intertwinvd.
watching the way he slumps against the bookshelf, sliding to the ground, sun feels a lump develop in his throat. itâs somehow the most human heâs ever felt in his life, and itâs terrifying. slowly, and carefully, he makes his way over. heâs hyper aware of the fact that even though the divide is no longer angry, there are still boundaries. but he takes a risk, and he sits down next to him. for some reason he feels like thatâs the human thing to do.Â
the comment about demons strikes him as odd. mainly because they hadnât even entered his train of thought before then. in sunâs mind there was no correlation, but as soon as he continues speaking he understands. he asks if the angels are mad at him. and sun understands. he understands how easy it is to correlate the divides abilities to evil. that alone is enough to make him want to protect him. to let him know that heâs nowhere close to evil.Â
when he goes on to explain â itâs like something in sun breaks. his faith, maybe? was this what the elders intentionally hadnât told him? that theyâd just sat by while one of their followers with a god complex tortured a little boy? and for what reason? because sun was having some serious trouble coming up with one good enough to justify what theyâd done. they could have easily stepped in, he knew that. heâd seen it first hand. small miracles, subtle enough that no one would have even noticed. they do it every day, and yet they sat back and watched the divide suffer. for a moment he thinks he might throw up.Â
âyou are so so far from evil.â he takes a breath, actually looking at the scars that adorn his face. sadness flares up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. âyou are so far from evil, the fact that â that you were even allowed to be tortured by that fucking idiotâŠâ sun looks over at him, trying to catch his gaze, âdemons exist, but you are far from one.â
so many things are swimming in his mind at once. everything he thought he knew about the angels were brought into question. if they had so willingly turned a blind eye to what was happening â were they really good at all? how did they get to pick and choose so easily who was deserving of salvation and who wasnât? the only reason he was even okay with his job, what he did, is because he felt like he was doing good for the world. but if angels werenât good it put his entire line of work into question. there were so many things he wanted to bring up to the elders, so many things he wanted to ask. like how they could just sit by and let innocent people suffer. in a way he felt defeated, and alone. but overall he felt angry and so sad for this boy.Â
in that moment he decided that he would do everything in his power to protect the divide, whether the angels approved or not.Â
you are so, so far from evil, the angel says to talon. one of heavenâs very angels -- heâs only half, you insolent worm, the eternal nagging goblin echoes from the crook of the darkest, cobwebbed corner of his mind -- confirms that talon isnât the devil, the anti-christ, or what-have-you. he doesnât really tell him what he is outside of âthe divideâ ( whatever the hell that means ) but heâs not one of the big bads and thatâs enough. for now. talon wonât ever stop looking for answers because it simply isnât in his nature, but this bit of information -- no, this validation of a life long paranoid thought that he WAS the evil all the along being verified as false would do more for his psyche than the other could possibly know. heâd thank him for that right now, but thereâs something about this encounter that tells him heâll be able to do so in time. he doesnât know what, or even know for sure that heâll see him again... for all he knows, this is just a fever dream, but he feels it in his gut.
breathing out, he turns his head at the mention of that idiot ( it sends a shiver so intense down his spine that he visibly twitches in his movement, despite however slight the turn of oneâs head might be ) and meets eyes with him, exactly on cue with his final declaration. demons exist, but you are far from one.Â
talon swallows tightly, gaze unblinking as he stares back at him. he thinks among everything, heâll remember that sentence for the rest of his life. thereâs a long couple of moments where he looks back at the man, the angel he corrects himself internally, and not even the grandfather clock bellowing at seven on the dot to signal closing time is enough to shake him back to reality. â okay, â he says finally, as plainly and as simply as heâs ever said anything, but this be known if nothing else: he believes the angel and more than that, he trusts his word, or thinks he does in the moment. on one hand, angels are universally understood to be trustworthy creatures by people of faith and thereâs no reason for him not to, but on the other hand... if angels could hear all, does that mean they know? did they know what happened to him, if not through his own cries at night then by the mouth of the so called man of god who tried to vanquish a demon that wasnât there? if they did, then... who was he to give away something as valuable, something as fragile as trust? the only saving grace he can hold onto is that it seems like news to this one particular angel, the one they kept things from. he canât help but wonder what else he didnât know. what else they let slide.
in the silence following talonâs statement his eyes had found the tiled floor again and although he didnât plan on discussing anything further -- while he had more questions than he knew what to do with, he knew he wasnât ready for the answers, not here, not now, didnât know if he would ever be -- there is one thing that strikes him: he doesnât know his name. the angel knows about an incident talon has repeated to nobody, but not his name. maybe heâll remember me if i give him a name to match the face, he thinks. maybe heâll tell them about talon, and not the divide. cocking his chin back up to meet his gaze once more, he breaks the silence. â uh... by the way, my nameâs talon. â













