forum When you Fall in Love with an Angel // OxO // Closed

Started January 04, 2020 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

"Why the- nevermind. I just feeling a little ill. That's all it will be fine." He did his best to reassure Azael of this. He was still in a rush to get to his classes, but sat down as the angel demanded. He looked into the angel's sky blue eyes, almost finding himself lost in them, but he didn't have time to do such things. He instead looked to the floor, the ends of practically glowing white wings poked into his peripherals. He sighed loudly. "But you told me to sit down, so what do you want?"

"I want to help. And if you're feeling ill, I can help." Azael insisted. "I need you to tell me where you feel ill, though. And why, if you know that much." he studied Elijah carefully, leaning over the human male. Some part of his mind was vaguely aware that all he would have to do to kiss Elijah would be to lean forward and press their lips together, but…of course he wasn't going to do that. Of course not.

"Oh please. It's not that serious. It's probably just the common cold." He said, waving his hands in a dismissive fashion. He became slightly uncomfortable with the decrease of distance between him and Azael. It made him feel uneasy and a mix of something else. He wasn't sure what though, so he chalked the other feeling up to his illness. He backed up slightly but wasn't able to go far. "Now, good sir, if you will excuse me, I must be heading to my classes now," he said, using that as a weak attempt to get the angel to back away from him.

Azael took a step back, his wings ruffling and shifting as he thought. His halo flickered for a moment, but remained as steady as ever, casting golden light across Azael's cheekbones and shoulders, glinting off of his wings and painting the white feathers a shimmering gold. "I can help." he insisted. "But only if you let me. I have no power without permission." he wanted to help. But he couldn't if Elijah didn't say that he wanted Azael's help.

Elijah's eyebrows furrowed slightly. As much as he didn't wish to take the help of the taller male in front of him, he didn't want to be sick. He let out a loud, staccato sigh and looked away. "Fine, I'll take your help," he muttered. The only part of his face that was visible to the taller angel was a defined jawline and unblemished cheeks, though those were mostly covered by wavy, green hair. His face had taken a slightly pinker tint than before, as if he was embarrassed to accept assistance.

Azael nodded. "If I make you uncomfortable, please tell me." He reached up, cupping Elijah's face in his hands and closing his eyes. His hands let out a soft, steady glow that matched his halo as the healing magic started to spread from him into Elijah. His wings shifted, spreading protectively and forming a tentlike shape around the two, as if to shelter them from the outside world.

Elijah… well he certainly felt uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to say anything about it. He instead carefully looked over the angel in front of him. His eyes getting caught on each beautiful feature in turn. He wanted to reach up and run his hands through Azael's golden strands of hair, the urge was almost irresistible. As he stared, the feelings of uncomfortableness were soon replaced with those of wonder, admiration, and desire. His breathing slowed a little as he relaxed. He mumbled quietly. "Thank you, Azael. I appreciate this."

Azael nodded a little as he continued to work the healing magic, fixing the illness. The only catch with his abilities was that he could only heal others. He couldn't heal himself. Otherwise, he wouldn't have needed Elijah's help. When he finished, he let go, stepping back and furling his wings, opening his eyes to look at Elijah. "Is that better?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," Elijah smiled, "thanks a lot." His own hand reached up slowly at the removal of Azael's, gently pressing against his cheek. He looked around in a bit of a daze, his eyes flashing rapidly around the room. He caught sight of a clock and cursed dully. He was late for his classes. He let out a loud, frustrated, half-groan, half-scream noise. He slapped himself on the forehead and began preparing to leave the house. Before he left, he looked at Azael, something in him gave him the weird feeling he wasn't going to see the angel again.

He walked over to Azael and pulled the angel into a tight hug, burying himself into the taller male's chest. He spoke muffled words. "Thanks again. I really mean it." He pulled out of the hug and rushed out the door. Slamming it shut behind him, but not locking it.

Azael gently hugged Elijah in return. "You're welcome." he replied softly. He watched Elijah go, his head cocked slightly to one side. He looked around once the human male was gone, biting his lip. He could not fly yet, but he needed to get home. He could, perhaps, signal, but that would also draw in any demons that happened to be in the area…and they would lay waste to Elijah's home if they sensed his presence in or near it. He didn't want Elijah to be homeless because of Azael's actions; that would be poor repayment.

Elijah made way to his college, making all the Fast and Furious movies in existence look slow. He was already late by 45 minutes and couldn't afford to waste any more time than needed.

As he drove, he looked over at the passenger seat of the car, the beige fabric was stained red from when Azael was there. He sighed deeply, not because he dreaded having to clean it, but because something in him missed the angel. He missed that warm, fuzzy feeling he got when he was around him, how safe he felt… he missed not being alone.

His thoughts had almost absorbed him, but he was quickly snapped out of it as he saw a red light in front of him. He came to a screeching stop mere centimeters away from the car in front of him. Inertia almost threw him out of the car, and his heart of his chest too. He slapped his forehead, hard. He'd never been so reckless before. He pushed himself to limits he never broke before and for what? For some random angel that had crashed into his backyard? He thought it to be ridiculous. Absolutely silly.

But you did it, Elijah, his thoughts spoke to him, you broke those limits.

The light turned green as he let out an audible growl. He pushed to petal way down and sped past other cars, the sounds of the engine filled his ears. He used it to clear his mind the best he could before he got to his classes to take his exam. The one that he was late for.

His mind wandered right back to Azael. He wondered if the angel was already gone. He found himself fearing for his safety like an overprotective mom. His heart strained slightly at the thought of something bad happening to Azael. He felt that if something were to happen, it'd be all his fault. His fault for not being there. Tears rolled down his cheeks at the mere thought of it. The thought of the angel dying… and never getting to say 'goodbye.'

Azael made up his mind. He would leave, for now, head out of the city to signal home, then return. He needed to pass on the information he had learned, and he needed, too, to tell what had happened to his partners on the mission.

He suited up, strapping on his armor and the sword. He also changed back into his own clothing, folding up the clothes that Elijah had lent him, setting them nearly on the coffee table. Once he found a slip of paper and a pen, he wrote a short note.

"Elijah,
I have gone to signal my home. I have information I must pass on to them, and news of deaths that they must know. Don't worry about me. I shall return here when I am done, so if you return before me, please do not grow anxious. If you do not want me to return, then tell me so when I come back, and I shall leave again.
Azael."

He headed out the door, closing it behind himself, and started walking.

He wiped the tears from his eyes as he pulled into the parking lot of his college. 'What are you doing?' he asked himself. 'He wouldn't want you crying, so why do it?'

He stepped out his car carefully and onto the uneven pavement. He turned and grabbed his bags out of the car, fumbling with all of the straps and handles. He ran through a mental checklist of everything.

Bookbag? Check. Laptop? Check. A beautiful, practically glowing white feather? Check- wait, what?

He stared at the feather, already knowing who it belonged to. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He didn't know what could happen if he kept it and if it would be good or bad. He decided to shake it off at the moment because he just didn't have the time to think about it. He shoved it into the pocket of his coat and slammed the car door shut.

He began speed-walking into college no longer thinking about the angel, but how late he was. He couldn't even clear his mind enough to come up with a good excuse. His steps became a bit wobbly, like that of a baby deer. Elijah imagined the words of his professor, who would probably be very upset. Kind words weren't exactly coming to his mind. He wished that he could just go home, have the professor think he was sick, and take the test later. Things would be so much better if he did.

'Wait a minute, why don't I?'

He turned right back around and made long strides to his car, the uneasy feeling clearing. He had never dreamed of skipping school before this, but he, sure enough, was willing to now. Nothing could have pulled him back to those front doors. Back to the hell hole that he knew as William J. Sutton Medical School.

Azael walked quickly, ignoring the stares that he gained when people spotted him. He needed to get out of the city so that he could properly signal. He kept moving along at a good pace, and after a good long while, was sufficiently out of town. Once there, he began the signalling process. A flight feather, pulled from the underside of his wings. A drop of blood, which was easy enough to do.

Elijah soon arrived back at his house, it was only 7:10 AM. He walked down the stone pathway to the large, red, front door. He stepped up the stone stairs of the porch and twisted the knob to the front door. To his surprise, it was locked. He pulled out his key, it had a rounded top and a butterfly design on it. He gently pushed it into the keyhole and turned it, a quiet 'click' sounding out as he did so.

He walked into the house. It was quiet and neat. The only light illuminating the room was natural light coming from a great big star in the sky. It gave the room a golden glow just as a certain angel's halo once had.

The dark soles of his shoes squeaked against the wood flooring of the vacant atrium in the house, each high-pitched noise echoing right back to him. Each step following a rhythm, Squeak, tap, tap. Squeak, tap, tap.

Something within this rhythm calmed him, something about the near-silence.

As he approved the living room, the rhythm was interrupted by a carpeted force. It was almost complete dissonance, just a bland 'scratch, scratch, scratch.' He flopped down on the couch, the cushions sighing as they gave in to his weight. The dark leather brushed against his back ever-so-slightly, but the sudden cold touch against his barely exposed back was enough to cause his back to arch. Just like an angry cat. And despite the shock, he laughed. A bit too hard for the situation, but he didn't care. He reverted back a childlike state and began giggling his worries away. Falling to the side as he did so, leather pressed against his cheek cold and scaly.

Time seemed to fly as his laughter rang through the house, filling all of the rooms with uncanny joy. He had no idea how long he'd been laughing until he looked at the clock. It read 7:20 AM. He was a little shocked at the time-lapse, but he found it just fine, for he was happy.

His eyes found themselves locked onto the coffee table in front of him. He noticed a note next to neatly folded clothes, he picked it up carefully and struggled to read the scrawly handwriting.

"I knew something about him wasn't pretty," he mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together. He didn't have his reading glasses, but couldn't have even been bothered to get them. He pulled the note closer and was able to make out the words, his lips curled into a smile.

Azael completed the ingredients needed for the summoning, and poured magic into it, sending a beacon of light shooting towards the sky. This light was visible only to the damned and the Divine. To angels and Demons. Humans wouldn't be able to see it, even if they were standing right beside him. He was panting from the effort of opening the signal, on his knees beside the shaft of light.

"Who asks?" A voice questioned. Deep. Familiar.

He nearly cried with relief. "It's me. It's Azael." He said, as steadily as possible, staring into the light. It glowed the same color as the Halo on his head, and he plunged his hands into it, feeling the warmth biting into his skin like a kitten.

"Azael? Why have you not returned? And why are you signalling?" Came the confused question.

"Gabriel, I…I messed up." Azael admitted softly, looking at the ground instead of the light. "I messed up. Hazel is gone. Soliel is too. The Demons…I led them into a trap, Gabriel, and my partners are gone. The Demons took them. And I barely made it away. My…my wing is broken. I crashed on Earth, and earned the help of a human male."

There was a long silence. Then Gabriel spoke again. "This is ill news, Azael. Two angels gone and another crippled. And with a human? You know what you must do when you leave, I trust?"

Azael closed his eyes. He knew, but he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to do that to Elijah. "I know, sir. I must…I must wipe any memory of me from his mind."

Elijah was heavily content with turnouts of the morning, so much so that his lips didn't pull down from a smile for a long time. His steps gained a huge bounce to them and he hummed cheery tunes all throughout the house. The atrium echoed each note back as if every song were a canon. Birds chirped their sweet tunes outside. The world seemed to have been glowing.

He spun and skipped down hallways, danced and pranced through rooms. Not a worry in the world was grabbing at his ankles, nothing could drag his feet. He was practically weightless as he traveled, a whole new light illuminated his world.

He felt free like an uncaged chicken. He, sure enough, couldn't fly, but there was nothing to hold him back. Nothing to slow his stride. Or at least, so he had thought.

His steps began to drag more and more and his glowing world began fading to black. He walked a zigzag path, running into quite a few walls as he moved. His eyelids felt heavy and his legs felt weaker. His breaths slowed down and the tension within his muscles faded as did his consciousness. He fell to the hardwood floor in front of him, slumped into a triangular shape. Light snores poured out of the human male's mouth, as did a little blood from him falling on his nose.

"Correct. I realize that it feels like an invasion and a trespass, but it must be done. If he remembers you, it could throw the balance into chaos." Gabriel said, his deep voice almost gentle.

"I know." Azael said softly. But he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to wipe himself from Elijah's mind, take away those memories.

"You are a Seraph, Azael. You have done worse than protect yourself and our entire species." Gabriel said.

"I know." Azael repeated, eyes glued to the ground. "What shall I do in the meantime? I cannot make it home until my wing has healed."

"Stay with the human. Stay cloaked and safe, Azael. We cannot afford to lose you." Gabriel ordered.

"Alright." Azael stood. "I must be going, then." He severed the link, and started walking again, heading back to Elijah's home.

Elijah stretched out slightly as he slept, seemingly peaceful. His snores were gentle and dazed and incoherent mumbles found their way between his thin lips.

He dreamt of many things, the reasoning of why is a thing unknown to many. He dreamt of broken swingsets enveloped by thick, green, vines. A singular brown bench in the middle of an autumn scene, the paint was chipped and the seats were warped. He dreamt of two intertwined hands, one gripped tighter than the other, a flow of blood dripping down the arm of the tense hand. One would find it quite odd, but to Elijah, they were all mere pieces of a story. A story he didn't wish to relive.

His eyes flashed open and he found that he was level to the ground. The floors were shiny enough to show his a darkened version of his reflection. He stared deeply into its eyes, searching for what was there. As he did so, he straightened himself up, the distance helping him notice a small puddle of blood that was in his blindspots before. He sighed deeply. He was getting quite irritated with blood staining things that he owned.

He stood up and strode toward a linen closet, taking out a small rag to clean the blood with. He was impressed by how late it felt, despite it being so early. It was only 8:00 AM yet it felt like it was already late in the evening.

'Perhaps that's just what like does to you,' he thought to himself as he dropped to his knees and wiped the blood.

Azael kept walking, wrapped in his own thoughts. He had seen humans whose minds had been altered before. Seen humans who had encountered angels. He knew what it would do to Elijah. Knew that the young man would spend the rest of his life dreaming of Angels and not remembering the dreams when he awoke, that Elijah would spend the rest of his life knowing that something was missing, something was gone, and be unable to ever remember. And he didn't want to do that to Elijah. Didn't want to make the other male so lost. But he didn't know any other way.

After he finished wiping up the blood, he decided that sleep was probably the best thing for him. He had slept for over 24 hours and it was taking a toll on his productivity.

He walked into his bedroom and began preparing to go to sleep. He removed his coat, shoes, socks, and pretty much everything… excluding his underwear, he thought doing something like that to just be weird. He looked at the clock once again, he'd been doing in more frequently than usual. He was unsure as to why though.

He flopped onto his bed, the memory foaming sinking to accommodate him. His eyelids began falling, his vision black at the edges. His green eyes found his digital clock once again, red numbers flashed brightly in front of him, 8:10, and his world faded once again.

After about an hour, Azael finally arrived back at Elijah's home. He let himself inside the door quietly, taking off his armor and sword and setting them to the side. He was as quiet as possible, since he had seen the car in the driveway and wasn't sure where Elijah was. "Elijah?" He called softly. "I'm…I'm back." He had almost called out, "I'm home", which didn't really make sense. This wasn't his home. This was just a place to stay while he recovered.

From Elijah's bedroom, loud, almost comical, snoring could be heard along with quiet squeaks from a bed frame. He tossed over gently in his bed, hushed mumbles escaping his mouth between snores. The sound of an old phone ringing filled the room and echoed through the halls. Each ring cried out in three-second intervals, seemingly for an eternity until they abruptly stopped. Elijah's irritated voice was the next thing heard.

"Stop calling me!" he yelled and then a loud 'clack' was heard. The sound of Elijah hanging up the landline. He faceplanted into his bed and let out a loud and tired groan.

Azael frowned a little bit, and padded over to Elijah's room. He knocked softly on the door, frowning a little. "Elijah?" he called out again, not coming in and respecting the other male's space. "Are you alright?" he ran a hand through his hair, waiting. His wings flickered out of view after a moment, his halo dimming to nearly nothing.

In his dazed state and buried position in his bed, Elijah didn't quite recognize the voice, giving him a slight panic. He didn't know who it was and how they knew his name, and quite frankly, he didn't care. He was going to defend himself as best as he could, even if that wasn't very well.

He walked over his nightstand and unlocked the top drawer with a key. He pulled out the drawer, reaching his hand in to grab his Cinquedea dagger. He then closed the door and slowly approached the door, slightly afraid to open it.

His hand shook as he reached for the doorknob, quickly opening the door and placing the dagger against the next of the male in front of him. His eyes widened in shock once he realized that it was just Azael. He backed up slightly. "I'm so sorry, Azael. I didn't know it was you."