As the evening progressed, Cyrus had found himself growing more and more weary of this supposed ‘meet’ between rivalling packs of werewolves. He had challenged himself to become the mediator: he had garnered some popularity in the supernatural community. You either feared him, or sucked up to him. Alas, after he had waited some time inside his vehicle ( an old pick-up truck that had previously been owned by his brother, Callahan — the paint was chipped, it reeked of lavender — ) he figured it was a no-show and he would leave.
The soft buzz of the radio was all that kept his ears occupied, playing Coming Down by Dum Dum Girls. That, and the constant ‘ding’ of text notifications. Even while he was staking out the landscape of the proposed meet, he took the responsibility of ensuring the folk that he had previously cared for, were safe and sound. He was quickly typing up his last text message, but just as he had hit send, he heard a booming crash that made his vehicle rock and tremble. A while away, through a dense thicket of trees and shrubs, he caught sight of some smoke and light coming between them. Without wasting a beat, he was out of the door and darting to the location, jumping over logs, climbing through bushes and roots until he arrived at the destination at its edge.
On the rich soil was a deep and newly-formed crater, smoke billowed into the clear night sky that made him cough and launch an arm into the air to cast a a strong gust of icy wind that caused the flames to die out, and the smoke to dissipate, to reveal the structure of a human-like figure, naked and seemingly unconscious, at its centre. Cyrus was quick to act: he tore down the slope and cautiously approached the figure. Now that he was closer, he recognise it as being a man, given its rather impressive size. Not only was he gifted in that department, as he closed in on him, he came to acknowledge the enormous appendages of wings beneath a dark bed of dirt.
A matter of minutes went by as, without hesitation, Cyrus lifted him over his shoulder and climbed out of the deep formation, making a quick getaway to dump him in the back of his truck. “It’s been a while since I’ve bagged an angel... I must be lucky.” Cyrus chuckled to himself as he went on performing various kickboxing-type movements, with fast punches and kicks into the air, to bring about the earth surrounding the basin to sink in and hide the evidence of anything abnormal ever having happened here. A while later, he was pulling into his cottage home and proceeding to carry this entity inside his garage, since it was the only area capable of holding the enormous wingspan. // @xoexxo - plotted thread.
