messiah

it felt hollow.written by lena.

[cautiionisms-blog]

          parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

[catechismal-blog]

does anyone. want a thing?

[vetiverfox]

[erasedlife-deactivated20150104]

        extends a hand, but who knows why. his sister was always the one grabbing for his so he didn’t get separated from her when they went on errands for the house. doubts the blonde — doubts Issa will get lost. it’s hard to miss wings.

                        ❛ hi. ❜

[catechismal-blog]

  she sticks a hand clad in a man's glove out as well,                because she's learned   handshakes are polite. normal. something that people do, something that she does.   shakes his, just once,     finally lets herself look at his wings. wing. wings. she blinks                                   they look like what's etched on her back.                                                                                                            ‘ hello. ’ 

[catechismal-blog]

unstrungbones

                            ‘ do you have a. tissue. ’                    issa needs more than a tissue  ;;   needs water to clean off the                   drying blood, at the very least. ignores the drip of red from her                   nose, blinks owlishly,                               as if nothing's wrong.                                                                                           ‘ please. ’ 

[scottiish]

                   ’i don’t carry an extra pair of socks around for nothing.’

                              why does she have to make a nest.

[catechismal-blog]

                                        does that mean he–––––––––                         ‘ does that mean you. have an extra pair of socks. ’             she's got to make a next because she needs a place to relax. 

[alohaxe-archive-blog1]

               ’           just... come here. let me see                      what i can do to help.      ’

[catechismal-blog]

                  ‘ it will heal. i am––––okay. ’              a pause,  but issa takes the TINIEST step closer. she's had a lot             worse, of course ;; but following direction has always been easy.                                                      ‘ why are you. ’                                                                                      gestures. 

[clonespiracy]

[erasedlife-deactivated20150104]

        he’s helped some prostitutes out, though. mostly women, but there was one man — got them new identities and whatnot. doubts he’ll see them again, but as long as they’re off the streets and warm? he’s happy. you’ve got a big heart, y’know; your father did, too. he gives the blonde a smile.

                        ❛ you’ll get one. — ‘m Jack. ❜

[catechismal-blog]

 she almost calls out her numbers. more of a reflex than anything, hears a title, boom,   her identification.     but she is issa now, with clean hair and red-rimmed eyes that're  slowly beginning to gain some life.       she's not an angel anymore, she's not DEAD.                                                                                                  ‘ i am issa. ’ 

[clonespiracy]

[alohaxe-archive-blog1]

               ’           aue-- what happened to your face?      ’

[catechismal-blog]

                      ‘ why do you. look like that. ’          points to the crease in the woman's brow, lips tugging into a gentle frown.                                                                                       ‘ it got punched. ’ 

[erasedlife-deactivated20150104]

        if he knew who was watching her, he probably wouldn’t have stopped. when you’re a hacker who cracks into government databases, catching the eye of one said government institution would be a bad thing. he wouldn’t last in prison, wings or not.

                        ❛ no. believe it or not, my mother was one. I don’t — you’re not a prostitute. ❜

[catechismal-blog]

                                                          ‘ okay. ’             she doesn't care, really. just read a book, once, where the guy asked            the lady on the street to come home.   and she was a prostitute. issa             also knows she's not a prostitute.                                        obviously.    she'll give the gloves back. she swears. has no use for them, after all, once she   gets back to her apartment. slides them on for now, though. relishes in warmth.                                  ‘ i know. ’                                                      a pause.                                                                ‘ a blanket would be. cool. warm. ’ 

[catechismal-blog]

-

[erasedlife-deactivated20150104]

        he bites down on his tongue, because who knows how Judas will take it if he brings home a strange woman who was feeding coins to a van, but then he tucks bottle in his pocket and peels off his gloves. those are held out to her.

                        ❛ I could get you a blanket? or y’could — come home with me? for a night? uhm. unless that’s too weird. ❜

[catechismal-blog]

   she stares at the gloves for a long moment, feels–––bad. does not need his stuff.    not really. she's  g o t  a home,      sort of ;; they gave her one, the–––shield. they    gave her one. but she doesn't like it,                     knows they have EYES on her.                                         quietly, she takes the gloves. just for a moment.                 issa was also hoping the bus could take her back, because                she's not sure how she even got here.       or how to return.                                                           ‘ are you soliciting me for prostitution. ’

[veddleamelltartod]

[erasedlife-deactivated20150104]

                        ❛ — uhm. ❜

        he had ducked out to pick up some pain meds from the Walgreens and he’s got the bottle clutched in hand, and he can’t yet tuck his wounded wing in. both are clearly showing, and this — woman? is trying to shove quarters into a van.

                        ❛ that’s not a bus, miss. ❜

[catechismal-blog]

       well. that's upsetting.   she really needed a bus to nap in, currently. it was         TOO COLD to sleep outside.  she pays no mind to any part of him, really,        more focused on the way her fingertips are frosted over, and the fact that        the           bus           was           spitting           her          money          back.                                                                       ‘ ––––––––––why. ’ 

[catechismal-blog]

does anyone. want a thing?