Moved !!

「 ✠ 」 The lack of hesitance on his end made her that much happier. Her grip tightened as she nuzzled into his shoulder. “I’ve been well!” she chirped. Really, everything had been rather business as usual–nothing too exciting, which was good considering what she did for a living. Excitement often led to fighting, and she didn’t like fighting. She sobered up then, pulling away and resting her hands on his shoulders. While her smile didn’t disappear, her expression grew more serious. “How have you been? Anything I can help you with?”

「  ✠  」 Tzaphkiel sighed in relief once he agreed to go with her, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them once again, locking her gaze with Rhys’. Despite any pain she felt–emotional and physical–her eyes were bright with determination. She may have been a being of emotion, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be controlled by her own, especially when her friend was in trouble. He doesn’t want to do this, she kept telling herself. He’s under some sort of duress. This isn’t his choice.

“I’m going to help you,” she repeated. That didn’t answer his question, but oh well. “You can lean on me if you need to. I don’t mind.” He’d likely end up bleeding her if he did, and that was gross; however, she’d rather have that than him falling over. If worst came to worst, she could always just carry him. Either way, they were leaving. She tugged on his sleeve again, leading him out of the alley and towards the park she recalled passing on her way.

She hoped no one else was at the park because it was bad enough that Rhys would see how she’d help him. She also needed to clear her head on the way there–all the negative emotions she felt right then would only interfere with her ability to heal him. That, however, was easier said than done, but she’d figure it out.

     Guilt wrapped its ugly fingers around him at the relieved sigh. He let his gaze drift away from her again. The difficulty he was having meeting his friend’s determined gaze was shameful, ridiculous. He cursed himself for having grown so careless. Had he thought through his plan a little more thoroughly, he’d have realized the alley wasn’t nearly as private as it had seemed. Had he worried more over it, he wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t be hurting. She wouldn’t be an accessory to murder. 

     A nod. He supposed he didn’t really need to know how, just that she was. He pursed his lips into a thin line. ❝ No. I won’t lean on you... I can walk. ❞  He’d done it enough times to stick it out, push through the spreading pain. He knew she didn’t mind him leaning on her, but he wouldn’t. If he began to feel like he was going to fall over, he’d just steady himself on the nearest inanimate object or perhaps her shoulder, but he wouldn’t lean on her. Not with the amount of blood he had covering him. 

Tzan just wants to make sure her friend is okay. Like, she notices he’s tired and starts petting his head or something and he just falls asleep shortly after.

Rhys can nap on Tzan though. Her powers could more than likely keep him calm enough for a peaceful sleep. 

Okay but just think about it for a minute. Rhys suffers insomnia due to nightmares. Nightmares that sometimes turn into night terrors. It just makes him not want to sleep at all. It almost renders him incapable of sleeping unless he literally passes out. 

But his nightmares don't so much consist of the people he works for because he doesn't know much about them. There are times when he dreams something up in his sleep like them finding him and just snuffing him out or nightmares that fill in the blanks of his missing memories. But his nightmares usually consist of the same thing: his victims. But they're not out to get him at first. They're just there. In the natural progression in which he saw them. Alive an boisterous one second, cold and lifeless the next. And they just hound him for it. They haunt his nightmares, asking him why he did it. Sometimes he’ll dream up families of victims, devastation written across their faces. 

He chuckled proudly to himself, folding his arms over his chest an giving a nod. ‘ Mhm, don’t worry, I’ll keep practicing. And then I’ll be super super good ~! Maybe I’ll become like one of those old famous guys. I can’t remember their names..’

「  ✠  」 The archangel’s grip tightened at the sound of metal hitting concrete. Though a large part of her wanted to turn around and leave whether Rhys came with her or not, she forced herself to keep holding onto him. It hurt. She knew, in theory, why, but couldn’t recall the actual memories associated with the pain. It hurt, and she wanted to leave; however, she couldn’t just abandon her friend either. His wounds weren’t minor, and any strenuous activity would only make them worse. He might not’ve noticed the severity ( perhaps some combination of adrenaline from the fight and the shock of Tzaphkiel finding him ), but she knew it’d be dangerous not to do anything about it.

Her free hand reached up to Rhys’ cheek and forced him to meet her gaze. “Rhys, come with me,” she commanded. Her voice lost any questioning tone it’d held before. No, this time, she didn’t leave any room for argument on the matter. “You can’t do anything while you’re hurt like that.” While she didn’t quite see the problem of just leaving and not doing anything else with the body, she figured he must have some sort of obligation. That–she wanted nothing to do with at all. He could do what he needed to, but only after she tended to his wounds.

It occurred to her that she’d be breaking some rules in helping him. She wasn’t supposed to reveal her nature to mortals, and that included the use of her powers. Sure, she’d used them around him once before, but that was on a small scale and easy to pass off. If she could, she’d treat his wounds through normal means or take him to someone who could, but neither of those were viable options, given that first, she had no idea how, and second, he’d probably object.

     The pain that radiated from Tzaphkiel still came as something of a shock to him. He wondered if perhaps this pain ran deeper than just seeing that a man’s life had been ripped out from under him. The prospect of it being more deeply rooted than that caused his stomach to turn. It had been a long time since he’d felt like he was going to be sick over accomplishing a mission. Then again, he’d never had anyone find him right after, either. He’d certainly never had a friend, someone like Tzaphkiel find him. And perhaps that was why he hadn’t noticed how deeply his wounds reached or how painful they really were. His body had been engineered to sustain him through a lot, but he was still only human. 

     He nearly flinched away from her touch. It was almost too much for him right now. But he knew it was probably far worse for her. When forced to meet her eyes, he found the revolt, the hatred for himself settling as deeply as his bones. He opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. She was right. He couldn’t very well do what needed to be done in the condition he was in. So he nodded, complying without any protest aside from his original concerns.  ❝  Alright. I guess-- I guess you’re right.  ❞  He knew she was right. The longer he stood with Tzan, the quicker the pain seemed to settle in. He even found himself beginning to shake. 

All previous crimes were forgotten and his face lit up with a bright smile, now that his artistic ability had been recognized. He but the drawing down and continued to beam. ‘ Right right !? I’ve been practicing and I think I’m getting pretty good now !’

‘ What ? Are ya blind ? It’s clearly a dog ! A lil’ puppy !’ He’s pouting now, he knew he wasn’t an artist but surely his drawings were goof enough to be able to comprehend what it was. He held the drawing close to the other’s face, so close he couldn’t possibly see anything. ‘ See, a dog. A dog.’