Fantasy Adieu

[Aneres]

location
Childhood Home

interaction
Early

mood
Disbelief

Michayla Macy

"It was a gift from your father."​

Michayla could physically feel the anxiety seeping into her skin and constricting her muscles, a lump beginning to form in her throat that she was having difficultly swallowing down. Opting to join Theresa on the floor and bending at the knees, Mickey's now trembling hands mirrored those of her mother's as she gripped the case tightly, pulling it towards herself. She absently ran her hands over the textured material, enjoying the feeling of the cool leather beneath her fingertips. Dragging her fingers to the clasps that had kept the instrument safe for these many years, Michayla carefully opened the case to reveal Michael's old sax. The smell of polishing oil that assaulted her senses hurled Mickey into yet another wave of nostalgia as she recalled the many evenings she sat quietly with her father and simply looked on as he went about cleaning his instrument. Michayla hesitated as she outstretched her hand to run over the smooth brass. As far as she knew, her father had been the last person to show it TLC, to play it with the same amount of love and release that Michayla exerted when playing the violin. Placing her fingertips against its neck, Mickey's fingers instantly stilled as she dragged them over its surface. This was the closest she had felt to her father since she had put down her own instruments and the overwhelming reminder that she'd never hear the man play again brought a burn to her eyes. It was then that she felt a distinct roughness beneath her middle finger. Pulling her hand back slightly and leaning forward, Michayla audibly gasped as she looked closer at the face of the saxophone. There, engraved in its immaculate neck, it read;

Mickey Mouse
My Greatest Muse​

While she had been able to keep the tears back up until this point, Michayla found that in those five, simple words she would lose the strength to continue fighting against them. Instead, she'd bring her hands to her mouth and sit back on her knees, thoughts swimming and intermingling with the rush of emotion that was quickly overtaking her. It was in the sounds of her mother's own sobs that pulled Michayla's attention up and away from the sax. Theresa had her face buried in her own hands, shaking her head, mumbling, 'I'm sorry.' repeatedly into the spaces of her fingers. Bringing her hands from her lips and to her eyes, Mickey quickly wiped the overflow from her lids and scooted closer to her mother, reaching forward and taking Therea's hands into her own. "Mom, it's okay. I'm alright, see? It was just a little overwhelming and unexpected." Theresa just continued to shake her head as she looked up and into her daughter's eyes, the sadness swimming behind them reflected in Mickey's own. "No, Mick, you don't understand. I should've given it to you sooner. I thought I was protecting you. I didn't want you to blame yourself but, regardless, it wasn't my place to keep it from you. I realize now how selfish I've been and I'm so sorry Michayla. " Confused, Michayla absently reached forward and softly wiped away her mother's tears as she asked, "Wait, protect me? From what? And what about blaming myself?"

Theresa inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly as she attempted to control her breathing. Though Michayla was anxious to know what her mother meant, she waited patiently and allowed her mother to gather her thoughts. It also gave Mickey the opportunity to brace for whatever may have been coming. After a few more deep breaths, Theresa gave Michayla's hand a tight squeeze as she began to explain, "Your father was planning on giving it to you as a congratulatory gift for landing that soloist position." Pausing then, Mickey could feel her mother's grip tighten around her hands. Running her thumbs over the backs of Theresa's hands reassuringly, Michayla eased her mother onward. "The night of the accident...he was on his way home from having the saxophone dropped off to be polished and engraved." Theresa could feel herself beginning to frazzle again as she reached forward and placed a quaking hand to Mickey's stained cheek, her words running together in a near-incomprehensible mess. "Michayla, please, I'm so sorry honey. I shouldn't have kept it from you, I know that. I was just so scared that you would blame yourself and I couldn't stand the idea of you carrying that guilt. Please."

By this point, the pleading of her mother had become background noise for Michayla. If she had waited to tell her parents, even by a single day, would that have changed anything? Would the man who had hit her father not have been on the roads that night? If she had done a singular thing differently, would her father have been able to present her with his saxophone the night of her introductory concert? Turning her face into her mother's palm and bringing her own hand to rest over it softly, Michayla kissed the inside of her mother's wrist before giving the woman a soft smile. This is what her mother had wanted to avoid, to shield the young Michayla from. Nearly ten years after her father's passing and instantly Mickey was finding ways to blame herself. She didn't want to imagine the amount of torment she would've put herself through as a teenager who had just lost their best friend. "Mom, it's okay. I understand. You're right, I would've blamed myself. I might've even stopped playing." She leaned forward then and pulled her mother into a tight hug, trying to still the woman's sobs but cooing gentle reassurances into her ear. "I love you, mama. Thank you."


The drive home had been long and quiet. While she had asked Dezmond if he would ride in the car with her, it wasn't for the sake of conversation. It was for the closeness, the familiarity that came with the angel. In reality, he was the only person on the planet that had been there with Mickey through every accomplishment, hardship, happiness, and heartbreak. Knowing that someone was there with her that could understand the chaotic turmoil her brain had been through that day brought Mickey more comfort than she believed the angel could truly understand. Now, seated at the breakfast nook, Michayla's fingers absently scooted the assortment of pills in front of her across the table, eyes glazed over as they looked out and over the garden that she had inherited. Setting an elbow on the table and perching her chin in the palm of her hand, she turned to Dezmond then and simply watched as stood under her gaze. After a moment, she smiled and patted the table seat adjacent herself. "I'd say it's been a rather eye-opening day for the both of us. Should we have a chat?"

My Greatest Muse.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Teresas's Home

Mood:

Reminiscent

tags

Aneres

Dezmonds eyes would narrow once the case was opened, giving the instrument a good hard look as the gears began to turn. He'd never in his life seen this particular instrument. Of all the times he'd sat in a room listening to Michael play, not once had this particular brass ever come into the light. It is because of his unfamiliarity with the instrument that memories would begin to arise.

He'd spent most of the day with Michayla, her stress from the upcoming concert requiring a good deal of his attention while she went about her day to day. Time to time he'd check in on Theresa and Michael, as he often had, but by the time he was alerted to her fathers accident it was too late. He'd arrived to the wreckage, her fathers spirit just standing around and looking at the scene of the crash with bewilderment clear across his face. "Oh, Michael." His grief and disappointment were known, and in the time before Michayla and Theresa found out about the crash Dezmond and Michael talked. He'd learned the reason for his travels were gift related, but not much else. Most of that evening was spent going over his family, and ensuring him they'd be alright, and he'd see them again one day.

The grief in Teresas tone brought Dezmond back to the now, a few years later and it felt as though it were yesterday. Giving a half smile as he looked down at the two on the floor, both of which either in tears or on the verge of crying. This was also the first time he was not only a spectator, but also present for Michayla to see. An ordeal that for the first time made the angel feel awkward. He'd been there she she cried about damn near everything; every fall, every high school romance, and every loss. Yet, she never knew it. "All the more reason to carry on." Dezmond said quietly, the words meant for Michayla. Naturally when he used to speak words of encouragement to her they fell on deaf ears. So used to being able to just say and do anything, it only occurred to him after that he may want to learn when to hold his tongue.

The drive back was pretty quiet. Dezmond managed to sneak a few blueberries out before they left, so now and then he'd pop one in his mouth only to silently enjoy the natural sweetness they offered. Of course by the time they got back inside, he'd move straight to the kitchen and promptly start getting some water in the kettle to prepare an evening cup of tea. Along with that, a glass of water was filled and when Michayla finally patted the seat next to her she'd be given the glass to help her with her medication.

Taking the seat directly beside her, a quiet hum could be heard as Dezmond took a moment to think. "I'd ask about what we could talk about, but truthfully, I'm surprised you haven't bombarded me with questions." Dezmond said, he himself feeling rather confident that he knows enough about Michayla at this point. Naturally, what was in her head was even unknown to him. Inquisitively, he'd look to Mickey expecting her to start in on him. She'd yet to have enough time to truly start pricking and prying information, since the first morning that she'd had with him was interrupted by her mothers need to see her.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Kitchen

interaction
Early

mood
Steadfast

Michayla Macy

Mickey simply folded her hands beneath her chin and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, I have plenty of questions. I'm just unsure of which I actually want an answer to." She would pause for a moment then, closing her eyes and simply letting herself sit in the quiet before the real conversation got underway. Her life had taken so many differentiating paths in the last ten years. Between losing a parent, both accepting and being dismissed from a position that she had dreamed of for most of her life to now wondering how much longer the pharmacy's worth of medications she was required to take would actually do their job and keep her alive. Looking down at the pile of pills that she still had yet to take, Michayla could feel her brow creased as she wondered if there was truly any point. For the last few months, it had felt less about trying to combat cancer and more about making the transition into death as painless and seamless as possible. Mickey would then reach down and pick up one of the larger pills, something that was supposed to help her anxiety as well as insomnia.

"Is there even a point to any of this?" though she had admittedly asked this out loud more to herself, Mickey still wondered as to rather or not he could give her a cemented answer. Turning her attention to him then, she held the pill out towards him and rephrased her inquiry, "Will taking this ridiculous amount of medication actually do anything to slow down the clock? I'd like to think that we are, in some way shape or form, the shepherds of our own fates but now I'm beginning to wonder if that sentiment holds any truth." Shaking her head then and scooping up the handful of pills, Michayla quickly popped them into her mouth before reaching for and tipping back the water he had laid out for her. Being sure they had all safely made their way down her esophagus, Mickey then set the water down but continued to tap a singular nail against its side. "As I'm sure you know, I've come to terms with my mortality. I know my days are numbered and there's not much I can do about it. I was content with spending whatever time I had left just existing and that was when I still thought I had at least some semblance of a chance." She would turn her attention fully to Dezmond then, her eyes finding and holding his. "Now, by some absolutely ridiculous chance, I have you here. A miracle in and of itself. How backward is it, that now that I have actual proof that miracles do happen, that I'm just ready to stop fighting against the inevitable?"

Michayla could only imagine how mad she must've sounded. In front of her sat her very literal guardian angel, someone who she was now able to see, talk to, touch, and instead of taking that as a queue to continue pushing forward, she was taking it as a sign to simply let things be. Laughing some under her breath, Mickey simply shook her head and brought her hand forward, fingers running over the lip of her glass as she continued. "I've spent these last few months just simply letting the days come and go. I guess I was just waiting around for the phone call that said, 'Good news, Ms. Macy, you're in remission!' but the more time that passes, the less sure I am that it's even coming." She could hear the low rumble of the kettle as it began to boil on the stove, the intensity in which the pitch proceeded to heighten being completely ignored by Mickey. Instead, she would turn her body to face Dezmond, her small hands reaching for and taking his larger ones between them. With a firm squeeze and a resolve that he would hear not only in her voice, but that burned behind her eyes, she would continue by saying, "I was never the type of person to believe in signs. But between having you here with me, revisiting moments with my family that I haven't thought of in years, and the feeling that something is pushing me back into music again, I'd be more of a fool to not acknowledge that there's been some kind of intervention. Rather it's all purely by chance and just in my head or if there really is some kind of shift in the cosmos, I don't care. All I know is that I'm tired of just sitting around, waiting to die, hoping for something that may never happen. I may have a set date. I may not. If I don't get off of my ass and make something of whatever time I do have left, I'll regret it and I know it." Inhaling deeply to not only catch her breath but to quickly collect her thoughts, she'd conclude by asking plainly, "Dezmond, I know your duty is to usher my spirit to the afterlife when that time comes. What I'm asking you is that, for whatever time I have left, would you help me try and remember what it feels like to live?"

Help me remember what it feels like to live.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Thoughtful

tags

Aneres

There weren't words he could offer her, because it was always going to be her decision in the end to decide if it was worth it or not. Whether she feels life is fulfilling enough to continue the struggle she was currently going through was ultimately up to her. The offer he'd given was out there, and the day she decided it was too hard he'd be there for her. Yet, every day she lives is considered a victory in his mind. Of course Dezmond wanted to tell her that, and tell her she should carry on and enjoy the life she is living to the fullest, but how could he? Would it not be selfish to even suggest that? To burden her with his own wishes wouldn't be fair, especially since he wasn't supposed to be interactive with her.

Watching her swallow the medicine, mentally he was relieved she decided to do so. His pleasant smile unfaltering, even if he'd thought for a moment that she'd decided she'd had enough. A certain suffering would come if that were to happen, one he couldn't bare to see come to her. Still, with how great a listener Dezmond really was, he'd patiently sit still with his hands folded over his lap while hearing her out, nodding in agreement when she'd more or less voiced this situation they were in surely must be a sign. Though soon enough she'd be leaning in, her hands taking his while a faint rumbling from the kettle could be heard. It's then a heaviness weighed down on the impossibly light angel, and he felt unprepared all of a sudden.

"Would you help me try and remember what it feels like to live?"

He was doomed. If the creator or archangels or whoever hadn't already taken notice to their situation by now, they certainly would be if he decided to take this interaction further. The rules were simple, he and all angels were supposed to be silent observers. The last one to directly influence the lives of humans dwells in a lake of fire with the other siblings who rebelled, a story from times more ancient than himself. Since then not a single angel has dared step out of line, which meant he very well could be reprimanded come the day his ventures with Michayla are discovered. Yet...

"How could I possibly deny that?" He responded breathlessly, his eyes seeming aglow with fascination and wonder of the future to come. His smile growing all the more, while his hands turned to hold hers back in turn. At the peak of the whistle from the kettle the fire would cease and soon enough the noise began to die down. Not a muscle was moved, showing just how much control he had over the world near them. What was the extent of an angels power, and to what extent could they use them? Dezmond never had to conflict evil that wormed its way into the Macy family, they having been blessed with good tidings for as long as he'd been with them. Would Michayla ask for his help to live, and if so, could he truly deny her now that she saw him? Could he interpret her ability to communicate with him as a sign that he was being given permission to use heavens powers to bring the light back to this girls world?

Or would abiding her in such a way cause a bleak darkness in his future, and possibly make it so she herself may never see Michael again in paradise.

The gates were cruel in their judgments, and the rules of paradise were clear, but Dezmond was a studious scholar when it came to such rules and he couldn't remember a single thing about this. Didn't that mean it was up to his own best judgement? Was his best judgement simply what he wanted most? "I want nothing more than to see you live a rich, full life. To see you one day pick up that saxophone and play your memories of your father before an audience which I again can sit among." He'd admit his wants, and what he decided would be his best judgement. Along with that, he'd admitted that he'd been there for her performances time and time again. "Just tell me, Mickey - Tell me where you want to start this new life of yours, and I will lead you through it as long as I can." And as long as I'm not stopped.

By now the water in the kettle was optimal temperature for tea, and he'd expect she'd want to get up and start getting their evening cups ready, so while awaiting her response his grip on her hands would loosen and he'd be ready to get up and help her in preparing the cups. Along with answering any questions she may have.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Kitchen

interaction
Early

mood
Assured

Michayla Macy

Michayla felt her cheeks pull up at the corners, the new resolve that had just been ignited deep in her chest raging brightly and giving her actual, sustainable hope. The young woman had come to terms with the fact that she may never go into remission. It took a guardian angel and an emotional afternoon with her mother to get her there, but progress was progress, no matter which way you sliced it. While most would've seen this as Mickey giving up, she knew that in reality she was only getting started. No matter if it were a month, week, or only a day. Michayla was going to move forward with whatever time she had left and make the most of it. She owed it to herself and the family she was leaving behind.

Turning her attention to the kitchen then, Michayla would go to stand, being sure to tug Dezmond up and out of his chair as well. She'd release his hands then, expecting him to follow as she went about preparing their beverages. The two were quiet as they shuffled here and there about the kitchen, Dezmond reaching for the cups and silver wear while Michayla found the honey and produced a small pitcher of cream. While she had always appreciated the silent spaces that sat between the most musical and loud moments of her life, she had only really ever enjoyed them when in her own company or the company of those she loved. When she would be seated behind the curtain with her peers, the forced quiet that would accompany casual small talk always left the woman anxious and uneasy. Rather it was banquets, events, or even school productions when she was younger, Michayla remembered always feeling out of place and out of touch in the negative spaces. The quiet moments were precious to the young woman and when she was forced to share them with people that weren't equally precious, well.

Yet, with Dezmond, it felt natural. Easy. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that, up until last night, he had been invisible to her. While the motions he took and the way he moved about comfortably in her space were familiar and second nature to him, it should've been alien and foreign to Mickey. Instead, it filled her with a sense of comfort and ease. As she poured the warm beverage into either of the cups laid in front of her, Mickey couldn't help but smile softly. Setting the kettle down and sliding Dezmond his tea, Mickey would opt to pull herself up onto the counter as she sipped. Once she had tasted and was satisfied with the flavor of the tea in relation to the honey and cream she had added, she would sit the cup securely in the dish that rested on her lap before turning her attention back to the angel. Though the smile didn't leave her face, her tone had taken a more serious note as she spoke softly, "I never liked to admit it to myself but, since leaving the orchestra, my life's been rather lonely. Besides the occasional visit from mom, I've very rarely seen anyone else. Which I understand. Concert season is in full swing after all." She would pause for a moment to take another quick sip of her tea before continuing. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that, even though in those moments I felt absolutely alone, it's comforting now to know that, truly, I never was. It's also an added bonus to know that you'll be by my side until the very end, as well." Running her finger along the rim of her cup, Michayla could feel herself retracting back into her own thoughts.

Shaking her head slightly and clearing her throat, Mickey crossed one leg over the other and rested her elbow on her knee, giving Dezmond a quick smirk before asking simply, "So you'd sit in on my performances, yes? I'm curious to know which were your favorite."

By my side, until the very end.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Content

tags

Aneres

As they quietly flitted about kitchen, Dezmond would take notice to one very crucial change between now and his time watching over Mickey before. Before she moved around without a care in the world, sometimes even walking through Dezmond which always acted as a cold reminder that she'd never seen, heard or felt him before. Now, however, they'd have to maneuver around one another while both working together to get their evening tea together. Before he'd silently observed, but now he was a helping hand. A part of the picture.

Eventually he'd be holding a saucer in one hand, his fingers daintily holding the rim of the plate while his others held the cup by the small handle. Bringing it to his lips to sip, it's now that the Angel was starting to realize just how much he was enjoying being there. To be present, and not worry about his actions having negative reactions. With her he could eat, and drink, or mess with things in his surrounding that bothered him. Not only could he do it, but he was realizing he wouldn't be alone while doing so. It's thoughts like these that kept his smile in place, along with the kind comments that Michayla said time to time. "Don't think for even a moment that you won't still be seeing me after the end." With a playful tone he made a promise to her, that not even in death would she truly be without her guardian angel. While away at work on Earth, he'd always check in on her whenever he returns.

This is then when he takes a moment to think over her question. It was clearly difficult given his now pensive expression, unable to quickly make a decision. He wanted to say her first, because the buildup leading to it and the way she went about willing herself to be strong enough to perform. Though, musically she'd advanced a lot since then. She'd taken a stronger lead time to time, and even began playing significantly more difficult and elaborate shows. Though if he had a favorite, it'd have to be...

"Oh." Something seemed to click, remembering back far enough to a certain show she did. Normally during orchestra performances you'd be seated and quietly enjoy the show until its completion. Though one in particular she did was a bit different. "About a year after your first performance as a lead, it was the one in the Opera building. I remember going there and hoping it wasn't sold out, a rare occasion, but it's only then that I could get a chair. Then to my surprise, there were no chairs at all. I remember you being as surprised as I was. Somehow the venue and show managers failed to mention it would be a live concert that primarily focused on a dance floor for people to gather in. It was a jazz ensemble, a tribute to old Louisiana as I recall." Seeming to still be lost in thought, he'd take a moment to sip at the honey sweet tea while he gathered his thoughts. "Ah, yes. I remember I couldn't even get near the stage. A lot of people got right up against it to get a closer view. Eventually I just decided to be on stage, my chances of actually seeing you were slim to none without doing so." Clearly enjoying the memories, his smile would widen as his lips remained on the edge of his cup. "I was so envious of those dancing."

Letting out a quiet sigh, it was clear these memories brought on a wave of nostalgia for the angel. One of his favorite things in the world was music, especially that which was performed by Michayla and her father. Clearly in this moment, while in his own head, Dezmond was content.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Livingroom

interaction
Early

mood
Enraptured

Michayla Macy

Michayla listened intently to Dezmond's retelling of the performance, his words transporting her to the night in question as she, too, became lost in memory. It had been one of the few times she had actually had the pleasure of witnessing the absolute joy people felt when listening to her perform. Normally, along with her, their patrons would be seated quietly in a packed theater. The orchestra would perform, the audience would applaud, and that would be the end of it. That night Mickey had the privilege of watching the crowd physically respond to the music. Rather it was an upbeat number or a slower, softer piece, seeing how the music seemed to seep into their bones and move them on pure emotion had made the young woman swell with pride. She was thankful that he had reminded her of that night.

"I was so envious of those dancing." ​

Michayla remained silent as she witnessed Dezmond retract back into his own thoughts, likely reliving the scene and remembering it vividly. The warmth that his smile encapsulated her in did more for her spirit than any cup of freshly brewed tea ever could. Anytime the angel had mentioned a moment from Mickey or even her father's past, he had done so with either the utmost respect or fondness, more often than not it is a beautiful mixture of both. Mickey had the image in her mind that while guardian angels may care for their charges, it resembled more so a shepherd tending their flock. That also went without saying that the way she envisioned whatever came to bring her over to the other side didn't resemble the beautifully handsome gentleman that stood before her, with his glimmering rings, tailored suit, and blazing golden eyes. Instead, Michayla knew that Dezmond loved and cherished her family as if it were his own just in the way he spoke of them so highly and fondly. She also knew that when it was finally time for her to pass, it wouldn't be easy on either of them.

Feeling herself equally becoming lost in the overwhelming shadow of her mortality, Michayla instead chose to push it away, even if just for an evening. She could continue pondering her time at a later date. She wanted to enjoy this moment, and she wanted Dezmond to enjoy it as well. Setting her saucer and teacup down on the counter with a soft click, Mickey pushed herself up and off of the countertop before turning the corner and walking into the connected living room. She bent at the knees near a vintage record player and began casually thumbing through the vinyl on hand until she found the particular gem she had been searching for. Pulling it from its sleeve and setting it on the track, she carefully balanced the needle over it's textured surface and adjusted the volume just right. The trumpet that filled the empty space began on a melancholy note that eased beautifully into a much lighter piano duet. It had originally been a vinyl of Michael's and was, coincidentally enough, one of the first numbers she and her father had played together, adding his flavor with the saxophone.

Taking a step back, Michayla turned to the angel then and gifted him a warm smile. The only light that illuminated the living space was the warm afterglow of the kitchen dimmer along with the moonlight that filtered into and spilled across her living room floor. Raising a hand to him then, Mickey could feel her cheeks slightly warm at her offer as she beseeched him softly, "May I have this dance?"

May I have this dance?

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Nervous

tags

Aneres

Making note of the silence that came from Michayla as he continued to ramble on in answer to her question, he'd lower his saucer and cup to the counter as he watched her move from the kitchen to the common space. Blinking inquisitively, his eyes never left her until she'd moved over to her record collection. Feeling as though she may try and find an album that had the music from that very concert, he'd walk over into the entryway between the two rooms and lean lightly against the wall while still watching her.

Of course, that was up until the music actually came on. A familiar melody that took him a good few seconds to recognize, though shortly after he'd remember the days of when Michayla still missed a note or two - Back to when she played with her father not only to enjoy the music together, but also better her own skills. This was one of the first songs she'd managed to play without error, and she'd done so with her father, and Dezmond was fortunate enough to just relax and listen as they had played on. The curious expression was a warm smile again, the grain of the vinyl bringing back simpler days for the angel as he listened on without expectation. Little did he know that he too could be surprised.

"May I have this dance?"

A look of shock came to his features, almost looking frightened by her offer. Though in his daze he'd reflexively answer her in a airy whisper. "Of course." The words were but a mumble, and as he came back to reality yet again, he'd realized the longer he stood there dumbfounded the less time he'd have to take her offer since the song was already on. "Yes, Michayla. I'd be honored~" A ring of glee in his words, with eyes that sparkled in their golden radiance like stars above. While approaching, he'd take the time to shrug off his blazer and drape it over an armchair in the living room, now standing in a crisp plain white shirt and a spotted blue tie that resembled the night sky. Once fully before her, his hand would come out in turn and he'd finally realize what the tempo of this song ensured.

Once her hand was in his own, he'd shift his grasp so her palm was in his own. Raising it up to her shoulder height, his free hand soon found her side; Hesitant in his touch he'd remember this was the positioning taken by those who enjoyed moving to this sort of tune. A certain warmth radiated from Dezmond now that he was close enough to feel it, his very being emanating a certain comforting glow that was felt directly through his touch now that she'd held his hand and his other was upon her waist. Though, they could certainly be closer as he'd leave a good distance between his partner and himself; Akin to a school dance, a good six inches separating them. Not in fear of the intimacy and closeness, but in the concern that maybe seeing and doing are two different things. After all, he'd never danced before so he'd have to keep a close eye on his own feet lest he step on hers. For now while he got into the swing of things, perhaps it'd be best she lead.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Livingroom

interaction
Early

mood
Enchanted

Michayla Macy

Michayla waited patiently as Dezmond went about adjusting his stance, handholds, and footing. She found it oddly charming to know that an ethereal being who possessed powers and capabilities beyond her understanding seemed to lack confidence in something as trivial as casual, slow shuffling. Repressing a giggle, Mickey offered the angel a smile of reassurance, noting that he seemed to have found a level of comfortability and was now awaiting her to take the lead. Michayla would then retract the hand from his shoulder and place it against the small of his back, pulling his body closer to her own as she went about making her own adjustments. Fiddling with his handholds and prompting him to straighten his back while relaxing his shoulders, Mickey spoke softly as she went about adjusting her own posture to match his. "There's no right or wrong way. It's about feeling the music and letting it direct your movements. Relax, listen, and follow the melody." One of the last changes she made to their position was lightly wrapping her fingers around his wrist and reaching it around to the small of her back. Opting to place her hand to his arm instead of his shoulder, she gave him a small nod and smile to boost his confidence before she began leading them into a slow turn.

The more rotations the pair made, the surer of himself he became. Michayla saw it in the way the tension seemed to evaporate from his shoulders and she could feel it in the warmth that seemed to come off him in waves and encapsulate the both of them. Time seemed to still as she found herself adrift in the golden depths of his eyes, the atmosphere shifting into a place of quiet intimacy. The many layers of outside influences were beginning to alter the air around them, the pair find themselves becoming lost in the moment. Mickey wasn't quite sure what exactly brought the shift in momentum. Rather it was the moonlight that blanketed the two of them, the still fragrant aroma of the tea, the haunting melody that sifted through the air, or the warmth that settled in the space between them. There didn't seem to be one particular factor, rather a beautiful harmony of the four that left her feeling breathless and enraptured.

Michayla leaned forward then and rested her head against Dezmond's chest. She craved the closeness, the warmth, the overwhelming sense of security that left her feeling reassured and safe. Mickey wondered rather it was Dezmond, himself, that left her feeling flustered and vulnerable, or if it was simply the atmosphere partnered with what he represented. Since her initial diagnosis, Michayla had done her best to put on a farce, to reassure her loved ones and peers that, while disheartening, it hadn't really been that terrible. Even as everyday tasks became harder and harder for Michayla, she still found herself smiling through the pain, less for herself and more for those around her. That was until she physically couldn't hide it anymore. She was dropping her bow during rehearsal, having to stop full productions to rush off the bathroom and expel her lunch. What she had been hoping to avoid eventually came full circle and the whispered words of pity and sensitive fretting became too much. When she left the company, Mickey purposefully avoided most invitations and overall human contact. While she didn't want to continue being made to feel like a fragile, broken thing, she didn't want her peers to see exactly how broken and frail she truly was. Unbeknownst to her, there had always been someone there that she couldn't hide away from. He had been there for all of it. The good days and the overwhelming bad. Dezmond represented the closeness she had been craving since her diagnosis that she didn't allow herself to feel in fear of further hurting those around her as well as feeling inferior and weak. If that were the case, then what did this mean? These feelings that were causing her cheeks to flush and her mind to swim, leaving her feeling intoxicated.

Mickey willed herself to push past the encroaching thoughts as she heard the song nearing its conclusion. When it ended, so did this moment. The bit of peace that she had found in the arms of this enigmatic being would come to an end and Mickey couldn't help but feel a certain sadness at the idea that she may never experience it again. Squeezing his arm tightly then, the overwhelming sense of comfort and safety she had found now being countered by the ever-growing feeling of loneliness, Mickey fought back tears as she attempted to enjoy what time she had left at this moment with her angel.

Real folk blues.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

At Ease

tags

Aneres

At first there was a clear nervousness in the angels expression, worried that he may make a fool of himself or make Michayla think any less of him. Yet, in the coming moments he'd soon pick up on the fact that the only foolish thing he was doing was worrying far too much. With his shoulders soon loosening, and his posture straightening so he stood a good six inches higher than she, he'd find himself moving with ease to the music and along with her. Holding her near, his hand on the small of her back while pulling her close, he'd feel her more than he'd ever had before. Her body moving in turn with his own, and with her head now on his chest he couldn't help but feel as one with her. Connected more than Dezmond thought possible.

All these days and nights he'd been near her - Always her company whether she knew it or not, but he was never with her. While he always promised to be by her side, she never knew it. His silent promises that everything would be alright could never comfort her, and his praise never brought her much needed confidence. Now was real. No longer the quiet observer, he was able to bring her feelings he could only dream of. His influence forbidden, but he just couldn't will himself from the temptation of actually being there for her. Which is why when the song finally neared its climax, and her eyes clenched shut tight to hold back the tears that may soon spill out onto his nice white shirt, a new song would begin. "One more." He'd whisper, not once pulling back and away.

The back side of the vinyl now playing, Dezmond so greedily decided he wasn't done with the moment either. Though, he was able to act on his own desires so freely, unknown to him that she too wanted this moment to last a little longer. Already holding her as they continued to move, the similar tempo to the previous song silenced the words that they couldn't say and kept the dance in motion. His hold on her felt more firmly, pulling her into an embrace as he leaned his head down to lightly rest his left cheek upon the top of her head, breathing her in while they continued to share the moment. The intimacy of it foreign to him, but from how he held her now as to keep her close it was clear just how much she meant to him. Michayla was precious in his eyes, and now that he had the chance to draw her so near it was almost incomprehensible to think he may ever let her go.

She has always been his obligation, though what exactly that meant was getting fuzzier by the minute. She could see him, and he could feel her. Dezmond was now actually there for her, and with her. Half lidded and staring out above Michayla now, he wondered just how much of this was a mistake, and how much of it was fated by a higher power than even himself. It all just felt too right to truly be wrong.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Kitchen Floor

interaction
Early

mood
Defeated

Michayla Macy

Michayla calmly expelled the air she had been holding in her lungs as his whispered promise of one more dance pulled her back into the present. It was then that Mickey felt her body press flush against his, the hand at her lower back now snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to him still. The way Dezmond's fingers gripped at her waist, the weighted comfort of his cheek pressed to her head. Did his desires reflect her own? Had he been craving the same things as Michayla? The closeness, the companionship, the intimacy? Mickey felt her body absently respond to his own, the hand that sat flat in his palm moving to entangle itself with his own, her opposing hand pushing up into that hair that rested at the nape of his neck. Though she could feel the warmth emanating from his body and threatening to set her's ablaze, Michayla still fought with the idea that this was all a dream. How could it have possibly been real? Tightening her grip on him still, as if afraid that he'd disappear, Mickey reluctantly pulled her cheek from his chest and looked upward, searching for those golden eyes. Finding and holding them, she'd untangle their hands only to press her palm to his cheek. Her thumb would trace just below his fuller bottom lip as she willed herself to open her mouth and speak.

"Dezmond.." was all the young woman was able to breathe. Michayla could feel her chest beginning to tighten as her fingers began to tremble against his skin. She could feel herself burning up, her face flush and her thoughts swimming in a pool of clouded speech and unspoken thoughts. This didn't feel like the same high she had been experiencing a moment ago. No, this felt familiar and sinister. Mickey felt her knees knock together as she struggled to balance. The only thing that was holding her upright at this point was the embrace that Dezmond still held her in. Bringing a hand to her forehead then, Michayla squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to push past the bright lights that were blinding and altering her vision. Why was this happening? Why now? With each attempt to pull air in and slowly expel it from her lungs, the more difficult it became to breathe. It felt akin to a panic attack yet had the added flare of sudden onset fever and intense abdominal pain.

Pulling herself from his arms then, fearful of the mess she may soon make, Michayla stumbled her way past him and attempted to head to the bathroom. With legs that were useless and eyes that couldn't see, Mickey inevitably felt her left hip clip and collide with an end table, sending her to her knees as she clutched at the sudden blossoming pain. Something didn't feel right. While it felt like her normal routine, there were finite differences in the way her body was functioning that caused Michayla's already congested thoughts to tailspin. She needed to get to the bathroom. Once she was hunched over the welcoming porcelain of the toilet bowl and her knees were pressed into the familiar, cool tile then she knew that the hard part would soon be over. She just needed to get to the bathroom...

The sick woman willed herself forward, a gelatinous arm using the end table to pull herself up into a standing position. She'd blink in quick succession once, twice, three times but with no luck. All she could see were outlines and rough shapes, and light that illuminated her path from the still dimly lit kitchen being lost to the indistinguishable shapes.

This isn't fair.​

Taking a wobbly step forward, Mickey managed to shuffle herself over to the kitchen counter, her arms scrambling across its surface and knocking over their teacups as her fingers searched for a grip. The clattering of the china hitting the hardwood floor pulled Michayla's scattered thoughts to the forefront as she struggled with herself to try and gain her bearings. She felt like death and she could feel herself becoming frustrated as the confusion and fear of these new, apparent symptoms threatened to send her into a state of full-blown panic.

Why me..?​

Michayla clenched her teeth together as she struggled to pull her body around the counter, hot tears threatening to break the dam and spill over her already flushed cheeks. She could feel Dezmond close but her arms would flail at any attempts to help her. She had done it alone for so long. Why wasn't she able to do it now? What was it that tipped the scales and forced her to not only want to rely on someone but physically need it? The words of resolve she had recited to the angel earlier felt empty and worthless now. She was broken, weak. What could she possibly do? Between the exertion on her body and the overall assault of her own, rampaging thoughts on her mind, Michayla felt herself crumple to the floor, her shoulders quaking as sobs racked her body.

This isn't fair...

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Crestfallen

tags

Aneres

Even an angel is allowed to have desire.

Michaylas hand began to move up and around the back of his neck, her fingers soon finding the short start of his hair only to move her nails through it. Actions which brought a new sensation over Dezmond, as he'd never shuttered before in his life. Involuntarily he reacted to her touch as though electric shocks were coursing throughout his body, his eyes closing for but a moment, and when they opened again he saw her staring back up at him. With his gaze locking upon her own, his eyes would fall a moment later to watch her lips as each syllable spilled forth with the muttering of his name.

This would be the third time she'd spoken her guardian angels name, and as they say, the third time was the charm. Still holding her close, his feet would still as he eagerly looked down while anticipating what she may say. The way she spoke his name had him on edge, his heart that was as hot and alive as any humans quickening as it beat on; Yet his breath was caught in his throat. Though he'd continue to wait, as the words he sought never came. Instead, her sickness got in the way of her living life to the fullest yet again. Like always it started with her strength, her inability to maintain her footing apparent. Soon breaching contact with him, she'd stumble away and towards the bathroom so she may lose the quiche her mother had made, along with any tea that still may be in her system. "Oh, Michayla." Dezmond solemnly spoke as he followed close behind, and though she waved him off she couldn't actually stop him from at least helping her keep her footing or get back to it while she failed to find her way to the restroom.

The music suddenly stopped, and now the pair were in the kitchen. Michayla finally giving in to the overwhelming sickness, she'd fall down to the ground while the grief and frustration brought on her body quaking sobs. Instead of bringing her to her feet, a plastic clinking was heard as the bathroom garbage can was placed beside her. Small, and easy to hold in the case she needed to vomit. Even if she may, she wouldn't be doing it in a cold and empty room, as the warm touch of Dezmonds hand would soon be felt upon the back of her neck. Sliding underneath her dark brown shoulder length hair, his heated touch would easily be able to start rubbing lightly at the back of her neck. Fortunately not having to worry about holding her hair considering it was short enough to not be an issue, his other hand was ready to help her bring the pale closer and even hold it for her if she so needed. Now on his knees beside her, he even now decided he wasn't willing to let her go. Not just yet, for instead of letting her just fully fall to the ground he'd chose to draw her near and use his own chest to lean against in the case she needed something to lean on.

"It'll pass." Dezmond said, his voice impossibly soft as he spoke the mantra she'd grown so accustomed to. "And when it does, I'll still be here." As nervous as he may be, he still wore his warm smile upon his face. Not because he was happy, but because he needed her to see that he felt everything would turn out alright. He wanted her to see she shouldn't be afraid, and that no matter what, he'd be there.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Kitchen Floor

interaction
Early

mood
Weary

Michayla Macy

Michayla could physically feel every bit of courage she had possessed earlier begin to crack and crumble as they slipped through her trembling fingers. How could she possibly achieve the things she'd hope to with a body that betrayed her so flippantly? Mickey didn't initially notice the sound of the plastic waste bin being presented to her, nor did she notice the angel that knelt by her side. Whatever thoughts the woman attempted to keep clear and conscious were only self-deprecating and they were loud and forceful enough to keep her a prisoner of her mind while the sickness kept her trapt in her failing body. It wasn't until she felt the prickles of warmth against the back of her neck that her thoughts began to refocus their energy and the haze began to clear. As a rhythmic back and forth commenced against her sweat-soaked neck, Michayla felt a spark lick it's way down her spine and completely overtake the shifting heat that had wound itself tightly around her bones. Pinpricks of comfort began to replace the shots of pain that left needles littered across her skin as she felt her ragdoll body being adjusted and settled.

"It'll pass and when it does, I'll still be here."​

Tilting her chin up towards the deep, soothing sound, Mickey blinked past the fog as she felt her eyes beginning to focus. The first thing they found and clung to were those luminous eyes. Shortly after, she began to make out the features of his face. The hard set jaw, full lips, a strong brow that was now dusted with silver hair. Her attention had been pulled from the intrusive thoughts that still fought to wreak havoc in her mind, her body responding now to his touch instead of cancer. With trembling arms that had little to no strength, she wrapped them around his neck and used every ounce of whatever energy she could muster to pull herself up and into him, choosing to settle herself in his lap. She would bury her face into the crevice of his neck then, inhaling deeply and parting her lips to exhale slowly. She could feel herself coming down from the panic. The longer she stayed wrapped in his warmth, the more at ease she felt, and the easier it became to breathe and see. The minutes ticked between the pair as Mickey remained perched in his lap, arms now loosely hanging over his shoulders, her breath cascading over and blanketing his jaw. It wasn't until she was only left with the familiar ache of her gut and head that she would opt to sit up and bring her hands down to her lap. Her breathing had steadied and her vision had returned but instead of feeling relief, she could feel waves of unease and weariness. She was getting worse. Whatever had just happened was a new, sinister monster that Michayla had never had to face before and the thought of it progressively getting worse left the sickly woman petrified.

The shuffle of hands at her back brought Mickey's attention back to Dezmond once more and she tried her best to give him the best reassuring smile she could muster. The words of encouragement he had spoken that had pulled her from her own thoughts rang loudly between her ears. For the entirety of her life, he had been there. Unbeknownst to her, he had been by her side, watching over her, projecting positivity into a life that had seen a number of both highs and lows. The longer she peered into his eyes, the more foolish she felt. Whatever obstacles she had faced up until now, she never truly had to face alone. Now that he was here, holding her, comforting her, believing in her, Mickey knew that it would be a little bit easier to face. Dezmond had become her safe haven, a symbol of hope and resolve in a situation that tried Michayla and pushed her to her limits. He would be there to lift her up when she couldn't do it herself and he would continue to be there with her, even after death, to remind her that the efforts she made to push forward were enough. Reaching forward and taking his face between her palms, Michayla swallowed past the lump in her throat as she willed herself to sit upright in his lap. Her eyes fluttered shut then as she brought her lips to barely brush over his own, a whisper of possibilities that sat in wait between the pair. Michayla was terrified of what the future held and, more than likely, she'd find herself on her kitchen floor broken and weeping again and again and again. It was knowing that her guardian angel would be there to endure it with her that gave Mickey the strength to get back up again.

It'll pass and when it does, I'll still be here.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Devoted

tags

Aneres

Time moved at a dreadfully slow pace as Dezmond could do nothing but hold Michayla as she reeled from whatever it was that overcame her. He knew from the panic that this was a new breed of suffering, and all he could do was hold her lightly after she moved to be in his arms and upon his lap. His fingertips lightly tracing circles upon the small of her back while her hot breath washed out in waves over the pale skin of his neck. "I'm here. I'm here, Michayla." Dezmond simply murmured to her as she so desperately buried herself into him, a clear attempt to try and escape the aching and get caught up in the warm familiarity she was getting used to.

It's only once the trembling in her arms ceased that Dezmond could tell the worst had began to pass. With both arms around her, holding her up on his lap while they both sat on the kitchen floor, he'd continue his rubbing upon the small of her back while his other hand lay flat upon the center of her upper back. Feeling her pull back and away, the gentle breaths no longer cascading against the flesh of his throat as Michayla brought herself to meet his gaze yet again. Looking to her while her vision began to adjust, she'd finally see past the blur to see a familiar warm smile worn on her angels face. Not of concern, worry, or pity; She got enough of that from others who knew the tragedy that'd befallen her. Instead Dezmond looked to her with pride, encouragement shining from those golden orbs that peered back at her.

Though his expression soon softened, Michaylas hands now raising from her lap only to lightly cradle his face. From there he noticed her draw near, and before the tender flesh of their lips touched a sudden blush would darken his fair complexion. With eyes widening from shock, his reaction was very similar to the first moments of their dancing. Worriedly frozen, unsure of the next actions, he'd soon notice her very own expression. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing steady yet again. She was living in the moment - Even just after the worst panic he'd seen her in from the sickness that was claiming her, she was living.

With whatever distance remained between the two closing, she'd feel the warmth of his own mouth as it found hers. Dezmonds lips pressing firmly to her own, if she were to open her eyes she'd see his had now closed. His hand on the small of her back slowly forming a fist while catching the fabric of her shirt into a tight hold, one that was accompanied by pulling her close and drawing her body snugly against his own. There on the kitchen floor would be their first kiss, his arms holding her while his lips remained tenderly against her own. His hear continued to radiate against her thin frame, as if she were basking in the summer sun, it should certainly be clear what this warmth was now that their lips were locked together. It was, and has always been, Dezmonds love for her.

A warmth that was slowly beginning to change, but never dulling.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Kitchen Floor

interaction
Early

mood
Enamored

Michayla Macy

Michayla has had her fair share of 'first kisses'. While most weren't very memorable, there were two in particular that stuck with her and clung to the forefront of her memory. The first was during her sophomore year of high school. It was a simple, stolen kiss after a class performance for some sort of assembly. Trevor Farley had been hinting at feelings for the young Mickey but it wasn't until then that they came to fruition. It was unexpected and Michayla, initially, wasn't very pleased about it. She had always pictured her first kiss as being something romantic and otherworldly, akin to how her mother described her first kiss with Michael. Thinking back on it though, Michayla found herself rather fond of the memory. She could've done a lot worse than Trevor Farley and at least it came from a boy that genuinely liked her for her. It wasn't until the second memorable kiss that Michayla actually wondered if this was what love was meant to feel like. It had been during a tour the orchestra had taken along the East Coast. James was a chair mate alongside Mickey in the string quartet and, before that evening, the two had been on their share of dinner dates and excursions. While hands had been held and cheeks had been caressed, the two had yet to share a truly intimate moment. It wasn't until an evening out exploring New York's Time Square that James made his move and sealed the night with a kiss. That had been the first instance of something that felt legitimate for Mickey. While it was lovely while it lasted, it wasn't long after that evening that Michayla was met with her diagnosis. As if that weren't enough to put a strain on the fresh relationship, James had also accepted an opportunity to travel to Florence, Italy with a budding company making headlines in Europe. He had promised to write. He didn't.

Now seated in Dezmond's lap, the pair moved to a rhythm that had been orchestrated by their desires and a love that had been slow-burning and brewing longer than either had truly realized. The way his hands pulled her body flush against his own and knotted into the fabric of her blouse felt insistent yet careful, similar to the way Michayla's hand had pushed up into the hair at the base of his neck while her other wrapped around and gripped at his shoulder. She felt impatient and greedy yet felt herself pulling back, her ravenous lips now pressing lightly to his own as if she were afraid he'd disappear. This all felt too good to be true, too wonderfully blissful to actually be real. The two kisses that had held significance in her life couldn't hold a torch to this. It was at this moment that Michayla knew what it truly felt like to be loved and to love someone else in return. This was what her mother had told her stories about.

Pulling their lips apart than to catch her breath, Michayla brought a trembling hand to Dezmond's now swollen lips as she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. While her desire to be near him pushed her body forward, she needed to be aware of her own limitations. Her lungs still burned from the very recent panic attack and she could feel her head beginning to swim again, this time simply from being drunk by his presence and the heat that poured off of him in waves. Leaning forward she would barely press her lips to his own as she began to trail them over the corners of his mouth and along the strong jaw that tilted in time with her progression. Reaching his ear, Michayla's teeth would give the angel's lobe a gentle tug before she whispered breathlessly, "I think I may need to be taken to bed."

Instantly she could feel the man's body stiffen against her own, nervous energy tightening his muscles and causing him to pause. Realizing a second too late how her request must've sounded, Michayla felt a deep laugh push up from her diaphragm and out past her puffy lips. Placing reassuring kisses along his cheeks and in quick succession against his mouth between giggles, Mickey shook her head a bit and motioned towards her lap, "I mean as in I don't physically think I can get there by myself unless I crawl." Catching her breath and relaxing into him again, she'd loosely hang her arms over his shoulders before pressing her forehead to his and asking simply, "Mind giving me a hand?"

It's always been you.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Winding Down

tags

Aneres

With eyes opening once their kiss came to its conclusion, they'd soon flutter shut yet again while slightly tilting his head to one side. Giving her roaming lips easier access to travel from the corner of his mouth to the lobe of his ear, a stuttered breath would escape his chest at the tug of his earlobe. Of course the words that followed brought on a momentary panic, his eyes opening in full only to lean back ever so slightly to share his surprised expression with Michayla, fortunately she was quick to reassure. Her laughter cut off by kiss after kiss, trying to reassure Dezmond that it was simply a misunderstanding while kissing away his anxiety.

Hearing her out, a nervous chuckle soon began to spill from his own lips before a happy smile returned to his features. "Of course. Hold onto me." He'd whisper, still a bit rattled from the miscommunication before. That, and from having his breath taken away by their shared passion moments ago. Once Michayla had done as directed, helping her bring her arms back up and around the back of his neck, he'd bring both arms down and move to cradle her in his arms. Dezmond wasn't exactly physically large, but lifting the sickly Michayla from the kitchen floor while standing himself up seemed effortless. Once up, he'd do as she requested and soon enough they'd be in the bedroom.

Leaning over for a moment, he'd lower Michayla down while meeting his eyes with her own as he did so. With her head finally coming to rest back against her pillow, Dezmond simply smiled down at her without any expectations. Still bubbling over with glee from the new intimacy they'd just shared, an intimacy that was certainly new to him in general. Once she was done, he'd move to sit on the edge of the bed only to let out a tired sounding sigh of his own. He wasn't fatigued, nor could he be physically tired, but after the excitement of the day he certainly was rather drained.

"Is there anything you need?" He asked, his voice still quiet as to not stir the ambiance of the room.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Bedroom

interaction
Early

mood
Still

Michayla Macy

It had begun as the smallest of sparks. A slight humming that had left her heart fluttering cautiously against the safe confines of her ribs. It was insignificant, a warmth that Mickey had equated to the shared company of her mother and the reliving of simpler days. The heat had intensified as the pair pressed their palms together in dance, moving rhythmically to the melody that filled the empty spaces, their steps keeping time with their curious heartbeats. Then, as their lips had pressed together and Michayla felt herself becoming lost between Dezmond’s arms, she felt she had all but been set ablaze. So much had happened in that one day. Michayla’s life had taken an alternative path from the one that she had pegged herself seeing through. It was one that was accompanied by hope, love, and reassurance that there was more to live for than just waiting around to die. As she felt herself being lifted from the kitchen floor and carried off to bed, she found herself drifting between dream and reality, her head swimming with countless possibilities as she focused on the robust beating of Dezmond’s heart. It mirrored the thrum of her own, now sure and beaming. Feeling the weight of the day seep from her shoulders and into the plush mattress that she was placed upon, the heat the two had shared had simmered into a comfortable warmth, one that left the pair flushed with steady breaths and wistful eyes. Was this what Theresa had referred to in her hushed whispers? Had this been the feeling that her mother described when she looked to her father, only to be met with the same expression of complete love and adoration?

“Is there anything you need?”​

Reaching forward and gently running the tips of her fingers along his pale knuckles, Mickey ushered his fingers into the palm of her hand. She then brought the same knuckles to her lips and kissed each one of them in succession, pausing momentarily over the knuckle of Dezmond’s thumb before turning her eyes upwards to meet the deep-set gold of his own. Michayla simply shook her head as she smiled softly, her eyes never leaving his own.

“Just you,” she said, a matter of factly.

The silence that the two shared felt weightless and airy, as if time couldn’t or, rather, wouldn’t touch them. It almost felt as if the universe was choosing to answer Michayla’s silent prayer to continue on with this moment, to allow it to pass onwards and to stretch into what felt like their own little eternity. She didn’t want this day to end in fear that when she opened her eyes again it would simply be that of a distant dream. It wasn’t every day that someone met their guardian angel, must less share such intimate and personal time with them. Though she could feel exhaustion and sleep beginning to tug at the edges of her consciousness, Michayla willed herself to stay here with him, even if it were only for a few moments more.

“What’s heaven like?” she’d ask sleepily.

Though the young woman could feel herself on the cusp of falling away from Dezmond's voice into the depths of her own subconscious, that didn't stop Mickey's curiosity. Since receiving her initial diagnosis, Michayla had juggled with the thought of what heaven actually was. Had it been that of the stories she was told as a child, a paradise that sat behind gates made of shimmering pearls where good people received wings and little halos? Was it even a concept that humans could truly conceive? Who better to ask? Besides, Michayla could think of no better way of ending this near-perfect day than being lulled to sleep by the voice of her guardian angel.

Just you.

coded by incandescent

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Fulfilled

tags

Aneres

Though he need not breath, she had taken his breath once her hand found his own. Instead of shutters or the sensation of electricity, her lips created a certain numbness over the skin she kissed until he could swear his very hand had fallen asleep in her grasp. Her comment caused his eyes to widen ever so slightly, unsure just how he should act with such a heavy suggestion now looming over his head.

“Just you.”

How else would it be? He'd only leave her upon her very own request for him to do so, and even if he wasn't intending on joining her in bed, he'd still be by it quietly reading to pass the time while she slept through another night. As he'd done roughly ninety-five hundred nights before. With his uneasy expression softening, no longer looking so caught off guard, he'd offer a meek smile down to Michayla. "Heaven is so complex, it's difficult to put into words in your language." He'd whisper the beginnings of his promise to her, knowing well she was still trying to find the opportunity to sleep.

"It's a place of comfort, but it isn't so perfect that it has become bleak. You are able to reunite with all your loved ones should you wish, as well as watch those whom you left behind in your passing. It's a place tailored for your individual happiness. People assume it to be a vast paradise, but it's actually pretty small considering everyone gets their own slice of it, per say." As he'd begin to explain best he could, his soft pink lips would pull into a fine line as he began to thought. Was this breaking a rule? Not one he could think of, anyway. "When you're in a world tailored to you, it's rarely any bigger than the very home you left behind. All your comforts, and favorite activities within reach while the ones you love are always within earshot should they chose to be available to you. After all, one persons paradise may not be the others." It's by now that Dezmond would move to sit upon the edge of the bed, his hand now weaving fingers between her own to hold it loosly in his warm grasp.

With brilliant eyes looking down to his resting obligation, Dezmond still smiled as he kept a quiet and soft spoken tone. "Some as simple as a book with a cup of tea before a fireplace in a cabin amidst a land enveloped by winter. Every individuals ideal heaven is different, and they are able to experience all their joys however they decide. With others, or alone." As he'd begin to explain this, he found it hard explaining to Michayla what it was like to be a creator of your own ideal world. He couldn't explain the complexity behind it, the feelings that came with true euphoria, and how an existence without pain or suffering was truly unfathomable. "In Heaven you want nothing because you have all you could ever dream of, and so much more than I could ever explain. I'm excited to see your paradise, and maybe time to time, you'll let me enjoy it with you." He'd finish with his voice low and soft, his free hand that wasn't in his had moved to pull her blankets up to her chin while he'd continued explaining what she'd asked to hear about. For now he'd stay by her side as she drifted into her dreams, and just maybe he'd start to use some of his heavenly influence and be more than just a presence in her room.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

The Archangel

Gabriel

“--you’ll let me enjoy it with you.”​

Words that were meant to be shared among fleeting hearts in a moment of intimacy and love were instead overheard by a prying onlooker. What had began as an occasional check-in, a tab of sorts that had been opened and present but only ever offered a fleeting gaze, had evolved into something much more demanding of time and attention. Now perched outside of Michayla’s bedroom window, golden eyes ablaze with curiosity, the Archangel Gabriel watched on in silence as the mortal woman drifted off to sleep, the soft words of her guardian angel acting as the lullaby to shepherd her consciousness into its dreams.

“How interesting.” Gabriel mused softly to himself.

He could feel the corners of his thin lips pull up into a feline grin as his glittering eyes hid the momentous and hefty thoughts that raced indiscriminately behind their gaze. So many unprecedented avenues had been explored in the short span of a single human day. While he had done well to keep his distance and simply observe, the angel’s natural curiosity had pulled him down into the garden of man. To experience the events as they naturally unfolded instead of simply witnessing erected goosebumps over Gabriel’s alabaster flesh. It felt akin to a scientist witnessing and recording his findings first hand as opposed to being handed a report of second hand and objectified observations. He all but felt giddy at the countless number of possibilities that now lay stretched out before them. If things continued as is and ran smoothly, then that would be invaluable information that could be used for further happenstance. If, by chance, things faltered and hit a snag, though…

Gabriel reached for and loosened the collar around his throat as he swallowed past the salivation that had collected at the thought. The Archangel’s operations ran like a well-oiled machine. Go here, observe, collect, return. As someone with a naturally curious and questioning eye, the last few centuries had grown rather stagnant for Gabriel. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t appreciate or take pride in his work. Though the thought of missteps excited the angel in the degree of feeding into and indulging his inquisitive nature, it also tickled his need to assert order. Like a cat that toyed with its prey, though he enjoyed the hunt for knowledge and understanding, it was in the conclusion and final plucking of the problem that left him most full and satisfied.

Now that he had been sure that the charge had fallen into a deep and restless slumber, Gabriel decided that now was the time to make his presence known. With nothing more than thought the ethereal being now found himself seated in the same armchair that his underling had previously claimed. One pleated leg lay crossed over the other as Gabriel absently bobbed his foot too and fro. He opted to rest his elbows against the plush arms of the chair, his slender fingers meeting and intertwining to nest his chin comfortably atop the knuckles. While he and Dezmond resembled one another in overall uniformity, it was clear upon first glance which of the two held authority. Perhaps it was the way Gabriel’s shoulders remained square with perfect posture beneath his gold-leafed coat or how every strand of long, snow-white hair lay placed precisely and perfectly. Either way, the atmosphere in the room took an obvious shift as Gabriel parted his catlike grin and gave Dezmond a lilted greeting.

“Good evening, dear Dezmond.”

Before giving the other a chance to speak, the archangel shook his head slowly before stating simply. “No need to fret. I’m not here to relinquish your title or to threaten the balance. We just need to have….a conversation.” Though the phrase was delivered and spoken innocently enough, there was an obvious weight attached that Gabriel knew would be felt. The idea left him downright giddy.

Michayla's Bedroom

Curious

Here

Early

coded by natasha.

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Startled

tags

Aneres

There was no way to avoid it. The obvious surprise that took hold over Dezmonds expression the moment his brothers voice sounded was clear, and there was no point in attempting to hide such obvious emotion. Still at Michaylas side, his eyes now widened as he looked down to her peaceful expression while she slept, Dezmond would let out a quiet but shaky exhale. Here it goes.

"Brother." Dezmond began, his smile forming after turning to take in Gabriel. There he was, magnificent and great - and in Dezmonds favorite chair. There were truly only two things in the universe that were more than Gabriel, that being their father and their eldest brother Michael. Not considering the other end of the divine, or lack there of that is. "A good evening to you as well. I'm sorry for the current situation you've caught me in, please excuse my current demeanor." He'd apologize for the surprise he knew Gabriel could see and sense, as well as the fact that his voice was hushed to a whisper. Not from fear, but from not wanting to alert or awaken the girl whom could see and hear him. Unsure if she could see or hear her brother, it was still his wish that she was content and at peace, even in such trying times. That, and if she could for some reason see Gabriel too then things would likely get very out of hand.

Now at his feet and not at the side of the bed, he'd move a bit away from Michaylas side only to approach his Gabriel. Their golden eyes likely fixed upon one another, wearing likely a very similar calming smile, this was one of those moments were Dezmond was having a hard time keeping his smile on. Unaccustomed to lying and being insincere, this was one of those moments he was having a hard time keeping composure. Sure, he was being told to not fret, yet how could he not? This was unfamiliar ground to him, so for now all he needed was some light being shed upon their predicament by his elder brother. He'd been alive for eons, if not longer after all, it's very likely something like this has happened before. Right?

"Thank you for arriving, I am very glad that your wisdom can be offered to help in this test I'm facing." Dezmond spoke to his elder, sincere in the moment that he hoped for good news. A slight worry remained that there may be a negative offer that Dezmond didn't agree with, but even if then what could he possibly do? Defy? No good came out of angels defying heavens will, even those not devote knows well what is to come if that happens. All he could hope is that Gabriel came with one thing, and that would be ground rules for the newest situation; ones he could agree with and respect.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

The Archangel

Gabriel

“A good evening to you, as well---”​

Words that more closely resembled a breath than a greeting parted the young Knight’s lips as he untangled his hands from the mortal woman and turned his full attention to their visitor. Gabriel watched intently, the angel’s burning eyes following and observing Dezmond’s every finite movement while the rest of his senses painted him a clear picture of the situation at hand. The way his mirrored eyes darted between Gabriel and the charge, the shuffle and square of his shoulders. The hushed and soft-spoken welcome. Unbeknownst to Dezmond, the simplest tilt of the chin or the way he looked up from beneath his white eyelashes only heightened the ravenous nature of Gabriel’s curiosity and caused a ferocity that left his throat on fire and his palms quaking. However, the Archangel retained his composure, despite the absolute resurgent interest that had all but consumed his thoughts. No, on the outside, he was just as Dezmond remembered; coy, aloof, and feline in nature.

When Gabriel’s guidance was brought into question, all the Archangel could do was give Dezmond a small shrug of the shoulders, his snow colored hair cascading forward and pooling in his lap. “Such is not the case, I am afraid. While I’m sure it would be preferred for both parties that I be the one to deliver answers instead of more questions, I’m sorry to say that the opposite is true, dear brother.” He leaned forward then, opting to place his elbows center on his knees while he propped his squared jaw between his thumbs.

“You see, if anyone here holds the answers it is you.” Gabriel paused for a moment then, his gaze finding, holding, and burning into the twin irises of his subordinate. While he was usually very careful with keeping his true intentions and motivations tight-lipped and under careful scrutiny, the angel couldn’t help but wonder how telling the Knight’s reaction would be in response to his change in demeanor.

“And I intend to collect them.” Gab’s tone closely resembled the hushed whisper of Dezmond’s greeting, only his words held a much more sinister edge to them. Best to let him be aware of the lengths that Gabriel would be willing to go to retrieve said answers in order to keep the cosmos balanced and ticking properly. Alas, unable (or more so unwilling) to allow the ambiance in the room to be further distorted, Gabriel quickly erected himself from Dezmond’s armchair, and with a blasé flick of his wrist went about reassuring the young angel that he had nothing to fear.

“Now, now, I was being truthful when I said you had nothing to fret over, Dezmond. I’m choosing to use this rather peculiar happenstance as a learning opportunity, not only for the two of us but for the off chance that such an incident may present itself in the future.” Walking towards Dezmond, Gabriel would desist his current track of movement when his topaz eyes would catch a glimpse of Michayla’s sleeping face. This had been the first occurrence that he had been this close to this mortal in particular and to say he was a bit taken aback would be an understatement. He could feel the corners of his lips pull upwards into his trademark feline grin, the heels of his polished, alabaster loafers detouring his course to the side of the bed which Dezmond had previously occupied. Leaning forward ever so slowly, Gabriel would reach forward then and leave the smallest of caresses over Mickey’s still flushed and puffy cheek. While he was very much able to feel her, he pondered if she were able to feel him. It would be something, he concluded, that he may have to look into in the future.


“What a fine specimen. While I do not question father’s will I can’t help but wonder what potential such young and talented individuals are wasting in their death.” sighed the angel.

Straightening his back once more, Gabriel’s hand found Dezmond’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze before proceeding to walk the Knight to the window that sat behind the armchair. “Allow me to give you a bit of insight that may or may not help you navigate the current...predicament, that you’ve found yourself in, dear Dezmond. While this may very well be a unique occurrence between one of our kind and a mortal, you may find it reassuring to remember that humans were made in the image of our father. They were created by his hand, the same as us. The only true defining difference, besides our place of residence, lies in the fact that they are flawed, at their essence. We are not. We weren’t created to be. We simply fill two different roles in the expansive universe that was created. With that being said,” Gabriel paused then, his hand falling from Dezmond’s arm and folding behind his back. In what felt like the swiftness of a blink, Gabriel now hovered inches from the ground, outside of Michayla’s window, his golden eyes still insistent and holding those of Dezmond’s.

“Use this as an opportunity to better immerse yourself in the human experience. How their suffering, happiness, joy, sorrow, can alter and decipher their wants and desires. This special case may very well be a cornerstone for how we approach guardianship and the shepherding of his flock in the future. Just remember, my dearest Dezmond. I will be watching the two of you closely. There is no word whispered, no action taken, that I will not witness.”

Folding his arms across his chest then, Gabriel tilted his head a bit, much resembling that of a curious feline. “Was there anything else you needed clarification on, brother?”

Michayla's Bedroom

Curious

Here

Early

coded by natasha.

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Obstinant

tags

Aneres

It was no secret that the elders thought very highly of themselves, this was especially true of Gabriel. Many times has he been witness to his elders words of wisdom, which is what any sane person would refer to his rants as. Yet, they were just that. Though Dezmond wasn't the type to keep secrets, in fact up until recently he wasn't even the type to tell a tall tale. Though his existence has already changed, being the witness to a new experience the likes of heaven has never seen. So as he listened on, his mind couldn't help but wonder, all the while the fact he was deep in thought being plastered upon his still surprised face.

”I can’t help but wonder what potential such young and talented individuals are wasting in their death.”

A tinge of annoyance showed with Dezmonds brows narrowing, though even he may not know the reason why. Truly it was because his brother had to be so right all the time, and even the younger Angel in the room couldn't deny it to be so. Though it was suddenly so hard to admit it as a likely truth. Why must Michayla perish, along with the many gifts she could offer to the garden? Yet, questioning the greater plan of the almighty wasn't something he'd mutter into existence, as it wasn't his place to do so. Regardless, it wasn't easy for him to just accept his elders words that Michayla was going to die, and Dezmond hadn't the faintest idea why.

"- they are flawed, at their essence. We are not."

Now lead towards the window, overlooking the admittedly sorry excuse for a garden at Michaylas home. Though that was hardly her fault, all things considered. Yet the symbolism stuck with him amidst his brothers words. An untended garden, existing from the efforts of a 'flawed' creation on a paradise long lost in mankind's history. All made by a perfect creator, and watched over by perfect keepers. "I suppose one thing, brother..." Dezmond began, his expression having calmed. He knew now that if Gabriel would be watching, as he said, it was likely others were keen on the current situation. Others would also be listening in, maybe even...

"I just find it hard to fathom. All of this. Surely, I can't be as flawless as you claim we are." He begins, insinuating that maybe he is different than the rest of his kin. That, or perhaps they aren't as perfect as Gabriel says, or as perfect as their father claims to be. "After all, brother Luci-" With his eyes widening, Dezmond quickly realizes he was bringing up something considered a common taboo. Especially so for the younger generation, those who never meet the missing Archangel. To question their perfection wasn't what Lucifer did, in fact it was quite the opposite from what he understood. It was that they were too perfect to be tasked with watching over the newest creation their father made.

Looking from the window back to Gabriel, he'd find his lips still slightly parted after cutting off his own words. "My apologies." It was clear from his eyes he meant it, knowing well he was overstepping. "I'm just... As you know, this is all very new. It isn't something I, or any of us, have dealt with. I'm just a bit flustered given how unusual the situation is." He'd defend, though his gaze darted from the perfect image of Gabriel over to the bed yet again. There he'd find Michayla, still apparently asleep and blissfully unaware of the current situation. "Though I must admit. As... Unusual this may be, I'm glad it happened. Out of her entire bloodline, leading to her at the end of the tree, she's been the most pleasant to be beside. I don't know why this is happening, and even with you coming here now and saying all you have, nothing has changed."

Moving of his own free will away from Gabriel then, Dezmond would walk calmly back across the room, his back to his eldest all the while continuing to talk. "You ask of me to continue watching over her, saying it could benefit heaven. That many angels could learn from this impossible occurrence." As he spoke, he'd reach down and put a hand upon the arm of his oh so favorite chair, it's familiar fabric still soft to the touch even after all the years. Pivoting then to casually lower himself down to a seated position, he'd begin to lounge casually as he'd done ever since the chair was introduced to the home. It's then that Dezmond would look back to Gabriel, his golden gaze matching the intensity his brother offered upon arrival before picking up where he left off. "I understand, but I hope you understand that is not my priority. I was tasked to be this families guardian, and as you so mentioned earlier, it is a shame to see it coming to an end. Until it does, I will keep doing my duty and love and care for this girl. To watch over her. If you, or any of my siblings, or even Father wishes to observe then that is fine by me. Though I hope you understand me when I say it is irresponsible for any of you to come as you please."

It seemed the younger brother had a bit of a spine after all, though it had come to his attention somewhere along the line he wasn't standing up for himself. "After all, she's incredibly sick, as you've noticed." Again he hinted at his brothers words in regards to Michaylas mortal dilemma. "My existence alone was a massive threat to her health, I know my elder and wiser brother would agree more Angels arriving, especially those known far and wide by mankind, could pose hazardous to her health. Which would be in direct violation to the rules of interaction." Rules which, admittedly, were out the window considering all the times he'd minutely influenced her life well before she could see him. Now they were in an era where rules couldn't possibly exist, but maybe the reasoning Dezmond offered would reach his brother. Along with his snark and clear displeasure in some things his eldest had said.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

The Archangel

Gabriel

Dezmond made no attempt to hide his distaste with his eldest’s blatant lack of bedside manner when it came to the topic of the young woman’s passing and the sight of him brought the smallest smile to Gabriel’s thin lips. The fool didn’t even realize that his displeasure stemmed from the feelings of affection he shared with the woman and the thought tickled Gabriel pink. This investment was already beginning to prove beneficial to the angel.

“Does coming to terms with your charge’s morality sting a bit differently now that you’ve found yourself intimately invested in their affairs, Dezmond?” It was a simple enough question but Gabriel knew that in asking, especially as aloof as he had, it would be sure to ruffle more than a few feathers. Especially as he continued on.

“Alternatively, could it be pain stemmed in knowing that you will be the one to shepherd them after their demise? On the other hand, is it more so the fact that you are seeing the end of a lineage so soon into your assignment?” Tapping a slender finger pensively against his sharp chin, Gabriel concluded. “So many questions yet neither of us are any closer to an answer than we were before.”

It became apparent to Gabriel that his underling, an act of defiance that was foreign to the ethereal ancient, rejected the same pretty and precisely stringed words that he had used for millennia. While the archangel should've realistically chastised the knight and reminded him of his place in the hierarchy, Gabriel’s ravenous hunger for knowledge and his outright inappropriate curiosity skewed his views of what was necessary and expected and subjectively left him open to allow a bit of blurring the lines. This, alone, contradicted the pointed argument he had made that their kind was without flaws when, in reality, they had the potential to be just as flawed if not more so than their mortal counterparts. His fallen brother was proof enough. Something that Dezmond had been so bold as to mention directly.

“So, the ethics of Morningstar are being brought into question. Very well, I’ll entertain it.” he quipped.

“Truth be told, we do have the potential to become flawed. If we didn’t, the War in Heaven would’ve never come to fruition and Lucifer wouldn’t be slated as the Prince of Hell. Regardless, using Satan as an example of a flawed inner compass is a bit extreme.” Gabriel paused for a moment to chuckle at the thought before finishing his point. “He tried to overthrow God and ascend as the Almighty. You fell in love with and chose to engage in a relationship with a mortal woman.”

The prince of heaven looked on thoughtfully, his eyes falling once again on the fragile sleeping beauty that dreamed blissfully between two of heaven’s civil servants.

“In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that you’re not the first knight to have fallen in love with their charge,” he muttered, more so to himself than Dezmond.

“Just the first-ever documented as having the opportunity to act on it.”

"I know my elder and wiser brother would agree more Angels arriving, especially those known far and wide by mankind, could pose hazardous to her health. Which would be in direct violation of the rules of interaction."​

Touche. So it would appear that dear Dezmond had a spine after all. With a quick shrug of the shoulder and exaggerated snigger, Gabrel leaned slightly forward then and continued.

“Perhaps we should get right to the point, then. As it seems you have underestimated my position, Dezmond, allow me to quickly remind you before we push forward. While I may not possess quite the same attributes as our eldest brother or our Father for that matter, I may still be able to shield you from their ever-watchful eyes. Oh, I may very well feel like a thorn in your side, but I assure you that you’d much rather be in correspondence with me.”

Gabriel may have been overly pompous and more than a bit arrogant but there was no way Dezmond could argue his point. While Gabriel had a tendency to sway from the forged path in pursuit of his own goals and objectives, Micheal did not allow such disillusioned thoughts to alter his authority. Michael was as by the book as they came and Gabriel knew that once the most ancient of their kind caught wind of this, that would not only end Dezmond’s short stay on Earth (and potentially much worse) but so would also end Gabriel’s opportunity to observe the events that had yet to unfurl. He could not allow that to happen.

“So while you say it’s ‘fine by you’ to be observed by brother Michael and even potentially Father, I’m sure the same sentiment will not come to stand once your position is threatened. It would be very difficult to watch over and care for her if you were expelled from His graces.”

While Gabriel did not intend to feel threatening, he knew that Dezmond would not only hear but also feel the duality of his words. An offered reassurance to allow the knight to continue his mortal affair, under the guise of kindness while the very real threat of exposure would continue to hang over them should things begin to skew in a direction that Gabriel saw unfit. It felt manipulative and exploitive and while he felt the slightest tinge of guilt, the sweat that began to clam his palms paired with the quickened thrum of his pulse between the ears soon drowned out the delinquency.

Tsking himself then and pulling forth a rather elaborate pocket watch from the breast pocket of his overcoat, Gabriel sighed softly and motioned towards the heavens. “My apologies, brother, but duty calls,” Lifting a hand and grinning widely, Gabriel gave a final nod of the head before concluding. “Best of luck to you and the woman, dearest Dezmond. Should you ever need, you know where to find me.” And, with that, just as quickly as the archangel had appeared, he had vanished into a poof of iridescent light, leaving a certain heavy, unresolved apprehension in his wake.

Michayla's Bedroom

Contemplative

Here

Early

coded by natasha.

 

[Early]

Dezmond

The Materialist of Heaven

Location:

Michayla's Home

Mood:

Disquietude

tags

Aneres

Dezmond knew well once his brother first began that he was about to be told accurately about the very things he himself felt, and as Gabriel spoke it showed clearly on Dezmonds face just how right his words were. He couldn't help but agree with the fact that Michaylas passing was much more undesirable than nights before. If anything, he wanted her to be at peace and escape mortal suffering - But now? Above all else, he wanted to fulfill a newly made promise to her, and to help her live again as she so put it. Thought, even if she were to pass, she surely wouldn't be out of his reach? She lived a good life, he knew she'd be welcome unto heaven and while it may not be heard of, surely he could visit her in paradise?

It's as he pondered these thoughts that his brother brought up the Morning Star, Lucifer himself. An elder brother cast from heaven along with other rebelling siblings in a time well before Dezmond himself came to be. It's how Gabriel ended his response that brought a meek smile to Dezmonds face, realizing just how silly the two comparisons are now that he is hearing it allowed. If anything, it helped him realize that maybe brother Gabriel could be relied on during this test? It was obvious he had... Ulterior motives. Yet, if they coincided with Michaylas well being, then, who was he to fuss over the details?

Of course this feeling would be assured, if not comfortably then with a little force as his brother went on to remind Dezmond of the strictness of Heaven, and the fact Michael was very much by the book. Though there was no way father didn't already know - Right? It was at the end of the warning, if not threat, that Dezmond understood the gravity of the situation. Though he still had his reason to be reserved on the matter, it was clearly not something to dispute. For now on he'd have faith in Gabriel and hope for the best, if not for himself then at least for Michaylas sake.

"Thank you, brother." Dezmond would mouth quietly into the empty room, watching the illuminated glow that was once his brother dissipate from his presence. As far as Angels went, they were all unique, much like humans. Though unlike humans Angels were a bit more extreme in their ideals and feelings; Gabriel being no exception. "Seems to me this is but a test." He'd say, looking towards the bed and taking a moment to think. "One I hope to pass." Words muttered with a sigh, all the while standing and using both hands to effortlessly and quietly lift the chair. After moving it to the side of the bed Michayla slept on, he'd tilt it slightly so he could both be out of the way if she had to get up, but also be close and able to see her face clearly while she slept. A face he'd look to now before finding his seat again, even going as far as to reach down and lightly adjust the bedding to pull the blankets properly up past her shoulders to keep her warm.

Soon finding his seat again, he'd summon his halfway finished book and cross his left leg over his right before flipping it open and finding where he'd left off. Having never been visible before, he wasn't aware of how uncomfortable she may find this whole situation, but it also wasn't like he was actively watching her sleep. He simply wanted to be nearer, enjoying the quiet night while he still can. After all, the future suddenly looked very uncertain. Though as he read on into the fantasy novel, his mind did race. What exactly was it his brother was getting out of this experiment? He surely wouldn't keep a watchful eye for his own gain, perhaps there was some benefit to Heaven in this happenstance?

The only way to know was to visit, as Gabriel mentioned, so unless he could figure things out on his own then a trip home very well may be in his immediate future.

code by @Nano

 

[Aneres]

location
Bedroom

interaction
Early

mood
Perturbed

Michayla Macy

A dark room, shrouded in inky blackness that felt tangible and suffocating. Hands that were attached yet when stretched forward, felt like they reached into eternity. Michayla’s sense of surroundings, no, her sense of self waivered with uncertainty. Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel her chest begin to collapse in on itself, a tight fist of apprehension holding her lungs prisoner. The dark void that robbed her of her senses felt endless and malicious, something that left a pit in the young woman’s already aching gut. Her feet carried her forward but to where? Where was she going and where had she come from? How long had she been here, aimlessly wandering, unaware and lost?

Michayla brought her hands to her chest, long, slender fingers tangling and knotting in the fabric of her blouse. The material felt constricting and tight, even though the cotton obviously hung loosely from her thin frame. She could feel her thoughts beginning the long descent into the familiar panic, her body following suit and gearing up for the inevitable. It was then that she felt the warmth of a familiar presence. It was faint, nothing more than a subtle thrum that pulled at the back of her consciousness but it was there and it was real and it was enough to redirect her twisted convictions. Mickey angled her body towards the pull, something akin to a magnet being dragged into an opposing direction. Her feet once again dragged forward as she felt a clear goal formulate and present itself to her. While she was still uncertain of what waited for her at the end of this tether, its familiar warmth and nostalgic buzz replaced her previous anxieties with a sense of comfort and safety.

Home. ​

Michayla’s actions felt more urgent now, her feet shuffling forward in the abyss, leaving her clumsy and unbalanced. More than once she felt her body lurch forward, her feet catching on one another and threatening to send her toppling over. Then, there in the distance was a pinprick of light. It was so faint in the dense void that Michayla had to blink past the haze repeatedly to be sure she hadn’t imagined it.

With a newfound conviction, Mickey pressed onward, the manifested light slowly growing in size until it began to take shape. It was a silhouette, one that Michayla instantly recognized. The lines and curved painted a clear image of a masculine frame, touseled hair that sat atop broad shoulders and ran down a slender physique. Sowing and stopping only a few feet from the ethereal phantom, the young woman felt her cheeks pull up into a sweet smile as the details of the stranger’s face began to materialize. Thin, topaz eyes framed by alabaster lashes and set above a narrow nose. A strong, squared jaw paired with a pair of plump, pink lips. A heat erupted in Michayla’s chest as a flood of memories overwhelmed her and left her thoughts clouded and her head spinning. Moonlight, the subtle scent of rose tea, the sleepy trill of a trumpet. Bodies pressed flush, fingertips in white hair, slender fingers gripping tightly to satin. Lips pressed together, hungry, aching, and needy. Warmth. Love.

“Dezmond,” the name of her angel passed as nothing more than a breath through parted lips as Michayla’s hands reached for his. Alas, her fingers would never find his as the figure of Dezmond stepped aside to reveal another, more staggering apparition.

“Dad...?” He had appeared just as Mickey had remembered, black hair peppered with bits of white and dark, oval eyes that he’d the same genuine sweetness that her departed father’s smile gifted her. With a nod of affirmation, Michael would open his arms to his now trembling daughter, welcoming her into an embrace.

“It’s good to see you, Mickey Mouse.”

Michayla didn’t question the presence of her father or why Dezmond was present and simply looking on and witnessing the encounter. The only thing Mickey could do was crash into her father’s embrace and return to the hard squeeze of love that enveloped both of them. She inhaled deeply as she felt tears begin to spill and stain her flushed cheeks. He still smelled of aftershave and cologne, a pair of scents that transported Mickey to her childhood. The countless evenings spent in the garden, brewed tea shared between the two as Michael played melodies that matched the hue of twilight. Michayla could’ve sat in her memories for eternity but something pulled her from her nostalgia just as she had found herself being consumed by it. An icy, barely-there brush across her cheek, a feeling similar to that of a too cold hand being left exposed on a chilly day. Swiftly angling her body towards the touch, Mickey had thought she had seen snow white tendrils in her peripheral. Thread, maybe? Or could it have been hair?

Shaking past the eerie feeling, Michayla turned back to her father and Dezmond, only to bear witness to yet another unexpected sight. The darkness had now been obliterated by an overwhelmingly blinding light, rays of illumination haloing a large. Pearlescent gate. Turning his body and extending an arm towards the towering fixture, Mickey’s father offered her a warm, reassuring smile. Dezmond stepped to her side then, an arm snaking around her waist and pulling her into his side. She could feel his breath against her ear, his melodic voice a whispered hush as he pushed her forward.

“Welcome home, Michayla.”
​

A quick jerk shook Michayla from her slumber, her grey eyes shooting open and her breath catching in her throat as she instinctively brought a hand to her suddenly pounding skull. Blinking past the previous night’s sleep, she twisted her shoulders down towards the mattress as her other hand shielded her eyes from the beams of sunlight that blanketed her bed and body in their warmth. She had half expected to be welcomed by another restless night but such didn’t appear to be the case. Instead, it seemed that she had actually slept through the night. Something she hadn’t done in months.

Reaching above her head and stretching her stagnant body, feet pointing and back arching, the young woman heaved a sigh of relief and comfort as she melted back into the mattress. Turning her head then, she saw him sitting there, his favorite armchair now pulled to the side of her bed, his golden eyes leaving the pages of whatever novel he had been engrossed in and looking on expectantly. A small smile colored her visage as she thought of his lips pressed to the lobe of her ear, his whispered words encapsulating her thoughts like a haunting melody. Silently wishing that he may have overlooked her startle and possibly even the unease that left her grey eyes overcast, Michayla’s smile evolved into one of genuine warmth as she took in his features drenched in the morning sunshine.

“Good morning, angel.”

Welcome home.

coded by incandescent