angel of forgiveness.

“Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.” Abel. The first son, the first murder, the first to forgive.

[daily-men]

Max Irons & Douglas Booth posed at BAFTA Awards 2016

[fideiism]

@murderousdesires

[evbeaumont-blog]

And, all at once, she understands why he is an angel. It seems strange, than, that she should need reminding, for she recognizes the endless warmth that Abel seems to be possessed of—it’s the same warmth that Junia has.

Her Guardian Angel, her confessor, her savior; smiling down on her no matter what sins she confessed, who had lifted her up on angel wings and taken her to a better place. Who, even after everything, is still the source of all her strength, as she was in heaven. Who has never seemed to blame Evangeline for anything, even when Evangeline blamed herself. 

She had never hoped that she could find that utter acceptance from one angel, and she’s shocked anew to receive it from a second. She, who has always been so terribly unworthy: so many mistakes she’s made, so much time she’s wasted, so much she has to make up for. Every day, she questions why she has survived. And every day, despite the often terrible strangeness of life after the apparent end of the Holy War, she wonders why she’s received the blessings she has: her life, when so many have died, but most of all—Junia.  

Junia who, by the grace of this angel, was allowed to be at Evangeline’s side, no matter how short a time. Surely he is a blessing, too.

And, all at once, it seems even more terrible that the morning at the prison had gone the way it had, that it had ended with the fence between them once again. It had ended Abel’s torment, but it also strips his suffering of its meaning—he suffered so Junia and Evangeline could be together, and now they are not. The demons won. The demons always win.

She feels terribly guilty, then, but for something different: for not taking his hand, for the look that she’s put on his face. His words are absolution she had not expected to receive, and her overwhelming gratitude makes her tongue sit clumsily in her mouth—what could she possibly say to show him how grateful and humbled she is by his forgiveness, how in awe she is of his grace. She doesn’t know, and so she can only settle for what little she has at her disposal: “Thank you,” she says, her words thick with held back emotion, the stifled urge to cry happy tears. “Thank you so much I—I don’t know what to say.”

And she holds out her hand. 

“How are you—how did you cross the fence? If you need a place to hide, I think Junia would vouch for my spare room.”

[fideiism]

It was so rare that Abel was allowed to speak so directly to a human like this, to act as a conduit of faith and understanding in such an immediate way; God had often prodded him, encouraged him to spread the word directly as so many others had, but he’d always harbored an irrational fear of what the humans thought of him. Who was he to tell them how to live, what to do with their mortal divinity, if he was so stupid as to be killed by his own family? He was not a shining example of faith, for faith had made him the first murder; he’d always wanted so desperately for the humans to like him -- and in his fear, he’d not allowed them to. 

And yet here was Evangeline, who was so utterly simple to speak to; she may not have felt the same way, but Abel was so thrilled to be talking to her, to be speaking of forgiveness in such a candid way, was two thousand years of relief. She was helping him just as much as he hoped that he was helping her, simply by allowing him to be an angel in a capacity that he’d been too frighted to be in past millennia. He’d been entirely useless -- but perhaps this fortuitous encounter, half-shadow and half-light, was just what they both needed in terms of divine redemption. 

And this was, undoubtedly, more therapeutic than any prayer ever could be; he may as well have been upon his knees before a blessed altar -- there was nothing like a human to reassure him that he had earned his divinity. 

She would earn wings; he had no doubt. But he could only hope that she would not face such a judgement for a long while. For his sake, for Junia’s, for the sake of the humans who so obviously cared for her deeply, Abel could only hope that wings would be something she would be faced with years after the humans had been freed; he would be glad to remain in prison if all of the humans could put off facing their mortality for a long while. 

Evangeline held out her hand, and there was not a moment of hesitation between the offer and his response; he reached forth and took her hand with a grateful smile upon his face. Rather overzealous, perhaps too excited to be merely shaking her hand, but it was forgiveness, understanding, what the relationship between and angel and a human was meant to be in its most base forms. He would, no doubt, tell Junia of this later; her wonderful Evangeline was even more forgiving and understanding than Abel could have hoped. 

He would undoubtedly root for the two of them; his romantic heart swooned at the idea of Junia and Evangeline escaping together. 

Carefully, nervously, with unwavering smile and searching eyes, Abel reached forward to place a gentle hand upon the side of her face, palm to cheek, and with a nod, he muttered, “It’s the truth -- nothing more.” 

His hand fell away, but his smile remained; perhaps his venture across the fence could inspire something similar in her, or in the other humans, though he would be remiss to become the cause of reckless behavior. “The fence is down,” he explained quickly, voice rife with obvious excitement, “The electricity, I mean -- I simply... walked across. I’m not sure how long it’ll stay down, though; I may not have much time on your side of the fence. Are you safe? Out here alone?”

[rxphaels]

Stay with him forever.

Something so simple, so pure gave him such joy right then and there and it was in his grasp then and there—for they were divine and they had the means to stay happy for the rest of their immortal lives; it wouldn’t even be that hard to stay with him in this war forever, for when Abel would leave this earth, scarred and torn from his grasp, it would be only a few moments before he followed suit. Like Orpheus before him, and Achilles and Cleopatra and Juliet, it would be inevitable that love would be his demise, and what a sweet ending to his book it would be. For the Angel of Healing would have a whole heart once more, and it beating for someone that was not there would have been a medical anomaly for him.

He looked upon him, beyond the scars and the pain and the encroaching darkness that the prison had offered, and allowed him to relish the fact that in this moment, he was safe and that he was safe with him within the walls of the prison, and even though he smelt of hospitals and blood, he felt like summer to him. Holding Abel’s hand, Raphael gave a smile, for he knew that he was greedy with kisses—with affection and that even within the walls of this prison, he would give affection where it was needed. After all, the most shameless flirt could easily become the most romantic person in the room, with the right person in their life, and Raphael was proof of that.

Giving him another kiss—something he was never tired of doing, from the looks of it, he sat down beside him, extricating himself from Abel’s touch for a moment. He put his arm around him then, to comfort, to reassure, because of all the things that he’s studied in his eternity, Abel was the one subject he would have undisputed expertise on, if you had asked anyone who knew him. At least that was what he thought—it never hurt him to be wrong once in a while; it just meant that he was learning something new about his favorite subject, and what academic didn’t want that?

“Not to derail darling, but you know you’re pretty hot with those scars on.” It was a joke of course, for he had preferred that his skin would be untarnished, perfect porcelain that should never been broken in the first place, but events and circumstances forced them to break—nothing that wouldn’t reform completely, but enough to scar. And scar they did. “A shame we don’t have any Narcissus to patch that up but I like a man with scars,” he continued, a smile on his face, “Means any strenuous activity we’ll do won’t end up without passion.”

Pressing him to his side, he gave another thought to staying forever with Abel, on some island in the middle of the Pacific where no demon or human could ever find the both of them, would never bring them harm once more, happy in some house by the seas where the waves lapped at their feet and the sun kissed their skin in the mornings. He thought of walking, if not flying through the trees and looking at the stars with new wonder in their eyes and making stories anew to give to whomever passed by their little piece of Eden, if they were to interact with anyone at all.  With Abel by his side, he thought once more of waking up next to him with sheets around their bodies, not being separated anymore by cold stone and desolation, and having him all to himself for nights on end and for the rest of time.

( Heaven paled in comparison to his thought, making his heart flutter and his blood turn golden as he dreamed this idyllic future next to him. Maybe once they were cast down, Heaven came along for the ride and they had to find it for themselves. )

Raphael cupped Abel’s face, running a thumb on his cheek, his gaze wishing to tell him what he wanted for him—for their future, but he kept silent, for he had other plans now at the forefront of his mind, other plans that he had to bide his time. Abel was an amazing muse for this sort of thing, for brainchildren born from glamour and stardust, at least he thought so.

“Well,” he started, a wide grin on his face, “I’ll stay. Maybe your brother gave us this little mercy, but I will stay until you need me to; you’re the most important thing to me, after all. I love you too much to say otherwise. Every moment I’m apart is something a little more unpleasant than I’d like to be without you or your smile.”

[fideiism]

“I will always need you to stay.”

He melted into Raphael’s side with an enormous sigh, relief and gratitude exuding from every inch of bruised and battered skin; where moments before, Abel had been able to focus on nothing but the pain, his arm around Abel’s shoulder and the warmth his closeness provided was enough to make him feel a healed man once more. A healed man with a bleeding heart, a heart that was entirely owned by the man at his side; he’d never be the same again, for one life-changing confession and Abel would never hurt again. There was no question in his mind that this was where he was meant to be, why he had been allowed to keep his faulty heart, even after such a mortifying century without its beating. The stillness of his heart had simply been a necessary purgatory; perhaps he’d been waiting for Raphael his entire life -- it was only a disservice that it had taken him so long to realize it. 

Abel could only imagine what eternity with Raphael would be like; if only he’d realized the name upon his heart before this, they could have been afforded a taste of eternity much sooner. He could only wonder if Raphael had already known it, if a single night spent releasing inhibitions in Mykonos had clued him in, or if he’d known long before that. A part of Abel was sure that he’d always known, but merely had not been able to understand what it was he knew so instinctively; he’d loved Raphael from the moment they met, from their first adventure, from the first time Raphael had seen his weakness, which he tried so hard to hide. He’d loved him in Italy, when they’ve visited Sforza for the final time; he’d loved him at the beginning of the war, and he loved him now -- were he given the chance to talk to himself, it would be spent entirely upon scolding himself. 

He may have been naive, he may have been young at heart, but Abel was old enough and smart enough to know that this was where he was meant to be. Abel would happily take a hundred lashes more if it meant that he could spend a moment longer in solitude with Raphael. No amount of time with him would ever be enough; but if they were afforded forever, it would be a wonderful start. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he sighed, cheeks remaining an ostentatious pink at Raphael’s lascivious -- but always good natured -- comments, concerning the strenuous activities the both of them were like to engage in once his back was healed and his ribs sturdy once more. The mere thought made his heart go wild, thumping against the ribs still preserved; there was not a single thing about Raphael that did not send his heart running rampant in a way it never had before. As if his heart had not been running at full steam before, as if Raphael truly, literally, completely was his other half, and the warmth he provided was the only thing keeping it sustained. It was Raphael’s mind, his heart, his soul that made Abel’s archaic heart feel young once more; he could be blind and he would know him by touch alone. “Doubtless I would have withered away long before today -- but even now, I have no plans to. Couldn’t leave you behind without me. There’s no world without the two of us.” 

The two of them, in any circumstance, could endure anything and everything. Were they damned to spend eternity in these cells, it would be enough, as long as it was Raphael’s voice on the other side of the wall, and Raphael’s arms into which he fell in the yard every day at high noon. They could whip him, beat him, threaten his life on an hourly basis, and as long as he was afforded a mere glimpse of that charming smile, he would be sustained. It was doubtless that he was utterly gone for Raphael; the unwavering smile which adorned his face at the simplest touch was evidence enough of that. 

“If we were to leave here, right now,” Abel mused, “where should we go? Where would you want to go? I would follow you anywhere you pleased.” He laid his head upon Raphael’s shoulder, sinking further into the space beneath his strong arm, hand falling to his knee and thumb rubbing in absent circles upon the rough fabric of his trousers. “I think I would like to go somewhere warm, somewhere near the ocean. Somewhere with lots of sunshine, somewhere private, where we could just... be. It would be lovely to just be for a while, just the two of us. I’d love to learn to surf. Or to be able to talk to a parrot, at least once. Do they really talk back?” He laughed once, hand flying to his ribs as the movement made him cringe. “I remember the sunset over the water being the absolute best. I wonder if Cain would ever visit -- no matter, though; it’d be perfect with just the two of us. The two of us and a parrot.”

“So, yes -- always stay. No matter what.”

[fideiism]

Drabble Me

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

[homaciida]

He was coming in.

An imperceptible twitch ruffled Cain’s wings where they were draped over the back of his chair, some last vestige of fight or flight when he had chosen, at least for the mean time, neither. He could feel Abel’s eyes boring into him through that suddenly oppressive darkness, sensing that he had been recognized despite the fact that both of their faces were for the moment obscured. They had never been able to hide well from each other, even if Cain had tried. For now all he could do was stay seated, hovering over the rim of his mug, and track Abel’s progress as he stepped up the short front walk and reached out for the door handle. Cain found himself poignantly wishing that he wouldn’t follow through. What game was Abel playing at, after all these years, still trying so hard to make their relationship work, trying to rouse some familial feeling in Cain’s chest when it had never been there from the beginning? That ancient frustration was simmering up again; Abel never would have had to die if he’d just left Cain alone the way he wanted. Deeper inside him, the thought that Abel had never had to die after all and Cain forced it down again with the practiced ease of someone well used to suppressing such thoughts. 

Cain had no regrets and he had always prided himself on it: the fact that he could look back on every wrongful deed he’d committed without a twinge of guilt. Guilt was for those who had fallen too far to know themselves anymore. Guilt was what took over when one allowed their thoughts to creep towards what they could have been instead of coming to terms with what they’d become: something low and vile, something more at home in the gutter than in the light of undeserved forgiveness. Guilt was the mirror reflecting the slimy rind of what was left in place of one’s soul. It was a mirror Cain refused to look in. He didn’t need it to understand the truth of who he was. What he did need was for Abel to find it in himself, in his stubbornly good heart, to see who Cain truly was and come to terms with it, release himself from his self imposed attachment. Though, he thought with a grimace as the door bells tinkled, Cain had made many mistakes recently. He should never have gone to his knees to hold Abel on that bloody floor. He should never have given him that kind of blind hope that Abel would hold fast to with the tenacity of a bulldog for centuries. 

Then Abel was there- right there, sitting across from him and making small talk, asking about his sleeping habits of all things and slowly, cautiously, Cain turned his head to tear his gaze away from the empty black street and focus instead on the face of his brother. There was so much to see there, not just his familiar features but the quivering uncertainty in Abel’s lips, the conflict in his eyes, the perspiration on his brow. Too many things to look at, and the eyes were the most distracting, enough so that he found himself needing to look away again, back out at the flickering lamp, back into himself where the contact would be only as intimate as Cain would allow it to be. There had to be some control, some boundaries set in place, where would he be without them? 

“You must have a death wish.” Cain said softly, finally, taking a long sip from his still-steaming cup. The bitter taste settled heavily on his tongue and he welcomed the sensory distraction of the scalding heat as it traveled down his throat. “Sneaking out like this, coming into town, alone.” One more small moment of weakness, just a quick glance over Abel’s body, still broken in so many places, moving so slowly back towards health. Cain had given Raphael the best Judas’ prison could muster in terms of tools but unsurprisingly healing had not been top of the list of priorities. But Abel had survived loosing his wings hadn’t he, when so many had succumbed then and there from the trauma? There had been just as much blood then, sticky and dark and pooling around Cain’s feet, so much he hadn’t been able to comprehend where it had come from or how his brother could have keep going when his veins surely were running empty, when he had no life blood left to give and -. The images pulled him back even deeper into his memory and Cain had to physically shake himself out of it with a jerky toss of his head, fingers flexing irritably around his mug. 

“There’s more coffee behind the counter, sugar too.” He muttered. “I take mine black.”

[fideiism]

And upon beholding the glorious Cain, Abel felt... imperceptibly empty. 

A strange feeling this was, one that stood in stark juxtaposition with the usual overabundant flush of emotion that filled him at the mere thought of his brother. His fingers drummed upon the coffee mug between his palms as he waited for the familiar sting of uncertain emotion to permeate the empty space between his ribs; it had taken his heart years and years to start once more after it had started the first time -- perhaps this was a similar hesitation, something in his genetic makeup that made him hesitate, that made him slower than the others. Abel had always been slow; perhaps this comfortable descent into purgatory ( was purgatory meant to look like a coffee shop? was this the quintessential human resting place, transition point, place to wait? ) was merely a strange manifestation of his certain slowness. Perhaps it was the bastard child of his one-step-behind and his determination to see his brother as this -- as someone who could simply sit in a coffee shop, in a diner, upon plastic seats and on the opposite side of a table stained with crayon marks and coffee splatters. 

It reminded him of the train station he’d once found himself in, a small place, a dark place punctuating a long string of railway just outside Bavaria. He’d taken the train as long as he could, as long as it would run, but once the train had stopped, he’d been left there with artfully hidden wings and a single bag to make him appear more human. There had been a horribly dingy coffee shop nestled in the back corner -- and that was what it was; a corner, and nothing more -- with one working light and coffee that tasted more light lighter fluid than what his beloved humans so relied on. Abel had been convinced that this was what purgatory looked like; the end of a line to nowhere, slowly fading light, hunched backs and eyes unwilling to see him there. But purgatory was here; this could be the only explanation for Cain’s docile attitude, his placid face ( as placid as he could possibly be considering the norm ), his notable lack of aversion to Abel’s sitting down before him. He could not help but wonder if the both of them had died in the night, if this was all part of God’s divine punishment for the both of them. 

But God was dead -- and Cain’s wings, at least, seemed to have an opinion. They were not as dead as God; they were merely in purgatory of their own design. 

“Well, I’m not alone anymore,” he noted absently, staring down into his empty mug as if it would offer some answers as to why Cain was here, what he was meant to say to him now. Abel was already off to a horridly false start, where conversation was concerned; though Cain was there in body, he was certainly not present in spirit, nor had he ever been. Abel could only imagine how desperately his dear brother must have wanted to be free of him, to be left in peace once more; he’d wanted it so desperately before that he’d killed him for a little peace and quiet. And here he was now, disturbing his peace and quiet for the sake of simply being able to look upon him as he had not been able to before. He could just barely feel Cain sizing him up with equal hesitance, though he could only be sure that their reasonings were vastly different. He was so thin, so sallow; he could only wish at being allowed to voice such concerns, as a brother was supposed to be able to do. They were supposed to be a lot of things -- but were they to conform to every expectation, Cain would not have made such a concerted effort to heal him just nights before. Abel knew better than to say so, however; silence was thanks enough. 

Tightening his grip around the mug, Abel slid to the end of the booth again; he nodded to Cain’s cup, taking a chance by invasively peering down into it, “I’ll just bring the pot over; you look like you need a refill.” He was not about to comment on his brother’s ghastly coffee order; Abel had never seen the merit of black coffee, for it just seemed a waste of a delicious drink. Biting his tongue, he rose from the booth once more, making a hasty and awkward cross to the pot behind the counter, casting cursory glances at Cain over his shoulder every few steps, as if his brother might disappear should he look away for too long. Upon his toes, he reached over the counter for the coffee pot and a few packets of sugar, feeling quite akin to Stella in a moment of amusement as he crossed back to the booth, nearly stumbling over a displaced chair for he was more determined to keep his eyes on Cain than on just where he was watching. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re doing here?” he wondered aloud, filling his cup and shamelessly dumping two, three, four packets of sugar into the mug. He was tempted just to let it be; but curiosity killed the angel. “The coffee’s good here,” a sip, a nod, “I don’t blame you.” 

[praenuntius-blog1]

September 3 Paradise, WA; Lucifer’s Manor 5:40 PM OPEN: all

He’d been hesitant to even leave the room that all the angels had been gathered in, but the thought of just staying made him more uncomfortable than he’d cared to bear.

Elijah found himself wandering the manor, drinking in the details of the building. Everything was so… ornate. Almost to the point of gaudiness, if Elijah were to be truthful. He didn’t have any intention of actually escaping. He didn’t know the layout of the manor, and he certainly wasn’t going to run around blind and potentially run into someone he didn’t want to. Of course, wandering around blind didn’t really lessen his chances of doing that either. It was more that he was operating on the hunch that, if he were just wandering and not looking like he was trying to escape, any demons that he had the misfortune to run into wouldn’t see him as a threat.

Wandering down the unnecessarily detailed hallway, ghosting his fingers over the things that caught his interest, Elijah was so absorbed in trying to memorize the details that he didn’t hear anyone coming up the hallway. When he’d clued in that the steps he was hearing were not his own, he jerked to face the oncoming person.

Retracting his hand as if he’d been burned by the gilded pieces. “I- I wasn’t… doing anything,” the lie stuttered out of his mouth, thoroughly unconvincing, and he looked wide eyed at the person he’d carelessly let find him.

[fideiism]

It was lucky that he’d gotten away after leaving Stella; diversion had turned to lucky escape, for the rustle of black wings followed him around every corner. It was also quite lucky that he’d not come face to face with his brother. From what he’d heard, whispered by allies around dark corners and enemies behind closed doors, he’d sunk his claws into a human as well -- the newly minted cynicism in the back of his mind, as feeble as it was, could not help but wonder if they would soon find the human dangling from something by the neck. The louder and more positive voice at the forefront of his mind, however, was certain that the human would be returned to the dining room unscathed, for he still maintained an undeniable hope in his brother’s moral fibre. 

He was more inclined to focus upon the familiar figure before him, however, for he would recognize the slope of Elijah’s shoulders anywhere. It would be rather precarious to call out to him now, so Abel hastened forward, fingers trailing along the crown molding upon the wall at his side. Were they under different circumstances, he might have stopped to admire the gaudy artwork upon the wall, but ensuring Elijah’s wellbeing was of the utmost importance. 

He started at his fellow angel’s quick turnaround, his own hands flying up in a mirrored surrender, and for a moment he merely stared at him, apologetic and startled, for Abel’s nerves were frayed and he was rather ashamed for skulking behind Elijah in such a way. “Oh dear --” Abel stuttered, “I’m so sorry, Elijah, I didn’t mean to -- it’s just me.” Abel was the least threatening presence here, surely. “I’m not one to judge for snooping; are you alright?”

[h-gilmore-blog]

“It’s all about good timing and luck – but I suppose an empty stomach helps. Food can be pretty convincing,” Holly replied, walking around the diner to get to the kitchen door. The girl had missed her mother’s cooking, especially when she craved something familial. Something of comfort, and flavor, like her mother’s apple pies or roast dinner. The blonde didn’t even have the chance to learn some of those recipes ( they were burned down, like the rest of the house ). 

With her spare hand, Holly pushed past the door, knowing it hadn’t been locked. People in Paradise weren’t going to steal from the diner – the diner had been sacred. A spot for socializing and normalcy. They didn’t need anymore crime, not when those beasts were the ones that brought havoc upon everyone. 

She turned the kitchen lights on, adding, “.. I can teach you! You can put anything you want, really. I like putting chocolate chips in the batter while it’s cooking – make the chips melt into the pancakes. And then all you need is powered sugar, some whipped cream, and syrup to finish it off.” 

Holly let go of his hand, rummaging through the fridge of find some batter. After searching for possible toppings and add-ons, all the ingredients were gathered on the counter ( chocolate chips, blueberries, strawberries, etc ). The ballerina reached for a pan, replying, “… Only if I’m hungry. Otherwise I’ll usually end up wandering around town. It’s pretty quiet during the night – sometimes, I’ll even watch the sun rise.” 

Sleep evaded her, for multiple reasons ( most of them involving bad memories ). 

[fideiism]

He’d never seen such an enormous kitchen; all chrome, all notably sterile, all expansive like some sort of industrial machine specifically created to produce pancakes. Abel noted a long rack of sorts upon the opposite wall, all holding aprons which bore names, upon closer inspection; he could not help but linger on the apron that bore the name tag “STELLA”. As Holly set to work behind him, he ran his thumb over the worn laminated name, a minute smile playing on his lips; he was in their world now, an observer who was simply lucky to be there. Not to mention a starving observer -- the demons seemed to take a particular amusement in withholding food, so Holly was a doubtless life saver. 

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” he hummed, turning back to Holly and patting his stomach theatrically; as if on cue, his stomach gave an impassioned rumble, thoroughly helping his cause. “And that is why I love humans -- you come up with the most wonderful things!” He’d never put chocolate in his breakfast before, unless he were to count the time he’d convinced Raphael to eat ice cream for breakfast with him for a whole week. They’d made themselves thoroughly sick, but it had been a delicious process. 

Abel sidled over and hopped up onto the counter beside her -- hopped, more like struggled, for grace and ease were not his forte; especially not with weak ribs and a severe lack of coordination -- and reached across to take a handful of chocolate chips. “Did you cook often, er, before?” Abel was always quite hesitant to ask about the lives of humans before the Fall, but Holly was so young, and he could hardly resist. “You look like a professional.”

[douglasboothdaily-blog1]

times when you ask yourself who is CUTER: douglas booth or riley the kangaroo?

[fideiism]

★

i like you // i love you // i’m indifferent toward you // you’re one of my best friends // you’re like family // you are family // i dislike you // i hate you // i’m jealous of you // i’m scared of you // i would adopt you // i’m attracted to you // i’d date you // i’d sleep with you // i’d marry you // i’m worried about you // you confuse me // you’re annoying // i respect you // i want your respect // i feel protective of you // i’d like to cut loose with you // you’re good-looking // i’m suspicious of you // i’m hiding something from you // you’re fun // you’re boring // you’re nice // you’re mean // you’re smart // you’re stupid // i think you’re a better person than me // i think i’m a better person than you // i want to apologize to you // i want an apology from you // i wish i’d never met you // i never want to forget you // i want to get to know you better

[rxphaels]

A kiss upon the lips, given freely had managed to lift his spirits, a veritable smile on his divine face when Abel had given it to him—he was utterly weak for him, he realized; he could tell him to leave and he would do it however much he hated it. He was his own little Eden in a sea of chaos, keeping him afloat with every little dramatic thing that the demons managed to throw at him and his immortal family, and he was grateful for it. Shoving the shirt to his side, he couldn’t help but stare a little bit more at him, a devilish grin upon his face. It would not do well to openly do this here, but he never could help but look at Abel whenever he had the opportunity to do so, eyes grazing over skin and thoughts running a bit wilder than he’d like.

But he had a job to do, and he couldn’t start compromising his work ethic for every pretty angel that he had to heal. ( Maybe that could use some exceptions in the future. )

He slowly and gently started turning him over, carrying all of his weight and trying to not burst the new stitches, for even with angelic blood running through them they were going to take a while more to heal up and it would not do for it to unravel now. Laying him flat on his stomach gingerly, he started to look at his back this time, at once flayed flesh, now matted with scars like a battlefield on some distant place. Forgiveness, he thought, should never look like ruin, however much the world would beat on it. He started to look, his eyes grazing over skin when he finally found it—the wound that was troubling Abel.

If it was possible, he blanched even more at the opening, clean-cut and precise as the last one, but deeper and angrier, a mark used in sadism, in glee. For a moment, he was transported back to France, to de la Mort, and a sickness formed in stomach, instantly vanquishing the lightness in his heart as he kept on staring at it for what seemed like an eternity, feeling like he was drowning under a sea of blood. ( Flashes in his mind; an A on the chest, careful cuts on the body, holding someone that was bleeding and trying to get them to open their eyes. ) He took in a gasp of air, and started to get to work at it. The sooner he finished him up, the sooner he could hold him and love the pain away; what was he good for if not that?

Testing the wound if it was as deep as he thought, pinching the skin and looking for possible infections inside, he moved mechanically and measured up what he would need internally, for this was going to hurt for him. “Brace yourself, dear,” he instructed, using the available alcohol to clean the wound, and started to stitch the wound back together, an arduous process considering the length of it. Muttering encouragement and praise as he sewed it shut, it seemed like  it took a lifetime before he had to cut the thread and finish up the wound with some gauze. 

( He never wanted him to get hurt again—but what are the chances of that actually happening?  )

Pressing his lips to the base of his neck, he gave a hum and started to turn him over on his face, trying to seem more composed than he currently was, and gave him a bright smile. “Well, aren’t you the best patient? Don’t do anything strenuous for a while, nothing that could impact your shoulder or stomach,” he advised, rattling off basic procedure, “I’m sorry you even had to hurt like that, darling.”

He kissed him then, something deep and loving, to bite back against anything that could do him harm. If kisses could heal then, he may never have let his lips lift from Abel’s. “To help you feel better,” he said cheekily, “A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, after all.”

[fideiism]

He could almost feel Raphael stiffen, along with the stagnant air around him, at the sight of the carnage that had befallen his back; Abel did his best to adjust himself, to flatten his shoulder and gingerly hold his ribs and fresh stitches off the stone floor. Abel stared down at the stone, brows furrowed and quivering fingers pressing against the floor, wishing he could reach around to Raphael once more to assure him that it was fine, that he would be healed in no time. As long as his Angel of Healing was here, he could survive anything; the added strength that came from such archaic blood made the healing easier, but something about Raphael’s gentle hand soothed his soul in a way that nothing scientific ever could. 

Even if those hands dug about in his opened flesh with little warning, sending stiff shoulder flinching downward. “Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, eyes reeling and stars dancing before his eyes. “Could we just... skip this part and... and let me kiss you again?” But Raphael was clinical and professional, and there was no doubt that he would relent before Abel was well on his way to being healed. He could only be thankful for that; he would much rather endure a bit of pain than wallow in the feeling of half-healing for the rest of his endless life. And if it meant that Raphael would be proud of him, he would do absolutely anything; he could remember clearly allowing his hand to be crushed in a heavy door simply so that he could go to Raphael to have it healed. He had discovered then that the easiest way to seem tough was to not cry when bones were being set ( he’d cried later that night ) and Raphael’s pride at his bravery had become a drug that he’d quickly hooked himself on without reservation. 

Brace yourself, dear. 

It was really a quite short moment of warning, for before Abel could truly brace himself, rubbing alcohol was poured into his wounds, audibly sizzling into the torn muscle and exposed bone. All thoughts of making Raphael proud evaporated in favor of a startled cry, back arching down into the dirt and stone, palms flattening against the ground at the level of his eyes. His cry filled the cell, reverberating around stone and metal, and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and balling his fingers into fists upon the stone. Turning onto his cheek, he craned his neck to look back at Raphael, mindless and panicked response to the pain paralyzing his back. It would all be worth it, he told himself; he would be healed; Raphael would be proud; he could hold him when it was all over, and the pain would be forgotten and forgiven. It was blinding for a moment, but as the needle and thread began to pull him together, with Raphael’s hand bracing his unbruised skin, Abel began to come back to his senses. 

Abel pressed his forehead to the stone again as Raphael’s lips pressed a comforting kiss to the base of his neck. “I didn’t brace myself,” he huffed, a weak laugh and a shake of the head, with sandy hair hanging in a curtain over his face. With a groan, he did his best to help in rolling over once more, though he was largely useless, for he was oh so tired and embarrassingly weak. Nevertheless, he made a concerted effort to reach up and turn up Raphael’s lips at the corners, the ghost of a smile upon his face. “All better,” he smiled, voice small, but full of all the enthusiasm he could muster, “You’ll have to help me keep from tearing them up; we both know how much I love strenuous activity.” His face flushed as he realized the certain implications of his words, though he was quick to speak again to cover his accidental flub. “Thank you for fixing me,” he squeezed Raphael’s hand, smile turning honest, and less pink than before. 

( raphael had fixed him in more ways than one; did he know that abel was held together by strings that he had placed there? )

He kissed Raphael back with all the energy he could muster, neck craning forward and hands cupping his face; it was better medicine than anything he could have ever asked for, and made him feel warm and whole all in one. “And you’re sweeter than sugar,” he grinned, leaning forward as best he could to give him another peck upon the lips ( greedy and thankful as he was ) with fingers brushing black curls from his brow. “Do you think they’ll let you stay? At least for a little while -- if only you could stay here all night. Nothing hurts when you’re here; feels good as new. Could you just stay forever?”

Stay here forever, with him forever, together forever; forever, forever, forever. Forever seemed like a reasonable order when Raphael was added into the equation. Before him forever had seemed like a punishment, an endless reminder of betrayal and servitude, but Raphael was purpose, Raphael was healing, and Raphael was forever. But if he could stay here for just tonight, just to help him heal a little quicker, he would be grateful. 

[dominicramsey-deactivated201707]

Abel was light. Lighter than he thought possible for a person to be, but he quickly reminded himself that he wasn’t a person– he was an angel. A being that was more than human, so much more than human. Dominic pulled him up and immediately noticed the way the other backed away from him when he was upright. The whole thing wasn’t all that surprising, who wouldn’t back away from a person that had assaulted them only days ago? There was this strange feeling in the back of his throat… It tasted like bile and was something he didn’t experience often. He swallowed, ignoring the way that guilt felt going down the back of his throat. How sad was this whole thing? One loss in a fight made him feel normal human emotions again. 

Pathetic.

The tone of Abel’s voice pissed him off and the scowl on his face made that clear, but he no longer had any impulse to attack him. That was all it was at the end of the day– an impulse to hurt someone else the way he’d been hurt. Abel was vulnerable and the easiest thing in the room to prey on. Now that he had been a victim at the hands of two demons, he decided that he wouldn’t prey on the weak again. Alright that is total bullshit, but he was trying to do something better.

“Even if it was, do you think I’d say something? The last thing I need right now is a fucking demon asking me questions about you.” He runs a hand through his hair, peering down the street into the dark. Why did this angel have to appear and become his responsibility. “Do you need a place to hide or are you trying to find someone in town?” A pause. “I owe you one good thing after what happened, I guess.”

[fideiism]

He immediately realized, with a strange jolt of reality, that this had put them both in a strange limbo, in which they could not quarrel, and Dominic could not take out his aggression. There was a wall between them, which looked startling like his own brother, and which kept them a safe distance apart. The scars upon his shoulders and the barely-healed bruises that littered his torso like haphazard prison tattoos throbbed in protest against his critical gaze, for he was scowling as if he wished Abel to burst into flames beneath the hard judgement of shadowed eyes. Absently, a tentative hand came up to brace his ribs, holding them together as if they might tumble from him should Dominic step any closer. 

One good thing. Were Abel a different man, he might see the conditions behind such an offer, but he was himself, and so all he could feel was grateful. “I would not turn down a place to hide for a while; I can only imagine who might be looking for me now.” He quite wanted to see Stella and Holly, and to investigate the strangeness of the new figure in Paradise, but he would not pass up the opportunity to patch up a wound were it given freely. “Safe is subjective, surely, but I would appreciate a chance to breathe for a moment.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

[fideiism]

★

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better 

[fideiism]

★

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better 

[angelweird]

he is almost divine in the literal sense god-adjacent heaven-born with nectar lips and a golden heart his swift-footed grace your swift-falling heart the star-filled sky lit up like a song called fate it is hard to tell where gazes stop and touches start (and oh- even his pulse is quick) the gods take what they will but this this is yours alone and all the prayers melt into his collarbones like rain sometimes his eyes are storms and his rage is rather disquieting but this is what happens when you bottle up the sun and use it as a candle: it burns he makes you better and he makes you forget for all the holy exhales and altars of ‘always’ you are but mortal lovers in a gods’ war

we were like gods (except for the blood rushing through our veins)

[fideiism]

★

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I WOULD ADOPT YOU // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better 

[fideiism]

★

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better 

[fideiism]

★

I like you // I love you // I’m indifferent toward you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’m jealous of you // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’m attracted to you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // I’d like to cut loose with you // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice  // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better