Dazriel shivered in the dark. Damn it! Why was he so scared! It made no sense; the Daemon that caught him tonight would protect him for the rest of his life, not try and kill him. The Angel sighed, who was he kidding? He knew what had scared him so, the Daemon from before.
Dazriel could still feel his gaze on him; it had felt like he could see the very essence of his soul. The look in his eyes had scared him yet at the same time Dazriel couldn’t stop staring at him, even when their masters had called them. He shook his head in amazement and started walking again.
He hated this, the walking through pitch black corridors but that was what made sure you bonded with the right person. Apparently the Daemon could sense the one they should bond to in the dark. He hoped who ever he was supposed to bond with would hurry up and find him so he could get back into the sunlight. He didn’t like the dark or the cold for that matter.
Suddenly it was too much and he broke into a run his wings brushing the ceiling and walls painfully in his haste. It felt good to run, made him feel as if he were in control. The darkness seemed less in control and Dazriel actually felt calm for the first time in the two hours spent down here. Wind whipped past his face and he realised his hair had come loose from its tie. The Angel didn’t bother to stop; he’d never find it in the dark. Besides it was only a strip of cotton. Dark surrounded him, to the sides, behind, in front…
He crashed into the wall in front of him. His body cracked at the impact and he slithered to the floor in pain.
“Are you all right?” The voice was full of worry but also humour. They thought it was funny did they! Dazriel got to his feet, humiliation colouring his face and for once he was glad of the darkness.
“What do you want?” He wasn’t in a good mood, now. Silence was his only answer and he was about to repeat his question when the reply came.
“You.” Dazriel froze then sniffed at the air carefully, the scent of Daemon filled the air between him. Oh great! He finally meets his bond partner and the first thing he did was to run into a wall, brilliant, bloody brilliant. He sunk down the wall and sat with his head in his hands. Warm breath tickled the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong?” There was no humour in the Daemons voice this time, just caring and a tremor of fear. Dazriel was surprised at that, the Daemon really did care. He raised his head and looked towards the Daemon, or at least the area its voice came from.
“It’s nothing my friend, just a bit dizzy. Side effect of running into walls.” He was rewarded with a burst of laughter, deep and sweet.
Then there were hands helping him to his feet. The Daemon steered him through the passageways, a hand on his shoulder guiding him gently. He stumbled in the darkness and the Daemon was there to catch him. Dazriel smiled, his trust in the Daemon growing. Time had no meaning as he was guided through the passageways. All too soon they were at the doors to the tower of choices.
The Daemon stepped in front of him and opened the door. Dazriel froze at the brightness of the light and then he was moving forward despite the attack on his eyes. He didn’t like not being close to the Daemon. The Angel leaned against the wall and waited for his eyesight to readjust to the light.
The Daemon was standing beside of him. Its wings and ears drooping from exhaustion, eyes closed. In its second form he or she for that matter, looked like any other Daemon. A long limbed, heavily set body covered in dark umber brown fur. Brilliant red eyes sat framed in a head crowned by the mane of coarse fur that travelled down to the small of its hips. Its bone white teeth were sharp and pointed. The Daemons tail curled around its leg, the tip sporting a tuft of black fur like a lion’s.
Which was the reason lions used to be known as the mounts of demons. The Daemons of course had taken this as a compliment and now rode the giant lions of the plains instead of horses. Dazriel shook his head, how could humans think of such beautiful beings as Daemons being evil.
As if sensing his thoughts the Daemon turned towards him. Hungry red eyes raked over his body. Dazriel shivered something about the look in those eyes made him feel helpless. There was warmth there too, one that gave the Angel the courage to reach out for the Daemon.
The Daemons fur surprised him; far from feeling as coarse as it looked it was silky and soft to the touch. Dazriel leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against the Daemons chest. He could hear its heart beating steadily, pick up and begin to beat harder at his embrace. He felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. The Daemon gazed at him, then pulled him to its chest, hugging him powerfully. Dazriel breathed in the calming scent of Daemon and relaxed against its chest.
Under his hand the Daemons fur shortened, sinking into its flesh. Dazriel closed his eyes in respect and waited for the Daemon to finish changing.
“You can open your eyes if you want to.” Even the Daemons voice had changed. He opened his eyes and started away. Standing before him was the Daemon from earlier. Blue eyed and fair skinned. His hair was black as midnight and cropped short, a single lock of long hair fell to past his chest caught up in a purple tie. Concern shone bright in his dark blue eyes.
“You all right?” The honesty in his voice moved the Angel.
“Yeah, it’s just… lords you’re so beautiful!” Dazriel cringed, his face heating quickly. Why the hell had he said that? The Daemon stared at him in shock for a second then burst out laughing.
“Why thank you! You’re not that ugly yourself.” His humour was contagious and the Angel couldn’t help but smile.
“Name’s Malachi.” The Daemon offered his hands and the two shook hands formally.
“I probably shouldn’t be surprised you two bonded, yet here I am, completely surprised.” His master’s voice rang in his ears, sweet and clear. Dazriel spun around and jumped into his masters arms. Kamerl chuckled and shifted him higher against his hips. “You’re crazy Daz.”
The Angel just smiled and snuggled closer to his master’s powerful frame. Kamerl turned his face towards his and whispered into his ear.
“Careful now pet, you’ll make your new bonded jealous and my love’s first isn’t the most… tactful of Daemons.” Shit! He’d bonded with Delaren’s first… there wasn’t a person, Angel or not who hadn’t heard the rumours. He shivered and slid down off his master. He glanced towards Malachi only to find he was being watched intently. His bonded smiled at him then turned his head as Delaren murmured something to him. Malachi turned his eyes down chastened and Dazriel wished he knew what had passed between the two.
The Daemon stretched and brought one long fingered hand up to cover his yawn. Dazriel stifled his own yawn, bonding took a lot of energy and the rite was not yet finished. Would not be for many months yet and until it was finished he could not be far from the Daemons side. He was dreading having to leave his master’s side, or at least he had been. Now that he stood opposite his bonded he was not in the least inclined to be separate from him… even for his master. Kamerl’s voice broke through his thoughts and the Angel turned his attention back to the first.
“Of course Dazriel will have to travel with you my friend.” His heart sank, his master spoke as if he would not in the least notice his absence. As if sensing his pain Malachi placed a hand on his shoulder. Discreetly lending him all the strength he needed. He glanced towards the Daemon but his bonded’s face was unreadable. As blank as a sheet of fresh parchment.
He didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation; the hurt was far too real. Instead he occupied himself with the subtle plays of light and dark in Malachi’s face and skin. The Daemon looked nonchalant, even bored, but Dazriel had the feeling that his bonded took in every word said to him. The hand upon his shoulder squeezed gently and the Angel nodded ruefully. It was time.
“Come now little feathered one. It’s a long way home.” Home, Malachi’s home not his. His master had seemed to enjoy relinquishing all ties to him. He shivered and allowed his bonded to guide him towards the door. Delaren stayed behind most likely to talk with the first Angel in private.
Malachi led him through the outer chamber and down the fight of stairs. The hallway that just hours earlier had seemed huge and hulking to him somehow in the presence of his bonded became just another hallway. Dazriel smiled he was beginning to see why other Angels praised there bonded so powerfully.
A flurry of snow met him by the doorway. He watched the Daemons face twist into a grimace; Malachi obviously didn’t like the snow. The Angel shook his head, personally he loved it. Loved to catch the soft flakes on his tongue, feel them melt on his warm flesh. Grinning he reached out to bat the soaring flakes. It was like trying to catch wind with a fork, they slipped between his fingers dancing around them. He turned to find Malachi’s gaze on him, curiosity shone in the flash of blue eyes before the Angel turned away embarrassed.
Unease began to stir in his chest, like a weight pressing against his heart. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and Dazriel could only guess as to why they did so. A swish of silk from behind him, then Malachi’s hands were on his shoulders spinning him around and crushing him against his chest.
“Please don’t cry Dazriel. It’ll be alright, you’ll see.” The Daemon smelt of warmth and some spicy tang that Dazriel could not place. He rested his head against his bonded’s chest and waited for his hiccupping sobs to halt. Malachi’s hand stroked along his back and he hummed a soft tune the Angel did not know.
“What are you humming?” The question was a testing one, seeing if his voice was working yet. Malachi took it at face value and answered gently.
“It’s an old tune, just something that sticks in your head.” He shrugged a hard thing to do when you’re being clung to by an Angel. Dazriel didn’t let got though, the embrace was just too comforting. The Daemon pulled away, hushing Dazriel’s protests before they were formed. “Come on Angel. We need to get started.”
He started off into the snow and Dazriel had to follow or lose him in the flurry of white. He padded along after Malachi taking amusement in placing his feet into the prints of Malachi’s boots only. The Daemon led him down streets and into a tavern.
Eyes turned on them as they stepped into the room. Malachi seemed not to notice but Dazriel wished once again that his master was with him. The Daemons hand on the small of his back guided him to a table and he sat down. He drew his knees up and watched as Malachi signalled to the tavern’s owner. The man nodded at Malachi and sent the bar maid over with the drinks. Dazriel took the trencher from her but only drank at Malachi’s urgings:
“We’ve a long night ahead Dazriel and with the current weather you’ll be glad of the extra warmth. Now drink up and I’ll be back in a bit.” His bonded finished his drink and stood up, intercepting the tavern’s master on the way to the door.
Dazriel sighed and took a sip of the ale, wincing as it hit his pallet. The drink was sour and sat heavily in his stomach but he had to admit it did have a quality for warming, even if you didn’t appreciate it at the time. Heedful of the Daemons words, he tipped back his head and finished it off, choking back the gag effect it had.
He placed the trencher down on the oak table, scarred with the countless gratifying of others before him. He ran a finger over one of them, a simple heart with the lovers initials carved within.
He shivered with dread and pressed his back harder against the wall. Wrapping his arms around his knees the Angel closed his eyes, shutting out the pain of the world. His hand flittered back to rest against the carving; it seemed to burn against his palm. Dazriel didn’t move waiting mindlessly for what he knew would come.
A wave of light rolled through his head sweeping all thoughts along with it and then he was standing in a room. The two within the room didn’t notice him, not that they could of. The woman still wore her wedding dress and the love in the mans eyes was beautiful to behold. Shaking hands reached out to undo the laces on the dress.
The woman pulled away, smiling coyly before reaching up to untie the ribbons keeping her dress up. It pooled around her feet with the soft hiss of silk. Dazriel wondered how long she must have saved to buy it. The dress was folded neatly and placed safely on top of a shelf before she turned back to her lover.
Dazriel blushed furiously at the sight of her naked form yet he knew from experience that he couldn’t leave, right now he had about as much power as if he was chained. The man took her in his arms and lay her down on the bed, pausing only to strip the reminder of his clothes.
Dazriel watched there love making his face red, acutely embarrassed. Dread began to fill him as sounds, unheard by the couple on the bed floated to his ears. Green eyes turned to the door seconds before it was thrown open.
Six men stepped into the room, bared swords flashing in the lamp light. The man was pulled from the bed and slain to his lovers screams. Commands were spoken and the four men left, taking the slain mans head with them. The two remaining turned on the woman her screams now sunken to broken sobs. Before the Angel’s eyes she was raped, tears rolled down his cheeks and he hung his head in shame. Finally finished the men left, the woman on the bed was still, her sobs quietened.
Time flowed past and still the woman did not move until finally she slid down the bed and to her knees. Her arm hung limply to her side, broken twice. She dragged her self to her husband’s lifeless body and placing her head against his chest she closed her eyes. Dazriel watched her life ebbing away until her chest halted its subtle movement. The Angel closed his eyes at the carnage.
He opened them to the deep brown eyes of a man who stood over him. Dazriel stiffened; the man’s hand was up his shirt his other resting against the Angel’s thigh. Anger and shame washed through him and he glared hotly at his assailant. The man just grinned and moved his hand higher, pressing against the Angel’s groin. The man wasn’t stupid, he knew glaring was the only thing Dazriel could do.
Blushing angrily he tried to pull away from the touch but brown eyes just pressed against him tighter. He turned his face away and scrunched his eyes closed. Hands lifted him from his seat, pressed him against the wall. Experience told him to wait; they always got bored after a while.
The stink of ale invaded his nostrils, and lips were pressed hard against his mouth. A voice cursed when he refused to open his mouth and the lips moved to his neck, biting and kissing roughly. The man’s hand was down his pants now, coaxing and against his will his body responded to the caress. A crow of triumph broke from his attacker’s throat and Dazriel tried hard not to scream.
There was a cry of pure anger and the Angel screwed his eyes up tighter. He could hear the sounds of a fight but his mind was fixed firmly on the hot body pressed against him. His attacker was pulled from him as something warm splattered his face. He opened his eyes to see Malachi, the lifeless body of his assailant slumped at his feet.
Dazriel chocked down the bile that rose, the Daemon had ripped the man’s heart from his body. The sight was too much and he threw up the now even more sour ale from earlier. A hand rubbed his back gently.
“I’m so sorry Dazriel; I didn’t mean to be so long.” Pain rang in his bonded’s voice and the Angel fell into his arms with a soft sob.
“It doesn’t matter; I’ve had worse happen to me.” Malachi just held him and in the quiet after the storm Dazriel sobbed. By the time he drew away Malachi’s shirt was soaking with his tears.
“Come on Angel. Nenuphar’s ready to ride.” The Daemon led him from the tavern carefully avoiding the patch of red that had spread out from the human’s body.
In the tavern’s yard, ready for travel stood Malachi’s riding lion. Dark brown fur with a black mane gleamed in the moonlight. Originally bred from the Greece lions, the riding lion’s chest was level with Dazriel’s head. Turning its huge head towards them the lion sunk down until it was level with the Angel’s chest. He stared at the creature before him, it was immense!
“Need a boost?” Humour lined Malachi’s voice and Dazriel realised he must look somewhat stupid, jaw hanging as it was.
“He’s beautiful… what his name?” He whispered as his bonded helped him onto the lion.
“His name is Nenuphar. I take it you like him.” Dazriel nodded wordlessly in response. The Angel ran his hands through the lion’s mane in amazement, the coarse hair felt wonderful against his delicate skin. His bonded was rummaging around in one of the saddle bags.
A skin was placed in his hands and the smell of alcohol attacked his sinuses. Cautiously he took a sip of the amber fluid and then his chest heaving, he coughed it back up in surprise. The fluid was stronger then anything he’d tried before.
“What is it?” His bonded’s laughter filled his ears as he settled onto Nenuphar behind him. The Daemon took the skin from his hands and drank from it.
“It’s called whisky, Dazriel.” He offered the skin to him again. “Here, drink. It’ll settle your stomach.” The Angel nodded and took the flask from him. He didn’t drink though, not until Nenuphar set off at a prowl.
Malachi was right, the whisky did settle his stomach, probably a good thing considering the riding lion’s weaving gait. The alcohol worked its magic on him and he leaned back against his bonded.
At a whispered command Nenuphar picked up the pace and Dazriel shivered as the sudden wind cut through his thin tunic. The whisky heated his belly; his back resting against Malachi’s chest was warm and the heat rising from the lion under his thighs was pleasant enough. He only wished his front wasn’t so cold.
As if understanding Malachi pulled Nenuphar to a walk and took a thick wool blanket from one of the saddle bags. Dazriel curled into it and closed his eyes. The blanket smelled of lion and combined with the scent of his bonded he surrendered to the hold the whisky had on him and he drifted into sleep.
He started out of sleep to the feeling of lifting up. One powerful arm wrapped around his chest to steady him and Malachi shushed him gently.
“It’s all right pet, go back to sleep. We’re just going into the flow that’s all.” His bonded’s spare hand pulled the blanket up tighter around him and Dazriel nodded sleepily. Through half closed eyes he watched as the magic of the flow surrounded them. He turned his head and slipped back into sleep.
The warmth of sleep was pleasant and what little dreaming he did was short and sweet. When Malachi finally shook him awake he surfaced reluctantly. Curiosity finally won out and he opened his eyes.
His bonded was leading Nenuphar through the streets of a city. Sitting up straighter he stretched, cramped muscles protesting at the abuse. Ignoring their complaints he arched his back, just to remind them who was in charge. Malachi was watching him, amusement colouring his eyes.
“Where are we?” His voice sounded slurred even to his ears. The Daemon smiled at his question.
“We’re in Kalata, the Daemon capital.” The Angel nodded absently at this, yawning again. Then his eyes flew open as it sunk in and he was treated to the rich peals of Malachi’s laughter at his reaction. He turned from the Daemon feeling his face heat up, glad that the streets of Kalata were empty.
Below him Nenuphar came to a halt. When he turned back, his bonded’s expression was enough to cause his heart to skip.
The Daemons face overflowed with emotions, worry vied with anger and fear vied with amusement but it was his eyes that held Dazriel’s gaze. His bonded’s beautiful sea blue eyes gleamed with an emotion the Angel couldn’t place, wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Malachi placed his head on the Angel’s thigh and automatically Dazriel reached out to stroke his hair. The Daemon sighed and moved into his hand. A sound almost a purr broke from his lips and Dazriel tickled him under his chin in response. Malachi gasped and his eyes shot open. One pale hand reached up to lock in his tunic and he was pulled awkwardly off the riding lion.
The Daemon pressed against him, his hand catching up Dazriel’s head and Malachi kissed him, sweet and sure. The Angel sighed and felt his back touch the wall as the kiss spiralled into something more. Some inner sense told him not to panic, that all he had to say was stop and his bonded would. He didn’t want Malachi to stop though.
Finally the Daemon pulled away from the kiss but Dazriel could feel his reluctance to do so. Blue eyes locked with his and he shivered at the sight of them. Malachi smiled at him gently and leaned forward to place another kiss on his forehead. The Angel whimpered as his bonded stepped away from him.
“Hush pet, not here… not yet.” Malachi’s voice had tuned husky and Dazriel sighed at the warmth his words lighted within him.
As he was lifted onto Nenuphar’s back he realised what it was that burned in his bonded’s eyes. He sat in shock at that, he’d never had anyone fall in love with him before. Pulling his attention back to the present, he frowned at the route Malachi was taking them. They were heading away from Delaren’s castle.
“Where are we going?” He hadn’t been expecting embarrassment at his question, but that’s what he received. Delaren’s first glanced at him then grinned sheepishly.
“I don’t feel like sharing you tonight, we’re going to a friend of mine.”
“No, a muse… The muse.” Dazriel frowned at his reply. Muses weren’t that well thought of by Kamerl and he could only think of one who deserved that title but surely Malachi wasn’t taking him there.
“Makoto?” His bonded nodded briefly and Dazriel sat in stunned silence. Malachi was taking him to stay with the nearest thing Muses had to a leader. This was going to be interesting.
The Daemon led Nenuphar through the streets until they came to a house. Built of lime stone, the stained glass windows announced it as the house of a muse as much as the sign carved into the wood of the door. Dazriel slid off of the riding lion and Malachi caught him as his knees buckled.
“Lets get you inside Dazriel, you’re about fit to collapse little winged one.” He nodded in reply, then snuggled into his bonded’s side as he was guided to the door.
“What about Nenuphar?” he asked. Malachi chuckled gently and knocked in the door with one booted foot.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that pet! I’ll see to him later… and besides only a fool would try and steal a riding lion.” The Daemon laughed again and rubbed his forehead against Dazriel’s hair.
The door was pulled open from inside and the Angel was forced to stand there, blinking owlishly until his eyes quit messing about and decided to get back to work. The space where the door had been was now occupied by a fur.
Its fur was cream white pools in a sea of black, patched like a rag doll. Amber eyes peered out at them from its feline face. Its fur shining from a recent grooming matched the silk tunic and pants it wore. Dazriel wasn’t entirely sure on the fur’s sex, at first sight it appeared male but the furs garb and movements suggested maybe not… then again all cats looked feminine to him.
“Master Malachi, you be wishing to see Sire? Shall Oreo take you there?” The cat’s voice blew all notions of female away along with any doubts. Malachi smiled and reached out to rub behind the furs ear.
“Hiya Oreo. Be a good tom and tell Makoto I’m here.” Rough purring broke from the cat’s throat until an indignant squeak sounded as the Daemon crushed Oreo to his chest. Rich laughter flooded the room and Dazriel turned towards the source.
The Angel like everyone else, had heard many tale’s about Makoto, the one that *all* muses in existence practically worshiped. Nothing though had prepared him for the being in front of that fabled being. It was like comparing an acorn to an ancient oak.
Makoto’s skin was shaded a pale ice-blue, patterned with leopard spots of midnight blue. His hair was sky blue the tips dyed purple. His pointed ears ended in a tuft of blue fur. The muse’s eyes were purple, almost transparent in colour. A long elegant tail like a fox’s or wolf’s curled from just above the trousers of grey he wore. Slung low on his hips the simpleness of both the muse’s pants and the white shirt he wore just made him stand out more. Dazriel had heard people describe Makoto as pretty… amazing was more along the lines of what came to mind.
“Now, now Malachi, if you could just retain your self from molesting Oreo perhaps you could remember your manners and introduce me to the Angel hovering on the doorstep?” Makoto’s voice was thick and rich and dripped with mocking.
Malachi burst out laughing and swung the slightly ruffled Oreo down off his hips. He dropped a kiss onto the cat’s furry forehead and sent him scurrying for the kitchens with a pat on the rear. The Daemon stood, one hand resting on his hip as Oreo slammed the door behind him. He turned back grinning gently.
“You’re a complete arse you know that?” Makoto shook his head, his long hair rippling from the movement. Malachi pouted at him then grinned and grabbed Dazriel into a hug only to shove him forward into Makoto’s arms.
“Makoto – meet Dazriel, Kamerl’s chosen.” Amethyst eyes met his, the colour deepening into a swirl of purple.
“Hello Dazriel… I’d apologise for Mal’s behaviour but he’s more yours than mine. Believe me; you have no idea how jealous that makes me.” The last was spoken in a whisper for his ears only.
A soft growl came from behind and his bonded pulled him back to his chest, one hand draping protectively. Dazriel sighed in annoyance; there was only so much of this he could stand.
“Please stop! I’m starting to feel like the gift in a game of pass the parcel. And right now I haven’t the energy for any of this.” He pulled away from Malachi’s embrace gently but firmly.
He watched as the two shared a glance, concern darkening both sets of eyes.
Makoto smiled sweetly, his hands curling into the Angel’s hair soothing Dazriel as if he were a cat. He closed his eyes leaning against the muse gratefully. The hand on the small of his back urged him forward.
“Come on Angel, lets get some food into you and then we’ll see about bed.” Makoto paused for a second. “That all right with you Mal?” Dazriel’s bonded grunted in reply, holding the door to the kitchen open for them.
The room was lit with Sun globes and the light-stones covering the ceiling glowed a warm ruby. A rounded cherry wood table sat by the door and the cabinets were of marble with onyx doors and counters.
The table top was already packed with food; Oreo was obviously used to guests turning up at such hours of the night… or morning as the case may be. Roast chicken, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding vied for his attention. It was the smell of his favourite food, raw carrots, that caught him though and he was happy to tuck into one of them. The tastes were as amazing as ever but he was soon full and huger sated, tiredness began to home in again.
“Bed?” He turned to Malachi’s blue gaze and nodded sleepily, knowing no words were needed. Dazriel stood up and stretched.
The two started for the door but halted when Makoto grabbed the Daemons arm.
“Dazriel do you mind if Oreo show’s you to your room? I need to speak to Malachi.” The Daemon turned confused eyes to Makoto’s purple ones and a look was exchanged. Malachi nodded gently.
“Go on Dazriel. Oreo’ll show you to a room. Goodnight little one.” He smiled at him wearily.
“Night Malachi.” His bonded’s sudden smile was beautiful to behold and Dazriel stepped through the door way reluctantly, kitchen door swinging closed behind him.
Soft paw pads came to rest on the flesh of his arm and Oreo smiled at him.
“Master Dazriel sir, your room be ready.” Oreo had a soft voice not unlike the whispers of the wind. Dazriel smiled gently and reached out to stroke the oh so soft fur behind the cats ear. He nodded softly and followed the tom.
His room was richly furnished; thick rugs covered the oak wood floor and colourful paintings nuzzled against the walls. Dazriel smiled and ran a finger over the nearest painting.
“My master paints so pretty no?” Dazriel tuned to Oreo; trying not to let the surprise he felt show.
“Makoto did all these?”
The cat nodded happily. “Oh yes sir. Master would have thrown them out but it makes me sad so master lets me put them up on the walls.” Oreo’s voice near flooded with pride and love. The tom seemed to remember himself for he bowed gently and excused himself. Dazriel watched him go sadly, Oreo was fun.
His room was furnished with a desk, wardrobe, cabinet and four poster bed all in warm fire oak. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped into the second small room adjoining his own. He gazed longingly at the bath that sat there, steam curling off the water. Oreo had obviously thought of everything.
Dazriel pulled his shirt off over his head, reaching back to rub right were his wings weren’t. His pants followed soon and the Angel paused, glancing around the room. Spying what he was looking for, the bucket was grabbed and filled with the hot water. Sitting down next to the bucket he began to wash his hair.
When next he glanced down at the water it was filthy from mud and probably some blood too. Smiling gently he pulled his hair up, twisting it till it rested on his head. The feel of the hot water on his skin was exquisite and if it weren’t for the fact he’d never been alive he’d have sworn that he’d died and gone to heaven. Dazriel slid further down into the water and closed his eyes, enjoying himself.
By the time he opened them again, the water was freezing cold. He winced at that, he’d fallen asleep. He stepped out, grabbed the first towel of a pile and padded into the next room. The bed proved too tempting and he slid under the covers happily. Sleep spiralled out from his sub-conscious and dragged him down with it.