Zestial stood at his desk, the soft glow of lamplight catching on the dark glass of a well-aged bottle. Beside it lay folded silkādeep crimson, smooth as whispered promisesāand a matching eye mask, delicate yet indulgent in its make. He regarded the arrangement for a moment, adjusting it once, twice, until it pleased his eye.
At last, he took up his pen.
I am given to understand that today marks the anniversary of your birthāan occasion that ought be met with celebration, not obligation. That you find yourself burdened with work on such a day strikes me as nothing short of criminal.
A pity I am not present to rectify the matter personally.
A small offering, then, to encourage a moment of restāwine of a vintage I deemed worthy of you, and something more comfortable in which to enjoy it. You would do well to indulge, if only for an evening.
We must see one another soon. I find the days grow rather dull in your absence.
He folded the letter with care, placing it atop the gifts before the shadows at his feet stirred to life. Without flourish, without sound, they curled around the offeringsāand in the next breath, they were gone.
Across the city, in the quiet of Angelās room at the hotel, the shadows unfurled once more, settling the wine, silk robe, and letter neatly upon his bed, as though they had always been meant to be there.
Bone deep, physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. If he had to describe it, heād say it felt like there was sand in his joints, like metal scraping on metal as he pushed open the door to his room.
His legs barely dragged him to his bed before he fell on top of the duvet, flopping down with a whiny groan. Something was pressing against his stomach but it wasnāt serious enough to make him move again.
Fat Nuggets moved to sit in the crook of his back. The bottoms of his hoofs dug into his spine but Angel refused to make his little pig worry so he hid his discomfort in a breath.
Yep, thanks buddy, happy birthday, thank youā¦
It wasnāt his birthday anymore, but this was the first time Nuggets had seen him since April fools first. He turned and took note of the full automatic feeder and reminded himself to say thank you to Vox for that. Andā¦ probably give him an overdue apology for the long overdue absence he had taken.
Heād get right to it! As soon as his arms and legs stopped shaking.
His phone vibrated and he looked at the notificationāa news article released by the lower echelons of VoxTek congratulating him on breaking his own record for the longest running train. And right at the bottom of the article: Happy Birthday Angel Dust!
With a groan, the porn star slapped his phone down on his bed beside him. Fuck.
A fourteenā¦ sixteen-?! A sixteen day long train all recorded live for his birthday. He couldnāt deny though, heād made enough off of it to probably retire for a while. Or go on a vacation. Who knows?
Probably not enough to buy his way into heaven, and therapy wasnāt doing shit. No telllinā how Pentious made it up, but what he was trying just wasnāt fuckinā working.
Internally, his shoulders raised flippantly. Who needed heaven these days anyways? Heād already found something pretty close in a dark mansion, haunted by a spider and his little spider pet, Kitty.
Thoughts of Zestial were one of the few things that had kept him going after the first few days of his grueling shift. He wasn't above admitting that he imagined him instead. At first, in similar nature to the men around him, later, just... him. The way he smelled-old books and herbaceous teas-the way he listened so attentively, as if every word Angel spoke was imported from lands far away; something exotic.
He imagined what Zestial might be doing during those moments. There was very little chance that he was watching, more likely that he was blissfully unaware of the stream outside of knowing that the pornstar was working. Maybe he was out in his garden, trimming weeds. Heād take a few minutes to sip his tea and read a book, a collection of treats on the table in front of him. Maybe heād get lost in the text and his tea would run cold, heād give it that sour look of disappointment that Angel had become fond of before sighing and pouring himself a fresh cup and repeating the process. Maybe heād be up to his elbows in work; a retired overlord never truly quit their job. His eyes glaring down some audacious sinner, power leaking from his very gaze as he gave them one final option or opportunity.
Angel was unashamed to say that that particular image had been one to keep him going for several hours.
Tired of laying here (and being awake at all) he dragged himself up to his pillow, but stopped when his hand clutched the cold glass of a wine bottle.
The spider demon lifted his head, his eyes barely managing to stay open, and for a moment he wondered if it was a mirage. But no, there it was; a bottle of wine lying on silk and accompanied by an envelope with his name on it. How long had it been waiting for him?
He took no more time, ripping open the envelope and reading the note with a grin, before it dropped.
Damn. Zestial was right, it had been too long. Heād asked to see him 2 weeks ago, and he still hadnāt even respondedābasically left him on delivered. Angel needed to get his shit together.
He quickly penned a note and attached it to Fat Nuggets, sending it off before going to sleep wrapped around silk and wine.
Thank you for the gifts, I canāt wait to put them to use.
I gotta say, you being at my work wouldāve made it a hell of a lot more satisfying. Even if I just had your eyes on me, I think that would have been enough for me.
But hey, enough about work! Letās talk about us! If youāre free for the next week or so, I am taking a break. Let me just take a good long rest and Iāll be up and at āem, ready to take a little vacation with you!
