The wing was surprisingly soft, and flickered with light, warm to the touch. If it was indeed a costume, then it must have been both custom-made, and extremely expensive. At the touch to his wing, Azael stirred, letting out a soft groan. He opened his eyes after a moment, revealing brilliant blue eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day. They narrowed in suspicion upon seeing Elijah, and he struggled to a sitting position, crushing his wings beneath himself again, wincing a little when he did. "Who are you? Where am I?" He demanded. His voice was low, but still somehow musical. Beautiful, maybe, if it weren't for his hostile tone.
"U-uh," Elijah stammered for words. The sound of Azael's voice calmed him, but at the same time, scared him greatly. He stumbled backwards, his glance caught on the large sword in Azael's hand. He looked around nervously and decided against answering Azael's first question.
"Y-you're in my home… you crashed down over there," he pointed toward his back yard. He stood up and began to back up from Azael and toward the door, in hopes of making an escape.
Azael stood up, then fell back to a sitting position almost as soon as he had, a soft grunt leaving his throat. He looked at Elijah. "Don't move." He frowned, eyes flashing around the room. He set the sword on the coffee table, hands outstretched just a little. They were… glowing? "This is…oh. Earth." His voice contained a strange mix of disappointment and relief. He picked his sword back up again, eyes studying Elijah. "Human." He commented. "Is there anyone else inside this building?" He asked.
Elijah froze in place, his mouth hung slightly open. The room was near silent except for the faint sound of breathing. He couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of that sword, but what made him uneasier was the wounds of Azael. After two minutes in silence, Elijah finally remembered that he was asked a question.
"Oh, uh, n-no. It's just me here," he uttered in a very small voice. He felt like he shouldn't have told him that, but felt like he would have been worse off if he lied. All he could do was pray that nothing was going to go wrong. "Is there any way that I can help you…?" he inquired.
Azael frowned a little bit, and started to remove his armor. It was made of a strange, silver metal, which flashed as he set it on the floor. "I see." he paused for a moment, then removed his shirt as well, twisting to examine the wounds in his sides. His wings twitched a little, taking up the entire couch, stray feathers landing on the couch as well. He looked at Elijah for a moment. "If you have bandages, yes. A bowl of warm water would lovely as well, if it can be managed." he said, looking back down at his side. His torso was well-muscled, though that, of course, wasn't the main thing to see at the moment. No, the main distraction were those large cuts in his skin, which were still weeping blood, and were crusted with dirt and dried blood. There was old scars crisscrossing his form as well. Most were slash marks, though a few were shaped distinctly like bites.
Elijah stared in dismay. He laughed, his tone slightly condescending.
"Bandages? For injuries like those?" he raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at Azael, "you must be begging for more scars." He walked closer and examined the wounds. His face grew a confused look with the sight of a bite mark. He decided to dismiss it.
"I'll tell you this, I can disinfect the wounds, but these will take more than bandages or they'll scar." He got up and went to get things to disinfect the injuries, but stopped abruptly. He looked back at Azael over his shoulder, "Unless, that is what you want."
Azael was silent for a moment. "Unless you have some sort of healing magic, I don't see what else you can do." he replied, looking at Elijah. "Although, if you have a needle and a thread, that would also be helpful." he kept examining the wounds, seemingly not having deemed Elijah any significant threat. He winced slightly when he shifted again, wings flickering open, and he reached around to run a hand along his wings, feeling for any breakage in the delicate bones.
He chuckled slightly, "Healing magic would be a stretch, but I do know how to properly suture a wound." He continued walking out of the room. He went to his bedroom and searched the through duffle bag that he had underneath his bed. He returned to Azael with a suturing kit. He knelt in front of Azael and opened the kit. First, he pulled out alcohol wipes. He looked up Azael, his eyes meeting sky blue ones peering down at him.
"I'm warning you, man. This might sting… a lot." Elijah took one wipe and slowly began wiping it across the first gash that he saw.
Azael hissed softly as the wipe met the wound, but he didn't flinch away, used to the pain by now. His eyes narrowed a little bit as he watched Elijah. The angel was a strange incongruity, here in this place. In this otherwise normal, human home, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His clothes were obviously not of human design or make, even the cloth very different, and of course his big, white wings, along with the faint glow that his halo still emitted.
Elijah couldn't help but feel awkward sitting there in silence. He tried his hand a making conversation.
"So umm, may I ask how you ended up in my backyard…?" he spoke quietly, still wiping each wound carefully and slowly. Elijah didn't quite know what angels did, so he decided to inquire about what had happened to Azael.
"It seems like that was a pretty bad… landing." he awkwardly forced out of his mouth. Words had decided to abandon him at that moment. He leaned down to hit another wipe, accidentally hitting his head against the angel's knee in the process. He rubbed his head and was about to complain about the pain, that is, until he remembered who was sitting right in front of him.
"S-sorry," he mumbled.
Azael blinked slowly, watching Elijah for a long moment, without expression or words. Then, finally he said, slowly, "There is a war going on. I must have miscalculated my entry back to my own world, and ended up in your backyard. And yes, it was a bad landing, if you must call it that. Though really, it was more of a crash." he studied Elijah calmly. "And do not apologize, there is no need for you to apologize."
Miscalculated? he wondered, What is that supposed to mean?
"…war?" he slightly feared prying deeper, but did so anyway, "What happened?" He finished cleaning the wounds and proceeded to suture the gashes in the angel's skin. His hand was slightly shaky in the process of the suture, it was obvious that he was nervous.
"Demons." The Angel replied in a voice that was only a forced calm. He said it in a tone that made it clear he would not answer any further questions about that. He winced a little bit at the suturing, but otherwise held rather still. He didn't speak again, eyes flashing around the room, then landing on Elijah again, studying him warily.
"O-oh. Okay…" Elijah said, quickly falling silent. He tried his best to focus on patching Azael's wounds, but couldn't help but look up at him in curiosity. As soon as he noticed the person above him was staring directly at him, his hand jerked in surprise. He had no clue why, but something about the angel staring at him made him feel like he did something wrong. He looked back at the suture he was performing and realized that he had messed it up.
"Aaah! I'm so sorry! I'll fix it right away!" he assured Azael, hoping that the taller boy wouldn't be angry.
Azael blinked slowly. "Don't apologise, just fix it." He replied wearily, letting out a soft breath. He wanted to stand. Spread his wings and see how badly they were damaged. Because he knew they were, he just…he wasn't sure how much. And that was a little terrifying for him. He swallowed, running a hand through his golden hair, then looking down at Elijah. "What is your name? I am Azael."
"R-right, right." he redid the knot that he had made and quickly went to work on the next one. He was severely nervous, seeing that this was his first time performing a suture on a live being. He made his best attempt to calm down and steady his hands so that he wouldn't mess up again. After a little bit of deep breathing, he replied to Azael's question.
"My name's Elijah. I would say that it is nice to meet you, but these aren't quite great circumstances," he responded. For a brief second, Elijah looked up at the wings of the angel in front of him. He winced at how blood and dirt-ridden they were. He quickly lowered his eyes once more.
Azael held still for Elijah to work. He nodded a little bit. "Elijah." he echoed quietly, testing out the word. "I see. And yes, these are…not the best circumstances." he agreed, mouth twitching in a strange smile. The way his mouth formed it, though, it seemed as if he weren't used to smiling. Weren't used to trying to smile, for anyone or any reason. He twisted his wing around, running his hands delicately along the top bone.
The human soon finished the suture and looked back up. His eyebrows lowered at the site of Azael's mouth. He laughed once again, as condescending as before.
"Is that supposed to be a smile? If so, you're doing it wrong." He curled his lips into a thin smile and pointed at his own face.
"See? This is how you do it. Try again later," he instructed and went to work on the last wound.
"Oh and after I finish this, I'll see what I can do about your… wings."
"Ah. I see." Azael replied, the smile dropping away. He nodded. "Yes. I will just need you to test the bones for breakage. Everything else is superficial and will heal, though I do not know if I will be able to fly again anytime soon." He had lost too many flight feathers for that. He knew that at a glance. He looked at Elijah again, wondering. "Why did you not call the authorities? Most humans would have, in your situation. And it would have been understandable."
Elijah stopped moving completely and sat silent for a little bit. His eyes said he was focused on his own hands, but his expression said otherwise. He pondered what he was thinking when he carried Azael.
"I didn't because… you don't deserve it. You did and have done nothing wrong," he said, his face still stone-carved, "I don't want to see another innocent person sent to jail or anything of the sort." Silence filled the room as Elijah's words rang out. He quickly finished suturing the last gash but was careful not to completely mess it up.
"Any other questions?" the shorter male said, standing up and examining Azael's wings. He pushed against an odd point in the wing that seemed unnatural. Well, more unnatural than having wings in the first place.
"You don't know if I've done anything wrong or not. For all you knew, the blood was not my own, and I had just murdered people." Azael countered. He let out a grunt at the contact to his wings, eyes flashing slightly. He stiffened his back, twisting to look at Elijah. "Please don't push on them. Run your fingers along the bone, like this." He demonstrated by gently running his hand along the top of Elijah's arms. He dropped his hand back down.
"O-oh. Sorry." Elijah followed Azael's example carefully, hoping not to make another mistake. He shook his head slightly and returned to the previous conversation. His eyebrow slightly furrowed.
"I don't care whose blood it is and who you murdered, from what I could tell, you didn't harm anyone here," Elijah refuted. "So I say, not my world, not my problem."
While running his hand along the wing, he noticed a sharp disconnection in the bones. He removed his hand and stroked his chin in thought.
"It is alright." Azael replied calmly. He took a deep breath and watched Elijah carefully, waiting to hear what the human boy would say. He knew that once the bones were set, if necessary, then he would heal faster than a human would, but it needed to be set first. He sighed softly, blue eyes careful and studying.
Elijah sighed deeply. "Listen… Azael. I don't have the proper medical equipment to properly set this bone," he said, sitting on the arm of the couch. He wished to help him, but he had no clue what to do.
Maybe, he pondered, I could sneak him into a hospital?
He looked over at Azael once more. He feared what would if they were to be caught, but he didn't want to leave the angel injured so badly. Once again, he sighed.
"… But, I have a plan. You willin' ta listen?"
Azael's eyes flickered over Elijah. He nodded slowly. "I'll listen." He replied. He folded his wings back up, wincing a little as the motion jostled the broken bones. He needed it to heal right; he couldn't stand the thought of being grounded permanently. He had met Angels that were. It was…never a pleasant sight.
