#chvrchstart

Heath ran his fingertips over the knuckles of his right hand, tracing the perfect skin where only days ago were bloody and split. He had arrived with Talia but had been quiet in the car with her, leading her to ask him what had been wrong. He had simply smiled and said nothing, half of him dreading parting with her but fate demanded it. He lost her in the crowd when they arrived, hands in his pockets as he strolled down the red carpet, barely paying attention to the happenings around him. It wasn’t his first Oscars, as a novelist, some of his inner circle back in Britain had been part of the Hollywood world. All he desired to do was find a nice glass of champagne and perhaps a person to chat with until War made his scene and Heath had to toss a few people around. He wondered how Talia would take the betrayal. He didn’t care enough to wonder how Lucifer would. His old man probably half expected it. The Noli swept a champagne flute off a tray and turned, intending to find someone to waste time with, only to find someone already approaching him. 

The Oscars. No matter the horror of the world around them, attending a party of peak Hollywood glamor was enchanting. She’d spent the entire day fussing over her own outfit and Heath’s when he let her, trying to rein herself in. Heath knew something he wasn’t telling her, and Talia couldn’t tell today if it was his general surliness or something else that prevented him from saying.

On the red carpet, though, she flashed a smile and preened, letting go of her worries--as best she could--for the moment. She should have noticed when Heath vanished from her side, but when she turned to comment to him about the haggard look of the celebrities around them he was gone. Well, if he wanted to abandon her at the biggest event of the year, she wasn’t going to chase after him; Talia wanted to enjoy herself for a single night.

The neutral getup was not purely Cassiel refusing to play along with the world any longer: it was practical, too. Easy to move, to conceal weapons inside their jacket without alarming anyone (armed security notwithstanding, the angel always preferred to secure their own protection in case of emergency). They had their Grail back--finally--and its presence was a calm cold steel in the midst of wild tension.

They moved instinctively, skirting photographers and moving away from those dressed too conspicuously, hugging the edges of the crowds. Cassiel had no idea what to expect here, so they were behaving more like a bodyguard without any particular charge than a partygoer. When Donato’s familiar bitter visage moved within their field of vision, they moved instictively toward him, hand going to the hilt of the blade surreptitiously. They were so focused they almost didn’t notice someone moving to stand in their path and stopped short before running them over. “Excuse me.”