Vixandra
Everything well in hand!
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2003
- Posts
- 6,512
If the best thing in your life could be summed up in a single other being, does that make your life a good one or a magnificent one? If love could be wrapped in satin bands of perfection and dance through foes life a firefly betwixt a rain, shouldn’t you do everything you can to keep it?
If an angel is prone to prose because no other words can define her feelings, what does that make the angel? Prose or not, I’m still, to use her words, a badass bitch with an anti-tank canon, so I doubt anyone will mock me for waxing poetic.
“What kind of angel talks like a San Franciscan gutter snipe,” my supposed mentor snapped at me after I slid ungracefully across the rain slicked training arena. On my butt.
I glared at him and my voice was shockingly deep, even after three months. “If you’re so damn offended by the word ‘fuck’ maybe it’s time to update your own vocabulary.”
I speak over a dozen languages, cuss in a few more beyond that and the best my new male side could do was cuss in unimaginative English as I rolled to my feet. I was still having difficulty with this new form, with having four wings, with walking with junk between my legs and with having said junk occasionally try pull all the blood from my brain. Especially when my bonded mate walked into the arena, hips swaying, body wrapped in skin-tight leather and a wry smirk on her face. She’d seen me fall, I knew it.
My distraction earned me a stave blow onto my right shoulder. The sharp pain got me back into the fight with my mentor and I surged toward the smaller angel. My double set of wings flared to help keep my balance on the slick tile as I lunged with the broadsword that was the chosen weapon of my Heavenly form. I knew the sword would miss but I was right in my calculations that the roundhouse kick to the jaw that followed would land with a solid crunch. I followed through with the sword, stopping the point as it dimpled my mentor’s alabaster throat.
“You really need to get more sun, Raphael,” I quipped as I pulled back and offered my hand to help the other angel up off the ground. He took the offered hand and rose, rubbing his jaw.
“The light of Heaven is all I need,” he said, voice ringing with the double-resonance of one born to the Heavenly host. On his feet, the pale arch angel stood around 6’4”.
From my “new” height of 6’6” it meant I no longer had to look up to talk to him. I looked over at my mate and saw a different light in her eyes. “Heavenly light has its place but there are others that shine just as dearly.”
The wry smile curved into one Aella had just for me, something sweet, a bit jaded, and a tad possessive. “Israfil, so nice to see you again. Sophia, guess who I just got off the phone with?”
I took a deep breath and did the mental gymnastics that shifted me from my Heavenly form to the one I had been born to, that of an Earth angel. A female Earth angel to be precise. No one knew why my “upgraded” form was male, or if they did they weren’t saying anything. Bastards.
“The new pope?”
“You are ever sacrilegious in your jests,” Raphael chided me, rolling his eyes.
Aella ignored the arch angel, something she’d been doing a lot lately since he as less than her greatest fan. “I have a job, the PTB want an artifact from a dig near Jerusalem.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine along with a sense of something changing but I couldn’t tell what.
If an angel is prone to prose because no other words can define her feelings, what does that make the angel? Prose or not, I’m still, to use her words, a badass bitch with an anti-tank canon, so I doubt anyone will mock me for waxing poetic.
“What kind of angel talks like a San Franciscan gutter snipe,” my supposed mentor snapped at me after I slid ungracefully across the rain slicked training arena. On my butt.
I glared at him and my voice was shockingly deep, even after three months. “If you’re so damn offended by the word ‘fuck’ maybe it’s time to update your own vocabulary.”
I speak over a dozen languages, cuss in a few more beyond that and the best my new male side could do was cuss in unimaginative English as I rolled to my feet. I was still having difficulty with this new form, with having four wings, with walking with junk between my legs and with having said junk occasionally try pull all the blood from my brain. Especially when my bonded mate walked into the arena, hips swaying, body wrapped in skin-tight leather and a wry smirk on her face. She’d seen me fall, I knew it.
My distraction earned me a stave blow onto my right shoulder. The sharp pain got me back into the fight with my mentor and I surged toward the smaller angel. My double set of wings flared to help keep my balance on the slick tile as I lunged with the broadsword that was the chosen weapon of my Heavenly form. I knew the sword would miss but I was right in my calculations that the roundhouse kick to the jaw that followed would land with a solid crunch. I followed through with the sword, stopping the point as it dimpled my mentor’s alabaster throat.
“You really need to get more sun, Raphael,” I quipped as I pulled back and offered my hand to help the other angel up off the ground. He took the offered hand and rose, rubbing his jaw.
“The light of Heaven is all I need,” he said, voice ringing with the double-resonance of one born to the Heavenly host. On his feet, the pale arch angel stood around 6’4”.
From my “new” height of 6’6” it meant I no longer had to look up to talk to him. I looked over at my mate and saw a different light in her eyes. “Heavenly light has its place but there are others that shine just as dearly.”
The wry smile curved into one Aella had just for me, something sweet, a bit jaded, and a tad possessive. “Israfil, so nice to see you again. Sophia, guess who I just got off the phone with?”
I took a deep breath and did the mental gymnastics that shifted me from my Heavenly form to the one I had been born to, that of an Earth angel. A female Earth angel to be precise. No one knew why my “upgraded” form was male, or if they did they weren’t saying anything. Bastards.
“The new pope?”
“You are ever sacrilegious in your jests,” Raphael chided me, rolling his eyes.
Aella ignored the arch angel, something she’d been doing a lot lately since he as less than her greatest fan. “I have a job, the PTB want an artifact from a dig near Jerusalem.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine along with a sense of something changing but I couldn’t tell what.