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dapper-ocs-collective · 2 months ago

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A little piece for a bunch of my OM ocs 🌸

Haven't written anything in a decent bit so I'm proud of myself for getting this out it's just a concept for my ocs I've had for a while and I want to try writing for my ocs more

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Justice is absolute. It is indomitable, the driving force of Camael’s life; it is the very reason he was created.

He knows the importance of remaining partial when doling it out so that when it comes time, he may not hesitate to be its deliverer.

The forests of the Devildom were never quiet. You could always hear a cacophony of beasts roaring, howling, and chirping between the tree. It's why you had to always, always, be wary of watchful gazes when journeying into it's depths. Tonight, Cam couldn't so much as hear the wind howling in the silent jungle.

But, that doesn't mean there weren't hungry eyes in the pitch black.

“Show yourself, girls. I know these forests are where you call home.” Cam planted the tip of his colossal sword in the grass. Waiting, his sharp ears listened for whispers in the dark.

He picked out the sound of creaking wood before he could see them. Almost reflecting the moonlight with their ghost white skin and hair surrounding four bright pink, hypnotic swirling eyes, the demonesses stalked out on either side of a thick tree before him. The twins wore their demon forms, leathery wings and rosey tails stretched out behind them. Those tails flicked slowly back and forth, forth and back, reminding Cam not of house cats but of panthers.

They stood in the branches, gracefully stepping between sturdy limbs. But for all that elegance, they were no less predatory with every purposeful move.

“Well, look who found us. Should we give you a medal, archangel?” The demonesses, Keyne and Abelia, spoke perfectly in unison.

“That's unnecessary. I seek no tokens from criminals.”

“Criminals.” They mock offense, playing a hand to their chests. “That's a rather harsh term.”

“But is it not accurate? You've crossed the line, conspiring as you have; working against the laws of this realm just to severe your leashes.”

“And why should you care about this realm's rules? You're the judge of the celestial realm, last we checked.”

“I am a guest here, one who has been asked for my assistance in this matter. But more than that, how much damage have you caused to the mortal realm after freeing yourself, not to mention how much chaos you've brought across the centuries. You are becoming a problem the celestial realm can't simply ignore.”

Eyes narrowing, there's a quick twitch in their lips, the beginnings of a scowl. “You know, that's the problem with you angels. You say you can't ignore a problem that has nothing to do with you? You just can't resist controlling all that you see. You think everything is your dominion. And you're one of the worst; sticking your nose into shit in the name of justice. How far would you go just to dish it out? Who would you trample for the sake of celestial justice?”

Cam grits his teeth, but he's no stranger to the threats the guilty make. He's received more verbal lashings than he could recount. “It becomes my business when the safety of the innocent is threatened. I am justice, I am a guardian, that is my nature, it is who I am. Your business is that of chaos and curses. I can't allow you to hurt everyone whose path you cross just because it's your whim.”

Cam sighs. His head falls, auburn locks slipping from his pony tail across his face. “I can't say I was fond of you when we first met. You seemed to embody the wickedness we fear of demons. But, throughout my time here, I thought I saw change in the two of you. You have helped people, though often in your own way. I have seen genuine feelings from you. But at the first opportunity you can find, you throw that all away. How long were you plotting behind the backs of your friends? Why? You were not born wicked. I remember your human days, the innocence you had then.”

A sharp hiss interrupts Cam. “Don't speak of that time.” Wood slowly cracks and splinters beneath their claws, each with a hand digging into the bark. Cam can't see their eyes with their heads bent. “Nature? Who we are? Yeah, we're all beasts driven by our nature, you included. But you know nothing of our nature. We won't be bound by the laws your father wrote, nor the laws demons decreed, nor anyone's. We weren't born to serve a master.” They suddenly lift their heads, roaring out. "We won't be satisfied until the rules of every realm have shattered; not until we are free and all that binds us disappears !”

Done with idle chatter, as one the demons leap off the branches. Cam reacts swiftly, clutching his sword and swinging it just in time to block twin claws from striking his throat. They leap backwards, away from him, and split. Cam has to pivot on his foot, narrowly dodging one twin from the left and elbowing the other at his right off him.

The twins fight ruthlessly. Each time they dart forward, swinging claws, nashing teeth, or whipping barbed tails, Cam can only react fast enough to block or dodge both of them. He's a skilled warrior, but he's also made of solid muscle, his strengths in the power of his blows not the swiftness of his feet.

He can tell what they're trying to do. Keep him distracted to the point he can't draw back and swing iustitia. And this far, it's working. They've rounded him into a corner. He hisses as one of their tails connects with his side, cutting a gash into his skin.

But justice shouldn't be underestimated. Drawing a breath, Cam feels his body grow warm. When Keyne and Abelia next approach, ready to strike, he takes a step forward and exhales. A wave of golden fire erupts from his body in a circle, knocking the girls back with echoed screeches.

He wastes no time pushing this advantage, charging forth and swinging his sword down on one of them. She dodges, but his strike shakes the ground, throwing both of them off balance again. “Spellcasting is not my speciality, but I'd be a pathetic excuse for an archangel if I couldn't at all.” He dislodges iustitia with a grunt, spraying clumps of dirt everywhere.

Now he's found his footing without their relentless attacks. They continue to goad him, lunging forward and back again, escaping his reach. But with his sword knocking them back they can't connect with him. Everytime it strikes the dirt, the aftershock catches them off balance, interrupting their rhythm.

A swing of his sword grazes one twin as she leaps back. It scratches her cheek, drawing dark blood to ooze along her pale skin. It's the first time he's managed to draw blood. He supposes they're even now for the cut throbbing on his side.

Blow after blow, strike after strike, neither party is close to giving in. The twins are a blur around Cam, circling and chipping away at him. One of them, whichever one he cut, whips in a circle before him with her tail rushing towards his chest, the other latches onto his back, scrambling to get her claws in his throat. With one hand, he bashes his sword into the one before him, sending her flying. Oddly, though, as he reaches to toss the other off of him, he hears her howl in pain alongside her sister. Her distraction allows for Cam to swiftly wrap a giant hand around her arm and throw her across his shoulder to the dirt.

He sees a cut on her cheek in the exact same place he knows he struck earlier. But, hadn't he seen that wound on the other twin? He shifts his eyes to her, and sure enough as she staggers to her feet, she too has the cut.

Of course. The twins aren't just putting on a show, their symmetry is no act. What happens to one happens to the other.

The twin at his feet pushes with her hands and kicks her feet into Cam's chest. He grunts, but remains in place as she leaps away. Again, they continue their strategy. But now, Cam is only blocking, letting them strike. Waiting.

They leap away, Cam hears them rusting in the trees again. But he's steadfast, sharp eyes scanning around him as he spins a slow circle.

From the trees behind him, one twin pounces, her claws aimed for his throat. Her path is clear, one swift swipe, and she defeats the angel.

Faster than he has moved all night, Cam spins and iustitia flies. Justice also lands true, and Cam never misses his mark. In the air, his target can't change courses.

Dark blood splashes on the grass, Keyne's, or Abelia's he's not certain, head lands beside her body. Strands of translucent hair float from where they were severed and land around them.

Cam pants, his sword tip falling to the ground amongst the blood it's spilled. There's a thump behind Cam, and he only glances back to confirm the identical sight there. They even fell the same way, and he swears their blood pools in the same pattern.

Justice always stands victorious.

Cam takes a step. He must report this, gather assistance in collecting the fallen Keyne and Abelia. But with that step, a pulsing emits from his side, making the mountain of an angel stagger. Another throb, and another in continuous waves of agony, send Cam to his knees. He clutches his side, feeling the sticking, golden blood of his wound. But when he looks, veins of green weave through it. Those veins are cracking across his skin in branches from the cut. He looks to the demons, and faintly, too imperceptible to have noticed when they moved quickly, liquid coating the thorns on their tails gleamed in the moonlight.

The poison sends another wave of pain through Cam. His knuckles go white around his sword, the only thing keeping him upright. “How foolish, to not expect dirty tricks from such foxes.”

Camael loses his grip on his sword. The grass welcomes him as he topples forward, eyes falling closed.

—

The Devildom is a land of eternal night. It's sky never changes, it's stars never leave. But rising from that blackness, the cities lights cast a glow across the sky.

From the window of his borrowed office, Michael observes the buildings below. He presses his fingers to the glass, leaning in close enough his breath fogs the surface and clouds his view. He sees the lights, twinkling and burning their path through the dark. He sees demons, milling about, attending to one thing or another. He sees animals, hellish birds preening their dark feathers and cats yawning with mouths too wide and full of too many teeth.

The opening of the door and the click of heels, muffled by the carpet as they grow close, sound behind him. “Would you stop doing that?” A woman's voice. “I'm the one who has to clean your fingerprints off of it.”

Michael turns, knowing already who it is. His maid, Evangeline, stands beside the wood desk. A cup of steaming tea in her hand on a saucer.

“My apologies, darling; I just can't help but watch, though.” He turns back to the window. “Look at them. Going about their day, or is it night? I've seen several of them get into tiffs; you can see how they snarl at each other until the weaker demon slinks away. And the way they walk, I feel like they carry more weight than the angels I'm accustomed to. It's all rather novel.” His own reflection overlays the view of the city as his watchful eye monitors the demons below, unaware of his gaze.

Evangeline sighs. “That's one word for it.”

When you think of maids, you might picture someone proper and poised, delicate and careful. A girl who dutifully, elegantly, and without complaint follows the orders her master gives to her. Not Evangeline. Though elegant may be the only word that could maybe be applied to her, she is not proper, not delicate, not careful, and she certainly loves to complain. Her messy, ash white hair falls in untamed strands down her back and over one eye. The one eye that is visible gazes out in perpetual irritation.

Many have wondered why Michael keeps her in his employ, but he's only ever given vague half answers. He loves the way she brews tea, when she decides to bring it. She cleans faster than anyone, if she bothers to. Her dry quips keep him on his toes, which is a daily practice. Most people have come to decide she's just another whim of Michael’s. More than a few wish that whim would end soon, mostly the ones who have felt her scazing looks.

Evangeline thrusts out the saucer and Michael takes it. “Thank you, Angie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The steam hits his face while he leans in to take a sniff. His nose wrinkles; he can't quite place the aroma. “What is this?”

“Sable tea.” She says, nodding towards the cup filled with.an odd, dark substance. “You said you wanted to try some local blends.”

“I did say that, didn't I.” Michael regards the cup once more. He lifts it to his lips, taking a long sip.

“How is it?”

He clicks his tongue, taking in the flavor. “Awful.” Porcelain clicks against porcelain when he rests the cup back on its saucer.

“Well you better drink it all; I'm not brewing another.”

Michael hums, taking another sip. “Of course, I wouldn't dare waste it. Partly due to the scolding you'd give me.”

Evangeline grunts. Fabric shifts as she digs inside her pockets, emerging with a cigarette packet. She bites one, sliding it out between her teeth.

“Oh, please don't smoke in here.” Michael says. “Remember, we're only borrowing this office and I'd hate to return it reeking of smoke.”

Evangeline lights the cigarette with magic, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Michael sighs, though not with any real annoyance. He leans away to avoid the smell of her smoke. “Besides, I'm expecting a guest too.”

This prompts a response from her. “A guest? If you're going to insist on me being a proper maid, then you should tell me you're expecting someone.”

“My fervent apologies. It's simply,” He pauses, trying to come up with the right words. His finger taps his cheek, his nail making a sound not unlike the tea cup and its saucer against the porcelain coating half his face. “Well, because this guest is somewhat prickly and I'm not sure when exactly they're coming.”

She scoffs. "Your guest sounds rude.” Evangeline's words are accompanied by more smoke.

"Some might say that's the pot calling the kettle black.”

"But not you.”

"Why no, I'd never insinuate it.”

With a final puff of smoke, Evangeline takes out the cigarette and crushes it into the ashtray on his desk. “Whatever; if I'm not required to get stuff ready for your guest I have other things to do.”

“Of course, you're dismissed, Angie.” Evangeline is already walking away as he says it.

He hears the door open again, but rather than the continued clicking of her heels, he hears a wet thunk and a choked gasp followed next by a thud. He turns around.

A demon stands above the body of Evangeline. Her claws are covered in golden blood, matching the seeping golden cavity freshly carved into the maid’s chest where her heart was.

Michael smiles, setting his cup on the desk. “Eve! Just the person I wanted to see.” He glances down at Evangeline. “That was a bit unnecessary. She was just leaving.”

Eve steps over Evangeline's body into the office. “You can heal her.”

Michael hums. “True.” He walks around the desk, reaching inside of an inner coat pocket to find a handkerchief. He's a good head taller than her, but he wouldn't dare look down at her. “I'm glad you're here; I was honestly getting worried you weren't going to come and I'd have to try another way to contact you. Again.”

She takes the handkerchief he offers, wiping her hand clean and dropping it on Evangeline when it's clear. “Michael, as foolish as always, I see.”

“Ouch; that's pretty mean, dear.”

“That was the intention.”

He's not fazed in the slightest by her demeanor. In fact, he's smiling like a school boy. “Well, have a seat, have a seat.” He gestures to a chair in front of the desk. “We certainly have important things to talk about.” As Eve crosses to the chair, Michael nudges Evangeline's feet out of the way so he can shut the door.

"How have you been, Eve?” Michael says, sitting across from her. “It's been too long since we've chatted properly and you've been ignoring my attempts to communicate. I put a lot of care into every letter i've sent you.Your assistants have been delivering them, right?”

"I have received them.”

"And?”

"I promptly destroyed each of them.”

"But did you read the contents before that?”

"The words of someone like you aren't worth giving any more attention to than necessary.”

Michael laughs. "I know you read them; you wouldn't be able to resist the curiosity. Which also means you know what I'm going to say.”

Eve looks at him, her face betraying little emotion. “And you know what I'm going to say.”

“One can only guess.” He picks up his tea cup, taking a sip. His lips pucker. “Do you drink this stuff?” He gestures with the cup.

“It's not my preferred blend.”

“I'm not sure how it could be anyone's.” He finishes the cup in one more gulp. Exhaling, he sets it aside and puts his hands under his chin. “Now then to business. Have you heard about those dreadful criminals that got loose? What were their names? Kaley and Abigail? Kensey and Aaron? Key and Apricot?”

“Keyne and Abelia.” She interjects. She's got her back straight in the chair, not bothering to get overly comfortable.

Michael snaps his fingers, nodding excitedly. “Yes. Yes! Those two. Dreadful, right? I'm not sure how anyone could sleep with those two free. I mean, I suppose you're also a criminal, maybe it's easier for you. But for most people, how scary!”

“For some.”

“But I'm just glad they were caught. And by my very own Camael! You have no idea how proud I am of him.”

Eve makes a noncommittal hum. “How is he?”

“Ah, unconscious. But recovering. He's healthy as a horse now, thanks to Raphael. Those girls did a number on him. We’re not entirely sure how the fight went; he made a report when we found him but it was kind of hard to understand with the poison causing his words to slur. Got the gist of it, though.”

“Good for him.”

“Was that sincere?” Michael tilts his head.

“Of course. I wish no particle harm on him or most angels. Only when they interfere with my affairs, but the same can be said of anyone.”

“That's good; I thought you might bear a grudge.”

Eve is silent. Her gaze shifts from Michael to somewhere on the wall. Or perhaps, farther than even that. “I've let go of all those, save one. They're useless at my age.”

He laughs again. “You talk like a grandma.”

“Aren't I? I may not be as old as you, but few beings are.”

“True. Though I must say that you look great for your age. Not a day over 500.”

“Thanks.”

“And I look great for mine, right?”

“Not a day over 5,000.”

Michael covers a cheek with one hand. “You're making me blush.”

Eve looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “Let’s return to our previous topic.”

“Oh? What about it?” Michael looks innocently at her.

"My people have ears in the demon king's castle. One of them heard a report that while the outlaws Keyne and Abelia were seemingly defeated, their bodies vanished from the scene.”

"That's dreadful. I imagine they're in a tizzy over there trying to secure them.”

"Indeed. But I'm sure you've realized, perfectly intelligent as you are, that bodies without heads can't move on their own in most cases. Suggesting that someone else moved them.”

Michael gasps. "Who would do such a thing?”

"That's what I asked as well. Our ears in the underworld, strangely, haven't heard anything. Then who could have the knowledge and ability to conceal the bodies of two wanted demons?”

"I'm at the edge of my seat.”

She gives him a deadpan stare. "You're going to make me say it?”

Michael shrugs. "Should I happen to have them in my care, might that interest you?”

“You know it would. There's no other reason you haven't disposed of them but to bring me to right where I'm sitting.”

Michael's grin has stayed, but though it hasn't changed something about it has begun to feel Cheshire. “A mother's instincts are impossible to ignore.” He sits back, tapping his finger idly on his desk. “You read my letter, you certainly know about the little matter I need your help with. I know you're a very busy woman running your criminal empire, but if you're able to spare the time to help me then I promise you your daughters and their heads will be returned. They shouldn't be hard to put back together for a demon as ancient as yourself.”

Eve's eyes never leave his face. Her face may be expressionless, but something hard has appeared behind her eyes. “And say I refused?”

Michael waves a hand. “Then holy fire is easy to conjure and I can clear some space in my storage room. Angie wouldn't be happy about cleaning the soot, though; I'd really prefer if you agreed.”

That hard looks grows hot, but again her face remains the same. Silence. Then. “Fine. I can't say I missed speaking to you.” She extends her hand towards him. “But, you have a deal.”

Michael shakes her hand with vigor; Eve's hand just placidly bounces along with him. “You won't regret this, Eve! I knew you'd make the right choice.”

He releases her hand. Eve stands, wiping it on her shirt.

“Leaving already?” Michael says.

“Is there more to discuss?”

“No, there's not. I guess I just remember you being more social. You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you.”

Eve pauses. “We all have, Michael.” Her words carry the melancholy of days long since passed.

Michael smiles ruefully, silently nodding his head. “We have, haven't we.” He blows out a breath, returning to his previous demeanor. “Fine.” He pulls out a key from his pocket. “Take this. It unlocks a room on the bottom floor where your daughters are. Just try not to be seen. People might misunderstand.”

Eve takes the key, tucking it in her own pocket. “That's not something you need to tell me.”

Michael puts his hands out. “Right, of course.”

Eve turns to leave, but pauses. "I'm a bit surprised.”

"Hm? I managed to surprise The Eve? I'm rather proud of myself.”

“Keyne and Abelia severely damaged one of your angels. One would assume your anger about that might outweigh your desire to use them as your pawns.”

“Ah that.” Michael shakes his head. “I already told you, we found him in time to take out the poison. He's fine.”

“How callous. Is that how little regard you have for your angels?”

"That's just not true in the slightest; I love each of my kin dearly. It's due to nothing but my trust in him that I'm not worried.”

“I see.” Eve says. This time she does turn and walk to the door. “I'm leaving now.”

“Bye, Eve; I've truly enjoyed catching up. Take care on your way back.”

“Goodbye, Michael. I'd rather you only contact me when necessary about our agreement.” And she steps out into the hall.

Michael waits until she's well on her way before standing. He goes over to where Evangeline is laying; her blood has soaked the floorboards underneath her and seeps outward, but Michael crouches far enough away to not dirty his shoes.

Placing his fingertips on her forehead, he allows holy light to seep from him. It whispers across her skin, coalescing around her wound. Flesh slowly mends, stitching itself back together until the wound is mended.

Evangeline groans, breath once again filling her chest. Her eyes blink, focusing, and look up at Michael. “I'm not as rude as that.”

Michael chuckles. “Depends on the day, Angie darling.” His eyes flick across the floor. “Now, I hate to ask, bur would you mind tidying all this up?”

Evangeline groans again as she rights herself, this time from annoyance. “Ugh, blood is such a pain to clean.”

—

There are many hidden rooms in the Eden clan's territory. Places that can only be accessed by a select few individuals.

In one such room, two demons are laid out on tables. Their heads are positioned to sit pressed to their original spots, but rings of severed flesh seperate them. Keyne and Abelia have been headless for several hours, but Michael was right; this is nothing a demon like Eve can't fix.

Eve positions herself at their heads. Reaching her hands to them, she caresses the sides of their faces, cupping their cheeks. Unholy magic begins to seep from her, oozing across the girls. The snap and crack of sinew extending and attaching to itself fills the air; skin grabs hold of skin and blood forms a bridge between the disconnected parts slowly. Finally there's barely a scar left to indicate the severing even occurred.

Keyne and Abelia's eyes shoot open with a forceful inhale. Their gazes dart around the room, assessing their positions. As soon as they sense Eve, they curl upright into crouches, fangs bared.

“Why have you brought us here, bitch?” They growl.

Eve raises an eyebrow. “Such hostility. Do you not remember what happened to you? It's good I found you when I did.”

The demons wince, touching their necks in unison. Nothing except smooth skin. “We never asked for your help.”

Eve backs up a few steps, sitting down in a nearby chair with her arms loosely on her knees, hunched forward. “You didn't need to.” The unspoken meaning was obvious; they didn't need to because she'd always come anyway.

They hiss and gnash their fangs. “Why? Because we're you're “children”? Sorry, but no. We are not your daughters. You are the mother of those two. We want nothing to do with the remnants of what we once were; those weak and pathetic boys.”

Eve continues to look forward to her hands. Hands that weren't always clawed, that once held newborn children protectively to her chest. “I'm aware that you're not my sons. But I think of you as my daughters regardless.”

The girls are not swayed. “Your ego doesn't concern us. You've restored us, fine, but now leave us be before we tear your head from your shoulders.”

Eve nods, standing up. “Alright. I'm not here for a tearful reunion; I've stopped expecting those centuries ago. I will leave, but you two should stay. You've only just been put back together; you should regain your strength before going anywhere just yet.”

“And why would we listen to you?”

“You don't have to. You can go and get slaughtered by lower demons or the prince's hounds; I'm sure with how depleted you both are right now, it'd be fairly easy for them. It doesn't matter; I will always find you and put you together again.” With that, Eve takes her leave.

In the quiet, Keyne and Abelia's tense poses slump. Neither says anything, lips turning to slight frowns as their exhaustion surfaces.

They look at each other for the first time since being healed. In unison, they widen their eyes and gasp. A shriek follows Eve into the hallways. “OUR HAIR!”

—

The Celestial realm is a world of perpetual soft, warm daylight. It wraps around its inhabitants, shining its rays forever onto them.

The light shines into a window, illuminating the resting form of Camael.

Underneath the blanket covering him he shifts, groaning out softly. His eyes slide open, blearily trying to comprehend his current whereabouts. Through the window, he saw the familiar sky of his realm and knew he was home again.

As Cam sits upright, wincing at his sore muscles, he hears a voice in the room with him. “Well, look at that. Our wonder boy is finally awake.”

Cam looks at Raphael; they've got their hands in the pockets of their long white coat, the tail of white trails nearly to the ground. A lit cigarette hangs between their lips as they grin at the justice archangel.

“Raphael, how long was I asleep?”

“Really? Right to business? Not even a thank you?”

Cam rubs his fingers into his eyes, trying to wipe away the weariness that nags at him from waking up. “Of course, my apologies. If I remember correctly, there was poison in my veins. Removing it must have been a challenge; thank you, truly.”

Raphael walks closer, their blue bob and circular earrings swaying with each step. “Relax, I was joking. Though praise is appreciated, thank you, my friend.” They ruffle Camael's hair. “Two days; that's all. Really, I'm amazed it wasn't more. But, you've always recovered abnormally fast, even amongst our kind. Honestly it's been a while since you've been this out of it in my care.”

“Well, usually I'm able to avoid such severe wounds. Those demons were crafty, however. I was not aware their tails contained such poison, else I may have been more prepared.”

“You're being too hard on yourself, you know.”

“I must be to continue to pushing myself.” Camael says, peeling the blanket off of himself. He moves to stand but grunts. Clutching his side, he attempts to massage out the dull pain left in it.

Raphael puts their hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Cam. It took me hours just to stabilize you, you shouldn't strain yourself. Demon poison is no joke. It would've been better if I had the source to make an antidote but I had to improvise.”

Cam freezes; a chill runs down his back. "What do you mean? If you found me, you should've also found the twins.”

Raphael sighs, rolling their shoulder and avoiding his gaze. They look outside, the light reflecting off their round, tinted glasses. "You'd think, based on the report you mumbled out, but we found no one else there. A lot of dark blood though, which does mean there were demons. Just no idea where they wandered off to.”

"Wandered off? Raphael I beheaded them, they should not have been able to "wander off".”

"Tell that to them.”

Cam's brow furrowed. "Did someone know we were there and retrieve them?” His mind is racing. Who? Why? Did they still have companions to aid them, who may heal them? If that's the case, he'd failed.

Raphael watches him spiraling and sighs. "Don't think too hard; you might fry that handsome brain and I just finished fixing you. Whatever happened, justice already found them once, it can do it again. We all believe in our protector.”

"That's what makes me more eager to settle this matter swiftly.” Cam says solemnly.

The room is silent. Raphael isn't arrogant enough to think they can heal his thoughts with simple words of reassurance; they know any wound takes time and patience.

Suddenly Cam's nose wrinkles and he coughs, covering his face with one hand. “May I make a suggestion.”

“Hm?”

"You should not smoke around someone who is recovering.”

Raphael scoffs but is smiling. "Like this is going to harm you. You sound like Michael.”

"Should I not view that remark as a compliment?”

"Depends who you're asking. Anyways, you're basically set; just take things pretty easy. Though, I'm not sure you're capable of that herculean task, Mr. Justice.”

Cam nods, rising to his feet slowly. He tries to be careful of his wound, but he's already used to the pain anyway. “I should be going; I'm certain my work has been piling up since I've been asleep.” He clasps a hand on Raphael's shoulder. “Thank you. You do so much for all of us and I could not be more grateful to you.”

Raphael ducks their head, chuckling. “Don't get sappy, Cam. Save your breath, alright?”

Cam smiles and pats his shoulder, shaking Raphael's body a little with the impact. He heads towards the door but turns around. “See you soon.”

Raphael already has their back to him. He raises one hand in farewell. "Not too soon, please; I'm tired. I need to nap.”

#obey me oc #obey me #obey me shall we date #oc writing #dapper oc: cam #dapper oc: keyne and abelia #dapper oc: michael #dapper oc: evangeline #dapper oc: eve #dapper oc: raphael

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