#celestialspitfire

Inconspicuous was her favorite kind of setting. Reminded the Nephilim of her days back at the orphanage, of the feeling of hand-me-down cozy sweaters that were several sizes too big and the yellowed pages of well-loved books. Life was a buzz of children talking and laughing and groaning over homework and giggling under the covers to each other at bed time. Reminded her of Shivers and the gang too. The snippets of conversation Areille caught as they weaved through the tables weren’t so different to her ears. ‘Lot less cussing though,’ noted with a smile to herself. Nah, this wasn’t the kind of place for judging, she decided. Ari and her favorite leather jacket fit right in. 

They hadn’t made it three steps before her mouth started to salivate from all the delicious smells filling her nose. All she had today was a couple of chocolate chip granola bars because she forgot to go shopping. Again. Every step forward was the sweetest kind of torture and another dollar burning a hole in her wallet.

Before her backend could grace the barseat, her stomach growled its impatience. “Think that Gumbo might do the trick. Do you serve coffee or is it too late?” Talking over the conglomerate of rising voices, “if not, I’ll just have water. Also do you...” on and on she rambled questions about the menu and what the hostess might suggest of this and that. It wasn’t until after the actual server came and went that Areille realized, with no small amount of horror, that she had no idea what she actually ended up ordering. Other than the gumbo and coffee.

‘Shit.’ 

Eyes narrowed and the grip around Noah’s wrists tightened. Teeth clenched in a rare display of actual anger toward the angel revealed that Kylar did the indeed have a breaking point. Twenty minutes they’d been at it, Noah tearing the assassin a new one for disappearing again and Kylar telling him to fuck off. Taking refuge in his study wasn’t an option this time because the god damn angel had kicked the door in and busted the hinges coming after him.

It only took a second to see red and suddenly he’s got the angel pinned up against the wall, one hand on his wrists and the other knotted in a fistful of his tunic’s spandex like material shoved right up against the underside of the chin and throat.

smash or pass.

          Trust was hard to come by and so far on this unfortunate journey, the man he’d come to know as Noah had been dancing on the cusp of it. Conversation was minimal, supplies even smaller, though on occasion from beneath tent-like apparel would water or bits of food appear to share. Myles said nothing more about it and the more he learned about Noah, the more he felt he was nothing but a man stuck on his own quest and that the sooner they were freed from this one, would they be able to continue on. 

          On this particular night, something in the sorcerer wanted to make conversation, a quick glimpse of broken magical item in the other’s pocket piqued interest, but just as words attempted to leave did something else catch his eye. 

          A light flickers in the distance and then disappears.           Eyes turn to mere slits and they strain to find the source again -- ah, there. He rises slowly, keeping vision focused and steady in hopes that whatever it was, was not what the sinking feeling in his stomach was telling him it was. It disappeared again behind another mountain of sand and hand gently prods at Noah, motioning to be silent and then pointing in the direction. Wrist flicks and the fire disappears, and all man can hear is the sound of his blood racing in his ears. The light appears again, now closer and flickering, a fire - no, three held by people wearing black and the symbol of a deity that was supposed to be long since dead.

          They found him. 

          Panic filled his lungs and dilated eyes flickered between known deadly enemy and innocent companion. A Decision had to be made. To tell Noah the fact that Myles had been capable of getting them out of that dessert for the last three days? That he was capable of summoning portals? Or that he was, in fact, elven and a cult from the primordial essence of darkness were hunting him down? 

          One thing at a time.            “Get up, we have to go.” Myles took off down the sandy slope and stopped just out of sight from the top of the mound they had tried to set up camp in. They hadn’t much time and he could only hope that Noah followed. Arms spread out wide, fingers wiggled, and deep blue began to flicker and fade, building up until palms clapped together. Body braced itself against the sand, straining to pull hands apart as it sapped more energy from him than he had, but this moment was dire and neither of them could be caught. The things that group would do to them if they were found alive -- or dead. Fingers finally tore free and in their place sat a large swirling portal, inches off the ground, crackling in its instability. 

         At the time.

         Nicholas could have been walking through the most beautiful garden with the way he hummed along in the patient’s room. A man with a plan. He was oddly silent, no foot steps to be heard despite shuffling about the room with herbs and bowls and liquids being moved about, fresh bandages pulled from cabinets, and Noah’s groans of agony as the backdrop. Cleric opened patient’s door, checked the hall, and then closed it with a quiet click. Silent steps would have shuffled hurriedly if they ever touched the ground, but the rustle of his clothes made it more than obvious that he was trying to move as quickly and quietly as he could. Sleeves rolled up to reveal thin pale but scarred arms that pressed cooly over Noah’s pained cheeks to neck to chest, and kind knowing smile as fingers brushed away hairs from patient’s forehead in a soothing pet.

         “It’s okay Noah... I’m here to help... at least for a little bit...” head leans down until it touches the other’s in a near light kiss; deep breath in, slow breath out... deep breath in... thumb smoothed over salty sweat and aged bruises as he matches the other’s breathing and with quiet words in an language from the stars does Noah begin to feel the slightest pull like a string going from his toes through his spine and drawing upwards through chest and arms and mouth, right into the point where they touch. Sensation would be odd, like knuckles pressing harshly into the nooks of Noah’s muscles, unpleasant and tight, but as soon as cleric breathes out does it all release into euphoric endorphins, major pains subsiding from broken body and bruises fading, though not disappearing. Whatever suffering the man had gone through over days past now subsided significantly

         “T-there--” small thing steps away in a stagger, sickly pale and chill with pained smile that he tries to maintain until he can’t and head snaps towards the sink behind him to vomit a mix of black and deep red. Silent wheeze filled the small basin with fingers clutching in a white knuckle grip as he eyed the small parasites that thrashed about in the bile with a look of frustrated disgust. It was a small price to pay for the work he devoted his life to and the last thing he needed was for either patient or temple staff to know what he’s done. He wipes away any evidence on his mouth and stands up straight to wash away mess with a simple pour of water down the drain, and just slightly paler than before does he return to Noah with a bright smile.

         “You should feel much better than before, but that doesn’t mean you should be up and about. Bed rest is the best healer here, but I know you can at least have some solid food so... what will it be? I’ll see if I can go have the kitchen make something and if worse comes to worse, I’ll summon it up, but so far I’ve been 50/50 on getting it to taste proper or taste like sand - so let’s hope the kitchen will get it right... annnnnd let’s keep this just between us. Patient Cleric privilege.”