few feet from Anahera. "Who.. what's going on?" Her questioned drowned out by the raising of voices.

She watched helplessly as the two angels continued to argue. She stepped forward to try and get in between the duo, "Guys, that's-

-stay out of this, human."

BANG!

Marianna stared wide eyed at Rachmiel, slight fear in her eyes as she saw Anahera was beginning to pushed too far like back at the cultist house. She quickly looked around to the injured male on the couch. "ENOUGH! Both of you. We need to help your friend. You both are acting selfishly as your friend is bleeding out!" The girl spoke, with a raised voice, latching onto her guardian's arm in hopes to revert his attention.

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Anahera sensed Marianna's closing proximity just before she touched him, and he was just able to suck the Sacred Flame back into his palm before her hand latched onto his golden vambrace. He'd have to talk to her about not touching parts of him wreathed in Sacred Flame. He had put way too much effort into keeping her alive for her to be incinerated by touching him.

"ENOUGH! Both of you. We need to help your friend. You both are acting selfishly as your friend is bleeding out!"

Marianna's words jerked Anahera out of his rage instantly. Fool. Rachmiel was right. Not about bringing the demon being wrong, but Anahera was a fool to let himself get swept up in his righteous fury when Aoith's life was at stake. Every second count--

Theme: Cannibal

Anahera’s eyelashes fluttered, and he swayed.

“Uh o—” Then, the angel was falling.



Rachmiel was instantly across the room, Anahera falling into his arms rather than on the floor. Rachmiel lifted him as the golden armor melted and dripped away, and set the angel in the armchair, and was across the room to bodily block the door as the demon made a movement toward it.

“Uh uh.” Rachmiel shook his head, face dark. “That’s not happening.” Without taking his eyes off the demon, he reached and laid his palm flat on the door behind them. His arm and shoulder flexed, intimidating muscles taut. Barbed, glittering chains the color of coldest pale gold burst out and snaked around the door with a hiss.

Rachmiel dropped his arm and raised his eyebrows at the scowling denizen of Hell, a cold challenge in his eyes. “Test those if you wish, demon, but I warrant you’ve seen the effects they have on your kind, and you won’t test your luck.”

Then, he stepped away from the door, dismissing his armor and dropping to a squat by his fallen comrade. He let out a displeased hum as he studied Anahera.


“This is really bad.” Then he rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously it’s bad. He collapsed. It’s just worse than you,” his eyes flicked to Marianna’s, “realize.”
He stood smoothly and lifted Anahera into his arms once again. “I’m going to put him in his bed. He won’t be waking up in a long time.” The sentinel shot the demon a warning glare before heading down the hall.

Marianna followed behind, and they helped settle Anahera in his bed. Once done, Rachmiel rubbed his forehead.


“I never got headaches when I stood guard at the borders to Hell, but I just can’t escape one here.”

He sighed.

“Okay, here’s the plan: I’ll get an angel to come down and take Aoith to Heaven since neither Anahera nor I can with him in this condition and me stuck here having to look after a demon. After Anahera’s profound screw up, I can’t return to where I belong! I have to stay here to make sure we don’t get two demons free to rampage Earth. Anahera’s… sick. He’s gone through too much—put his body through too much. For us, it’s been days since I arrived after Lucia was kidnapped and that whole fiasco went down, but for him, it’s only been hours meaning he hasn’t fully recovered. Add to that High Lord Raphael’s gift of his Sacred Flame, and things were already going to go poorly for Anahera. Angels of any rank lower than Archangel should never hold Sacred Flame for more than a few hours. It’s too much for our bodies to handle. Anahera’s been bearing it for almost two days. Add to THAT him going into Hell… Honestly, it’s a wonder he didn’t collapse while he was still inside. Even as a Guardian, after all he’s put himself through, he shouldn’t have lasted as long as he did.” He hesitated. “Maybe…”


Maybe Anahera really was strong.

Maybe he had been wrong.


But he wasn’t going to admit that to the human.

Rachmiel shook his head and stood sharply. “Anyway. Anahera has entered a coma. He needs to be tended until he wakes up, but I need to watch over the demon AND keep my eyes out for signs of Shayton, so it’ll be up to you to take care of him. I’ll tell you how and help where I can, but I have higher priorities.”

Without another word, Rachmiel left the room.



Rachmiel shot a glare at the demon lounging in the armchair like he owned the place. “Get up, cretin. You can’t get comfortable. We aren’t staying in this apartment." Rachmiel shunted the demon into the bathroom and chained the door before returning to the living room.

The Sentinal flinched when he tried to look at Aoith, so he kept his eyes away from his shattered friend. He flexed his hand and turned his face upward. He didn't properly know how so summon another angel. His job didn't require it, so he hadn't been taught or shown how. He did figure something simple would suffice. He didn't need to be flattering, and he knew who he was calling would come.

He cleared his throat. "H-Hedesae." Why was he nervous? He was never nervous! "Hedesae, I don't think you're busy, so you need to come down to Earth and take up A-Aoith." Well, Rachmiel didn't blame himself for his voice catching on that name.
"He's alive but not by much. He needs High Lord Raphael's healing, and I need to stay here, so, um... come down here. Now." Ugh he sounded so pathetic!

He waited, his foot tapping without him noticing, and his impatience growing.

"Hedesae! Get down here!"

"Ugh, have some patience, would you? I'd think that an angel with the boring job of standing in one place or just walking around for eternity would have more patience. I was getting High Lord Raphael as well since you didn't think to call him yourse--gck." Rachmiel turned to see the mortified face of an angel he hadn't see in a thousand years. As Hedesae stared in mute horror at Aoith, Rachmiel took a moment to look him over. The only difference between the angel Anahera had freed from Hell and the one standing before Rachmiel was that the wounds he had had were now gone. His eyes were still a little too hollow, and his inherent angelic majesty was still pinched.

Rachmiel didn't follow Hedesae's gaze. "You said High Lord Raphael was coming?"
"Hedesae!" when the angel didn't reply.
Finally, his eyes broke away from Aoith's face, and they shuddered to Rachmiel's. "Y-Yeah. He is. He just can't come this instant."

"Seems to have his priorities misaligned," grumbled Rachmiel only to feel cold rush over his back. Crap.


"I'd be wary of accusing an Archangel of having his priorities misaligned, Sentinel." The voice was as cold as the chill rolling over Rachmiel's back and shifting his hair over his shoulders. "You are not permitted to question us. Don't do it again, or there will be consequences, and consider yourself blessed that I'm only giving you a warning because none of the others would."

Rachmiel shuddered and didn't turn around. He knew.

The cold dissipated, but the expected warmth didn't fill the room. Rachmiel had only been in Archangel Raphael's presence thrice before in all his three thousand five hundred and sixty-eight years, and he was very bothered that the mighty angel wasn't displaying his most notable and recognizable feature. The cold was gone, but if the warmth that filled the entire space that Raphael was in didn't take its place, it meant very bad things.

Raphael didn't say anything, but he let out a wordless cry of mourning. Rachmiel cautiously looked over his shoulder to see tears streaming down the ethereal lord's face as he lifted Aoith into his arms and disappeared.

Rachmiel looked back at Hedesae to see a mix of anger and pain swirling in his face.
"You're so blessed that High Lord Raphael didn't punish you. I would have. You should pray that he doesn't tell Archangel Raguel about what you did."

Rachmiel blanched, and Hedesae vanished.

He sank, shaking, onto the couch, undeterred by the blood on it, and buried his face in his hands.

He didn't react when the door to Anahera's room opened, and Marianna's footsteps patted down the hall.

 

[Anaee]

Marianna had believed the tension had finally faded and their focus would go back to the injured person on their couch. Her grasp on his arm had loosen and just as she was going to ask what their plan was for the man called Aoith, her eyes grew wide the sudden stumbling of Anahera.

"Ah- Hera?!"

Luckily Rachmiel had reacted quickly and caught the angel before he could fall onto the wood floor. Marianna hurriedly made her way to Anahera's side in the arm chair, her eyes wide and studying the blonde's face. "H-Hera?" She gently placed a shaking hand on his arm. The usual warmth the radiated from his body had chilled. He had pushed himself much too far.

Meanwhile, with the commontion of Anahera's passing out, Sytry tried to quietly make his way towards the exit-

“Uh uh. That’s not happening.”

Before Sytry could beat the angel to it, he had placed a stronger barrier on the front door.

“Test those if you wish, demon, but I warrant you’ve seen the effects they have on your kind, and you won’t test your luck.”

The demon groaned as he ran his fingers through his scalp in slight annoyance. "Damn dog." he cursed under his breathe, his eyes glowed a slight orange hue, only to be dimmed at not wanting to test the Sentinel's power just yet. Deciding to test his luck later, the demon leaned against the apartment wall and began to twist and fiddle with the silver rings on his hands.

--

"This.. this is bad."

“Well, obviously it’s bad. He collapsed. It’s just worse than you,” his eyes flicked to Marianna’s, “realize.”

She bit her lip. She really didn't realize. So much had happened. Anahera had been going nonstop this whole time, and had been running on fumes. It was only a matter of time until he had finally collapsed. But.. for how long?

Marianna quickly got up to her feet and followed Rachmiel as he carried Anahera to his room.

"I’m going to put him in his bed. He won’t be waking up in a long time.”

Sytry glanced up at the Sentinal's words but his plans to explore were quickly shot down as he was given a warning glare once again. He rolled his eyes and lifted his hands in saying "I'm staying put, mom."
~~

Once the trip was in Anahera's room and he was placed in bed, Marianna turned towards Rachmiel for answers-

“Okay, here’s the plan: I’ll get an angel to come down and take Aoith to Heaven since neither Anahera nor I can with him in this condition and me stuck here having to look after a demon. After Anahera’s profound screw up, I can’t return to where I belong! I have to stay here to make sure we don’t get two demons free to rampage Earth. Anahera’s… sick. He’s gone through too much—put his body through too much. For us, it’s been days since I arrived after Lucia was kidnapped and that whole fiasco went down, but for him, it’s only been hours meaning he hasn’t fully recovered. Add to that High Lord Raphael’s gift of his Sacred Flame, and things were already going to go poorly for Anahera. Angels of any rank lower than Archangel should never hold Sacred Flame for more than a few hours. It’s too much for our bodies to handle. Anahera’s been bearing it for almost two days. Add to THAT him going into Hell… Honestly, it’s a wonder he didn’t collapse while he was still inside. Even as a Guardian, after all he’s put himself through, he shouldn’t have lasted as long as he did.” He hesitated. “Maybe…”

Guilt began to creep down the girls spine. Anahera had pushed himself farther than she could've possibly imagined, and for her and her family in that matter. It was her fault that he was in a coma..Or that is what she began to fill her head with.

“Anyway. Anahera has entered a coma. He needs to be tended until he wakes up, but I need to watch over the demon AND keep my eyes out for signs of Shayton, so it’ll be up to you to take care of him. I’ll tell you how and help where I can, but I have higher priorities.”

"O-okay.." she stammered quickly as she suddenly left alone with her guardian.

Once left alone, she knelt down besides Anahera's bedside and gently brushed back a strand of blonde hair that strayed in front of his face. "Anahera... I'm so sorry." She whispered as she continued to brush back his hair.

---

Sytry began to make himself at home as it seemed the human girl and heaven's guard dog were busy discussing Blondie's situation.

The demons hummed a songless tune as he skimmed the living room. Damn, it was shithole. Were all human homes like this one? I mean sure.. it seemed like it was worked on, but it wasn't as grand as he was imagining. He found himself crouching down besides Aoith, studying the wingless angel before sighing. "It seems you've been forgotten again, little Aoith." his tone flat and emotionless before standing back on his feet and making his way to one of the armchair's. He crossed his legs and and leaned his chin against a propped up hand that rested on the arm chair. He stared at the chains that mocked him and prevented him from letting his curiousity roam free. "I suppose one good thing about being here, is that woman smells quite.. delicious." he muttered with a small smirk, only to have his thoughts interrupted by the sudden appearance of Rachmiel.


“Get up, cretin. You can’t get comfortable. We aren’t staying in this apartment."

"Cretin? I have a name, sir... Or do we need to go on a date first to be on first name basis? I know your kind is rather "old school"- Ah, HEY!"

Rachmiel shunted the demon into the bathroom and chained the door before returning to the living room.

"What the hell is this! Let me out!" Before Sytry could reach for the knob, chains appeared on the bathroom door, causing a slight shock and burning sensation to swarm the demon's body. He retracted his hand quickly at the slight pain the chains had inflicted. Annoyed once again, he took a seat on the bathroom floor. "DAMN YOU!"

---

"Hey Rachmiel, can you help me- Rachmiel?"

She glanced toward the couch to see that Aoith was gone, and all that remained was a dishearted Angel. He reminded her of Anahera back at the cultist house. Broken and unsure.

Her brown eyes softened.

She quietly made her way towards the kitchen and made her way back toward Rachmiel with a bowl of warm soapy water and a rag in hand.

"Here, let me help you." Her tone soft. She gently reached out for one of Rachmiel's hand, carefully pulling one that he buried his face with. And although he was relucent, she cleaned the blood from his hands. She remained gently and quiet as it seemed the angel was not much of a talking mood. Respectfully so. Once he was cleaned up she returned to the kitchen and cleaned her tools before grabbing fresh water and rags to use with Anahera.

"I'll be in the room with Anahera. When you are ready, you are welcomed to come in."

And with that, she quietly made her way back down the hall and shut the door behind her.

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Rachmiel heard Marianna move around the kitchen and then reenter the living room, but he didn't look up. Whatever she did, she wasn't stupid enough to disturb-- he jerked sharply when Marianna took his left hand and pulled it away from his face. He started to pull back, but she didn't let go, and he didn't want to injure Marianna by pulling his hand free. He wasn't capable of being gentle, and as obnoxious and... human as Marianna was, he didn't want to cause her undue harm.

He was also curious about what she thought she was doing.

He watched in wide-eyes, utter bewilderment as the human gently washed his hands free of the blood smeared on them. The room was silent other than the occasional swishing and dripples of water as Marianna swirled and then lifted her cloth from the bowl of water set beside her on the coffee table. The water was pleasantly warm, and her touch was soft--softer than any touch Rachmiel had ever experienced, and it was... nice. Nice??

Rachmiel yanked his right hand--now clean--away from her loosening grasp and stared at her like she was some dangerous, subtle trickster who had the ability to charm him into weakness as she smiled at him, rose, and returned to the kitchen to prepare a new set of angel-cleaning supplies.

He had no time for niceness! Especially not when the demon was here! Weakness meant death in his life. Noticing and enjoying nice things lowered his guards and made him vulnerable. He could not be vulnerable.

Marianna paused before turning down the hall.

"I'll be in the room with Anahera. When you are ready, you are welcomed to come in."

Rachmiel stared after her, full on conflicting emotions. Marianna had changed; she has behaving slightly differently since Anahera had returned--asserting her authority over the apartment to a degree that she hadn't before. Did Anahera's presence really make that big of a difference? Rachmiel scowled. That boded poorly. She needed to continue to honor his authority as the angel that he was or she would face the consequences of her foolishness eventually, and when their fight was against creatures from Hell, the consequences would befit the level of danger she faced by being so close to demons.

Speaking of which...

Rachmiel rose, scowled at the blood on his suit pants. He couldn't go anywhere with bloody clothes, but he didn't have any extra clothing. He looked down the hall, considering. Anahera's clothes wouldn't fit him perfectly, but they should suffice as this was an emergency, and Rachmiel wouldn't need them for long.

Without a word or a look toward the bed, Rachmiel strode into Anahera's room and to his closet. He picked out the very suit that Anahera had worn to the club--correctly noting that it was tighter than any of the other clothes Anahera had.

He grimaced at the bathroom door and the door to Marianna's room in turn before, without a choice, going into the human's room.
He clumsily got his suit running in the washing machine before he left the apartment and descended the building's stairs to the first floor, then approached the front desk.

"Excuse me."

The rotund, false-blond, grotesquely-makeuped woman reeking of tobacco manning the front desk dragged her eyes away from the football game playing on her phone and looked at the newcomer. Her eyes popped wide, her mouth fell open--releasing the unlit cigarette from between her teeth and revealing discolored teeth--and a blush showed even though her caked makeup.

"How can I help you?" she purred.

"Apartment 464 is open, correct? I want to rent it. Immediately. We're currently staying with our friends in 463, and I refuse to take advantage of any more of their generous hospitality. I know it's unconventional, but could we move in today?" He tried on a charming smile. It hurt. However, it seemed to do the trick.

The woman's eyes fluttered. "But of course, Mr..." She twisted her worn desk chair and reached into a filing cabinet to pull out a crumbled sheet paper.

"Rachmiel. Rachmiel Sentinel."

"What a unique name, Mr. Sentinel! I'm sure you're simply incredible at keeping locked up anything--or anyone--you may desire." Rachmiel missed her alarming attempt at a seductive smile as his eyes dropped to the cracked linoleum beneath his shoes and muttered, "Not as much as I need to be."

Her attempt to stroke his hand as he took the paper from her was likewise missed. He looked the single sheet over and frowned. "Why are so many of these lines scratched out? These things seem important."

She waved her hand in the air. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough that things around here aren't so formal. We like everyone to be comfortable."

Rachmiel frowned. "That sounds like you have tenants with extensive criminal records."

The woman flushed. "T-That's not true! We do vet potential tenants."

"Really? Because all those lines have been scratched out."

"Well, if you want to be so judgey about who lives here, then you can just live somewhere else!" She crossed her arms like she had won the argument.

"Is that so? The number of empty apartments does speak of a need for more tenants. Can you really afford to be so unwelcoming to someone who is genuinely willing to stay in this heath-and-safety-hazard of a building? Tell me, should I return this form signed or unsigned. The choice is yours."

She sputtered incoherently before letting her eyes drop and mumbling, "Just fill the damn form out."

"That's what I thought," said Rachmiel.



Once his business was concluded, Rachmiel returned to the apartment to switch his suit to the dryer. He left, took two steps, and then, he was outside apartment 464. He pulled out the two keys and unlocked the door. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking was satisfying. The door opening was not, but at least he was pleasantly surprised by his first impression of the apartment. It wasn't as clean or homey as Anahera's apartment was, but that was to be expected. He toured the bare place before preemptively placing his Chains around the door, air vents, oven, microwave, his room's door, and the laundry closet. The demon wasn't escaping and he wasn't destroying the apartment while Rachmiel was gone either.

Rachmiel returned to the apartment 463 and changed into his now-only-barely-damp suit in Marianna's room. Even though the suit wasn't thoroughly dry, he instantly felt more comfortable. He allowed himself a tiny smile before opening the bathroom door and hauling the demon out of the old apartment and into the new. He particularly enjoyed the small yelp the creature made when he was shove through the magically Chained door. He released his foe from his grasp in the barren living room.

"Don't touch anything. Sit or stand; I don't care. Just don't do anything. You're on Earth to trap Shayton not enjoy yourself. Got it? This isn't your home. It's your cell as best as I can manage it. You won't be leaving unless it's to find Shayton, so get used to this."

He scowled at the demon's response but didn't reply. He left the apartment and then the building--on a quick mission to get basic necessities. Anahera wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, and Rachmiel was in need of some things if he was going to live in Apartment 464 for the foreseeable future.

He was back half an hour later, not the same angel he was when he had left. Yes, furniture, clothing, and other basics scheduled to be delivered by the end of the day, but the physical and mental cost it had been to navigate Earth's options for everything which were entirely unnecessary in its magnitude and handling the humans trying to help him but mostly getting in his way, and getting lost (one of the most humiliating things Rachmiel Sentinel of Hell had ever experienced.) Earth was far more complex than Rachmiel had thought, and he didn't like it.

"Come again!" trilled the checkout lady at the massive department store.

"I hope not," muttered the harassed angel as he left the store.


Rachmiel didn't pop in to check on Sytry before going into Anahera's apartment. He didn't have the energy for the demon's mocking. Instead, he went straight into the apartment next door and headed to Anahera's room.

Rachmiel moved into the room and threw his folded suit jacket toward the chair in the upper left corner of the room next to the bedside table. It sailed through the air, thunked over the top, shifted, then flopped onto the floor.

The Sentinel gave the jacket the filthiest look as though it were the jacket's fault that Rachmiel's reflexes were not as flawless as normal.
He sank onto the chest at the foot of Anahera's bed and ran his hand through his hair. His crisp suit pants were crinkled, and the top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone.
The angel looked undone in general.

"You'd think having to guard the borders of literal Hell would be incomparably stressful, but the three days that I've been on Earth—supposedly this AMAZING place every angel wants to at least visit—have more than trumped the stuff I deal with where I belong. At least it was predictable. Earth is wild chaos, and I hate it, but joy of joys, I'm not going anywhere, and I have to babysit my immortal foe, a human, and an angel in a coma to boot. Hardly a vacation."

Once Rachmiel had indulged himself in the self-pity he so deserved, he pushed himself onto his feet and turned around to look at the angel laid out on the bed and the human girl sitting next to him.

Marianna had cleaned up Anahera and pulled the bedcovers over him. His shoes were neatly lined up in front of the chest of drawers to the right of the bed, and the curtains had been partially pulled together to dim the light in the room. Rachmiel nodded his head toward the window.
"Light doesn't make a difference. He's not sleeping. If anything, more light would help him. You need to get some blessed candles and keep them lit at all times. Fill his room with the light that's as close to his home's as possible. His strength needs to be nourished and drawn to the surface so his body can be supposed with it." He set his arms akimbo and looked outside the window. "Unfortunately, even High Lord Raphael's healing can't restore his power and internal light. A good marker for his recovery is how much he's glowing. As a Guardian, his glow can become extremely bright, so you may want to invest in some total cover sunglasses eventually because your pathetic human eyes can't handle a Guardian angel--or any rank above them--'s full glow. He's already shown his full glow at least once since he's been on Earth, and it was while he was enraged--I saw that mark when I looked at his power--but that was before he was a Guardian, so it's going to be even brighter now."
Rachmiel sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Honestly, this happening is so rare that there aren't any standard protocols--at least as far as I know. Just... try to show him life. Don't try to wake him up, but talk to him or whatever. I dunno.
"Do expect weird dreams though. As his power returns, it's going to be rather wild and uncontrolled. Guardian angels can affect the dreams of their charge. I don't know if Anahera knows that. It normally has to be conscious and intentional with a direct purpose, but his power is untethered as it's coming back to him. I don't know what dreams you'll have. They may run the whole gambit, but you may have no special dreams at all. If you can sing, try singing to him. This isn't a human coma though. We angels... we need our power, and he doesn't have any. I honestly don't know what will happen or how long it will take him to wake up.
"He still has the Sacred Flame in him as well--watch out for that. If it touches you, you. will. die. He can't properly control it, so it may flare out at any moment at any strength. You may be able to sense it coming or maybe not. Just don't let it touch you, okay? I don't know how often I'll be able to check in on you. I need to keep an eye out for Shayton, keep the new demon under control, and find a way to function in Earth's society. You're job is to stay with him and be there. He may be able to gain more strength from your presence, I honestly don't really know. If something big happens or you have any questions, let me know. Got all that?"

 

[Anaee]

- Theme. -

Weeks…

It had been weeks since Anahera had gone into a coma. Marianna had been doing everything she was told— Rachmiel was of no help, however, it wasn’t entirely his fault. He had other things to worry about. Sytry was like a dog on a leash, only let out when his master— or this case the Sentital would allow him out to search for signs of Shayton. Whom seemed to making a slow comeback into the city. Or at least from what little she had heard of her loud neighbors.

It did not help that the walls were thin, and the duo next door were not the friendliest of “roomates” to each other.

Work was out of the question and with how long Hera and herself had missed, their jobs were terminated at the dismay of the worried boss. It was hard to keep things a secret, not having anyone to talk to or even vent to.

There were points where Marianna’s optimism in Hera’s awakening were diminished just as quickly by her tired and worried mind playing tricks at the thought of a twitch of his hand as she held his or slight stir in his sleep at her humming.

She did everything Rachmiel advised her to do, but she was beginning to become desperate and felt as if she was on the verge of snapping, questioning Rachmiel’s solutions in helping Anahera.

Which usually just ended in arguments and slamming of doors. Rachmiel was distant, but Marianna believed it was to keep his mind busy from having to care for Anahera or worry.

It was only until Marianna’s sudden lack of self care that the suited angel began to make his visits more often.

She had made herself a small bed beside the bed on the floor made with old throw blankets and pillows. She wanted to stay close, to be able to keep an eye on the angel, especially after experiencing frightening nightmares that made the holy flame threaten to peek out and would stir the angel that couldn’t wake himself from what threatened his dreams.


She was just tired… tired and scared of not knowing what was to come next.

She looked exhausted; wearing dark eye bags from lack of sleep, and was beginning to show signs of thinning from lack of eating.

She had put all of her energy into the routine of carrying for Anahera that Rachmiel’s visits were more focused on scolding her to eat and get sleep.

——-

Marianna found herself once again repeating the same routine of cooling off Anahera’s forehead and making sure he wore fresh clothes.

Humming, making one-ended conversation about the morning activities and how Rachmiel was and how Sytry was keeping him on his toes.

How… she missed him.

She began speaking about the strange dreams she was having at night recently.

All the time alone, watching, wondering what was going on in the angel’s head, she had time to think if he had been sharing similar dreams with her at night.

She had recalled Rachmiel’s warnings of having intense dreams, and had heard bits and pieces of Anahera’s past before, but this.. she couldn’t have anticipated this..

 

[KittyInTheHat]

The first dream Marianna had which wasn't her own came only a few days after Anahera collapsed. After being so anxious about all that had happened and was happening, she hadn't slept in days, and her body took her need for sleep into its own hands. She hadn't drifted off to sleep; she had crashed asleep, and her dream started with just as little gentleness...

~~-~~-~~

“What do you mean you aren’t going to go after them? They’re trapped in Hell!”

“Stand down, angel. This isn’t your concern.”

“Not my concern? My brother is there! You really think I’m going to stand by and let him stay down there?”

“Anahera! You—”

“Stop it!”

I don’t care what excuse Michael has. He doesn’t understand what I’m going through, and even the greatest of all angels has his limits and makes his mistakes. And not going after them is a mistake. I won’t stand for it.

I ignore all the other angels gathering around to watch and step forward, my wings flaring—closer to Archangel Michael than I would have dared in the past. He’s standing on a marble step above me, but I still get as close as I can and glare into his golden eyes. They blaze with the anger that every angel fears to see, but I won’t be cowed. Not now.

I hear growing whispers and warnings for me to stop, but I don’t care. I’m not afraid of him.

”Either you go or I go myself,” I hiss. “Even if you don’t care about them, I do.”

Suddenly, Michael’s four, radiant wings flare out to their magnificent entirety, and a wave of power rolls out. Like it or no, I fall to my knees simply from the sheer might of his power. I try to glare up at him, but when the Sacred Flame of Michael, General of God's Army and Mightiest of all Angelic Beings, radiating from his eyes strikes mine, I cannot help the cry of pain that bursts from my lips, and my eyes snap shut.

“Anahera, Servant of God, don’t forget your place.” I can’t prevent the fear that shivers down my spine at his voice, and my wings instinctively fold back into a subservient posture. I hear the sound of several angels haphazardly taking flight to escape being in the presence of Archangel Michael. Cowards.

“You are not omniscient.” His voice makes the marble columns lining the hall rumble, and more angels leave. Cowards! “Don’t assume that you know what’s best, and don’t assume that I don’t care about those angels.”



“Then, go get them!”

”YOU DO NOT GIVE ME ORDERS.” The light radiating from Michael burns my skin, yet I cannot move.

From behind me, there comes the tinkling of chimes and rustle of new wings.



“Michael, stop!”



“Chamuel, don’t interfere with my actions! You do not have jurisdiction over these proceedings.”

“He just wants his brother to be safe! There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“Chamuel,” the burning moves from before me to my right side and then behind me as Michael moves, and I’m able to move again. I quickly get to my feet and back away from the two archangels facing off in the middle of the hall. Archangel Chamuel, Guardian of Peace, stands nearly face to face with Michael, yet he doesn’t falter. His calm features contrast sharply with Michael’s.

“Michael.” Chamuel interrupts him. “You can’t fault him for wanting his brother to be safe. His rebellion against you shouldn’t be permitted, but that doesn’t mean you must attack him so.”

Michael laughs. “Chamuel, I’m not attacking that angel. You would know it if I were.”

In quick flashes of white, angels start returning to the platform hall to watch what it unfolding.

Chamuel huffs and crosses his arms. “Soldier you are, and that’s your jurisdiction, but mine is peace, and physical violence isn’t the only kind of attack. Besides, you did attack him by knocking him to his knees!”

“Would you like me to do the same to you?”

Chamuel rolls his eyes. “Oh, come now, Michael. Let’s be reasonable. Making a scene isn’t going to help anything. Besides, you know better! What’s gotten to you that you so readily turn against your own? You’re being rash, and it’s unlike you. What— oh. Oh, Michael. I see. You don’t like this either.”

I stare back and forth between Michael and Chamuel, utterly taken aback. When High Lord Chamuel’s dove-blue eyes turn to me, I immediately feel more at peace. Just as quickly, though, I throw off his manipulation, and Chamuel sighs, shaking his head. “Anahera, why do you do this to yourself? Just accept my help. I won’t force it on you, but I offer it. I don’t like to see you upset just as much as I am distressed by Michael’s anger. I cannot rescue our fellows, but I can grant you—both of you—reprieve from these troubling emotions. Being lost in fear is no way to live. Let me help your faith, Anahera. Please.”

I open my mouth to reply, but Michael speaks first. “Don’t spoil him, Chamuel. He must have faith on his own as I do.”

Chamuel’s eyebrows lift. “You have faith, you say! Then, why are you taking out your fear on this angel? Fear comes from lack of faith, Mich—”

“You think I don’t know that? Don’t lecture me, Chamuel. I do have faith, unlike Anahera.”

“Faith in what?” I snap.

“Have patience, Anahera! Trust—”

I know I shouldn’t, but I’m tired of Chamuel’s self-righteous condescension, so I snap at him, “Your patience and faith is costing my brother and those who went with him unimaginable pain! Your inactivity is dooming them, yet you stand there and claim that I should have faith? Faith that, what, they’ll die with as little pain as possible? Faith that it’s better for thirty-one innocent angels to remain trapped there? No. No, I refuse to accept that. You are both being blind. Maybe you should take some initiative and have faith that God will go with me when I save them!”

I turn away and spread my wings to launch into the sky, but before I can, Michael’s voice is a physical force that keeps me down.

“Anahera, I forbid you from going to Hell! I order you to stand down!”

I slowly turn around, my wings still flared, my heart pounding. I’m ready to shout my refusal so loud that the demons holding my brother captive know I’m coming, but intense serenity washes over my mind, wiping away my passion. I slowly look to Chamuel, who looking at me like he's disappointed in a naughty child.

“Liar,” I spit, and launch myself into the air.

I’m going to save my brother, and no one can stop me.

~~-~~-~~

Rachmiel wasn't enjoying his time on Earth. Since the new demon arrived and Anahera had collapsed, everything had gotten worse. Every time Rachmiel left the apartment, the demon made some kind of mess in the apartment. Rachmiel could prevent him from burning the whole complex down, but he couldn't prevent it from blocking the toilet, unpacking and scattering food from one end of the apartment to the other, flooding the bathroom floor, making a blockade in front of Rachmiel's room out of every piece of furniture in the place, doing whatever it was that made the neighbors made more noise complaints than befitted the rowdy arguments that Rachmiel had with it on a daily basis, and whatever else the cretin could come up with to surprise Rachmiel with when he returned every. single. day.

He couldn't get any respite from the chaos in his own apartment by spending any time in apartment 463 because even being over for three minutes just to check over Anahera and get a status report from Marianna was more than enough time that the demon needed to make a mess. Rachmiel couldn't tolerate living in such a messy environment, and he ended up spending most of the time that he was in the apartment cleaning up the messes the demon made. The Sentinel tried to keep as much stuff in his room as possible to prevent access, but he couldn't keep everything there.

It was chaos inside the apartment, it was chaos in the complex as Rachmiel had to pull out all his charisma and intellect to prevent himself from getting thrown out of the apartment complex on a painfully regular basis, it was stifling in apartment 463 both mentally and physically as housework was neglected and it became stuffy in the apartment. Rachmiel hadn't asked Marianna not to open the windows, but she seemed to have enough brains about her to know that it would be stupid to do so with Shayton still on the loose and Anahera incapacitated. That or she was just so weak that it hadn't occurred to her to open the windows.

_______

Marianna's next shared dream wasn't nearly as painful as the first one.

~~-~~-~~

"Soooo, how was Roooooome?" Aoith prances before me through the clouds, his feet moving like he was walking on them, but his wings breaking the illusion.

"Boring without you, brother."

Sweet laughter. "You liar! I know you had a wonderful time!"

"Oh, really? Now, how would it be that a lowly Messenger was able to use Michael's Glass to see what I was doing?"

"I didn't!"

Now I'm curious, and I tell him so.

"Hmmmm, but it would be boring if I just told you how I know! You need to guess it."

"And why would I even humor you with that? Why not just make you tell me." I grin wickedly, and he lets out a horrified gasp. The glittering in his eyes breaks his poorly-constructed illusion of fear though.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would."

"B-But, I'm your brother!" He ducks his head and blinks innocently at me through his eyelashes. "You wouldn't hurt your precious brother now, would you?"

"Oh, but my precious brother deserves it!"

More innocent blinking. "I do not!"

I'm laughing so hard at this point that my flight is faltering, and Aoith is laughing all the more at my ludicrous fumbling. "Don't laugh!" I manage to wheeze out, and Aoith doubles over in giggles. He swoops in a backward somersault, and accidentally or otherwise, his wing collides with mine. I was already barely holding my flight as it was, and his wing smacking into mine completely breaks my beats.

First, I gasp in genuine shock as I begin to drop, but then a fold back both my wings and drop, wailing, "You've kiiiilled me!"

Aoith laughs and dives after me, howling "Nooooooo!"

He catches up to me, and I take the opportunity to snap out my wing and smack him in the face. He squawks in surprise as I spiral away, and then he's after me.

We play chase through the clouds, looping each other and other angels going about their tasks. More angels join us, and we swoop and whoop and feint messing with each other's flights, zipping through the levels of Heaven up and up until we reach the level where the precious humans enjoy eternity. We soar over the billions of smiling faces, performing stunts to the delight of those watching us. Several of our company drop down to join the humans, and the rest of us continue on. We climb higher and higher until, one by one, we are unable to go any higher. To my shock, Aoith is able to ascend higher than I am, and he gives me a cocky grin and cheeky wink as he shoots past me. One of us actually passes through the final layer, but the rest, as one, swoop over and dive. We pick up more and more speed, maybe or maybe not seeing which of us can figure out how to fall faster. When the level for the humans comes into view, we each branch off to either side and bypass it. Our King is with His children right now, and none of us can be in His presence.

Once past that level, the race is on again. There are now only seven of us left in the group. I'm not sure where exactly the rest branched off. I wasn't paying enough attention.

My heart's pounding in my ears, and my breaths are fast and cold as a platform comes into view beneath us. Oh, now, it's on. Those of us in front slow our flights until we are in a line with the rest. A few challenging looks are exchanged before Aoith cries, "Now!" and we're dropping again. When the first angel spreads his wings and swoops off to the side when there is still another six hundred feet to go before we smack into the marble, the rest respond with "boo"s and hisses to which he replies, his voice now barely audible, "Thanks, but I prefer my blood inside my body."

One by one, more angels drop off from this test of courage and skill, but Aoith and I continue on. When the last of us breaks off, he calls, "You're both idiots!"

Aoith and I lock eyes as the final two hundred, one hundred, fifty feet are le-

"What are you two doing?"

Oops.

Aoith and I untangle ourselves from each other and make it to our feet, bruised but grinning... until our eyes land on Archangel Raguel standing before us, Archangel Michael to his left, a parchment in hand.

"If you two were under my command, you would both be punished severely for your foolish actions."

"Fortunately, they are not under your command, Raguel. Your angels are the Sentinels. Neither of these are Sentinels, and their actions, while not the most wise," Michael gives us both a look that makes us both duck our heads. We're both grinning again though, "are not problematic. Neither of them has missions at the moment. In fact, one has just returned from a mission. Well done, Anahera."

Heat blooms in my chest and I blush, my grin even wider. I bow deeply. "Thank you, High Lord Michael."

"Of course." Michael smiles. "Praise is due where praise is due." He looks back at Raguel, and I sneak a look at Aoith. He rolls his eyes.

"They're both young, Raguel. Let the young enjoy themselves as only the young can, and let them have their fun."

Raguel scowls. "Being foolish and putting themselves and others at risk isn't fun. It's witless, and it's dangerous."

Michael's lips thin, and his eyes narrow slightly."Hmm." His posture shifts. "Raguel, I do recall that I told you that what they're doing is fine and that they aren't yours to command. Do you recall that?"

"I--" Raguel quickly looks away from Michael's eyes.

"I respect your desire for appropriate behavior in angels, Raguel. It is very important--mandatory in the case of the Sentinels--and I know you mean only well. However, I have made the truth clear to you, and any criticism you have now is in conflict with my word. Do you wish to be in conflict with me?"

"No, my lord." Raguel bows briefly.

"Good. You may go now. I'll personally select the angels that will go on this mission immediately and send them by tonight."

"Thank you, High Lord Michael."

Michael hums and nods. Raguel departs, and then Michael turns to Aoith. "Aoith! Your brother has just returned from a mission, but you have not, correct?"

Aoith laughs softly. "Why would you bother asking me that? Have you forgotten the answer? Does your Mirror need to be cleaned?"

Michael smiles, but there is slight warning in his eyes. "Your cheek is delightful as always, Aoith. However, there are some cases and some settings where it isn't appropriate. In fact, it can be downright dangerous."

Aoith frowns, "I... suppose so."

"One place where it's dangerous is in Hell."

"Yes, my lord."

"You heard me mention a mission to Archangel Raguel just now?"

Aoith shifts and glances at me. "Yes, my lord. Are-Are you sending me to Hell?"

"I am."

Both Aoith's and my eyebrows shoot up. "What? Why?"

"That is something I'm going to discuss with you in private, Aoith. Anahera, please leave us. I'll send Aoith to the Arena when I'm done."

"I-- Yes, my lord." I look at Aoith, who looks as alarmed and confused as I am. Hell? Why would any angel other than Sentinels, Soldiers, or Archangels go there? It isn't safe for us. But I trust Michael, and Aoith has the Shield I made for him, so even if things do become messy, I know he'll be fine.

I launch off the platform and soar away. Rather than rejoin the other angels who gesture and call for me to do so, I veer off and head straight to the Arena. Every moment that passes just makes me more nervous, and I can't help but pace as I wait for Aoith to join me. A rustle of wings mark my brother's arrival, and I'm pleased to see him smiling. My fears are immediately relieved. If Aoith is happy, I'm happy.

"So? Tell me everything."

"You have to speak to Michael first, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Can you come with me?"

"Well, I can't hear what he tells you, but I guess I could wait for you?"

"That's what I'd like."

"Well, come on! I'm leaving tonight, so there's urgency."

"But why are you going into Hell?"

"Just through the entrance, actually. We aren't going in fully."

"But why."

He doesn't answer, and I ask again, but we're already at the platform.

Rather than answer my question, he says, "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Um, okay." I drop onto the platform and face Michael. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"I do." Michael approaches me, and I'm surprised by his proximity since we're so far apart in rank. "I know you want to be with your brother, but you cannot go into Hell with him."

"May I ask why?"

Michael exhales deeply, and I suddenly feel nervous. He pauses and then speaks. "You cannot go because there are greater things for you."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't actually know. That was the reason I was given when God gave me instructions regarding you."

"I thought you just found out about the need to go from Raguel just now? Wait-- hold on, God has talked about me? Specifically?"

"He has." Michael is smiling, and I don't know how to feel.

Michael must be able to read my emotions on my face because he smiles. “Don’t think about it too hard, Anahera. There’s a lot to it, I know.”

I nod distantly. “So, I’m not going with my brother because there are greater things for me in the future?”

“Yes, and you must keep this a secret. Even from Aoith.”

I frown, and Michael nods. “I know it may seem odd, but trust me.”

“I do.”

“Good.” Michael smiles. “Well, you can probably tease your brother since you can’t tell him why you aren’t going.”

My eyes light up, and Michael laughs deeply. “Go now. Enjoy your last hours with your brother before he leaves.”

I nod and leave, meeting Aoith in the sky. We fly off together, and almost immediately, I ask, “So, why are you going? You avoided the question before, but I want an answer.”

Aoith does a loop while singing, “I can’t tell yoooou!”

“Aw, come on, Aoith!”

“Nope! I can’t tell ya. You, on the other hand… What did High Lord Michael have to say to you?”

“I’m not going with you, apparently.”

“What? Why?”

“Now, I can’t tell you that.”

My brother laughs brightly. "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 prances several feet away and turns around to face me. "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!"

~~-~~-~~

So, let's do a recap of Rachmiel's responsibilities. All the things that he had to take care of and keep track of and manage without any support.

A. a demon free from Hell with a personal grudge against Rachmiel who somehow managed to make it seem like a tornado had blasted through the apartment everyday and made it utterly impossible for Rachmiel to ever rest,

B. a powerful Guardian Angel in a coma with Sacred Flame running through his veins, powers unchecked, and no idea the timeline for his recovery,

C. the human the angel was supposed to be the Guardian of. Weak, helpless, stupid, affected by Anahera's unchecked powers, and Anahera's only hope for recovering faster

D. two apartments which he had to both financially and supernaturally cover and manage,

E. the neighbors of said apartments and the landlord of the complex who never seemed to stop caring about the trouble coming from 464 and the strange behavior of the residents of 465,

F. the job in a private security firm which he had lied and falsified his way into which he went to at night and tried to use as his only time for peace. At least the routine was vaguely familiar although Rachmiel preferred his sword to the guns he had to use, and he definitely had more exposure to distasteful humans than he wanted, and

G. a demon who had been free from Hell for nearly a year and was not taking a break to honor his nemesis's temporary incapacitation.

_______

The third dream that Marianna had was so extreme and so real that she woke up screaming.

~~-~~-~~

Theme: Blood//Water - King Kavalier Remix

"Anahera, you can't do this!"

"I can and I am."

"Please, Anahera—"

I stop strapping on the golden bracers and round on him, glaring into his startled eyes. Malakai is taller than I am, but that doesn't matter. He steps back.

"Look me in my eyes and tell me this is fine. If you can't, then you should go with me. You shouldn't be happy about this, Mal."

"I—I'm not happy about it."

"Then go with me."

"I can't! Archangel Michael—"

"Can't or won't, Mal. I thought Soldiers had more of a spine in them than this." I return to strapping on the armor, but a gauntleted hand yanks the next piece from my hand before I can strap it on.

"This is suicide, Anahera." Malakai's voice is hard. "Aoith wouldn't want you to—"

"I don't care what Aoith wants me to do. He wants to be free, and I'm going to free him!"

"But—"

"What would you do if you had a blood brother who had been captured by demons? Would you just stand aside idly or would you rescue him?"

"Obeying the General isn't being idle."

"He's not my general."

"No, but he's still second-in-command to God. Every angel answers to Michael, Anahera. Everyone. You think he's going to have mercy on you for this?"

"I don't care what Michael does to me. I care about what is done to Aoi--" My voice cuts off, and I frown. What had I been saying? "Um, I care about what is done to the angels. Any punishment laid upon me is nothing when compared to what is happening to them. Now, there're only three questions: are you going with me? Are you a coward... Or shall I prevent you from telling Michael what I'm doing?"

Malakai tries one more time. "It's not your job to rescue them."

I lock my eyes with his. "No. It's not. But he who is supposed to rescue them refuses to do so, so others must rise up, and I'm clearly the only one who cares enough about them to do what must be done." I push past him, settle a helmet over my head, strap a shield to my arm, sheath swords on my hips, and heft a halberd. Malakai watches all this in silence. I look over my shoulder at him.

"I don't want to see you die, Anahera."

"You won't." And I leave the armory.

Theme: Desperate

I don't give the sentinels guarding the gates to Hell the time to stop me. I spiral through the closing gap, flinging my wings out to throw them off before rocketing upward and away. My first task is to make sure the Sentinels can't stop me. The oppressive, acidic air is thick and burning inside my lungs. I try to breathe shallowly, but I know I can't do that for too long, or I'll become lightheaded. I feel the heat burning my skin away a tiny bit at a time, and the raw flesh stings. Hell is even more hideous than I could have dreamed. It's hard to even describe how horrible it is. My lip curls.

It befits the demons.

By this point, I'm far enough away from the Gates that the Sentinels don't bother following me. I don't know if they're going to report to Raguel. I don't know how much time I have. I won't waste a moment.

I turn my flight toward the jagged, cruel mountains as black as sin. They look like they house the authorities here. I don't know who those are, but I know I'm not afraid of them.

The droves of demons beneath me start noticing and reacting to my presence. Whooping and howling, taunting and threatening. I ignore them. I have no time for those that don't matter. I need to find the prison.

Actually... the demons below me could be useful. I suddenly swoop down and plung my halberd into one of the demons' gut. I haul the skewered demon up and away before the other demons can reach me. His weight is unbalancing my flight, but I put him above me and keep going. The demon is screaming and swearing and promising my pain beyond all my imagining. That's fine. I don't care. He can't touch me.

His blood streams down onto my face and hair and sinks into the scapular descending under my breastplate. The pure white cloth is stained with the blood of my enemy, and I'm proud of it. There will be more to come. The demon's screams start to become more thin, and I plunk him down on a small shelf of red rock. Still in midair, I twist the halberd, and the demon shrieks in pain.

"Look at me." The demon doesn't obey me, so I twist my weapon once again and repeat the command. This time, he obeys, his face twisted in rage, loathing, and pain.

"What do you want angel," he rasps.

"Where are the thirty angels trapped here being kept."

"And why should I tell--hck!"

"That's why. Don't make me repeat myself."

"They're," the demon's voice is taut with pain, and I'm proud, "urg, behind the mountain. In Foster's lair!"

"Folster?"

"Kesres's master torturer! You don't stand a chance at rescuing them! Let it go!"

"No." My sword through his neck emphasizes my point. I pull my halberd from him and am off again, shooting toward the mountain. As I flow into the depths of Hell, I see demons collecting on the ground and following me in a swarm. They're like rats. As repulsive as them as well.

A burst of lava shoots um ten feet from me as I fly over one of the smaller mountains, and then every hill and mountain and lake of fire is shooting up, all aiming for me. Someone is upset I'm here. I smile. They're threatened.

The heat and rotting air increase the deeper I go, but I'm undeterred. I'm close. I can feel the life of the angels. It's sweet and fresh but far far too weak. I've passed the mountain now, and below me, a repulsive, gargantuan compound stretches out. I have to cover my mouth and nose to try to limit the stench of rotting flesh suddenly assaulting my soul. I dip and lower slightly, looking for the tell-tale signs of angels among all the instruments of unspeakable torture currently housing the wicked once on Earth. I ignore them as they try to call for me. They are reaping the reward for their actions on Earth, and only they can be blamed for the state they're in. Demons man the machines and instruments of pain, and their glee disgusts me.

What I seek is in the very middle of the compound. The screams of the angels are different than any of the humans or demons, and my wings begin to fold in grief, but I fling them back out. There's a demon holding court there. Folster stands out from all the demons as much as he stands out from the humans. I knew that demons were beautiful, but this one has almost angelic beauty. The most unnerving thing, though, was his smile. Broad and happy. Like he was celebrating with friends rather than torturing angels.

I land directly behind the demon and swing for him, but he ducks to the left without a pause, then turns around to smile at me.

"Hello, angel. How can I help you?"

I back off, keeping my focus on Folster, the demons he commands, and where his silent commands may be given simultaneously as much as possible. I see his hands flick out, so I know he must be communicating to the demons around me. That or using some magic that he may have. I don't know anything about this demon.

The demons working their horrible tasks around me all pause to at least watch me, and the angels raise their heads at the pause.

"I'm here to save the angels you have trapped," I say loud enough that even more demons stop their tasks to look at me. That's good. I want their attention. I'm not here to be subtle.

Folster drops his hands to his thighs and leans forward like he's talking to a child.

"Is that so, little angel? And how are you planning to do that."

"By killing everyone who stands in my way."

"Little angel, do you know where you are?" He spread his arms wide. "You, my friend, are in Hell. This is my world, not yours. You think you could best me here when I'm surrounded by those I command and even more are all around us? You have no friends here."

I smile. "Now, that's where you're wrong, Folster. I do have friends."

"You mean these?" Folster steps aside and looks at the trapped angels, away from me. He's mocking me. "I don't know if you have eyes, little angel, but these angels are in no sort of fighting condition. You are alone."

"Am I supposed to be afraid?"

"You are."

"Too bad." I smile. "Ready to die?"

"No, not today, little angel, but my minions have no such reservations." Folster raises his fist.

Then he opens it.

Screaming.

The sound of all the demons swarming at me from all sides is so terrible, it almost throws off my focus. Almost. But not quite.

The demons start falling almost faster than I recognize that I've struck them down. Folster stands back, looking confident.

At first.

When I've knocked out the first two waves and there's a pause before the demons who started outside of the compound reach me, I launch into the air and shoot over to the captured angels. Nathiul's, Hyam's, Erelim's, Inias', and Rismael's shackles are broken with one mighty wrench, and those who can walk move to help the others.

I launch into the air, distribute death all around, then land on one knee, the shock wave knocking demons off their feet.

I block a blow of some kind of energy from Folster using my shield, and it glitters, then sparks, and Folster flies back with a howl. He lands on his feet, and by that point, I've freed Salimsa and Varadel, and the next waves of demons are upon me. Behind me, the angels I have freed work with with each other to free the rest, and I'm left with the hundreds of demons devouring up the ground as they crash toward me.

These ones have weapons. Most are of their own, but I see angelic weapons shattered throughout the hordes. I look at Folster, shake the blood off my weapons and armor, and give him a smile.

He's not smiling now.

"Wanna dance?" I ask, and he scowls, summoning his own weapon and prowling toward me.

He meets me at the same time as the next wave. The adrenaline, pride, rage, and sacred duty, though, leave me a battle monster. Eyes and teeth flashing, armor coated in gore, the wails of my dying foes surrounding me. In the air, wings flared, raining death down; on the ground, stance wide, weapons flying.

Perhaps the Sentinels or the Soldiers could fight this battle better, but I doubt it. I am entirely in the present, my foes piling up around me as the numbers that I have struck down ascends the same. Behind me, I am aware of all my friends fighting as well, and I sweep back to down the ones directly fighting them.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" I roar.

"Not without you!"

Before I could respond, a blade slashes my arm, and I bellow in pain, then slash my attacker from shoulder to hip. He falls in two pieces, and I jump over him to land on the other side, but a demon jumps up and meets me in the middle, managing to sink a knife into my hip.

I fall hard, landing on my knees. I start to rise, but three demons jump on me at once, and I howl in pain as four feathers are ripped from my wings. The burst of pain is the push I need to throw off my assailants. They sail back, knocking others of their own kind to the ground.

I'm back up again, my hip leaking crimson and my arm slowly adding its own gore to the mix already there. As I swing my sword back up, my arm screams, and I echo the same. Folster laughs.

My halberd slashing his cheek silences him though. He hisses at me and charges. Now I'm fighting both Folster—now no longer messing around—and the demon hoards. Folster immediately charges the angels behind me, but I can't turn yet to make sure they're okay. I have everyone else to handle. I keep swinging at the foes in front of me, and they keep falling. And they keep falling. And they keep falling.

An angel behind me shrieks, and I spin to protect them only to earn a cut to the shoulder, teeth in my leg, and another torn feather for my effort. With a mighty roar, I rip the demon whose teeth are in my leg free and haul him over and directly into Folster. He squawks and falls back, but he's only knocked back for a moment. He's back on me, and the demons around him don't back off at all. They fall under his swings and swipes at me, but there are just so many demons that it doesn't make a difference.
I don't stop killing them,
And time keeps passing,
But I feel myself starting to lag.

Suddenly, I'm not wiping out the legions of demons. I'm fighting for my life. I don't even know when the switch happened, but now more blows land on me than I strike down demons. They're small blows.
Small claw slashes on my back. Tiny teeth on my leg.
The angels behind me are now armed with the angel weapons that the demons had, but they can't help me. They're fighting for their own lives, and they're weaker than I am. I help them when I can, but I pay for it with more lost feathers shooting stabbing lightning through my body. My feathers being pulled is the worst pain of all, but I can't fold my wings away because staying in the air is still the best way for me to kill my foes, but more demons go for my friends when I'm in the air.
My arms ache from swinging my weapons over and over and over, and I'm getting slower. Demons suddenly jump onto my wings, and I fall hard, landing on my back. Immediately, claws sink deep into my gut, and fangs lock onto my wrist. My shield is wrenched from my arm and flung far away, and my heart clenches in fear. I barely turn my head away to prevent the sword from stabbed through my eye, but I don't escape a blow. The scream, higher than any yet, ripping from my throat is drowned in the laughter of the demons around me as my ear is slashed from my head. I freeze, and my vision goes white in pain as more and more attacks land unhindered on my body.
I can't breath even before serrated claws as long as my arm snap through my ribbed and drive into my lungs. My own blood is now gushing over my clothes and body, but there's nothing I can do.
There's a flash of a blade above me, and my eyes latch onto the glint--angelic glint--before my eyes roll back in my head in pain as the weapon drives into, then through my shoulder. It's ripped out, and my eyes flutter open just in time to see the instrument, dripping with crimson, descend again. No sound comes out of my mouth as I acutely feel it slowly being driven into me just below my heart. White hot agony. Out again, and I'm just wishing I could pass out.
down again.
blood spurts out.
snap
screaming

blank blank blank
i can't i can't i can't
pain pain pain
stop stop stop please
help help help

~~-~~-~~

Marianna screams just long enough for her voice to be lost. Then she's asleep again. She's right back where she was.

~~-~~-~~

Burning. Slashing. Stabbing. Stinging. Wrenching. Tearing. Scratching. Aching. Thudding. Ripping. And warmth.
White and red and black and yellow and orange. And gold.
Screaming and laughing and snapping and slucking and gurgling and ringing. And roaring.
what
i can't i can't i can't
new screaming?
commands?
cheering?
help help help
help?
it's bright. but good bright.
that's not pain. that's nice.
it's stopped.
what?
a name. that's my name.
i know that voice.
yes?
no.
they're safe? good. that's all that matters.

blackness.

~~-~~-~~

Anahera's outer wards had faded, and Rachmiel couldn't tell for sure when Shayton was around the apartments. He had put his Chains over the doors to the apartment complex, but they were weaker than the ones in Apartment 464, and he wasn't sure if they would hold a truly determined Shayton from breaking into the apartment complex.

He also didn't know if Shayton even knew about Anahera's condition although he figured the demon must. Rachmiel's Chains didn't send off a spark when they were interacted with, and of course, he couldn't use Anahera's wards, so when Rachmiel was out of the apartments, he truly didn't know who came and went. If Marianna left, he didn't know about it. If another human went into either apartment, he didn't know about it. Sytry couldn't escape the Chains, so Rachmiel didn't have to worry about him, but he was the only one he didn't have to worry about.

Rachmiel was better at making the human take care of herself for Anahera's sake than taking care of himself, and he resented her.

His inescapable responsibilities without any respite wore on him more and more, and his inability to properly sleep didn't help. He could tell that Anahera's dreams were affecting Marianna as her eyes gradually showed more and more pain that didn't belong to her, but at least she was able to sleep. The horrors being stuck in her mind didn't excuse her neglectfulness. She was all Anahera had. It was her responsibility to take care of him to the very best of her abilities no matter what happened to her, and taking care of him meant taking care of herself. He shouldn't have to babysit her like he was.

Rachmiel wasn't a lone wolf. He was a Sentinel, a soldier, and he wasn't meant to spend all this time without support. There was no one to relieve his position, no lieutenant or general to instruct him, no one to rest with after working together to protect something essential.

He was alone.

And he was lonely.

___________

Another dream. This one was different though. Entirely different. Special.

~~-~~-~~

Theme: Comatose (mandatory)


My heart pounds as I look out at the ballroom in the Brown Hotel. It has been decorated so beautifully--as historically accurate as possible--and I appreciate it. I used to miss being in France, but I don't anymore. I can't deny that the aesthetic still calls to my soul though.

When my name comes from behind me, I'm already smiling so broadly. Just from happiness. I turn around.
My heart stops. Then starts again. Faster. Much faster. Words and even thoughts flee from me as heat suffuses my body. I move forward, somehow not falling as my knees threaten to crumble. How can she be this beautiful. This shouldn't be possible.

---

Her cheeks are flushed, and her chest heaves. I'm not entirely sure if it's from the dancing or the alcohol. Marianna June Davis apparently is an extreme lightweight. That fact only charms me more. Everything about her charms me. I want to be closer to her.

"Anahera, how do you do that... How do you know of all of the right things to say... hiccup and make me feel so weird inside." She scowls at me before shaking her head and fully interlocking her fingers with mine and closing what little distance we barely have left. We are suddenly eye to eye, and she's so close, I could count every freckle on her flushed cheeks. I don't want to.
"Anahera... you have bewitched me... I've never let a man get this close to me, yet here you are."
What?
Her eyes drop to my lips.
What?
"Anahera... am I just some other woman you've been secretly planning... hiccup... to sleep with?"
What?
She pulls away and tugs free the ribbon around her flushed neck. "I do not wish to be someone's spring fling..."

Oh no. Oh no no no.
What have I done?
How could I have done this to her?
I can barely think for the panic slashing through my good mood, but I calm myself, and I'm more than relieved when the hotel attendant steps in.

I fly home, taking the opportunity to cut away the final dashes of desire still slipping through me. They have to go. This never would've happened if I hadn't gotten so sloppy! I didn't think. I didn't think about her reaction to me or even her feelings toward me. Of course she would react like that after how I behaved toward her with the alcohol in her system. That's biology! How could I have dismissed tomorrow? Idiot. I know better! This isn't 1780's France! This is 2020's America! Things aren't the same, and I can't be either. If I really loved her, I wouldn't have been so thoughtless with the expression of my feelings.
No more.

Once she gets home, my bad feelings only get worse. She doesn't seem to remember what happened. She's blaming herself! But I can't tell her the truth. I can barely open my mouth without breaking down in tears. No more. I may not be able to purge my feelings toward her from my heart, but the least I can do is not be a burden. If I'm not around, I won't act stupid, and she won't be hurt more. Any effect I had on her will dispel once I'm gone. Plus, the longer I'm away from her, the less I should feel for her. I'll eventually not cry just as the thought of her.

---

It does get easier the longer I avoid her. At least for me. I can see that she's upset, but I know it'll fade the longer I'm away. I just have to wait it out. This is better for her.
Walking home alone after dark isn't good for her though. I thought she would be home by now, and there's no way I'll let her walk through our sketchy neighborhood alone. 3am is when most despicable creatures filling the night have already crawled into whatever hole they have, but that doesn't mean it's any sort of safe for Marianna.
I lose track of time while cooking and have to fly to reach the restaurant in time. I'm almost at the restaurant when an alarm goes off inside me.
What? Shayton is here? There hasn't been any sign of him the entire time I've been on Earth, but now he shows up... close to Marianna?

White hot rage fills me when I spot Shayton in the alley assaulting some girl. Then I catch a scent. I know that scent.

No.

He has Marianna!!

--

When Aoith's name leaves Shayton's mouth, something happens in me. Something snaps. A dam breaks. My stomach wrenches. My head splits with a thousand lost memories. Too much.

What?

My heart.

Aoith.

...

I hurt. Loud. It hurts. Aoith. Too much.

Aoith!

Aoith...

No...

Marianna!

Shayton.

---

I need to look for Shayton, but I also need to think, and I can't think when I'm with Marianna.

"I'm going to fly around and look for any sign of him."

As soon as I'm high in the sky, I can't escape the memories. I also don't try.
Decades of memories fall into place, and the more they snap together, the better I feel and the more I hurt.

My brother. Special among all angels. How could I have forgo— my wings suddenly fold, and a shout of surprise and horror rips from my mouth as I drop.
Once I'm stable, I give myself a shake.
“Time for grief some other time.” I need to find Shayton.
But my mind betrays me again, and I'm snapped into the recent past. The alley... Blind with rage at Shayton touching Marianna, I had torn apart an invincible magic spell with my bare hands.
Pain.
Light.
Sparks.
PAIN.
RAGE.
The scars on my hands won't fade for millennium. They have joined the scars all over my body to mark the passage of my life. The other scars...
When did I forget Aoith? I can't remember. I remember hearing the news that a small army of demons had ambushed my friends and that they were trapped. I remembered hearing a voice scream Aoith’s name until it broke.
I gasp, and my wings fold, but I don't even care now.
That had been my voice!
I don't even try to fight the memories torturous though they are. I blocked these memories for a reason.
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

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Theme: Comatose (mandatory)
---

I stare at my scars in the mirror over my dresser, and my memories draw me in again. It's the gasp behind me that jerks me free.
It's Marianna.
It's Marianna.
She's safe. I made her safe. I failed before to keep those I care about safe, but I succeeded now, and Marianna, the most important person to me, is alive because of me.
“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!”
What? My hands lock on the edges of the dresser. What did she just say? Did she say I looked good? My heart pounds even while my head spits venom at me for being so weak to her. All of my work trying to let her go was destroyed in the alley, and I'm almost right back to where I was before. Almost...
because it's stronger now. I can't look away from her.
Her voice is so low, I almost miss it over the roaring in my 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.”

Don't need to strain myself? How little she knows. I'm still depleted from the amount of power I used to protect our home before I left, and I can barely stand from the exhaustion which is caused even more by emotions than physical strain.

“Those scars."
My breath, already ragged, catches.
"There is so many… you didn’t just get those overnight... Do they... Do they hurt?”

The mirror is cool on my brow, but the duel ridges created by one of the demon's last two claws before I slayed him with my bare hands sparks with memory as it encounters the glass.

My eyes close as I tell her that only the memories of how I got the scars hurt now, but they shoot back open and lock onto her face as Marianna's fingers skim over my back. I shiver, my head ducking. Even just the slightest touch from her sends currents of pleasure through me. I'm doomed.

When she asks, I don't even try to prevent myself from telling Marianna the story. I start steadily, but naming the angels I freed sends the image of each of their faces to the forefront of my mind, and it hurts. I look into the eyes of the woman who has my heart, and I'm strengthened.

--

Once the story is done, she wraps me in a hug that shoots my heart rate up, and she promises that she'll be there for me. Then, she is suddenly merely hairs away from me, closer than she had been that night at the ball weeks before. Warmth blooms under her lips as they press on my salty skin, her chin brushing my salt-encrusted beard.


"Anahera, how do you do that... How do you know of all of the right things to say... hiccup and make me feel so weird inside."

"I really.... had fun with you...tonight..."

"I trust you, I have nothing else to lose."

"I'll never let myself do that to you again. I'll never let you know how I feel about you. I won't cause you that pain."

"I trust you, I have nothing else to lose."

"Sleep well, mon coeur." (my heart)

"I trust you."


I can't let her get close. I'll hurt her again.

---

I'm stricter this time. Both on her and myself. I aggressively steer clear of Marianna and finally do what I should have been doing this whole time: look for Shayton. As for her, now that I know Shayton will be after her, she absolutely cannot do anything to put herself at risk. I can't be with her 24/7, and anytime I'm not there, she's at risk. I know my instructions are harsh, but they're for her own good. Shayton shall. not. have the woman I love. I never actually catch him, but I see him. He taunts me, and my blood boils everytime he escapes. Not only is he escaping, but he's getting closer. He knows where Marianna is. He shows me by leaving mocking messages closer and closer to the apartment building--ones that only I can understand. He's closing in and teasing me while he's doing it.
The wards around the apartment hold, but I'm not strong enough to create ones for the building, and I have no way of knowing where he is unless I'm right there like in the alley. It's not going well. Not with Shayton and not with Marianna.
I try to do what I can for her by making sure she has her favorite foods, but humans aren't meant to be stuck inside like this. I know she's lonely as well, but both because I refuse to risk hurting her with my presence and because being in her presence is very distracting for me and pulls away my will to do what I must, I can't be around her. I hate seeing her upset, so if I can avoid seeing her upset, I had better do so.

Unfortunately, I fail to avoid her entirely.

"Anahera! We need to talk. Now."
Uh oh.
I slam walls over my care for her. I can't be swayed.
"I can't stand being treated like a dog anymore. I sit and stay like you have ordered me for weeks! I can't take it anymore." She clenches her hair and flushes, but I keep myself detached.
"I feel like a goddamn prisoner in this godforsaken place Anahera. Fuck, I can't even open the freaking window to get some fresh air!"
Uh oh. The walls are cracking. I've never heard her curse before. I've never seen her this upset.
"You. Can go, wherever- whenever you please while I have to stay here alone! You said you would protect to me. But all you're doing is making me a prisoner in our own home!"
I know I'm doing this for her own good, but my heart clenches in pain at her words. I need to get away before I crumble, but it's been so long since I've been around her so this long that I don't want to move. I've missed her.
And then...
"I'm going outside, whether you like it or not. I don't care anymore! If that demon wanted me so badly, he would have already found ME!"
No.
I thought she was smarter than this. I was wrong.
All my love for her is stamped out in rage, and I grab her arms. So what if she gets bruised? She needs to understand the severity of this. No matter how much she's bothered by what it takes, I will. not. let. her. die.
My voice is guttural when I find it through my anger.
"NO. Do you not remember, Marianna? Don't you understand what he'll do to you? Were his intentions not clear enough what he wants with you? With your body? You're human, but I thought you weren't that stupid. 'Sweet blood TREAT'? Rape is an understatement when you're in a demon's hands. He will take your body, he will rip it apart for his own pleasure, and then," she's crying, but I don't care, "he. will. kill. you. Right now, I don't fucking care what you want, Marianna Davis, because you're clearly too naive to be trusted with your own safety. He's looking for you now, and he's getting close. You are staying in the apartment if I have to trap you here myself!"

There's one second of heaving breaths, then her foot crashes into my shin, and my grip loosens in shock.
The hand that lands SLAP on my cheek shocks me enough that I let go entirely. She shoves me, cussing at me, and I stumble back, my thoughts wobbly, and my walls fall completely at her next, shrieked, words.
"I wish I would have never met you Anahera Golden Wings. I...I wish I would have never had feelings for you to begin with!" She shoves me again, and I have no defenses."You're no better than him."
What? Does she really--
I don't react fast enough, and she's past me and through the door. Before I can stop her, she spits these final words before slamming the door in my face. "You should have just let Shayton take me in the alley that night..."
I reach the door and fling it open so hard that I almost rip it off the hinges, and--
"Why, thank you, my good angel! You seem to have done my job for me! I couldn't have made her hate you like this if I had tried!"
I scream.
The next door neighbor exits their apartment and stares at me. I stare at her, hollow and drowning, and she swiftly retreats looking unsettled.
I drag myself back into the apartment and slam the door, leaning back against it and just trying to breath. My brain is sluggish... hardly keeping up with thoughts... I don't even know what to try... She's gone... I failed... It's... It's not over. She's not dead yet.

I push myself up, launch my wings out--smacking the dining room table and chairs into the wall--and wrap them around me, summoning my angelic robes at the same time. Light sweeps up from the base of my wings, wraps over the duel appendages, and meets at the apex of my cocoon. A swish and I'm gone from Earth.
I had forgotten how beautiful Heaven is. I don't have time to appreciate it though.
I shoot upward, plummeting up and up and ignoring anyone who calls to me. I'm heading to the top.
I shoot through the floor of clouds dividing Lower Heaven from the Heavenly Court and Heavenly Throne Room. I've only been up here once before when I returned from Hell and left Aoith behind. My lip curls. That shouldn't have happened.
I ignore everyone and everything around besides Chamuel standing watching me. He knew I was coming.
"Where's Michael."
"Waiting for you." He gestures, and I leave.
"It's good to see you, Lord Anahera, Golden Wings!" he calls after me. I ignore him.
Michael is also waiting for me. I don't even bother with formalities. Michael doesn't deserve any.
"Give me Sacred Flame."
"No."
"I wasn't asking, Michael," I grit.
"Follow me." He turns away.
"HEY!" I lunge forward and latch onto his shoulder, swinging myself around until I'm inches from him. "After everything you've done, you owe me this. You've put me through far too much to refuse me this."
Michael's calmness fills me with rage. "Anahera, let go of me."
"Make me."
He smiles. "I could, but you don't want me to. Let go."
He's right. I obey.
"What you want is what I'm going to give you."
"I don't want Sacred Flame. I demand it."
He starts walking away toward the Throne, but I don't follow.
"Well, I'm not going to give it to you."
"Michael!"
He sighs and looks back at me. "To be honest, Anahera, I wouldn't have picked you as Marianna's Guardian Angel. You're too emotionally invested in her. You're too emotionally volatile to begin with. At least I think so, but while it's normally me who chooses who becomes Guardian Angels, this choice was make by the One above me."
I stare at him. My lungs had stopped as soon as the words "Marianna's Guardian Angel" left Michael's mouth.
Michael's eyebrows rise. "Am I to take your silence as rejection of your gift?"
"N-No!"
"As I said: follow me."
I do as he says, my brain flying. Suddenly, something catches...

~

"You cannot go because there are greater things for you."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't actually know. That was the reason I was given when God gave me instructions regarding you."

"I thought you just found out about the need to go from Raguel just now? Wait-- hold on, God has talked about me? Specifically?"

"He has. Don’t think about it too hard, Anahera. There’s a lot to it, I know.”

“So, I’m not going with my brother because there are greater things for me in the future?”

“Yes, and you must keep this a secret. Even from Aoith.”

“I know it may seem odd, but trust me.”

“I do.”

~

"Th-This is the reason I couldn't go with Aoith to Hell, isn't it?"

Michael's step lurches, and he sucks in a breath. His hands flex, and then he keeps walking. "It is."

He had forgotten Aoith too.

I thought he had known.

We move on.

"I'm going to be Marianna's Guardian Angel?"

"You are."

"How long with that take?"

"Not long."

I fight frustration. "You do realize that Marianna is currently trapped by Shayton."

"I do."

I ground my teeth. "Will I be able to save Marianna with my new powers?"

"No."

"Michael? Please, help me save her!"

"I am."

"Can I do anything to make you go faster?"

"You could shut up."

I do.

Michael moves faster, but I don't say anything.

When we reach our destination, Michael pulls up and turns to me. White and gold sweep around us and close in. I look around, nerves growing. The light from above is especially growing, and I feel something. He's infinite. He's kind. He's omnipotent. He's here for me.
The light and sensation grows and grows, and it becomes overwhelming, but it never overwhelms me. Warmth fills my heart and grows and grows and fills every slip of my existence. There's no pain, but the feeling is so strong it seems like there should be pain. Then, power begins to fill me. More and more and more. Power and love and strength.

I feel the voice before I hear it.

Take care of my daughter, Marianna June Davis, Guardian Angel Lord Anahera, Golden Wings.

The light and warmth start to fade, but the presence doesn't.

"Wha--"

Go get her. Protect her. Fulfill your mission.

I gasp as pain cascades over me, and white flames burst up. Sacred Flames.

Michael, get Sellabis.

"Yes, my King."
The presence leaves before I can thank Him.
I stand locked still, power rolling through me. It's exhilarating and burning and itching and it makes me want to kill Shayton.
There's rustling behind me.
"Anahera, Sellabis is going to let you borrow his Healing Blood for Marianna."
I turn slowly. My eyes burn with fire. "What has Shayton done to her."
"Nothing irreversible. Not yet."
I look at Sellabis, and he takes a step back before reaching out his hand. There's a knife in it.
"W-We need to share blood." My eyes narrow. Aoith and I shared blood to form our brother's bond. Sellabis flinches back and looks away.
"Can you--not stare at me please? You're eyes are burning."
"Just give me the blood."
He cuts his finger and then mine. He mixes our blood and draws a symbol on my skin with the strangely glistening blood. I can't read the symbol before it sinks under my skin. I don't feel anything different, but I also don't care.
"Where's Marianna?"
"The penthouse of the tallest apartment complex downtown," answers Michael. I nod.
"Get out of my way." I shove Sellabis to the side and shoot into the air, flying as fast as I can out to where I can dive and return to Earth.

--

I can see the glint of demonic purple before I sense the demon, and I shoot myself, feet first into the window.

My rage is burning through me so strongly that I don't even give any attention to Marianna on the bed. Shayton is more important right now.

"I'm not sure that she'll leave with you. She wasn't willing to wait for you to come. She jumped, Anahera. Marianna left you."

What.

She wouldn't ha--

"AARRRRRGH FUCK."

I won't be distracted anymore. The power under my skin is boiling, and I don't bother trying to contain it. Shayton's fear and pain is delicious. The final moments of his life tick away beneath my burning touch, and I smile down at him. He deserves and I will relish every bit of agony he feels. I--

"A-Anahera. Have you always been this way..? Please.. this isn't you.. this isn't the right way to do things. Please Anahera, you've killed enough already... Do you really want to have Shayton's blood on your hands?" Her voice worm's its way into my heart, and my rage begins to fade.
"Please Anahera, I'm begging you... stop!"

Shayton drops from my hands, and I step away. I breath. Now that Shayton is taken care of, all that's left is Marianna...

She jumped.

How could you have jumped? Didn't you know I would come for you? Why didn't you trust me?

...

I can't trust her.

I remain utterly silent aside from instructions as I heal each of her wounds. I know without thinking where they are, and I keep my mind far far away from the softness and warmth of her skin. I ignore her eyes on me and her breaths ghosting over me as I move over and around her. I don't care. Not anymore. She may no longer affect me like that.

---

"How's Marianna?"

My glare silences Sellabis as I return his gift to him.

"Anahera," I scowl at Michael's voice behind me, "you--"

I spin on him. "Did you know she would jump?"

His eyes flinch, and his pity just makes me angrier. "I didn't." His voice is soft. "You need to return the Sacred Flame."

"Don't try to placate me, Michael."

"I'm not trying to placate you, Guardian."

I flinch.

"You can't escape this, Anahera. No matter how Marianna treats you, you can't abandon her. You're her Guardian Angel. You need to give up the Sacred Flame though. You can't hold it."

I close my eyes and breath. "I wouldn't abandon her even if I weren't her Guardian."

"Give me the Flame."

I stomp forward and slap my hand into his extended one.
I didn't expect the Sacred Flame leaving me to feel as good as it does. I didn't realize how much it hurt just to be holding it until it's gone. I had been so swept with agony in my heart that I couldn't tell what pain was from where.
"Now, you had better get back to Earth and protect your charge, Guardian."
The way he addresses me by my rank sounds like he's trying to remind me of my job. I haven't forgotten.

---

Every time I see Marianna, a new dagger is driven into my heart. She left me. Why. Why.
I-I avoided her before to prevent me from hurting her, and as soon as I can't avoid her, she hurts me.
"Hurts me"? That's... How could I use such insufficient words.
After everything I told her. I told her everything.
After everything I showed her. More than anyone else has ever seen of me.
After I let her have my heart. No one has ever had my heart before.
But that was my fault. I should have been more careful with who I trusted. I thought I could trust her, and I don't know what to do now that I can't.

I keep working at the restaurant, and I keep looking for Shayton, but he has disappeared. I wish he were dead. If Marianna hadn't stopped me--no. If I hadn't stopped when Marianna tried to stop me, Shayton would be dead. I allowed myself to be swayed by her, and the world has paid for it. If I had ignored her, Shayton would be dead, and he would no longer be a risk to humanity, so not only did she betray me, but her actions directly led to Shayton escaping. She didn't know he would, and I didn't either, but I shouldn't have risked it. Again. The cost of trusting her.

Without being able to find Shayton or go back to the apartment, I have way too much time to spend in my head. Everytime I dream, she owns my the. When I'm busy at work, it's better, but I can't work forever because Marianna still comes to work, and she keeps trying to catch me at the restaurant.
I don't need to keep her in the apartment now to keep her safe. I can tell how she's doing at all times. There's an itch. A warmth. A coldness. A tightness in my chest. Deep in my chest. Against my spine. I can't reach it. I can't stop it. I can't ignore it. I try.

When she's happy. When she's in danger. When she's stressed. When she's lonely. When she's sad.

She's sad a lot, but she has no right to be upset. There are consequences for her actions, and when her actions include showing me that she has no faith in her friend to protect her as he had promised he would again. and. again. the consequences aren't light.

How can times did I promise her I would protect her? And what did she do almost immediately after she was taken? She threw my promises out the window and rejected me. Shayton saved her life. Shayton saved her life. She would've died if he hadn't wanted to preserve his victim for more torture.

Marianna gave up on me. She gave up on me, and she gave up on her family, and she gave up on her friends, and she succumbed to hopelessness far too quickly for it to be reasonable. Does she think I am not worth my word? I had thought she was worth hers.

"I’m always gonna be here as long as you'll want me to."

Yeah, right. Humans aren't to be trusted. I had forgotten. I had let her light and beauty sweep me off his feet. Michael had been right: I had been too emotionally invested in Marianna to make a stable Guardian Angel.
Well, not anymore.
I want nothing to do with her.
But I can't convince my heart to fully give up on her.
As a Guardian, I'm meant to protect her, and protect her, I do. I save her from getting robbed, from getting hit by a car. I set up Wards and sensors throughout the entire apartment building and the surrounding area. I have the power for it now. I reinforce the protections on the apartment and check the minds of our direct neighbors for connections to Shayton.
I am required to do all these things. What I'm not required to do is clean the apartment and cook for her. I shouldn't do it. I shouldn't feel compelled to help her.

But I can't bear to see her struggling or inconvenienced.

Pathetic.

Even though she broke my heart and lost my trust, she still hasn't lost my love.
I try, hard, to purge myself of my love for her or to at least lessen it to the level appropriate for a Guardian and his human. Platonic love.

I'm not feeling platonic love for Marianna Davis.

The more I hide, the more I realize I'm slowly losing her.

That should be fine. But it's not.

I dig into my pain and grief and fear--trying so hard to break free of her, but everytime a shiver of her pain shoots up an alarm in my head, my heart shoots up pain as well. I'm so tired of trying to fight this.
I miss her touch. I miss her voice. I just miss her.
It would seem physically steering clear of her isn't enough to break my heart free from her grasp. I don't even think she knows what an impact she has had on me. Before and now. She's upset I'm gone, but that's for her sake and not for mine. She's just lonely. Not wishing I didn't have to run. Not wishing that I felt safe with her. She just doesn't want to be alone. Well, she'll have to get used to it because I'm not. coming. back.

Not when I don't know how she could hurt me again. When did I become so vulnerable to humans hurting me? I'm Guardian Angel Lord Anahera, Golden Wings. I went into Hell and I came back out. Covered in scars but alive. I've served a dozen missions on Earth--some more lasting than others. I've spent years on a single mission without losing my head, but it doesn't even take a year in 2020's America for me to lose my head and my heart.
I
want
my
heart
back.

But it won't come back.

---

Seeing her while the twins are here is even more painful than I could have imagined. It was bad enough when all there was were the messages of her moods streamlined directly into my head, but now there's the body language and the words and the tone and the looks she keeps giving me.
I play nice.
But I don't like this.
I especially don't like sleeping where there's only a wall between Marianna and me. I can't escape the torrent of information I receive when she's asleep so close to me, and I'm not enjoying it. It's like I'm in the room with her when I would much rather be high, high above this apartment, nestled in the shelter I've made for myself on the roof of the complex. I could properly sleep then. Well. As close as I can get right now. I haven't truly slept well since before the ball, and it only became worse when she become my mission. Every time I close my eyes, she's the queen of my dreams.
Who knew being a Guardian would be so exhausting.
Considering how valued being a Guardian is though, It's probably just me.

---

"Anahera.. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her hand slips into her pocket and from it emerged a handkerchief. She reached for one of my hands, eyes tender.
“Let me help you.”

I'm trembling. Dangerous. I could kill her. So easily.
I know I shouldn't, but the part of me--as small as it is--that can't help but trust her is in control of my hand. I hold utterly stiff as the soft cloth tries to wipe off the blood that can still be removed, and her touch is gentle, and the part that can't remain stiff toward her is winning out.

“I know there isn’t anything I can do to bring you comfort or ease your worries... but…”

I'm disconcerted by how calm she is. It's not right. Where's her survival instinct?

"I'm here. You are not a monster. I am not scared of you."


All my walls fall. All at once. All the work I did to block my heart so I wouldn't be hurt again. All the work I did to purge the love from my heart.
Gone.
All of it.
Whoosh.
Months of work, undone with twelve words.

And I don't want that progress to come back.


She looks up into my eyes. It's dark in the shredded house, but I can see the warmth in them.

"You are just as fragile... and I'll be here to help pick up the pieces."

Marianna's eyes pull my rocking ship into safe harbor. I had forgotten how wonderful she is.

---

The frantic pulsing of the music in the club matches the frantic pulsing of the blood in my veins. Her lips.
I can't help the moan that slides from my lips or my head tilting to give her better access. Not that I really want to.
"Putain de merde {for f*ck's sake}, Mari," I rasp, my grip tightening on her delicate waist. "'Don't seduce other men' includes me."
I can't believe this is happening. This is dangerous territory. I want nothing more than to pull her body flush against mine until there isn't a glint of dim purple light between us, but shit I can't on so many levels.

Shayton.

I stamp the name on my brain.

Shayton Shayton Shayton.

I can't bring myself to really care though as her gentle kisses continue to torment me.
I try to order my thoughts, but only a stream of arousal-addled gibberish sloshes around.
“..!.” The noise that she makes as my hands move breaks one of the walls holding a whole other kind of beast inside me, and I let out what's inside me. Only a little though. I still have some control.
"Fuck, Mari, you're..." The soft skin beneath her nose smells addicting. "I've tried and tried, but you make it damn near impossible to remain a gentleman."

Her hands move to my shirt, and French rolls-- oh fuck. No language should ever sound that good coming from a woman's mouth.
Restraint? I'm running out very quickly. I try to want it, but then her thumb lands on my lip, and my mind goes blank. Nah, I'm done.

I'm tilting us until she has to catch onto my jacket, and the words of the song which I've heard before from SOMEWHERE, remarkably fitting to my current state of self-control, introduce her to my desires in French.

"Je jure sur ma vie que j’ai été un bon garçon. Ce soir, je ne veux pas être lui.{I swear on my life that I've been a good boy. Tonight, I don't want to be him}."

"Shayton has never been like this before!"
I freeze. Not now.
"I can't believe he would hurt me! His claws fucking hurt. Maybe he was right... Maybe I was wrong to trust a literal demon, but god he made me feel better than any human ever could." A wistful sigh. "My demon lord..."
I don't have a choice. My body is screaming for Marianna in ways I didn't know were possible, but my head is ringing true. I'm not here for Marianna. I didn't want her to come for a reason. I'm here to save Lucia.
I don't want to stop though. I want to whisk this woman away to a place where there aren't a dozen hungry eyes locked on her and find out what other noises I make her make, but Lucia would be long dead before I was finished, and I'm an angel first and foremost. Shayton was my first mission here, and only protecting Marianna is above capturing Shayton in priority. Making my name come from her lips in a thousand different ways isn't strictly protecting her, so preventing her sister from being murdered by the demon I'm supposed to be capturing takes precedence. I hate it. But it's true.


---

"Anahera... Love, you are not alone. Let me get things handled with the twins... we will take things one step at a time, okay?"
I can hear the sheer exhaustion in her voice. I have to pull myself together, but not only am I physically and emotionally exhausted, I'm also overwhelmed with the memories and experiences from the night we just survived warring in my mind for dominance.

From the twins' concert when I had still been trying to block Marianna from my heart to the panic and rage of Lucia's capture to the hasty trip to the occult house and the gruesome slaughter that had resulted. Marianna not rejecting me after my darkest side showed, and me no longer being able to fight how much I cherish her as a friend.
As a friend...
That phrase had been thoroughly ransacked in the club when I had been utterly unable to hide the dark, wanton fire she lights in me. I hadn't even wanted to hide it. I thirst for her. I could never get an overdose of her. From there to my repulsion and shame at Dirty Angel's kiss and her advances to the final, desperate flight to the mansion and the attack against Shayton and horror of what had happened to Lucia and then Raphael and then the Sacred Flame and finally home.
There was no way that all that had taken place in the space of one night. It had to have been days. Somehow. Some way. Through some power. Earth's night simply wouldn't hold that much activity.

My brain hurts.

My body hurts.

The Sacred Flame laps at my very final reserves of strength, nipping and snipping at my energy so it can burst free in Heavenly glory... only to kill Marianna with its unearthly power. Nope nope nope. I'm not going to hurt another human.

"Are you still with me?"

The months of memories from before that disastrous ball flood into my mind. Strangers to flatmates to friends to maybe more. Slowly, over months of growth and then over the last several months flying by, I had finally found out just how marvelous Marianna Davis is.

Her intelligence. Her kindness. Her strength and confidence yet gentleness. Her patience. Her stubbornness and commitment. Her love for her family. Her compassion toward me. Her breathtaking physical beauty and magnificent internal beauty.

She fills me with life. Wakes me up. I don't want to live--I don't want to breath--unless I feel her next to me. She takes the pain I feel and replaces it with light. Comforts me. I was dead wrong to ever doubt her. I should have known better than to let the words of a demon tempt me away from the truth of who she is, but that's over now.

I adore her.

Her smile. Her laugh. The light in her eyes. His name from her lips. His desire to say...

I love you, Marianna.

~~-~~-~~

Anahera's eyes open.



---+-+++----++--
Glitches mean that Ana can't add the song for her next post into that post, so here it is:
Theme: You're Somebody Else

 

[Anaee]

Dream after dream, Marianna woke up rattled and confused, sometimes disoriented, sometimes even flustered. The dreams were so.. vivid. She felt as if she were there.

Reliving memories that were not her own, but Anahera’s.
She could feel every emotion, every scar and marking that carved not only his body but his heart.

Why?

Was it because he was her guardian angel? She had so many questions, but the person that could possibly help her understand the dreams from her perspective was still in a coma.

“Hera, what is going through you’re head?”

———

The first dream of Anahera's that invades her sleeping mind is painful. More painful than any pain she could have experienced through Anahera. In this dream, she watches as a young Hera argues with his superior about going to hell to rescue the trapped angels in hell, including his brother, Aoith.

Aoith..

She wonders… no, he will be okay.

He is in good hands.

He has to be, right?

For Anahera’s sake.

Continuing with the dream, she is swarmed with the sudden emotions of frustration as it seems to Anahera that the angel Michael is refusing the younger angel access to hell.

With every comment of defiance and argument, it seems to anger Michael more, punishing Anahera for his lack of faith.

Marianna wants nothing more to die on the spot as the familiar warmth of white light that helped her sister— burns her to her core. She feels as if she is burning from the inside out.

“A-Ahh..!”

She begins clawing at her chest with her nails, trying to breathe despite the pain in her chest, she would cry out in agony, despite her cries falling on deaf ears.

She can feel everything.

She admires Anahera for being so strong willed for those close to him, but the pain is nearly unbearable. Just as she feels another wave of warning light threatening to punish Hera again, another Angel, Chamuel appears, trying to defuse the situation.

Stubborn. Anahera is stubborn.

She understands why…

She would have done the same if her sisters were in danger. However, why were the Archangels so against Anahera leaving? Was it because they knew what would happen to Anahera if he would go?

——-
The next dream was much more pleasant—

She finds herself floating in the clouds. If it wasn't for her reminding herself that it was a dream, she would have surely panicked being so high in the sky.

Below her, she spots two familiar looking angels. Anahera and a much healthier, happier Aoith..

“Oh Aoith..” she whispers softly as she stands by the brothers quietly.

It is strange seeing this side of Anahera. He is carefree, playful, happier than she had ever seen him.

This memory appears to be when he was much younger, seeing that any scars that he currently has are not visible through the neckline of his robe.

This must be before the angels were sent to hell?

She watches quietly as the brothers interact and can’t help but giggle and smile as she watches the young angels play and race each other in the sky.

Their relationship is strong when it comes time for when they are met with Michael. Marianna’s smile begins to fade.

Aoith is given the mission to go to Hell... for what reason she wonders? Anahera’s thought tells her it wasn’t for normal angels, so why was Aoith sent?
They sent lambs to be slaughtered…

Her mind is spinning as her thoughts as well as Anahera’s intermingle within her consciousness.

She can’t help but watch painfully as the two loving brothers chatter and race once again, unknowingly to them at the time what would happen in the future.

——

The third dream, was.. horrifying.

It seemed Anahera was reliving his descent to hell— how he got all of his scars. She began to think back on Anahera’s story, and this dream was much more detailed than anything Hera had vaguely described in his story to her.

She watches helplessly on the sidelines as Hera passes through the Sentinels protecting the gates to Hell swiftly.

She feels an overwhelming sense of dread, her heart begins to beat rapidly at the slight feeling of anxiety.

“Hell is even more hideous than I could have dreamed. It's hard to even describe how horrible it is.”

The further Anahera goes into hell, the more she can feel his hatred and frustration building. It is... chilling. It is as intense as his emotions when he went over the edge at the coven house. This is not the younger angel she had seen the other night flying carefree with his brother… This is a stranger.

Marianna feels the world around her spin as she tries not to gag at the sudden flood of rotting flesh filling her lungs. She feels tears form in the corner of her eyes as she does her best to not become overwhelmed by the bloody scene in front of her.

Is this what they were doing to Aoith all these years?

Tormenting them to no end? Predators toying with their food? Is this what Shayton would have done to Lucia?

She wants to throw up.

It is all becoming too much.

The screaming.

It is so loud she can barely keep up with Anahera’s inner thoughts as he begins to fight off Folster’s subordinates.

Once the first two waves of demons are cleared, he frees some of his friends which help to save more as he continues to fend off more foes.

The fight continues for what seems like centuries, and it seems as though Anahera has the upper hand until—

“ANAHERA!” Marianna shrieks as demons land a blow to his shoulder, tear a precious feather, and bite his leg.

Marianna is breathing heavily as she begins to feel every wound inflicted on her angel. Her lungs burn from crying out in pain. This is much, much more painful than the threatening light from Michael in the first dream.

She continues to cry out and writhe as Anahera continues to fight, fighting until it seems the demons begin to take over. She feels her whole body burning once again.

Although she has no physical injuries, she wakes up screaming in cold sweat.

Her body still tingling from the ghostly Inflicted wounds and bites all over her body.

Once she manages to calm her beating heart, her dream continues—-

Burning. Slashing. Stabbing. Stinging. Wrenching. Tearing. Scratching. Aching. Thudding. Ripping. And warmth.
White and red and black and yellow and orange. And gold.
Screaming and laughing and snapping and slucking and gurgling and ringing. And roaring.
what
i can't i can't i can't
new screaming?
commands?
cheering?
help help help
help?
it's bright. but good bright.
that's not pain. that's nice.
it's stopped.
what?
a name. that's my name.
i know that voice.
yes?
no.
they're safe? good. that's all that matters.

—-
The next dream is different from the previous nights. It’s special…

It’s his memories… with her.

She finds herself back at the Brown Hotel, at the historical ball that the city had posted and the duo had gone to.

It takes her a moment to focus on her surroundings as she listens to Anahera’s inner thoughts. He seems… nervous? Why would he be nervous?

Oh.

In unison, she turns to face a voice calling out to Anahera; her voice.
She feels emotions that are not her own, but Anahera’s.

How can she be this beautiful. This shouldn't be possible.

A blush quickly covers her dream cheeks. Back then, she had thought he was just being nice to make her feel more comfortable dressing up in the costume, but.. he really considered her beautiful at that moment?

Before she can turn to study Anahera’s expression further, the scene in the dream quickly changes to the duo on the balcony later that night.

She could slap herself silly for allowing herself to get drunk.
But… Hera, the way he looks at her that night.
Why did she have to be so stupid?

"Anahera, how do you do that... How do you know of all of the right things to say... hiccup and make me feel so weird inside."

"Anahera... you have bewitched me... I've never let a man get this close to me, yet here you are."

It was strange listening to herself slur her words as she got closer to Anahera, his once calm and loving emotions turning quickly into confusion and regret. He feels as if he took advantage of her in her current state?

What?

“Hera, no-“

She unconsciously reaches out to stop a quickly retreating Anahera, only to have her hand fade through his shoulder. Ah. That’s right. This is a dream.

She retracts her hand and stares at the emptiness inside of it. So this is where the confusion in their relationship started.

At that time, she had desired him.

Her heart is pounding.

—-

The dream continues to show flashbacks of the aftermath of the party.

Her confusion on Anahera’s beginning avoidance of her. He was trying to protect himself from desiring her as well. He was an angel after all, he shouldn’t be lusting for her or having anything other than platonic feelings. That didn’t seem like the case however. Anytime they crossed paths, she could feel his heart begin to race… His emotions were confused back then.

Suddenly she finds herself watching the alley scene all over again. She hugs herself as she shivers. Shayton had pinned her against the wall, preventing her from escaping the night she was leaving work. Anahera was supposed to meet her to walk home so she wasn’t walking home so late, but unfortunately he was late.

She watches, disgusted, as she has to relive the teasing Shayton had done, causing her to squirm where she stands, only to have a slight wave of relief once Anahera makes his appearance.

The scene plays out in a blur as if someone has hit fast forward on a movie tape. She can feel the intense wave of emotions as he is still conflicted with his feelings for Marianna, unable to think straight, and the sudden reveal of Aoith’s mark that was gifted to him for protection so long ago.

Aoith...

No...

Marianna!

Shayton.

Too much is going on. She feels as if her head will split into two.


The alley... Blind with rage at Shayton touching Marianna, I had torn apart an invincible magic spell with my bare hands.
Pain.
Light.
Sparks.
PAIN.
RAGE.

Why did Anahera’s body and mind try so hard to block the memory of Aoith being trapped in hell?

——

Next sequence takes her back to the night she discovered Anahera’s scars. She knew more personally, now, how he received them. Her heart aches as she begins to realize just how much the angel was dealing with emotionally. He was battling with his own thoughts and worries.

She's safe. I made her safe. I failed before to keep those I care about safe, but I succeeded now, and Marianna, the most important person to me, is alive because of me.

He is exhausted. She barely scratched the surface of what was going on with him that night. She feels even more guilty as she continues to listen to his thoughts.


“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.”

Don't need to strain myself? How little she knows. I'm still depleted from the amount of power I used to protect our home before I left, and I can barely stand from the exhaustion which is caused even more by emotions than physical strain.

She bites her bottom lip slightly as she watches herself begin to question the many scars covering Anahera’s back. She shivers as she feels Anahera’s walls begin to falter. He was falling for her.

She was so oblivious to how much she tormented him. But she was also his relaxing strength.

He still wants to distance himself in order to protect her… but what about him? He already has lost so many…

Oh, Hera…

——

Marianna feels uneasy as she finds herself back at the apartment once again. This had been the breaking point of their relationship.

Anahera had been so determined to protect Marianna at that time, he hadn’t realized how much she was truly suffering…

He loved her.

He loved her so much, he couldn't risk putting her in harm's way.

Is this why he was so strict with her?

She feels pain in her heart as she watches the memory of them getting into that heated argument one of the days he actually returns home.

She was past her breaking point at that time. She was confused and hurt. Why would he share things about himself only to lock her away. She only saw red and didn’t consider his reasoning. She spoke words that were not true and were only aimed to cause him harm like she felt in her past state.

"I can't stand being treated like a dog anymore. I sit and stay like you have ordered me for weeks! I can't take it anymore."

I was angry…

"I feel like a goddamn prisoner in this godforsaken place, Anahera. Fuck, I can't even open the freaking window to get some fresh air!"

Why did I curse at him… I never cursed or yelled at him like that…

"You. Can go, wherever—whenever you please while I have to stay here alone! You said you would protect me. But all you're doing is making me a prisoner in our own home!"

I missed you... Hera... I’m sorry.

"I'm going outside, whether you like it or not. I don't care anymore! If that demon wanted me so badly, he would have already found ME!"

She bites her lip once again as she watches the pot begin to boil over. Anahera is full of rage. He was never angry or violent with her. Not until she pushes him over the edge.

Everything happens so quickly, she begins to become overwhelmed with the rage that ignites within Anahera that is quickly whipped away by a hard,

SLAP

Her cheek stings as she presses a palm to it.

"I wish I would have never met you Anahera Golden Wings. I...I wish I would have never had feelings for you to begin with!"

She hadn't meant it.

Please, stop...
No.
Come back!

She isn't able to appreciate the beauty of Heaven as Anahera storms to Michael, demanding the power to rescue her. He had been so angry…

The feeling of the power of his new rank being bestowed on him is breathtaking, but it's more than overwhelmed by the pain of the Sacred Flame. This is what he has been experiencing since rescuing Lucia? This pain is worse than Michael's light. How was he even able to stand after he had received the Flame?


The flashbacks became more painful as she begins to experience Anahera’s pain and anger of her trying to end her life at the penthouse where Shayton had kidnapped her. All Anahera’s promises to her went down the drain.

She was scared... but Anahera promised he would protect her. He. Was. There.

Why did she jump?

Her heart threatens to break almost as much as Anahera’s as he shares his pains of her lack of faith in him. The promises they made. The trust she broke.

She has no excuse.

It wasn’t until the night at the coven did their relationship begin to heal, even slightly. The night Lucia was kidnapped and they were forced to work together to find her.

Although part of her was afraid, Anahera needed her. He had suffered alone for so long. She couldn’t bear to watch him idly on the sidelines.

"I'm here. You are not a monster. I am not scared of you."

She meant it. She will make it up to him and keep her promises. There is no going back. She wants him there in her life.

—-

This time, Marianna is back in the club. A blush furiously spreads against her cheeks as she relives the heated moment between them.

Her rapid breaths match Anahera’s as she begins to become hyper aware of her own touches on his skin.

I want nothing more than to pull her body flush against mine until there isn't a glint of dim purple light between us, but shit I can't on so many levels.

Desire.

She squirms slightly in her standing position, heat pooling in her, as she glances down and watches Anahera’s wandering hands.

Gulp.

She wanted to be touched by him again.

She wanted to hear the rasp of his voice as he melted with her touch.

She—

No. They couldn’t. Could they?

No!

They had Shayton to worry about.

—I don't want to stop though. I want to whisk this woman away to a place where there aren't a dozen hungry eyes locked on her and find out what other noises I can make her make.

The heat on her cheeks quickly spreads to her ears.

The intensity of his desire for her.

Is it… is it still like this?

Although this is a dream, every thought Anahera has causes her to become more hyper aware of their touches.

—-

She felt as if she would melt away right then and there in that dream, succumbing to her growing desires for the angel… only to have it transition once again.

Finally, they are back at the apartment—

The day that Anahera fell into a coma. She is swarmed with his innermost thoughts of the previous events.

Exhaustion,
panic,
pain,
rage,
confusion,
understanding,
love…

The months of memories from before that disastrous ball flood into my mind. Strangers to flatmates to friends to maybe more. Slowly, over months of growth and then over the last several months flying by, I had finally found out just how marvelous Marianna Davis is.

Hera…

Her intelligence. Her kindness. Her strength and confidence yet gentleness. Her patience. Her stubbornness and commitment. Her love for her family. Her compassion toward me. Her breathtaking physical beauty and magnificent internal beauty.

She feels tears form.

She fills me with life. Wakes me up. I don't want to live--I don't want to breath--unless I feel her next to me. She takes the pain I feel and replaces it with light. Comforts me. I was dead wrong to ever doubt her. I should have known better than to let the words of a demon tempt me away from the truth of who she is, but that's over now.

I adore her.

Her smile. Her laugh. The light in her eyes. His name from her lips. His desire to say…

He... loves me?

Marianna feels a warmth take over her body as she begins to cry.

He really…?

Truely?

Hera…

 

[Anaee]

• Theme •
Marianna soon stirred from her dream. Just as before, she woke a bit disoriented. She felt herself pinch the inside of her wrist gently, trying to ground herself back to reality. Once she was finally adjusted and reoriented, she finally turned her head at the slight movement next her on the bed.

“Anahera.”

With wide eyes and movement so quick to get up, rushing to stand, Marianna found herself stumbling, feet tangled within the sheets that covered her floor with her makeshift bed.

“H-Hera! You’re finally awake!”

She could cry.

Her eyes were wide and bewildered, slightly red from keeping in tears that threatened to pour. She trembled as she made herself hold back from crashing into Anahera with a tight hug, trying to allow the angel time to sit up.

She wanted nothing morning than to hold her angel in fear he might disappear again, but she had to be patient.

“Marianna?”

“C-Can I get you anything? Water? Food? U-Um..”

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Anahera's vision was blurry for a few moments, but Marianna's voice cut through the brain fog and snapped his awareness into full.

“Anahera.”

He turned to look at her, then jerked toward her when she stumbled. She flopped on her belly on the bed but pushed herself up again just as quickly as she had fallen.

“H-Hera! You’re finally awake!”

He wanted to say something real, but the only thing that wanted to come from his mouth was her name. “Marianna?”
He'd missed her. Even though, for him, he'd only been in Hell for a few hours, he had still missed her, and when he returned to Earth, everything with Rachmiel and Aoith and Sytry and... ???

“C-Can I get you anything? Water? Food? U-Um..”

“What… What happened?” Anahera looked around, taking in his room lit by candles, himself in the bed, and Marianna’s sleeping nest beside his bed. His looked at Marianna, face serious.

“How long was I asleep, Marianna?”

“It’s been… five weeks.”

“Five weeks?” Anahera sprang out of bed, looking around frantically, but suddenly, his head swam. He groaned and sat hard on the bed, putting a hand to his head.

“I’m fine,” he replied to Marianna’s frantic query. “I just stood too quickly. But you…”
He looked at her again, this time properly taking in her appearance. She was pale. Pale and wane and disheveled with grim circles lining her bloodshot eyes and a slightly wild look in her eyes.
He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheek and unavoidably noting how thin her face had become. His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, searching for her sparkle within the gray shadows. “Did you take care of me and neglect yourself?” He whispered.

 

[Anaee]

“What… What happened?”

“You..passed out.
As soon as you got back from hell, after all that happened. With Lucia, Aoith…”

Us..

“How long was I asleep, Marianna?”

“It’s been… five weeks.”

“Five weeks?”

Slight panic rose as Marianna frantically reached out towards Anahera, preparing herself to catch him if needed as he tried to

“H-Hera! Becareful!” She stammered,

“I’m fine,”

“I just stood too quickly. But you…”

Marianna felt vulnerable for a moment as she retracted her hands to her sides. Trembling slightly as she studied the angel’s expression as he reached out and cupped her cheek.

Ah.
His hand is warm..
I’m so glad.
He’s… really awake, this isn’t a dream.

Marianna felt herself unconsciously lean into his touch… she missed him, she didn’t want to lose him like that again.
She felt tears beginning to form in the corner of her eyes, quickly shutting them and forcing herself to hold them back.

“Did you take care of me and neglect yourself?”

Despite hearing the worry in his voice, she had no regrets for putting the angel first.

“You.. would’ve done the same..”She replied softly.

“You already do. And for that, i’m sorry.. truly, Anahera. It’s.. it’s my fault that you fell into a coma in the first place… I-If.. if I wouldn’t have depended on you so much, if I would’ve have noticed how much I have hurt you. How much you, were hurting if I wasn’t so selfish, I-“

She was cut off suddenly by a tight embrace.

She felt a dam break within her walls as her heart tightened.
The water works began to force their way through.

“Oh, Hera, I’m so sorry…” she sobbed as she tightly wrapped her arms around as far as she could reach around the angel as she could manage.

 

[KittyInTheHat]

“You.. would’ve done the same..”

Well, that was true, but he also--

“You already do. And for that, I’m sorry.. truly, Anahera. It’s.. it’s my fault that you fell into a coma in the first place… I-If.. if I wouldn’t have depended on you so much, if I would’ve have noticed how much I have hurt you--how much you were hurting- If I wasn’t so selfish, I-"

Anahera pulled her into his arms.
She let out a tiny gasp of surprise before she began to shudder with tears and wrapped her arms around him as much as she should, her small body trembling. He gently guided her to sit next to him on the end of the bed, not loosening his grip a bit but careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Oh, Hera, I’m so sorry…”

"Marianna, mon chéri..." He reached up and began to stroke her hair, settling his chin gently on her head. "You aren't selfish, and you certainly aren't the reason I fell into that coma. I chose to do all that I did. You didn't force me into it. As for depending on me," he pulled back until he could look at her and she at him. He lightly cupped her face and smiled, his eyes full on warmth, "I'm your friend, and I'm your guardian angel. I say this without any insult or condescension: you're simply physically incapable of giving as much to me as I do to you, and that's okay. I'm an angel--a celestial being with more abilities than you do."
The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I don't think you have any idea how much I have to cut back on my strength so I don't hurt you when I touch you. I'm a very dangerous creature, more so now than before I became your Guardian because I must be able to do anything and everything required to keep you safe. It's my responsibility," he pressed his forehead against hers, "my honor, and my pleasure. I care about you, Marianna. I don't want you to ever come to harm, and I now have the ability to make sure nothing does. What that means is that our power balance isn't doing to be entirely equal, and it should be like that. I'm not saying that in every single way will I be above you or in control--I'm certainly never going to treat you like I did when Shayton first went after you--but if you try to physically do for me what I do for you, you will die. Let me protect you, Mari. Please. In whatever form it takes, whatever the cost upon me, it's always worth it for me if you are safe. Please let me do what my soul craves and my heart calls for and keep you safe."

 

[Anaee]

Marianna, mon chéri...”

Her sobs began to soften as she allowed herself to finally relax under Anahera’s tight embrace. Closing her eyes as she focused on the steady rhythm of his heart.

“You aren't selfish, and you certainly aren't the reason I fell into that coma. I chose to do all that I did. You didn't force me into it. As for depending on me,”

She raised her head quickly to try and take some blame for what had happened

“But—“

However, her words were quickly hushed as the angel’s hand cupped her cheek. For a moment, there was only

“I'm your friend, and I'm your guardian angel. I say this without any insult or condescension: you're simply physically incapable of giving as much to me as I do to you, and that's okay. I'm an angel--a celestial being with more abilities than you do."

Marianna bit her cheek slightly, but quickly released the tender flesh as a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"I don't think you have any idea how much I have to cut back on my strength so I don't hurt you when I touch you. I'm a very dangerous creature, more so now than before I became your Guardian because I must be able to do anything and everything required to keep you safe. It's my responsibility,"

She wanted to open her mouth to protest once again, but decided against it as he pressed his forehead to hers. It had been a while since they had been this close. Normally, she would have pushed him away and been flustered.. but now, she wanted nothing more than to continue to be close to him.

“—my honor, and my pleasure. I care about you, Marianna. I don't want you to ever come to harm, and I now have the ability to make sure nothing does. What that means is that our power balance isn't doing to be entirely equal, and it should be like that. I'm not saying that in every single way will I be above you or in control--I'm certainly never going to treat you like I did when Shayton first went after you--but if you try to physically do for me what I do for you, you will die. Let me protect you, Mari. Please. In whatever form it takes, whatever the cost upon me, it's always worth it for me if you are safe. Please let me do what my soul craves and my heart calls for and keep you safe."

She gently sighed a pulled her forehead away to stare up into Anahera’s cool grey colored eyes. She searched for something she couldn’t quite explain..

She gently reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, “What about you..? My soul, my heart craves to keep you safe.”

“Who looks after my Angel, if he doesn’t let me?”

Marianna allows her hand to linger for a few moments longer, before gently pulling it away.

“I promise to trust you more, but only if you promise to confide in me. No more secrets.”

“I want to be someone you can depend on as well..”

 

[KittyInTheHat]

“What about you...? My soul, my heart craves to keep you safe.”
“Who looks after my angel if he doesn’t let me?”

Anahera chuckled softly at her words, closing his eyes to relish her touch and letting her finish.

"I promise to trust you more, but only if you promise to confide in me. No more secrets."
"I want to be someone you can depend on as well..."

He sighed, his smile a cross between sad and self-deprecating.

"Well, the idea is that Guardian Angels don't have to be taken care of in return. That's kind of the whole point. It's rare that we ever reveal ourselves to our charges in the first place. They're solo, life-long missions that shouldn't require additional support. It's just that in my case, I was dealt the assignment to get rid of Shayton before I became your Guardian, and that assignment hasn't been shifted elsewhere. Catching a demon would be a trying job with high demands for any unranked angel, and Shayton knew exactly what he was doing the whole time. I pushed myself too hard. That’s on me. You won't have to do anything like you had to again."

He pulled back from her and lifted his left hand, looking at it. Cold white flames burst up, filling his palm and wreathing his hand. He looked back at her with eyes hard with determination. “I can handle this. This isn’t too much for me.” He closed his fist, stifling the Sacred Flame. “I can handle all of this. I brought Sytry to Earth knowing I could handle him. I didn’t ask for someone else to take the job of hunting Shayton because I knew I could do this. Being your Guardian Angel makes things easier actually. I shouldn’t have to depend on you. That would be lining me up for failure and you up for death, and I will. not. let. you. die.” Unknowingly to Anahera but not to Marianna, he repeated, almost word for word, the declaration he had made to himself in the apartment all those months ago just before Shayton took Marianna when he had determined that he would rather trap her in the apartment than let her fall prey to Shayton’s wicked desires.
“Rachmiel is wrong about many things, but he’s not wrong that weakness means death. Not my death though—your death, Marianna. I won’t ever push you away again—that causes its own weakness, and it certainly hurts—but if I cannot stand without you, we’ll both fall. I don’t fear to tell you the truth anymore—you’re strong as well, but I do know secrets that aren’t mine to share, so I cannot promise that I’ll never keep anything from you. I wish I could, but I’ve been entrusted with knowledge beyond Earth—things humans cannot know. Therefore, I can’t answer every single question you may ask me, but I won’t keep myself a secret anymore. Besides,” his lips quirked, “you basically know everything now anyway.”

He reached up and skimmed his fingers through her hair before continuing. “I revealed myself as an angel in that alley; that I was sent after Shayton when we got home; that Aoith and the other angels were captured and how I went down to rescue them when you found me in my room.” He paused and shook his head softly, smiling. “That’s what I get for not closing my door when my scars were revealed.” His eyes popped eyes, and he quickly met her eyes. “Not that I regret telling you! It only came to that though because I left my door open and had my shirt off. It was awfully crunchy though.” His nose crinkled in memory. “Itchy. Anyway! I told you that I am your guardian angel when the twins arrived. Once I got over myself, I’ve never held back showing that I care for you. You’ve seen me at my worst yet didn’t run from me.”
“I never shared the particular details of my past that I’ve revealed to you because there’s no point in causing you that extra pain. I’ve seen some horrible things, Mari, and you should never have to experience them—even if only through me describing them. I’ll answer any questions you have for me about my past, but I do ask that you don’t ask for descriptions of what I did and what I saw. Can you accept that?”[/FONT]

 

[Anaee]

Marianna pondered for a moment at Anahera’s question,

‘Can you accept that?’

Could she...?

“I don’t think I can promise you that I can settle on accepting that, Anahera.” She gently reached and placed her hand on the angel’s, tracing small circles with the pad of her thumb on his skin.

“You are the strongest person I have gotten to know in such little time, Hera. You’ve proven that to me, time and time again. I understand that it is your job to protect me, keep me safe.. That it wasn’t meant for our relationship to have gotten this close… for your world to intertwine with mine as much as it has.. But, it has. I know you want to hide me from all the ugly of the world, but Hera, what about you? Truly?”

She released his hand from her grasp and stood up from the bed, crossing her arms, hugging herself loosely.

“I will. not. let. you. Die.”

She repeated his words carefully..

“Anahera, I’m scared of running in circles with you. I’m scared that you will die. Maybe not physically, but mentally. You choose to fight your demons alone. But… I. Am. Here.”

“I may not have the physical strength to aid you, hell, I may even be a burden to you because of that... But, Anahera, I know more than you think.”

She bit her lip slightly before releasing the tension in her shoulders with a deep breath.

“I can handle your demons that you chose to keep locked away in your scars Anahera. Can you accept me willing to keep fighting for you in my own way?”

“Again, I want to be your strength, even if it's something trivial to you.”

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Theme: War of Hearts

Anahera had asked Marianna, but he was sure she would agree. He was already giving so much to her by telling her he would answer any questions she had for him about what had happened in his long life. She was intelligent enough and kind enough not to demand details from him. She'd only be asking for nightmares if she requested specifics of the events he had skimmed over before.
Anahera, himself, didn't want to relive anything he had lived though. Especially not in front of Mari. He didn't even skim back on his memories for good. reason.

Yes, she'd agre--

“I don’t think I can promise you that I can settle on accepting that, Anahera.”

What.

His mind was suddenly swirling too much for him to properly feel the skim of her skin over his.
She couldn't possibly want--

“You are the strongest person I have gotten to know in such little time, Hera. You’ve proven that to me, time and time again. I understand that it is your job to protect me, keep me safe... That it wasn’t meant for our relationship to have gotten this close, for your world to intertwine with mine as much as it has..."

Anahera swallowed. It hadn't been only her world that had intertwined with his so much. At this point, "relationship" was no simple word.
That one, single night...

"But it has. I know you want to hide me from all the ugly of the world, but Hera, what about you? Truly?”

He didn't want to hide her from all the ugly of the world. He wanted to hide her from all the ugly outside of Earth. Some of Earth's evils were worse than the most foul demons in Hell, but that didn't mean it was okay for her precious human mind to know what it was actually like. N-Nothing compared to Hell. Marianna could handle Earth. She was strong enough for that, but when Earth bled outside of its realm, and what was outside of it bled into it... That's what Mari shouldn't experience--shouldn't even know about.

She stood, and the sudden lack of her warmth jerked him from his thoughts.

“I will. not. let. you. die,” she repeated carefully, her eyes on the floor.

Anahera felt panic begin to crawl up his spine. Did she think he couldn't take care of her? Since so many things had gone wrong, even once he was her Guardian Angel, that he couldn't provide for her? He had made her that promise before--under less favorable circumstances--and then Shayton had stolen her away. Sure he had come after her and stopped Shayton before he had gone beyond what could be healed, but Marianna had jum-- No. No, he knew better now. He had let Shayton's poison steal into his head and twist his thoughts against Marianna.
But then he had fallen to those lies and not shaken them off. He had pushed her away and tortured her and justified his behavior. He had told himself she deserved to hurt. He had protected her physically during that time, yes, but being a Guardian Angel meant more than just guarding her physical safety. It was his responsibility to make sure she was emotionally well as much as he was able to. And HE had caused her the most hurt.

He was disgusted by himself.

“Anahera, I’m scared of running in circles with you."
Friends, more, rejected. Friends, more... much more... was he going to reject her again? Not... Not like he had before, but would he run away again if he couldn't let her go? Just because something had... happened... in the club, it didn't mean it was a good thing. And his heart was overcome with her. He couldn't drag her into an entanglement with him. Thoughts of her consumed him, but that didn't mean that that was okay.
"I’m scared that you will die."
He wouldn't die. If he died, he wouldn't be able to protect her.
"Maybe not physically, but mentally."
Oh.
He... His...
"You choose to fight your demons alone. But… I. Am. Here.”
Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump
She had said that before... and he had stopped trying to prevent himself from caring for her when she had done so.
She had looked into the eyes of a murderer and told him he wasn't alone.
But now... After the club...
Ba-bump Ba-dump
He couldn't let himself love her. Not like this. Not the way he couldn't deny he loved her. He couldn't help but love her even though he tried not to. He couldn't show her though.

“I may not have the physical strength to aid you..."
He didn't need her to aid him physically.
"Hell, I may even be a burden to you because of that..."
She was never a burden. Not her. Never again.
"But, Anahera, I know more than you think.”
Now, what did that mean? Rachmiel must've told her stuff... No that doesn't make sen--
His eyes locked on her lips when she bit it, but he did manage to quickly whip his eyes back up.
Focus, idiot. You cannot be some smitten human teenager. She'll die if you succumb to this madness.

“I can handle your demons that you chose to keep locked away in your scars, Anahera." She had no idea what kind of demons were locked away in his scars. "Can you accept me willing to keep fighting for you in my own way? Again, I want to be your strength even if it's something trivial to you.”

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Oh, pour l’amour du ciel, calme-toi, Anahera! {for Heaven's sake, calm down!}

This was getting ridiculous.

Anahera stood slowly, Marianna turning to face him fully at the same time. He smiled down at her, shaking his head, a laugh sliding out with a sigh.

"You marvelous, marvelous, ridiculous human. I couldn't stop you fighting for me even if I tried, could I?" He tilted his head to the side, his hair sliding off his shoulder to hang in a languid sheet in the air. "Rather pointless for me to try. Wouldn't you agree, Mari?" He slid his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants and regarded her, eyes sparkling. "Nothing you offer me would ever be trivial. I'm not going to say no to you helping me. Remember when we first moved in? You and I were wild with cleaning this place up and making it a home. We're stronger together. You just have to promise me one thing, 'kay? Don't try to 'protect' me from ripping apart the kitchen when I get in there. I may become," he was laughing softly now, "disturbingly manic when I get in there. I dread to imagine what has become of my domain during the time I've been away, and I shall never promise I won't go crazy when I go in there."

 

[Anaee]

Theme: We Go Down Together


"You marvelous, marvelous, ridiculous human. I couldn't stop you fighting for me even if I tried, could I?"

Marianna felt sudden heat on the tips of her ears as she met the eyes of the man towering over her. Although their difference in height was not far, she still felt the tiny bit of intimidation as it seemed the angel could read her every thought as he stared into her eyes.

"Rather pointless for me to try. Wouldn't you agree, Mari?"

“Well, of course not. That's why I said what I said.” She mumbled as she forced her gaze to break from his to avoid a flustered expression at the sudden close proximity.

“Factice… {Dummy...}”

She felt her eyes glance slowly back at the grinning angel Infront of her.

God. What was the sudden change of atmosphere?

"Nothing you offer me would ever be trivial. I'm not going to say no to you helping me. Remember when we first moved in? You and I were wild with cleaning this place up and making it a home. We're stronger together. You just have to promise me one thing, 'kay? “

“And what is that, monsieur Héra? { sir Hera? }”
She questioned in a teasing tone,

“Don't try to 'protect' me from ripping apart the kitchen when I get in there. I may become, disturbingly manic when I get in there. I dread to imagine what has become of my domain during the time I've been away, and I shall never promise I won't go crazy when I go in there."

The girl rolled her eyes sarcastically before returning a slight giggle,

“Oh, I was wondering when you would say that.”

She smiled, tilting her head slightly.

“I suppose I won't fight you on that one. You are a one man army when it comes to cleaning and that kitchen," Her smile turning into a slight grin.

"I do hope whoever you end up with in the future can handle your cleaning habits, silly angel.” She teased innocently.

 

[KittyInTheHat]

Theme: The Arena


Anahera's eyes darkened, eyes flicking over the face of the woman before him.

Oh... boy.

He was trying. That had to count for something, didn't it?

The fact that his efforts weren't producing the effect he wanted didn't count against the value of him trying, right?

'Whoever you end up with in the future'

Skies above, those words would probably keep him awake for more than one night.

He swallowed. Hard. Clenching and flexing his hands to help eject some of the emotion zapping through him, he lifted his chin and looked at the ceiling.

He exhaled a "Yeah" through a sigh before lowering his chin again and looking around his room. His eyes flicked over the various surfaces before locking onto his dresser, his head tilting to the side. He stepped away from Marianna and walked over to the piece of furniture, reaching out and lifting the candle set in a dish. With a light puff, he blew the candle out before tilting it around to get a more thorough look at the swirling wax with its subtle symbols and colors deep within. Hot wax dripped onto his skin, but he didn't react.

"This is a sacred candle. Rachmiel told you about them, didn't he?"

He turned back to Marianna, candle still in hand. "Where is Rachmiel, by the way? And Sytry. Where are they staying?"

"Marianna," called a worn voice from outside the room, "if you're asleep, get up. I've got groceries and--" There was a clattering thump and then pounding footsteps coming closer to the human and her guardian angel in the angel's room.

Rachmiel appeared suddenly in the doorway, his eyes round like saucers and mouth slightly open.
His low ponytail was coming loose, and his slacks and blue button-up--he had had to give up on wearing his suit everyday. It was too impractical for daily life on earth--were rumpled. Add to that his wanness, the slight shadows under his cheekbones where there shouldn't be any, the ugly bags under his eyes, and the unnatural, desperate wildness in his eyes and you were left with an angel nearly unrecognizable from his usual state in a very distressing way.

When his eyes landed on Anahera, it became even worse.
His face slackened, a slightly manic smile appearing on his face, and he slumped against the doorframe, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Thank God. You're awake," he breathed.

Anahera only took the appearance of Rachmiel in for a second before he swelled and his fists clenched in fearsome anger. He strode forward, swept the limp Sentinel off his feet, and deposited him onto the bed.
Rachmiel's eyes shot open, his customary irritation flashing up for a moment.
"Wha--"

"If you get up from this bed before you've gotten your proper rest and recovered," gritted Anahera, finger in Rachmiel's face, "I'll make sure you aren't able to get up again. Am I understood?"

Rachmiel lifted himself onto his elbows and glared at him without speaking. The angels glared into each other's eyes for several seconds before the elder angel let out a groan and dropped back, flopping his arms over his eyes. "Fine."

"Good. Now, where's Sytry."

"463." Rachmiel's voice has no fight to it. Only exhausted resignation.

Anahera left the bedroom without a word, his jaw locked and eyes full of burning fury. He didn't wait to see if Marianna followed him out of the bedroom or into the main area. Without looking back, he went to the small ring of keys tossed haphazardly onto the kitchen bar, snatched them up, and left the apartment.

He was strongly tempted to forgo finding the correct key and just busting the door open, but there were too many cons to that scenario than pros.

Another pro was added to the list though as Anahera had to fight to not break every kid that didn't fit off in the lock.

He forced himself to slow down and use logic. The key to apartment 463 would look like the key to apartment 464. He didn't need to try every key.
He chided himself for his anger-fueled idiocy. He couldn't let his anger rule him.
No matter how... much the extreme anger befitted the scenario.

Once the door was open, Anahera wasted no time in charging inside and going after the demon.
He was easy to find and even more self-satisfied than last time when he looked Anahera in the eyes.

Anahera strode up to the demon and latched a hand around his throat before hauling Sytry fight into the air by his throat.

"My turn," he hissed, and Sacred Flame burst up on his shoulder, shooting up his arm to burn over his hand wrapped tightly around the demon's throat. Sytry's legs began to flail as Heaven's Fire tore excruciatingly into his skin.

Anahera held him there, eyes without any mercy, as seconds ticked by.

Then, he dropped the demon into a limp pile and stepped back, his mouth twisted like he was staring at something repulsive.

"If I didn't need you in order to find Shayton, I would have killed you without hesitation. You aren't above consequences for your actions just because you're necessary. If you forget this lesson, I will be more than happy to remind you, but I think the burns," he smiled, eyes half-lidded, "will prevent me from needing to reteach this lesson."