Samandriel x Reader: Wish
*
Crowley's torture had corrupted his Grace.
He had forced himself to deny the knowledge for as long as he could, but it had grown impossible for him to ignore the silence of his brothers and sisters, impossible to ignore a constant hunger and fatigue that haunted his Vessel.
He had been picking wild strawberries along the road when you had first met, his gratitude to the plants and the sun bemusing you as you offered him a ride.
He had appraised you, wary at his inability to see the complexities of your soul, distrusting of his own dulled senses.
"I have nowhere to go."
You had swiftly helped him remedy that simple truth, offering him shelter, sustenance, support, and restored his sense of being.
For months, he had been blind, disinterested in everything save his own survival.
But from the breach, you brought him back.
His story slipped out in small pieces, uncertainty and lingering suspicions stopping him from fully confiding in you. He revealed enough of the facts to you:
He had been broken. He longed for home. He still had no clear path before him.
You seemed to sense there was more to his past than he was revealing, a detached pensiveness hanging about your eyes whenever he slipped into melancholy. It had become far rarer than when you had first welcomed him, but there were still days when his wings ached, when he would nearly strain himself trying to hear any chatter from his brothers and sisters.
One such night, he slipped away without a note, spreading his wings into their full glory, racing the sinking sunlight to the edges of the horizon. It was a joy to be free, to feel the familiar caress of the wind fumbling through his feathers, sensation as near to Paradise as he could dare allow himself to reach.
He did not return to you for several days, seeking clifftops and crevices and canopies and caverns for more meaning to it all, for some semblance of the attachment some of the others had found to this rock.
Earth was one of his Father's most beautiful creations, from the simmering core to the blazing skies, but it was not Heaven.
It was not Paradise.
It could never be Paradise.
Upon his return home- for what else could he call the sanctuary and comforts you provided him?- he slipped past you unnoticed, regret for his departure fueling an anxious hum in his Grace that longed to avoid you, at least until the next sunrise.
As he entered his bedroom, he was surprised to see a shift in the light, the hint of an unfamiliar pattern above him. Curious, he turned to study the curves, the little sparks of light. With more focus, he was surprised to see the impression of clouds upon his ceiling, spreading across each of the four walls, tinged in blush and periwinkle and amber. The little sparks of light were cast by several strands of fairy lights, spread high in the rafters, now painted darker and darker till they were near perfect mimicry of the night sky outside.
Several plants had been placed in the room, small marble figurines gracing each arrangement.
He breathed out your name with a fond sigh, gratitude overwhelming his sensibilities.
It was imperfect, far from a masterpiece. It lacked the elegance embellished into Sistine, the palette far from the opulence of Nasir Al-Molk. Yet it had a shimmering majesty to it, crafted with your love and devotion.
It was humbling, knowing you regarded him with such esteem despite all of the trouble his presence had brought to you.
Your patience, your kindness, your compassion-
It was a shocking clarity, resonating through the remnants of his shattered Grace, that his wish had already been answered, that desperate prayer for peace issued in the throws of red-tinged madness.
He may never see Heaven again, not for some millennia, but you gave him something far superior.
You had given him a family.
*
