01-18-2017, 09:44 PM
-Raeg'n-
His eyes closed as she examined him with a trained eye and firm touch -how many times had she done this very thing for Lauchlan after sparring?- and she began worrying he was too weak and might pass out. Her nudges carefully became disguised foundation, steadying his frail, little body with her inherent strength as she looked him over. She grew further concerned when he answered his name, looking and sounding disoriented, his eyes hazy. Ruan.
She supposed it was a handsome enough name. Strong, solid. He would fill it well, one day.
It wasn't until after he'd satisfied his hunger that they spoke again. "Do angels have to eat? Have you been to Death's home before? What are we doing here, Angel?" She glided back to his side, loaning him her body heat as the sun began its slow, cooling descent. It would soon cast a fitting blood red over this hell of a land and pitch them into darkness.
She wasn't, by nature, affectionate -she was a champion, a shield, not a lover- and so their closeness was new and strange. It took a constant effort not to fidget away, especially as it reminded her of Deimos's earlier attentions, but she held herself still for him because he needed it. She studied him for a moment with bright amber eyes, considering his questions, then turned her gaze outward again. Even when she was still, she was aware of everything around them.
I need to eat to keep up my strength, but I can go prolonged periods without when necessary. She supposed real angels probably didn't have to eat, but he was really asking about her.
As her body would try to deteriorate from starving, her magic would reverse it. But explaining the long-term effect of that would require making him aware of the side effect, her weakness. Because she could only do it for so long before it would deplete her. Without food, she would not regain the energy to wake up again. It would take about a full month or two without food to get to that point, she supposed. She had never had to test it. Lauchlan had always made sure she ate, was taken care of. Now he was gone.
His name is Deimos, she said quietly, a bitter tang souring her voice. I have never been here. You are here because he wants you for something; some scheme or plot that would benefit him in some way. And I am here to make certain no harm comes to you. Her voice softened but was still firm, and she met his eyes pointedly. It was a vow, this was her purpose. She would die for him.
She supposed it was a handsome enough name. Strong, solid. He would fill it well, one day.
It wasn't until after he'd satisfied his hunger that they spoke again. "Do angels have to eat? Have you been to Death's home before? What are we doing here, Angel?" She glided back to his side, loaning him her body heat as the sun began its slow, cooling descent. It would soon cast a fitting blood red over this hell of a land and pitch them into darkness.
She wasn't, by nature, affectionate -she was a champion, a shield, not a lover- and so their closeness was new and strange. It took a constant effort not to fidget away, especially as it reminded her of Deimos's earlier attentions, but she held herself still for him because he needed it. She studied him for a moment with bright amber eyes, considering his questions, then turned her gaze outward again. Even when she was still, she was aware of everything around them.
I need to eat to keep up my strength, but I can go prolonged periods without when necessary. She supposed real angels probably didn't have to eat, but he was really asking about her.
As her body would try to deteriorate from starving, her magic would reverse it. But explaining the long-term effect of that would require making him aware of the side effect, her weakness. Because she could only do it for so long before it would deplete her. Without food, she would not regain the energy to wake up again. It would take about a full month or two without food to get to that point, she supposed. She had never had to test it. Lauchlan had always made sure she ate, was taken care of. Now he was gone.
His name is Deimos, she said quietly, a bitter tang souring her voice. I have never been here. You are here because he wants you for something; some scheme or plot that would benefit him in some way. And I am here to make certain no harm comes to you. Her voice softened but was still firm, and she met his eyes pointedly. It was a vow, this was her purpose. She would die for him.