Light shone through the air vents. Another morning. Ceallach looked into a beam trickling in and made another mark on the wall with a piece of chalk. With the addition of this new line, there were at least thirty. He contemplated the growing amount for a long while, then put his head in his hands and sighed.

He did not know what to do with himself. Aisling's presence had made the days tolerable – simply knowing someone else was in the tower was enough to dispel any potential loneliness. There were days, of course, when they needed time for themselves, but only for a short while...depriving each other of their company was a severe gesture.

Days were long and empty without anyone to share it with. When Aisling was awake, at least, he knew that she was around even if he didn't see her the entire day. Now that she was completely still and asleep, it was as if she were hardly there at all. There was the ship to work on, which occupied him, but he could only fill himself with the drive to work on it for a few short hours before the thought of leaving Aisling and making both of them alone caught up to him and left a pit in his stomach.

He curled up next to her, hoping to have a quiet conversation with her like they used to have. Speech was not always used in the tower – there simply wasn't that much to discuss. They could express themselves with glances, little half-noises, or by touch. Some mornings they spent just lying next to each other – bleary-eyed, barely awake, but happy to be together.

Aisling's eyes remained closed, and she did not even move or make a noise when he touched her forehead with his.

A new feeling – something like anger – crawled into his body. He knew her as a vibrant and active girl, not one immobilized by sleep. He spent time away from the room she slept in, as to not be confronted by her not-presence. Sometimes, he waited on the first floor of the tower, where the food appeared. There was a table wide enough to dine at, where there would be a meal for each of them every sunup and sundown. The plates and the food on top of them appeared as long as their place at the table was clear, and would disappear a few minutes after they had finished eating.

He tried everything he could think of to make the second plate appear – cleaning the whole table, hiding his plate, even refusing to eat at one point, in hopes that perhaps a second plate would arrive and with it Aisling's awakening. Nothing he did seemed to work. In his frustration, he tried to overturn the table, but it was bolted to the floor.

—-

The wind brought dark clouds closer to the tower. Whatever storm they held didn't seem quite ready to break, though. Ceallach left the window open and kept an eye on the clouds and birds.

One evening, the wind picked up suddenly. It whistled through an air vent instead of tossing the windowpanes about, so it was not as bothersome as it could be. Still, the wind usually blew closer to if not into the window, and he pondered that for a while before deciding he really didn't care.

He was sitting on the top floor, pinching little iron pieces into shapes as he pondered how to best continue working on the ship, when he heard a tapping noise over the wind. He looked up to find what had fallen off a shelf or rattled, noticed nothing, and went back to his work. The tapping noise came again, louder this time. It rather sounded like knocking.

He turned and nearly started, for there was a person out the window knocking on the open shutters. Behind the person's back were black wings, which strained against the wind.

"Excuse me," said the winged person in a young man's voice. "Is anyone there?"

The young man stared at the stranger. Although the stranger was wearing what looked like a blindfold, he – assuming they were a he – tilted his head from one direction to the other, as if he was looking inside.

"There is a storm coming," the winged one continued, "and I require shelter. Is anyone there?"

"Come on in," Ceallach said quickly. At that, the person pulled himself into the room, flapping his wings with a great amount of noise before folding them. They were long and nearly brushed the ground, even when folded.

"Thank you," said the winged person, taking a short bow. "I am Ark, a demonic protection ward inspector. When was the last time there was a demon in the area?"

Ceallach blinked. Ark had a faint smile, but otherwise stood motionless. "The only demons I've ever heard about are in the books," Ceallach said.

"Oh? Surely there must have been some demonic activity here? We are close to sea after all," Ark said.

Ceallach shook his head. "You're welcome to look at the books if you like, but that's the only place I've ever found one."

"Very well, would you lead me to them?"

The books mentioning demons tended to be dry, filled with lists and numbers, but the two of them sought them out anyway. Aisling had long stuffed them away at the top shelves, since they didn't have reason to look or reach for them, but Ceallach was tall enough to reach them with the help of a small footstool. The angel stared at the books he was given, flipping them with an unusual speed, and did not seem to care much for reading things in order, for he skipped sections in his haste. He also frowned a bit. After a moment, the angel looked up. "Excuse me, I never asked your name."

"I'm Ceallach."

"Ceallach, then. Where are we, exactly?" the angel asked, putting the book he was leafing through on the shelf in front of him. Ceallach made a note to put it back later.

"The tower."

Ark waited for more information, then frowned again. "What tower?"

Ceallach was ready to frown himself. Why was this stranger asking about so many things he didn't have an answer to, or ever needed an answer to until just now? "The tower in the sea. It doesn't have a name."

"No matter. Can you take me to someone who knows about the wards here?"

"No, because you can't talk to the only other person here!"

The angel shrank a little. Ceallach himself was a little surprised at the volume of his voice.

"This is most unusual," Ark said, brushing off his clothes. "But I suppose a place without demons would have no need for wards."

—-

Ark's wings, upon closer inspection, were filled with tiny flecks of gold and white, like stars in the sky. The black of his feathers was also uneven, as if the sky in his wings was filled with nebula or fog. At times, the flecks moved, perhaps churning with his thoughts. His hair was a faint blond, and it was just short enough to have hair fall into his eyes and face, though he didn't seem to mind. His limbs were thin and the clothes he wore were loose around his body, as if he hadn't been eating for some days, but he seemed to have plenty of energy regardless. In any case, he smiled often and asked many questions.

"Are there any doors leading to the outside?"

"No," Ceallach answered.

"Any exits at all?"

"...The window, I guess."

"Hm," Ark tilted his head at him. "Have you been here long?"

"Yes, since I was little."

"Who brought you here?"

Ceallach frowned. "I don't know. Nobody."

"Surely someone must have dropped you off, from the mainland perhaps. You don't remember?"

"No."

At that, Ark fluttered his wings and went quiet.

Ark did not like to talk very much about himself. He balked when asked about the place he came from, though he did say he was supposed to inspect more wards, after he'd waited out the storm. He much preferred to ask questions – about the tower, life within it, and the books it held. Ceallach tried his best to answer, and he struggled to find words at times, but he found that being able to talk to anyone, about anything, was a much-needed relief after being so long only hearing his own voice.

Two plates of food appeared at mealtime. Seeing this made Ceallach's heart lift, but then he remembered that Ark needed to eat as well. There was nothing set out for Aisling, awake or not.

Soon after Ark arrived, he took off his blindfold, letting it hang at his neck. His eyes were cloudy, grey, and unfocused under it, and prone to staring. He also did not blink very often, which made Ceallach's eyes water if he watched the angel for too long.

The blindfold was a single loop of some smooth, sturdy cloth. On the front, where the eyes and the bridge of the nose would be if it were worn, were etchings of gold and bronze in long, swooping lines. Ark explained that the band restored his sight, which he had lost, but in a way too intense for him to bear constantly - keeping it on for long was overwhelming.

Ceallach had a difficult time believing someone with eyes could not see, especially when Ark actually looked at things he was holding and could follow sounds with his gaze. The two of them were eating together at the meal table – which was also something that Ark did perfectly well – when Ceallach's doubt reached a point where he had to do something.

"Hey."

"What is it?" the angel lifted his head.

Ceallach put up a hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Ark, who usually wore some form of a smile or smirk, actually frowned. "I suppose you think that's funny."

After that Ceallach stopped wondering.

Ark's hands were always examining things – the cracks in the walls, the covers of books, the space directly in front of him when he spoke. And once, Ceallach's face.

"Hey! Back off!" Ceallach yelped, breaking away.

Ark smiled and placed his hands on Ceallach's face again. "I'm just trying to know what you're like."

Ceallach raised a hand to push the angel away, but stopped himself. Ark traced the lines of his brows and cheeks, mouth hanging open a bit as he did so. Ceallach blinked, then pinched his eyes shut. Being touched like this brought up melancholy memories.

One of Ceallach's favorite things to do was to bring his forehead to Aisling's and rest the bridge of his nose against hers. It was an expression of affection, contentment, protection, and something like gratitude. Her preferred response was to back up just enough to look at him, cup her hands around his face, and sing in what was barely above a whisper.

He waited for Ark to say something, hoping for a little song or anything really, but the angel was silent. "...Your hands are cold," Ceallach finally said.

"Oh, hush."

So he did and waited until the angel seemed satisfied and stood back with another one of his smiles. "Your eyes feel like fire!"

Ceallach blinked and touched his eyelids to see if they were hot. He could not tell if they were any different than usual. "...Oh, because they are orange?"

"Because their gaze is so intense!"

Ceallach thought about that for a little while, then decided to take that as a compliment, as odd as it was.

—-

The angel had two sets of clothes, exactly the same, which he only shed when he was about to sleep - and even then, only partly. Ceallach wondered at this, especially since the angel said he was going on some sort of journey - what if the weather changed, or worsened? Surely he couldn't come back to the tower every time there was going to be a storm. And what if his legs needed circulation? The angel's trousers were snug, and creased heavily when he sat.

"Would you like to borrow some clothes, while you're here? There are a lot of extras from when I was growing up; there's bound to be something that will fit you," Ceallach offered.

"I have my uniforms," Ark said, busying himself with folding the one he wasn't wearing. He always kept his extra set tidy.

"But when you're just sitting around, maybe it would be more comfortable to wear a dress?"

Ark turned, and even though he was wearing his blindfold, Ceallach could tell his brow was creased with disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Well, there are a lot of dresses in the tower...and while Aisling modified some of hers, I kept the ones that fit me. You could try them on," Ceallach said.

"That's...that's quite alright, Ceallach. Though thank you for offering," Ark said, turning back to his uniform. Ceallach fingered his vest nervously.

"I guess it's too cold for dresses nowadays, anyway," he said, tucking his head. "But, if you would like anything else..."

"Thank you, Ceallach," Ark said, and it sounded like a dismissal.

——

Ceallach was shaping metal into shapes again when Ark approached.

"May I take a bath?"

Ceallach's eyebrows briefly pinched together in light confusion, but he continued his work. "Go ahead. There's a tub in the washroom under the tap."

Ark thanked him and walked away. A few minutes later he came back. "Is it possible to draw hot water?"

This time the absurdity of the question made Ceallach stop. "No, just swirl your hand in the water a little. You never learned that?"

There was silence in response, and Ceallach had to look at the angel to realize that he was frowning.

"You push heat through your fingers with your hand in the tub," Ceallach said, pointing to his hand, "and that's what makes the water hot."

"I can't do that," Ark said flatly.

Ceallach let his hand fall and stared at the angel.

"Could you heat it then? I would...appreciate it," Ark lowered his head.

Ceallach did so, shaking his head.

—-

Without a second pair of hands to help him take care of it, Ceallach's braid gradually deteriorated. He tried his best to undo it and keep his hair tidy, but it was exhausting, physically and emotionally, to do something that had so long been done by two by himself. He only had the energy and motivation to care for a few feet of hair at a time, so he would only be able to reach the end by the time daylight faded. By the time he got to the end, the hair near his head would be in need of care again, so he gave up after a few days. After that he only combed out knots instead of making sure everything was straight and clear.

He left it trailing all over the floor one day. Ark came in, noticed it winding about, and knelt to touch it. "There's quite a lot," the angel said, lifting a section of it. "Isn't it inconvenient to leave it around like this?"

"I'm used to it," Ceallach lied, busying himself with one of the beams making up the ship. It was not quite long enough, and he was trying to decide whether or not to cut everything else to fit it or attempt to extend it

"Why don't you cut it?" the angel asked.

"We tried. It didn't work."

Ark tipped his head slightly at the word "we", but said nothing.

As Ark had said, the storm came. The rain did not come near the tower, but the wind was so strong that the tower seemed to shake. After closing the window, Ceallach realized that he had not seen Ark in some time, so he went to look for him. Ark was not in the washroom, the top floor, or the bottom floor. Neither was he on the floors with the books in them. So Ceallach went to the floor with the bedroom.

Ark had his back to the door and was hunched over Aisling's bed. "My," he said in a quiet voice. "Your hair is very soft..."

Ceallach couldn't tell what the angel was doing from where he was standing, but the position and its implications lit something in his chest, a painful, boiling rage that demanded action. With a cry, he grabbed a dresser by the door, hefted it over his head, and flung it across the room. Ark looked back and flattened himself against the bed just in time to avoid the flying dresser.

"What have you done to her?" Ceallach bellowed.

Ark lifted his head slowly and put up his hands. "I just...wanted to know what she was like."

Ceallach panted from fury and adrenaline. Then he realized that the angel had meant no harm and the energy wasted away from him. "I...sorry..."

Ark sat up and pulled a shirt that had fallen out of the dresser off his head. "Misunderstandings happen. Part of the fault is mine, though – I should have asked. Or told you what I was going to do."

Ceallach stared at Ark for a moment, then glanced around the room. The dresser had landed near the opposite wall on its side. Its two drawers lay nearby and most of the clothes that were supposed to be in them were scattered about. Aisling's head was at a slight angle and some of her hair had been loosened from behind her head, so that it now lay on the sheets. Otherwise, she hadn't changed from the day she fell asleep.

Ceallach felt weak and knelt, both to support himself and begin picking up the clothes. Ark joined him nearby. "Who is she?" he asked.

Ceallach looked up. "Her name is Aisling," he said quietly.

"Ah. You mentioned her once," Ark said. He waited for more information, then started folding a pair of trousers.

—-

Ceallach made quite a few metal animals, mostly little dragons and lions, to pass the time until the storm went away, as he was getting frustrated with his work on the ship. The wind had gotten so bad that they stayed on the bedroom floor as often as possible because the noise wasn't as bad there.

"She is very pretty," Ark said of Aisling. "A relation?"

That question briefly gave Ceallach pause, since he had never thought of being connected to her in that way. "No."

"Ah. Your lover, then?"

That question made Ceallach start – he had never thought of her as that either. In fact, this line of questioning made him wonder what he did think of her as. "...She's my friend," he said at last.

Ark smiled at this answer and sat by him. After a little silence, he asked, "What is it that you're working on?"

"This? It's not much, just something I like to do," Ceallach said, waiting until the little sculpture had cooled before handing it over. Ark felt its surface a few times, tilting his head at it wonderingly.

"You manage this without tools?"

"Just my fingers. The metal gets soft once they get hot enough."

"Interesting," said the angel.

"Aisling's able to do it too," Ceallach said. "She liked to make birds – little ones, smaller than the one you're holding now."

"Very interesting," the angel nodded, turning the sculpture over in his hands.

—-

One day the morning broke and the storm had left. Ceallach opened the window and the wind did not shriek at him.

"The sky is clear now," Ark smiled out the window. "Finally, I'll be able to fly without all of that wind getting in my way!"

Ceallach did not like the idea of the angel going away, as strange as he was, but said nothing.

"Fare well, Ceallach. I'll try to visit again, under less unfortunate circumstances," Ark said, then put on his blindfold and flew away.

Ceallach watched Ark until he could no longer. Then he walked back down to where Aisling slept and sat by her for a very long time. The thought of being stuck in the tower, working on a ship he was not even sure would be able to carry him to where he needed, while someone else could come and go freely did not sit well with him, nor did the sensation of being the only waking person in the tower again.

He clasped one of her hands and pressed it a little. "I'm going to find help for you. Please...wait for me," he said, then let her hand go and stood. He was not able to fly, but he was pretty confident he could swim, and if he jumped, he would fall into the water instead of landing on the sand around the tower.

He prepared a little pack with food and a change of clothes (he understood why the angel traveled lightly now - it was hard to carry a wardrobe), stood on the windowsill, and stared out into the sea. Yes, he could make it if he jumped. So he did. The air rushed up to meet him, but didn't stop him from falling. After a breathless moment, he closed his eyes and waited for the splash of water.

Instead, he felt something tug somewhere up above him – a distant sensation, as if it didn't actually belong to him. Then he jerked to a stop with a stinging at the back of his head and felt himself rise.

"Oof — hello again, I sup...pose...heavens!"

Ceallach opened his eyes and looked up. Ark had taken a hold of his hair and straining his wings to keep them both airborne.

"I hope the answer you're going to give me is less stupid than I think it will be, but what exactly were you trying to accomplish with that stunt?" the angel yelled downwards, moving his grip lower.

"I want to find someone to help Aisling," Ceallach gasped, not comfortable with the feeling of his legs dangling nor being pulled upwards.

"You honestly thought you'd survive falling from that height?" Ark scoffed. "You're lucky I decided to head south after all, or you'd be dead by now."

"South? Is that where you're going?"

"Yes. It's closest."

Ceallach looked up at the angel, who was too busy flying to notice. Then, despite everything, he smiled, laughing breathlessly.