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Post by Andy Metro on Feb 18, 2012 16:53:34 GMT 1
The solitary dark hooded figure stood on the towering fortification of precisely welded metal sheets, rebar and rusted cars that surrounded the now quiet little town of Haven. The driving rain did not seem to affect the still man as he looked out over the muddy red earth of the Nevada desert, watching for any signs of movement among the yucca trees, cacti and boulders that littered the thirsty soil. There was nothing remarkable about this quiet man, other than he was incredibly tall and perfectly still. The black hood that covered his head to unsuccessfully protect it from the rain concealed his face in shadow. If one could see his perfectly chiseled face, they would see that he had stark bleached blue eyes that were reminiscent of the clear winter sky on a cold bright February day complete with the blinding glare that comes when looking directly at it.
The dark ominous sky continually poured out its drenching contents over the parched and thirsty desert. He knew it was the elementals from the farm who were blessing the blooming crops with the glorious gift of nourishing water. Normally, this would have brought a bright and sincere smile to his face but these sad days the only thing that could do that was the musical, gleeful laughter of a child and then it was only for the whisper of a fleeting moment.
There is nothing in this world more brutally lonely and agonizingly empty than a broken twin. Yes, this solitary man was a twin. But his twin was gone, taken by demons and vampires, for which he had sworn all would pay. They left him in a sea of vacant darkness, never ending despair for the loss of the one who was half of his soul.
If it were not for this little rag tag group of courageous humans needing him, he probably would have died in a valiant attempt at vengeance already. But, they had given him some resemblance of a purpose to continue existing. They had given him a reason to hold on for another day, every day since he arrived there burned, broken and bloody. They saved his life, now he would save theirs.
Movement once again out on the horizon, from the direction of New Vegas…He could tell by the strong gliding gate that it was not zombies. Vampires? No, they were moving too slowly. Humans? No, their gait was to graceful and confident, as if their feet hardly touched the ground. One was astoundingly taller than the other. Angels…
No, he did not want to see any other angels. It tore at his heart to see them. It reminded him of his loss. The loss of Metatron was too much for him. The loss of Michael added to his torment. No, he did not want some vigilante group of avenging angels begging him to join them just because he was an archangel…
He ran across the wall scaffolding to the fortified guard tower and nudged his sleeping watch partner awake. “I’m taking a break.” He said calmly before gracefully jumping down into the rain slicked courtyard and sprinting into the shadows.
He ran between the neat little huts that were lined along the inner wall to his little lean-to shack that was concealed behind the rest of the humble dwellings in the little town. It was built on a platform and made water tight and sturdy. As he entered his little home, he got mud and water all over the floor.
He lifted his bed with one hand and opened the hatch that was hidden there with the other. He looked out his little window one time then dropped down into it, letting it all slam shut over him. He sat in the corner of the dark hiding place and looked up at the small slits in the floorboards knowing if anyone went in there, he could view them through the spaces between the slats but they could not see him.
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Post by Matt Donovan on Feb 20, 2012 5:17:37 GMT 1
True to his words, and how could any angel be otherwise? Metradon set out with Archer to make the desert trek to Haven. Matt was nervous about how best to approach the humans and glad that he had Archer's greater experience to lean upon as he always had in heaven. Always had his lover been his strength and courage and it seemed to Matt that Archer's strength never depleted but only swelled and grew to meet his need as he drew upon it. His hand had slipped into Archer's as they walked, his lover's pained hesitation in the Sanctuary had only made Matt more attentive. He had only just found his companion again and he would not let him suffer or doubt ever again. He held his hand firmly, brushing against him as they walked, and when they paused he touched his cheek or over his heart or offered a gentle kiss. His love for his eternal companion was without bounds or measure and he needed to wrap Michael in that love until he felt the safe and loving homecoming that his smile had brought to Metradon.
The rain was bright and fresh and Matt tipped his head back to let the pure clear water strike his face. Though the sky was dark, the rain carried the promise of growth and life to the dry land. It settled the dust and made the world seem newer again. Matt remembered another time, not so very long ago if you were an angel, that he had led the chosen children of men through another desert. What had it all been for in the end? To bring them to this? He sighed and squeezed Archer's hand tighter. It was love not regret that he wanted to bring to his brother. This he did not do for Father, this was for Sandalphon and for Michael and for the children of men. This was even in a small way for himself.
The dark shadow of the great metal walls of Haven loomed on the horizon. The wreckage of another age, some might see it as sad and hopeless, a lost light before the darkness fell – but Metradon had never seen the world that way. To him all things were the seeds of the future. He saw craft and ingenuity and hope, and rust was but another glorious colour of the sunset. They walked steadily toward the walls, there was no need for haste. They bore no weapons and made no attempt at dissemblance. At one point in their approach he thought he had briefly felt the presence of another angel ahead and his heart had leapt. As they reached the outer walls Matt lowered his hood and allowed the rain to fall as it may. He looked up at the anxious human figure peering intently down from the guard tower. He met the sharp hawk-like eyes with his own pale gentle gaze. “Might we enter?” His voice was soft but carried over the distance and through the rain as clear as a bell.
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Post by Archer Michaels on Feb 21, 2012 7:59:12 GMT 1
Archer enjoyed the constant contact with Matt. Truth be told, he needed it for now. He was a tower of strength for everyone all the time, his one weakness he kept to himself. He knew Matt knew what it was but for a warrior, your weaknesses were kept secret at all costs. He knew he could trust his eternal companion to keep that secret. It was an upmost concern to Archer because Matt was his weakness, the one and only weakness he had that mattered.
The gentle reassurances served to boost his belief that his world had been set to rights as far as his internal agony and emptiness he felt without Matt’s light to make him whole. He smiled softly as they made their way to Haven. Not only was his lover returned, he was going to reunite him with his beloved twin brother whose absence he knew had left an emptiness in Matt’s heart. In the distance, he noticed the dark and solitary figure on the wall. He also saw that figure run then disappear. He had the fleeting sensation of the light that only comes from Archangels. The distance was covered quickly by the archangel’s graceful strides. Soon he stood before the gate with his companion and was staring into the barrel of a gun that was quickly lowered when Matt spoke.
“Prove your intentions.” The gruff voice called out.
“We are angels, good sir.” Archer called back and lifted his shirt to show the lack of belly button. He knew demons also did not have a navel and their hair would have covered the marks that demons have on their heads when their horns meld into their scalps, much like the angels wings did to their backs. “Show your midriff.” He said gently to Matt.
“Show your wings.” The voice called back.
Archer unbuttoned his shirt just enough to drop the clothing from his upper back and turned around to show the unmistakable markings that were his wings. “Show him your wings, my heart.” He said just above a whisper. “They are very guarded here. Demons and vampires attack them for sport.” He added in explanation to the reason they were being tested thusly.
Moments later the gate swung open just enough for the two to enter and he heard someone call into the compound, “Angels among us! Someone let Andy know we have his kind as visitors.” Archer stood just inside the gate, setting his clothing to rights. The gate swung shut again and he turned to help Matt out of habit and love. “All angels are welcome here.” He stated and nodded at those who raised a hand in greeting. He turned to the man who had been at the gate and nodded politely, “We thank you for your welcoming us into your home. We would like to meet with Andy, if it is possible.” He hoped that he had not disappeared as he did every time Archer showed up.
Just then the dogs started barking and the alarm went off. “Zombie horde! Southeast!” came the call across the compound, “Everyone to your posts!” people began to run in all directions. Instinctively, Archers two-handed broadsword appeared in his hand. He was a warrior, how could he not assist. He sprang into action and ran to the southeast wall to assess the situation. What he saw there astounded him and caused his mouth to drop agape. He dropped down on the other side and with a warriors cry, flew into the large group of shambling zombies, sword ablaze.
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Post by Andy Metro on Feb 21, 2012 8:22:35 GMT 1
Hidden in his little hiding place, Andy was certain he could escape the prying eyes of the angelic visitors and he was happy about that. He knew he would need to get back to his post so he hoped they would leave soon. He leaned back and prepared himself to wait but just then the alarms when off.
With a subtle oath his sprang from the hiding place was immediately at the wall, scaling it and dropping down onto the other side. His swords appeared and he ran, shouting with feral rage into one of the largest groups of zombies he had seen yet. His swords swung with expert precision, slicing the heads of the zombies in two.
Suddenly he was distracted by another warriors cry and turned for just a moment to see the archangel Michael. He wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him again. He did not have time to react, but turned and began dispatching the zombies in pairs.
As is often common in the larger groups of zombies, Andy spotted a demon. The demons thought it was funny to lead the hordes to Haven just so they could watch the humans squirm. He cried out in rage. “By my light Demon, you will die this day!” he began plowing his way through the zombies with determination toward the smiling fiend. “Your kind has left me a half of what was once whole! For my brother’s life, I TAKE THINE!” his rage fueled the fervor of his blades, leaving a path of decaying bodies at his feet and extending behind him.
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Post by Matt Donovan on Feb 22, 2012 11:31:42 GMT 1
It saddened Matt a little to see how careful and frightened the humans of Haven were forced to be in their need to guard themselves against the darker forces of the world. He was again glad of Archer's guidance in setting the humans at ease and he willingly complied with the instructions, showing first his stomach and then turning and shrugging down his shirt also to show them his wings. With the guards finally satisfied he followed Archer inside.
Matt allowed Archer to set his clothing aright, he enjoyed the small attentions and unguarded gestures of love that Archer showed him and he returned them with the gentle touch of his hand to Archer's shoulder and a feather-light kiss to his cheek. He had a soft glance and a gentle smile for any who chose to look upon and greet them, and a loving deference to Archer in who's love and strength he always trusted.
His heart was fluttering with excitement and anticipation as he gazed around the simple little town, longing to catch a glimpse of his missing brother. Andy Metro... it had to be Sandalphon, he could imagine no other that would fit the description. Perhaps, if Andy did not appear, he might find the child Archer spoke of and see if she would tell her tale again, and carry to Andy another tale.
But Matt was startled from his thoughts by the sudden sound of frightened animals and the piercing klaxon of the town's alarm. With the same instincts as shared by all the Hosts of Heaven, Matt instantly rallied to Archer's side ready to follow his lead into battle with perfect trust in him. He was not more than two steps behind Michael as he saw the Archangel call to his hand and unleash the glory of his great jewelled sword, the greatest weapon ever forged by angels. Never had he looked more beautiful to Metradon as he leaped from the wall and into battle with a mighty cry.
But before Matt could follow his lead he saw another blaze of light ploughing into the the horde, twin blades carving a path of destruction through the massed army of walking death, and above the sounds of the alarm and the frenzy of activity he heard his brother's voice ring out, so filled with rage and pain he was left standing on the brink momentarily nonplussed.
Metradon was not created to be a warrior and he had not fought in the war for heaven, but he was accounted amongst the Archangels with all that entailed and with good reason. God's wrath was his to call and the Staff of fire that came now to his hand was as formidable a weapon as any but Michael's. In these dark days, trapped on earth when the demons attacked the stranded angels, he had fought more than he had ever wished to. He had the soul of a healer, though it was but the warrior's passion for the fight that Metradon lacked never the ability or strength.
Now, as he stood on the wall looking down as Michael and Sandalphon clove their way through the zombie horde he hesitated. He found his heart was torn in two directions, to fight beside his warrior companion or to go to his brother. With a resolute cry he leaped into the fray, the fire-staff sweeping its great arc scattering the shambling corpses before him.
Metradon's staff was a blazing web of flame as it spun in his hands and where it connected zombie's skulls shattered into a spray of fragments and filth. While it had not the power of Michael's Great-sword nor the precision and dispatch of Sandalphon's blades, in the hands of Metradon, tallest of all the Archangels, the 8' blazing staff could clear a path with a speed and reach unmatched.
Metradon had absolute faith in his eternal companion, Michael was surely the greatest warrior of the Host. They had come for Sandalphon and it was to that end that Metradon threw himself into battle. By the time his brother reached his goal, he would be by his side as they were always meant to be.
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Post by Archer Michaels on Feb 23, 2012 6:47:15 GMT 1
Michael swung his prodigious blade valiantly at the sea of zombies like a jungle guide in a rain forest with a machete. He knew he needed to get to the rage-blinded archangel before the inevitable happened and he did something injudicious and got himself grievously damaged.
His view of the demon was obscured by the zombie horde that ignored the angels and meandered doggedly toward the human settlement. It was not until he was close enough to see the malevolent grin on the foul fiends face that he realized he was a wicked trickster demon. He was up to something heinous. Sandalphon was in extreme danger if he did not see past the blinding rage that drove him forward. “Sandalphon!” he shouted but his brother in arms and heart did not respond to his cries.
The demon spoke and Sandalphon turned away. “NO!” screamed Archer as he dove through the horde and brought his sword down on the treacherous trickster, slicing him in half like a cantaloupe. However, he was too late. He spun around just in time to see his lovers own beloved brother fall face first in the mud.
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Post by Andy Metro on Feb 23, 2012 6:47:38 GMT 1
The path of devastation left in Andy’s wake was broadened and extended by the human soldiers who stood on the high-fortified protective wall with a variety of rifles that ranged from the antique M1903 Springfield to the VSF standard special concussive laser rifle that had been stolen during raids on the city of New Vegas. One by one, the shots rang out. Each bullet struck true and accurate, dead center of each rotting zombie head.
Flashes of phosphorescent light distracted Andy periodically as Michaels colossal blade joined in the fray. Michael…how did he get here? Why was he here? Andy was certain that Michael would have taken his own life upon hearing the tragic and heart wrenching news of Metatron’s demise.
Andy turned his attention back to the target of his furious vengeance. The demon was closer that he thought and now he faced the infernal fiend by only a meter. Andy’s face was stoic but inside his inner storm was nearly uncontainable. His thoughts were erratic and muddled with only emotions of anger, hurt and loss.
Beads of perspiration and rain drizzle beaded on his face and rolled down the bridge of his nose in slow motion. The roar of the battle around in ceased. His only sense was the sight of the demon before him. Even when a bullet screamed through the air, exploded into the head of a nearby zombie, and peppered Andy’s face with decaying brain matter, he remained focused on the wicked grinning creature of evil he was about to dispatch. A low growl vibrated from his trachea as he raised his swords, “You’re kind killed my brother.” He hissed. The foul little onyx eyed demon let out a skin crawling giggle.
“You’re kinda dim, ain’t ya boy?” The demon chided, “There’s your brother, right there.” He snickered and pointed a long boney finger to the right, behind Andy.
Andy refused to believe it. He fought to remain focused but his mind reeled at the epiphany that Michael was there, and if Metatron was indeed alive, he would be with Michael. A brilliant flash of light to his right peaked his curiosity. Could the demon be telling the truth? Did they ever tell the truth? The only answer was…sometimes, if they had an agenda…
Agenda be dammed, another brilliant flash lit up the area to his right and he could not help but turn to look. Once again, the world slowed to an agonizing crawl as his view to the right and behind came into focus. There, so close, was the magnificent specter of an archangel with a deadly blazing staff who was so tall, it could only be…”Metatron!”He shouted just as he felt the burning, sharp sting of a hell-forged glaive imbed itself deeply into his left shoulder.
Surprise and painful anguish filled his eyes as he locked gazes with his long lost beloved brother. Everything stopped and all he felt was pain. He reached for his twin in the midst of falling to his knees and sinking into the slick red mud of the Nevada desert. He stayed there for three heartbeats that felt like eternity, caught in the surreal nature of the moment. Darkness enveloped him and he fell face first into a murky puddle of mud and lost consciousness.
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Post by Matt Donovan on Feb 24, 2012 8:24:39 GMT 1
Never had Matt seen such an overwhelming sea of zombies, driven on toward and past him intent on reaching the walls of Haven. His eyes however were fixed on Sandalphon as he tore forward towards a demon he had singled out in the midst of the wave of zombies. His brother seemed oblivious to anything else, howling in rage as he decimated all that crossed his path. A stab of fear struck at Metradon's heart at the sight of his gentle brother engulfed in such furious rage.
His Staff continued to spin and sweep as he closed on his brother but somehow Sandalphon had reached the demon first. He heard Michael cry out to Sandalphon from close by but not close enough. With a sense of rushing horror Metradon saw the leering demon raise its claw-like fingers and point directly at him, its expression so malevolent, so victorious, it caused his hands to tighten on his staff until the knuckles turned white. He screamed inside his own head as he realised the sudden awful danger his brother faced. Please, please... don't let him do it... don't let him turn around... Oh for the love of Heaven, please Sandalphon... don't turn your back...
The sounds off battle seemed suddenly slow and distant to Metradon, as if he had been plunged into and under dark, cold water. He couldn't move fast enough, couldn't even cry out for fear of causing that which he sought to desperately to prevent. With nightmarish slowness and a movement that was as inevitable and as inexorable as the spinning of the earth, Sandalphon turned. The Hell-glaive flashed mere fractions of a second before Michael's great sword seared the demon into scorched and bloody halves, but it was enough. Metradon's heart was plummeting into a pit of bottomless darkness as his scream finally found voice, “Sandalphon!”
Metradon was lost in his brother's pain filled eyes, his staff moving without conscious thought to scatter the last of the rotting corpses that shambled between them and then he was on his knees in the mud, his staff gone, the battle forgotten, the zombies forgotten, pulling Sandalphon's muddy and gore splattered body into his lap. Metradon let loose a terrible keening cry as he held his brother close to him, his hands already seeking out the infernal wound as he poured his own life and strength into his touch. “I shall not lose you again my sweet Sandalphon.” he whispered desperately and lovingly as his long, soft fingers caressed the wound with healing energy.
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Post by Archer Michaels on Mar 2, 2012 21:32:24 GMT 1
Everything was still in slow motion, soundless, without substance for Archer until he heard Matt speak. This could not happen. Not after everything they had been through. Then, like a video suddenly pressed into fast forward then play hit once more everything restarted. “Metatron, stop. Don’t waste your power. You’ll drain yourself and not help him.” He commanded as he went into autopilot. “Ok…ok hallowed ground…wait…who?....yes, yes…” he muttered as he dug in his clothing to find a small glass cylinder with a delicate bloodstained feather that any angel would recognize as an angels feather. “Help me!” he nearly wailed. Metatron had always been the healer but Michael knew the weapon that was used, he knew its curse and he knew Sandalphon only had a short time. He grabbed Metatron’s hand and concentrated. “Come on Ametiel, where are you?” he growled. His hand shook and he nearly dropped the cylinder but then he felt long fingers fold over his, steadying his hand. A moment of clarity came over him and he saw the angel he needed clearly in his mind. “Got her.” He slipped his arms around both other men and teleported them into the middle of a rundown church in the center of The Burrow in New Vegas.
The small group of angels gathered there gasped and murmured the names of the three who were known throughout the ages. A woman’s voice, confused yet concerned was suddenly at Archer’s side. “Michael?” the woman took his face in her hands. “I knew you would…”
Archer jerked his face away and cut her off, “Ametiel, it’s Sandalphon…help him! It’s a glaive, one of the tricksters glaives. You have to save him.” His eyes now, finally found their way to Matt’s. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t in time.” He whispered.
Suddenly a voice was calling out orders for hot water, blankets, a cot and various holy artifacts. Archer moved to Matt’s side and pulled him away from Sandalphon so the Archangel of truth could nullify the trickster demon’s power. Once stripped of clothing and washed clean of the muck and mud, the woman examined the wound. “It is as you feared Michael. We need the chalice.” She said as she raised her eyes to meet Archers, then Matt’s, “The Chalice of Marian is the only thing that can save him now…I only know that it is in New York…” She began pouring a mixture of salt and holy water over the wound and it bubbled and fizzled, drawing out black ooze from the wound. “This will abate the poison for a short time. But I fear, without the cup, he shall surely die.” She realized who she was looking at then and tears filled her eyes, “It is so good to see you alive Metatron.” She said softly, “Pity under such sorrow. Find the cup and I shall save your brother. If anyone can get that cup, the two of you can.”
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Post by Matt Donovan on Mar 3, 2012 20:20:35 GMT 1
Michael's voice was quite probably the only sound in the world that could have penetrated through Metradon's grief and despair at that moment. He could already feel that his touch was ineffective against the wound, the black bile beginning to leak from it burning his fingertips like acid, but still nothing would have stopped him from pouring his own life into his brother... nothing but Michael.
The sharp ringing order from the Commander of Heaven's Host was enough for Metradon to give pause in what he was doing and raise his anguished face, tears running from his eyes. It was however only his total love and trust of his beloved Michael that had him cease his hopeless and futile efforts. Matt looked up at Archer, his eyes filled with a terrible fear and his desperation etched in every pained line of his face.
Only when Archer produced the angel feather did Matt begin to get an inkling of what he was planning. Matt couldn't think, his thoughts spun around and around unable to come to rest on anything but his dying brother. Archer's desperate plea had reached him though and he held tightly to Archer's hand, and when he began to shake he added the other, sharing his own strength as his cool delicate fingers closed around both hand and feather.
Matt clung to Archer as he found the Archangel he was seeking, drawing Sandalphon closer into their joint embrace and surrendering control as Archer willed them all away from the muddy battlefield and into a hallowed place. Matt barely registered the teleportation, and though he sensed the sudden presence of angels around him his care was only for Sandalphon.
His gaze rose to meet Archer's eyes as he whispered softly to him. There was no recrimination in Matt's eyes, only love for his eternal companion and for his brother and the fear and pain of losing them. Archer had sown a seed of hope in Matt's heart for his brother and as Archer prised him away from Sandalphon's wounded body to allow Ametiel to do her work Matt hugged him tightly, his head resting on his lover's shoulder as he shivered and sobbed silently against him.
By the time Ametiel addressed him directly, the strength and love Matt drew from holding and being held by his beloved had allowed him to recover himself in a small way. He looked into Ametiel's concerned face and saw the moment she recognised him and tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you...” Matt whispered to her and bent to gently kiss her forehead. “I know you will do all you can...” his voice died away and he knelt back down next to Sandalphon.
Matt brushed Andy's cheek and whispered softly to him, “We shall find what you need my dearest brother, you will be safe here until we return, but you must wait for us, you must promise to wait...” he kissed Sandalphon gently on the lips. “I love you, do not leave me.” When he rose again fluidly to his feet, there was a more determined set to his features and he returned to stand beside Michael, daring to hope.
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Post by Andy Metro on Mar 5, 2012 20:39:08 GMT 1
Somewhere deep in the coils of his mind, Sandalphon heard a distant voice and felt a familiarity that could only be the connection shared by twins. There was a furnace burning in his shoulder the burned with darkness instead of light. He fought to open his eyes but only managed to flutter them lightly. He needed to communicate with his brother; he needed him to know he would fight.
The soft touch to his lips filled him with newfound strength and he forced his eyes open for just a moment. “I promise.” He whimpered before he fell back into darkness in a fitful rest. He did not hear Michaels booming voice call out orders in a way that no angel could refuse or disobey.
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Post by Archer Michaels on Mar 8, 2012 21:08:43 GMT 1
Michaels tone took on a new resonance. It was a voice that no angel could deny or disobey. His first command was that no one tell them of his presence or that of his companions. His next orders were for clothing and supplies that they could use for their journey. He knew New York was swarming with zombies and that there was a slag nest there, nearby. Even Vampires feared slags. That meant they needed to get there, bless the ground at the ruins of a cemetery or church and make sure they get out again by sundown. Zombies would run from them, that was a good thing, but he was not sure about slags.
“We need clothing, supplies, water, food and volunteers to join us in our quest to save our brother.” He commanded. He was not asking for volunteers, he was demanding them. Sandalphon was the other half to a set of twins, of whom his universe was one. He could not let him lose him again. Not to mention he was his brother as well, in his heart, he would not lose him either.
The weakly uttered words he heard come from Sandalphon let Acher know that he was aware of what was going on and his promise to hold on held a very deep meaning. He bent down and stroked the angels cheek, “We will save you brother.” He promised then stood back up. “Come, my love.” Someone handed him some towels and he handed one to Metradon, “Let us prepare for our journey and make haste.” He said and began to clean the mud and muck from his face and hands.
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Post by Matt Donovan on Mar 12, 2012 16:02:45 GMT 1
When his brother's eyes had flickered open Metradon had felt again the renewal of that sense of connection between them. Brothers, twins, two halves of one complete thing. Sandalphon's whispered promise meant more than worlds to Metradon. Only now could he go from this place and seek the chalice without fear, with his brother's promise held tightly in his heart. Sandalphon would fight.
He looked around the church, really looked, for the first time since they had arrived, finally meeting the eyes of the few other angels gathered there. His throat was tight with intense emotion and he had no words for them. Michael had already said everything that needed to be said, and in the most angelically inspiring fashion. Metradon offered them only the desperate mute appeal that filled his pale teary eyes.
He watched silently as they leapt to obey. There was such commanding passion and power to Michael's voice when he chose to exert his heavenly nature. To Metradon it had always felt like the warm swell of a wave, lifting and carrying him forward in perfect co-ordination with his brothers, without the hindrance of conscious thought. He wondered for the first time, what it must feel like to the others.
Matt nodded to Archer, managing at last a tiny smile for his beloved, as he accepted the towel and began cleaning the mud of the battlefield from himself. Mud and muck ...and Andy's blood. He froze and simply stood a moment staring at the dark stains on the cloth.
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Post by trinity on Mar 26, 2012 11:47:17 GMT 1
Aiden sat alone inside a supply hut. He had volunteered doing a stock take of the contents however had found himself day dreaming and had spent the last 2 hours sketching the sound of the rain on the roof a steady drum that seemed to excite his talent making him unable to concentrate on anything else.
A voice behind him had startled him but it was Kris, the General. He had tried to snatch the sketch away but she had commented on the skill of the picture and had chuckled over the large graceful yet strong wings he had drawn. She had smiled saying that there weren't no angels here in Haven and he had smiled back as he closed his sketch book.
And then the alarm had sounded and Kris had run out. He had followed the crowd that seemed to serge towards the south east wall, shoving the sketch in his pocket. He knew he was useless on the field, but ran and climbed to the top of the wall, knowing Andy would be out there, it had only taken him a brief time in Haven to realise that Andy was always in the midst of battle, as though he didn't care if he lived or died.
He watched the hoarde of zombies descend, his eyes scanning the field for Andy. But it wasn't Andy that he first saw but the demon. He shivered at the menacing glare in the demons eyes and then the crowd moved and shifted and he realised why, the demon had his eyes set on Andy. Time seemed to stand still, and only the demon and Andy seemed to move. He felt like he was watching a train wreck, not wanting to watch but unable to tear his eyes away.
He saw Andy fall and screamed in silence, he saw the other angels appear and then they all disappeared. And still Aiden stood and screamed in silence, no sound coming from his lips and yet his spirit was outraged and desperate, desperate to get to him, to make sure he was alive.
Without conscience thought he teleported to Andy and fell to his knees beside his still form, tears welling in his eyes as he took in the gravity of the wound, the sketch of Andy falling from his pocket to the floor, unnoticed by Aiden in his grief.
He looked from Andy up to the other angels and murmured softly "I want to help, I need to help" he took a deep shaking breath, looking at them with pleading eyes.
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Post by Archer Michaels on Mar 28, 2012 17:03:40 GMT 1
Archer was in the midst of cleaning the mud and muck off himself when he gave up and just stripped the offensive clothing from his body. He noticed how silent Matt was and looked at him to see the look on his face. Such horror and agony should never adorn his lovers face in such a way. They had made a promise never to feel such pain. Archer didn’t hesitate. “We need clothing.” He called out and began stripping Matt’s clothing from his body, “Shh, it’s alright.” He comforted and paused to let one hand cup Matt’s cheek. “Come on, let’s get it off.” He cooed as he tore buttons and pulled Matt’s shirt down his arms.
Attending angels appeared with damp warm clothes and began washing the slick mud and other offensive substances from both bodies. “See, it’s gone.” Archer’s eyes searched his lovers own bleached blue orbs. “Be strong, for him.” He said boldy just as another angel appeared and fell to his knees beside Andy. Archer looked down at him and saw the tears and a perfect sketch of Andy fall to the floor. Every detail was perfect. “Matt…look, a muse.” He whispered and gripped Matt’s arm tightly. Most muses had died in the war in heaven, Archer could not help but let a small smile lift the corners of his lips. “And Sandalphon is his muse…”
Archer knelt and reached to take the sad muses hand. “You may come. But you must promise to stay close to us.” He said softly, “The world cannot afford to lose another muse. But we can use all the light we can get.” He released the muse’s hand, “And you must tell us your name. We can’t very well go around calling you ‘muse’.” he stood as clothing was handed to him and began dressing. He glanced at Matt to be sure he had snapped out of his initial horror now that the mess was off him.
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