Borrowed Wings

“It was a good idea earlier! Well, it sounded like a good idea earlier. Besides, better to do it after three days then not do it at all, is it not? Maybe I just needed to try to beat my record before I was… Mentally prepared to go through all of it.” 

“Don’t tempt me, Ange… I know I have things to do, I should be focusing on that, not… Well, you know.” The eclairs were tempting, too tempting. “How about that big stack of papers? Those look. More interesting than sweets.”

@forgottenangelic​ actually fucking killed me with:  “Princess, you already ate all the bonbons.” -shot-

“What’s the point in living…”

Meeting the Parents Doesn’t Usually Involve Giant Bugs.

@forgottenangelic

Nehemiah drove his blade home, sword spearing through the chest of the maned demon. Its head tossed back, muzzle opening to let loose a guttural howl before it slumped, now a grotesque crumpled corpse on the dirt. The angel sighed a rough breath, chest heaving from the exertion of the battle.

The beast continued onward, paying no mind to the angels or demons under its feet. Six mantis-claw-like legs carried its rectangular armored body, a waspish head shielded behind the front pair. Its body was black and white with bold patterns, making it almost dizzying and unreal to look at (though an estimated 25-foot tall bug would be dizzying and unreal to look at as it was).

A low echoing call sounded from it, reminiscent of groaning bending metal. It took another step forward, the pointed tip of its leg shaking the ground with a thud as it came down. It’s other legs soon followed. It was slow moving but nonetheless steady, making its way to a lush forest not much farther ahead.

Nehemiah spared a look up, catching sight of another angel slamming an elemental attack down on the body of the monster. It staggered. Nehemiah returned his focus to the horde on the ground. He swung, slaying another demon, and electrocuted the remaining ones straggling behind. Some crumpled, some were stunned. He was always amazed (and dismayed) by how many demons could withstand being struck with bolts of lightning. 

Angel had always had a knack for finding trouble, but even she had to admit this was getting ridiculous. What were the odds of her encountering a two-story tall bug while on her last trip into town? She needed a break. 

Still, it wasn’t like her to ignore a person in need. At least, not when it involved giant monsters, and especially when some of those people were definitely angels. She could spot their white wings from a mile away by now. She didn’t think she could do very much to help, but what she could do she would. 

Without so much as a “hello” (she didn’t think right now was a good time for introductions anyway) Angel drew her bow and shot towards the eye of the monster, the blue crystal humming as it flew through the air and struck home. She was thankful she’d kept up her trick shot practice on days she and Rekker were bored-- her skills were as sharp as ever. 

Angel didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything. While his plea for her to be sleeping had been denied, it was seeming like maybe he’d get off scot-free anyway. As long as he ignored her downcast demeanor and she ignored his gruff one, they could roll over and forget about all of this by morning. 

And then she hit him with that, and now he felt like an ass.

He dropped his head back with an annoyed groan. He rolled his head forward and smushed his cheek into the palm of his hand. He sulked. He would’ve rather been scolded. At least if she was yelling at him he could scowl and be defiant. He couldn’t do those things when she dropped the “i love you’s“ and the “I care about you’s” and all the other mushy stuff. Well, he could, but then he’d feel like even more of an ass.

“Yes, yes, I know.”  He picked at his shoelace. She loved him and wanted him to take care of himself and not make stupid decisions because that’s what friends were supposed to do. Blah,blah, gross mush.

He huffed. “And I know you’re just trying to help.”

Despite everything, he managed to draw a smile out of her.It was small, and still a little sad, but it was a smile. His groaning and grumbling and tossing his weight around meant he was okay; they were okay. This would pass like everything else, and they could go back to normal. She’d lost the fight, but she didn’t lose him. 

“Good.” She nodded, sighing. Another long moment passed in silence. She rolled her shoulder and moved to lay back down, trying to be casual. Avoiding eye contact, avoiding sounding like she was starting anything again. She didn’t want to fight anymore, this was her surrender. 

“If you ever decide to change your mind... I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled her blanket up over herself, both as a shield and as a comfort. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. She was trying to be soft but she could never tell exactly what he would do next. 

Of Homes and History

Naomi shot the pair an incredulous look. Micah shrugged, leaning over to pick up the ice pack. He handed it back to Angel while Naomi stepped in and shut the door. She went up to Micah’s chair, silently demanding an explanation with a wave of her arms. Micah motioned for Angel to wait just a moment.

“She crashed into the barrier, got knocked out. She was just telling me about how she knew you. You arrested her for trespassing?”

“Yes, I arrested her for trespassing on an outpost. She was following the cargo dragons… no, no. Not following like that. Actually following the dragons. She wanted to pet them. It was all cleared up by the end of the day. She’s…a friend.”

Naomi ended up doing more of the explaining, but it was seemingly enough for the both of them. Micah trusted Naomi’s judgement. He turned back to Angel.

“I don’t think you should be up and moving about until at least tomorrow, but I can grant Naomi being your guide.” His gaze flicked up, checking with Naomi to see if it was alright with her. She sighed and leaned on his chair.

“It’s fine. She can crash at my apartment, too. Or my parents. They have more room. Probably my place tonight.”

Definitely her place tonight. She had a lot more questions for Angel, none of which she could ask with Micah around. She was relieved Micah trusted her enough to take her word right away. Not that she was lying to him, she just…wasn’t telling him everything. He knew the important thing, anyway: Angel was not a threat.

Angel immediately deflated as Micah explained she still had healing to do. She should have expected it, she really should have, but she was just so excited she could hardly stand it. It was like all of that energy whooshed out of her like a deflating balloon. He was right, but she didn’t have to like it. 

She would at least get to see Naomi’s place, which would be kind of cool. And then Rekker’s parents place, which would mean... maybe that was the same as Rekker’s old house? Must be. Maybe there would still be remnants of him there. Wouldn’t that be something? But there was another thing she was missing, something her scrambled brain had forgotten. Something about his parents. But she knew his parents, what could she have possibly forgotten about them? Maybe Naomi could tell her-- Oh. Naomi. Naomi and her parents. Naomi’s parents and Rekker’s parents were the same. But she didn’t tell Naomi she’d met her parents.  Oh, no. She was going to be in trouble, she just knew it. She’d forgotten to keep up communication with her since she moved in with Rekker and goodness this was going to be rough. 

haloofmischief​:

Rekker hesitated a moment after Angel, her compliance almost…unsettling. He scooped up Dorothy, pressing her close to his chest admittedly for his own comfort. He quickly debated hiding his wings, but decided it was futile. His wings had already been shown to a number of guards. It was too late to pretend he wasn’t an outsider. He fell into step beside his friend.

The throne room was grand, nothing short of the rest of the castle. He would’ve taken more time to appreciate it if it weren’t for the situation at hand. He took a deep breath and readied himself when Angel whispered to him a rather important piece of information. He shot Angel an incredulous look.

Well great. Of course the king was a mind reader. Why wouldn’t the king be a mind reader? He could bite his tongue all he wanted. But control his thoughts? He was already sure his face would say the things his mouth wouldn’t. He might as well just start speaking. He didn’t, of course, but still.

Standing before the thrones, Rekker did have to be semi-forced into kneeling, partially because he was slow on copying Angel thanks to unfamiliarity with Alenta customs and partially because he too stubborn to actually kneel before anyone. He almost shot the guard an ugly look. Almost. One good noodle point for him.

Royal Scout?

His eyes flicked over to Angel. Even the Queen knew her by name. That didn’t exactly make him feel better about their predicament, but it did fill in some gaps for him. Angel had worked for the crown, still even carried a title. That explain why she knew the castle so well, why she was jumpy with guards, why she was known by name.

Rekker lifted his head when the Queen addressed him. He didn’t shy away from looking her in the face,  his gaze level with hers. He heard the tension in Angel’s voice and reflexively echoed that in his own expression. Expression flat, eyes steely, he quickly put up the front he did when questioned by authority. It wasn’t confrontational, yet, but nonetheless perhaps a little too bold.

“I go by Rekker….your Majesty.”

Angel silently thanked the heavens that Rekker was behaving--he did have at least a few braincells in there worth keeping. She’d half expected him to insult the Queen and have them both thrown in jail. That still wasn’t completely off the table but... it was a start. 

There was a beat of silence after Rekker spoke, where the Queen smoothed her skirt and pondered what to say. Angel wished she’d had Kai’s penchant for mind reading, at least then she’d know if it was safe to run or not. 

“Leave us,” Were the first words to be spoken into the heavy silence. All of the guards in the room seemed to falter, looking between one another as if to ask if they’d heard her right. She quirked a brow. “I wish to speak to them alone.” 

After another second of shuffling, the six guards that had originally been standing around filed back through the door. Only then did the Queen speak again. 

“Stand up. Both of you. There’s no need for that.”  Angel didn’t know what was worse--being forced to kneel or being forced not to kneel. She almost preferred the formality of the first. She didn’t want this to get personal, despite the fact that it very, very much was. She continued to keep her mouth shut and her eyes looking literally anywhere but the monarch. 

“Where have you been?” Vivian was obviously exasperated, slumping in her throne and rubbing her forehead with her hand to soothe the headache that was no doubt forming. “It’s been years-- We’d posted guards at every major city, every crossroads... we’d even contacted Elfield and Fallwyn. If it weren’t for the peace talks we’d have assumed you were kidnapped we... we assumed the worst. What happened?” 

This was the part Angel was dreading the most. The part where she had to fess up everything. She didn’t want to. She hated how they both looked at her with something between pity and irritation. She wished she could have spun some story about getting kidnapped and somehow have it not be her fault... but that would just make it worse, since Kai was reading her from the corner. This sucked. 

this is ANCIENT “I don’t know, princess. Perhaps that would make you a good pair. After all, I’ve seen many suitors get their toes trampled tonight... and surely you wouldn’t do that on purpose.” 

Rekker came home…late. The sun had set by the time his feet touched down in the grass by his door. After he’d thrown his fit, after he’d spun and dove and zapped until he was burnt out, he had sprawled out in the wildflowers of a grassy hill and watched the clouds while his chest heaved to catch his breath. And then his breath and heart calmed and he watched the sky change from baby blue to brilliant pinks and oranges, and he got lost in the colors and stars and forgot he existed for a little while.

When he finally pried himself from the dirt, he decided to take a bath. Or half of a bath. He scrubbed his face in the nearby creek, rinsed his mouth and washed his top half, ran water through his hair so maybe he wouldn’t look and smell like a scrungy dog when he got back to his tent.

He paused before the tent door and drug his hands down his face. Maybe, maybe she would be asleep. He knew it was likely she wouldn’t be, she always waited up for him when he stormed off like the rotten child he was. He looked up at the sky and prayed like a Laodicean that she would be asleep, knowing full well the God was going to use the little blonde alien to flick His disobedient creation in the nose like a mutinous kitten.

He finally sucked it up and ducked inside, pushing his hair back momentarily to prove to Angel that no, he did not go get punched in the face and no, he did not go do some stupid thing. His hair fell back into place, still damp and soaking the collar of his shirt. He plopped down on his sleeping back. He took a bath and didn’t get punched in the face, so she’d better appreciate his efforts.

Despite Rekker’s hopes and prayers, Angel was definitely awake when he got back. Luckily, she wasn’t much in a scolding mood. She’d done that earlier. She’d already sobered up from the pitiful drink she’d had hours ago. There was nothing left in her at all--just a vague feeling of emptiness and exhaustion. She’d stayed up specifically to meet him, to make sure he was okay, to heal him of his hurts. She was (pleasantly) surprised to note his lack of injury... he didn’t smell like bar, either. Judging from his wet hair, he’d even taken a bath. Angel didn’t have the slightest clue what that could mean, though. She didn’t have the brain to analyze it right now... and hadn’t he said it himself that he didn’t need a therapist? No analyzing for her. 

She sat up from her position on her “bed”, resting her elbow on her knee and her head in her hand. There was a long, drawn out silence where she struggled with what to say. “Welcome back” seemed accusatory, so did “I’m glad you’re okay.” Was he still angry with her? He didn’t seem angry. But he also didn’t say anything at all. 

She sighed, looking him over one more time to triple check he was okay. How did she say she was sorry when she wasn’t sorry at all? How did she say she regretted what happened if she’d do it again?

He wanted to shout “Then let me suffocate!” but he didn’t. He wanted to shout for her to stop caring, to stop worrying about if he was burying his history or burying himself. To stop worrying if the next time he got his lights punched out would be the last. To stop worrying about him being alone. But he didn’t.

He clenched his jaw, bit his tongue. They were chasing their tails again. These conversations never got anywhere; he didn’t understand why she kept perusing them. A fruitless endeavor to heal him or whatever, but some wounds just weren’t going to heal. Even if she did manage to bandage up one, he knew he’d just rip it open again.

He ducked out of the tent, predictable as always. He always fled from uncomfortable confrontation. Uncomfortable emotional confrontation. Don’t ask him about his feelings, just kick him in the shins or something.

Flapping his wings, he went way up and out. He wasn’t going to do anything too stupid. Not this time. He just wanted to be far enough up where the only thing he could hear was the wind whistling in his ears as he spun and dove through the sky. Far enough out where he could let off the biggest bolts of lightning off without hurting anybody. “Healthy outlets” or whatever. He was going to be smart out of spite. He wasn’t going to give her another reason to be frustrated with him. Give another reason to think he was a stupid hothead with no impulse control.

At least, not this time.

Angel let Rekker leave. She listened for the sound of his wingbeats to fade, waited until she was well and truly alone. Then she got up and all but threw herself over to her pillow pile, reaching underneath for the bottle of whiskey she kept in case of emergencies. Well. This was an emergency--but when she picked it up, there was only a drink or two left. Right. She hadn’t replaced it since they’d used it for celebratory--whatever. Didn’t matter. Any whiskey is better than none. 

Angel downed the few sips that were left and tossed the empty bottle back into the corner. Then she picked up a pillow, pressed it to her face, and screamed until her throat was raw. She screamed long and loud and was silently glad that no one lived up in the mountains, cause even with the pillow she would have sounded like someone was beating her to death.