Fantasy 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 —

[bad wolf]

... 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 —

bad wolf || Nanifel, Mirus
Mypilot || Vincent Chevalier, Eleanor Bain, Kazrien
​

 

[bad wolf]

Nanifel

Angel

Unease weighed heavy on the emerging drove, pushing down so that their sorry heads hung and shoulders slouched. Those that wandered in from the docks were war-torn and ragged, the paths they took worn by dragging feet. It was a weary sight, to see so many surface from the waters like quietly drowned rats--dripping, covered in seaweed, and smelling of salt. They did not shake themselves like dogs but merely trudged on into the sea-side village. Nanifel followed, tripping on the embankment as he fought for a foothold. He dug in, grabbed at the wood of the village docks and pulled himself up and on.

Aside him, beneath the docks, an angel crawled on all fours. His eyes stared wide as he murmured quickly into the sand. "It's gone. It's gone. It's gone," he repeated. Licking at the water over his lips, the angel stood and stumbled. "They warned us and now it's gone." He reached with one hand and grabbed at his chest with the other. His fingers tugged at the cloth over his heart, nearly clawing the skin underneath. As he ducked under a beam, Nanifel caught him, pushing back on the angel's shoulders.

Though his gaze softened and brows furrowed, any ounce of sympathy he possessed looked practiced. Nonetheless, Nanifel willed himself to make some sort of connection. He'd seen angels in such a state before and new their fate should their pain consume them.

The angel stood still a moment, his eyes struggling to focus. "I felt it. It was here and they took it." The angel raked his fingers over his heart again.

Nanifel's gaze flashed between those angels still arriving and back towards those disappearing into the cool, windswept structures ahead of them. Wrapping one of the angel's arms around his shoulders, he helped him forward. He wasn't sure what to say. He already knew what the angel spoke of, and though Nanifel had never experienced it, he new the outcome of having something so significant taken.

"I feel empty," the angel whimpered. "And that isn't right... We- We're born finished, fulfilled. What sense does it make to have that extra little bit hurt so much." His voice grew and words went without pause, causing Nanifel to look about them warily. "They warned us. The bastards warned us and I didn't listen and now they're laughing at us... They're laughing at me. I feel so empty."

"What you had wasn't yours to begin with. You are as you were. You've lost nothing," Nanifel chided. He watched their feet as they walked. He was afraid that the angel had spoken too loudly, too clearly. The others feared an angel that felt too deeply about a gift that was never meant to be theirs. You could take it but you could not cry when it was taken back. The tears and salt would drown you out and drive you mad.

The angel recoiled suddenly, standing stiff in his tracks. "He made us broken and we pretended that was natural." He pushed away from Nanifel, clenched and unclenched his hands. "Don't we have the right to fix ourselves?" His eyes searched desperately, coming closer and closer towards something Nanifel couldn't discern. They finally found their mark and dilated. The angel's expression became the sort a hungry dog gets before devouring red meat. Deadpanned and vacant, there was nothing behind it.

"You've lost nothing," Nanifel repeated.

"Nothing and everything." A voice sounded behind him like slow rain or distant thunder. It had a willowy strength which bent but never broke. A hand squeezed his shoulder gently and the glassy stare of his sister-in-arms appeared aside him. "But I doubt you'd understand that." Moving to stand in front of him, she placed her hand over his chest and pushed hard, sending Nanifel stumbling back into the sand. "The small-minded seldom do," she murmured. Crouching, she placed an elbow on either knee and met Nanifel at eye level. "He saw an opportunity to better his life. Don't diminish that sacrifice with your petty words." Though she remained calm, a storm brewed somewhere behind her green gaze.

Nanifel's hands sank into the sand and rocks behind him, his fingers curling around handfuls of it. He blinked back at her, trying to hold her gaze till he could no more. Averting his eyes, he listened as she rightened herself and moved away.

"Not all of us make the cut," she whispered. Turning quickly, she closed the gap between the unnamed angel and herself. Even as he lunged at her, there was no hesitation in her stride, no second thoughts as she wrapped an arm around his neck. Cupping his chin lovingly in the palm of her hand, she looked up with misty eyes and turned his head around in her hands, unblinking even as the crack resounded around them. As he fell to the ground, she stared toward Nanifel. There was a feeling there they should be utterly devoid of, an emotion he could not comprehend.

"Mirus..." Nanifel finally breathed, all other words leaving him. Stepping over the body, Mirus turned her weary gaze to the village and walked on.

. . .

New Order by Blue Monday​

The group had found a radio and, using a bit of magic, they performed a miracle. Without batteries, numbers appeared and a track started up from the burned disc inside. The music started strong and rose, reaching long over concrete floors till it poured into the furthest corners. There were a few dozen of them, sitting quietly or hunched over and standing, all listening closely to the electric beats. Its empty echo pulsed strongly in Nanifel's chest and though the angels inside the room might tap their shoes, Nanifel only felt the need to swat at the notes like nagging flies.

Starring in through the open door, Nanifel squinted past the dull ache in his head and studied his brothers and sisters closely. Though they seldom uttered a word to Him anymore, their heads looked as though they were bowed in prayer. If it weren't for the music, the lyrics they mumbled could be a hymn. The scene looked familiar and felt so strange, tilted and out of focus.

Standing a moment longer in the doorway to the warehouse, Nanifel scuffed his boots over the floor and continued down a corridor to the main offices. He sought after Mirus, the champion of this raggedy outfit. She'd disappeared after the incident on the beach, leaving everyone to their own vices. On this particular day, that meant wallowing in dark corners and begging for change. After their defeat in the city... After having lost so many on the long trek here... Those that were left of Mirus' once proud army knew little else that they could do but silently weep.

It was unlike them, Nanifel thought, to mourn as the did, to sit idle doing nothing. Had they stood as they were, they'd have never left the city to begin with. Even if they tried, Mirus would have dispatched the deserters with one hand while throttling the enemy in the other. She'd have staid and fought to the bitter end. Nanifel suddenly grimaced at the idea, not entirely sold on an ending without retreat either.

Whatever actions they'd took, they were here now and Nanifel could see no reason wasting the time they still had. Finding Mirus, searching this village, and winning back the city were among his top most concerns.

. . .​

He scoured the main offices for any sign of the war angel and found nothing but broken bottles and overturned desks. She wasn't in the warehouse and so Nanifel left it to search the village. The road outside was charred, the few houses that stood opposite of the warehouse complete ash. The further he walked, the more he saw. A crater with black dirt surrounding it, dead trees bent away by some phantom source, cars turned over, windows shattered, and not a living soul in sight.

How long had it been? Nanifel had never felt time drag on so slowly. When did the first angel fall and Armageddon begin? A day ago, a few months, had it really been years... He thought it better not to know and busied his mind with his search.

The ground underneath him rose in a cloud, the disturbed earth hard to see through. As he strode further into the village, storefronts appeared, thoroughly ransacked by a desperate people. Glass crunched under his feet, the only sound he could discern from the roaring ocean. He was careful, stiff and observant as he journeyed deeper into the ruin. The shadows he saw moved with him, they lurked about corners and darted for cover every time he turned his head. He saw a looming danger, a persistent monster at the corner of his eye.

"Mirus..." She stood with her back to him and as he spoke, she rose a hand to silence him. As he closed the gap between them and came around to stand beside her, he saw her eyes were round and dilated, the same hungry look he saw on the beach, this time only nearing the edge of insanity. Following her line of sight, he saw nothing at the end of it. Nonetheless, there was a pull. He felt his heart leap in his chest and his hands grip tightly at the open air. "Mirus," he warned.

"Shut it," she snapped. More softly she said, "You'll scare it away." Without looking, Mirus prowled forward, every muscle tensing under her skin. Crossing the street, her long coat fluttered in the wind behind her.

Watching her go, Nanifel closed his eyes tightly. He ignored the pull as best he could and allowed the ocean to steal him away with its crashing waves. In its embrace, he felt how weak he was, stretched thin and folded too many times. There was less of him now everyday, worn down and faded. He felt as though a good gust of wind could carry him off... Hopefully someplace nicer, more peaceful.

Upon opening his eyes and finding himself stood in the same place he always was, he took a step toward the pull, a sullen desire leading him.

coastal town

drenched & defeated

mirus, vincent(at the end)

coded by natasha.