they open up the window and stand in the sunshine
but you hide in the shadows
cause the light goes right through you
you’re a ghost, you’re a ghost, you’re a ghost,
you’re a ghost of my mind
There is energy in everything and it came to him in colors. They were a semblance of memory, a very slight ripple in his stillness. As Izzy pooled soft greens and light blues. Djamel was drenched in deep blue--a chill in his fire; too cold for the likes of him. Chel reflected his crimson among her golden presences--far too bright, never dimming; unlike himself.
His fire was wavering to barely burning embers. His vermilion flares extinguishing evermore against the overwhelming hues surrounding him. It did not seem right to even be angry with such dazzling views. Still, he despaired. His small light pooled beneath him and the flames were left to lick his heels.He watched as the embers burned through the floor beneath him.
The fire’s desperation sent him to a quiet madness. He needed something, something was missing in him. His fire was dying and a d’jinn was nothing without it. In every quiet moment (for which there were infinite) his focus turned to the dying of the light. Like a plug had been pulled, the essence of being was being stripped straight from his bones.
And so he tore at the walls (what there was left to tear). The curtains were no match for his distress and neither was any of the other remnants of grandeur the hotel had retained. Soon, entire rooms were streaked with ash and his polished fingernails were now chipped and bruised. Chel would be in fits if she could see, but he would not let her see.
Gloves. Izzy had bought him glove. A particular pile of soot caught his shrinking gaze, but no, the fire had eaten them too. He shook anxiously at first until he realized. He knew that no one was coming anyway. Soon, he would fade just like before. Just like when his brother had thrown him away. Just like when---
Suddenly, the kind darkness surrounded him in a comforting embrace. His scarlet flame was nurtured by the black as if oxygen had been breathed into it. A vision of gold and black greeted him--,a golden man was buried in the most flammable of tar. His flames licked happily against it. A river rippled within him like a shock wave of energy fluctuating from his core. Malek trembled, copper eyes growing dim.
Oh, how lovely. How could he forget such a precious feeling.How could he have Robin Goodfellow.
The figures that came into focus were familiar–like all of father’s handiwork. One was radiant and bright like his kin and they knew from experience that he was so in personality as well. The other was a darker, calmer presence but there were traces of the same light flowing from their interlocked hands.Touched by an angel as they say. Their nose crinkled at the absurdity of human metaphors.
“He’s growing fast now, Metatron.” The voice frowned without sparing a glance for their colleague.
“I suppose.” They kept their eyes looking towards the companions below them; the light morphing and changing even as they spoke.
“We knew he would.” They finally turned toward their brother, attempting to gauge Uriel’s reaction. “That’s why you sent him I’m sure.”
They knew this, of course. It was quite strange to watch him evolve, but it had always been part of the plan. “It was time for him to learn about the world he was born to protect.”
This was a statement that gave the other a moment of pause. “…you mean to make him Seraphim? Zachariel? Truly?”
Finally, a smile formed on the voice’s face as well. The fate of the cherubim would always bound them to heaven’s altar, but soon they would give him the escape he so desperately wished for--a way out of the rigid hierarchy of the heavens.
Life was rough when you move somewhere new, and your options for hanging out were limited. That's what Rolf told himself when he trailed his older brother to the skating rink, ignoring that even in their old home, he was never prone to making friends. He repeated it now, as he leaned against the railing, his arms crossed on top of it. He'd fallen, and was analyzing the leg he'd hit on the ice. It was sure to bruise by tomorrow, but it didn't seem to hurt much.
Ending his spin a few rotations early, it took no time for Koen to glide up to his brother. “Ahhh, let me see,” he spoke, kneeling beside his brother. He was already producing several band-aids from his pocket. “You took the turn to fast again,lillebror. Always in a rush.” The elder placed a hello kitty bandage on Rolf’s leg despite the lack of an open sore. He was quite convinced of the healing powers of a cute band aid. “Do you want to try again?”
Zack didn’t quite understand the mood shift, but he did think Ciel was turning a very pretty color. He ducked his head to try to get a better look at him. Was he silly? It hadn’t really occurred to him, because he particularly liked thinking of Ciel and things that reminded his friend. “I don’t think there are better reasons.” No surely it was the best reason. “But it’s okay to disagree. Were you enjoying your book?”
Ciel flinched when he caught Zack trying to get a glimpse of his face. He turned further away, already feeling the heat from his face rise. From such the smallest action, too. There was no reason for it, he thought. It was just Zack, whose innocent antics normally never bothered him. And when Zack spoke, god, he swore he felt his stomach do actual flips. “There’s a bunch of better reasons,” Ciel mumbled. Ciel braced himself, taking in a deep breath, before finally getting the courage to turn back to look at his friend. He answered with the smallest smile he was able to muster. “I was, thanks. I was getting ready to pause for the day anyway. Was there… anything you wanted, or did you just drop by to cover me in flowers.” His smile grew slightly with his attempt at teasing.
“Ah.” The angel blinked a moment, before light laughter bubbled over him. Zack had immediately imagined his friend covered in every flower from the meadow he’d walked past with Phoebe. “I can always go back and find more,” he managed, hiding his big smile behind a hand. It was nice to see Ciel smile again. He liked it best when he did. He shook his head in response to the question finally managing to contain his glee as much as that was possible for Zack. “I just wanted to see you, but I do regret not bringing enough flowers for that.”
Zack blinked his large eyes, head tilting to the side. “Oh, but…” The angel shifted to take the flower with pursed lips. Looking between the aster and his friend, he nodded resolutely. “It matches your eyes.” Besides Phoebe has mentioned something about patience and some other big word that sounded like him. He smiled once more, tucking the offering behind his ear. “That’s why I liked them.”
Ciel sat frozen, staring, before his gaze drifted elsewhere, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. He cleared his throat trying to ignore the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That’s a pretty silly reason to like them, don’t you think. Surely there’s better reasons than that.” He took the rest of the flowers with one hand and closed his book with the other, standing to look at Zack. His eyes still didn’t meet his. “…But thank you.”
Zack didn’t quite understand the mood shift, but he did think Ciel was turning a very pretty color. He ducked his head to try to get a better look at him. Was he silly? It hadn’t really occurred to him, because he particularly liked thinking of Ciel and things that reminded his friend. “I don’t think there are better reasons.” No surely it was the best reason. “But it’s okay to disagree. Were you enjoying your book?”
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