ofholyfire

[ofholyfire]

Twenty-four hours after the meeting of Cherry and Michael, a sealed, confidential document is passed along Michael's avenues of communication and delivered into Heaven. Passing through the varying webs of bureaucracy, it eventually makes its way to the highest level of Heaven and onto Uriel's desk. Flagged as an urgent matter, its processing has been expedited in lieu of who it is addressed to and who the sender is. Once the Archangel opens the seal, he will find the contents written in celestial script and the paper in pristine condition without a single crease or fold on its surface.

INCIDENT REPORT

MARKED: URGENT Reporting Officer: Michael

Rank: Archangel

Duty: Military Commander Receiving Officer: Uriel, cc Gabriel, Raphael

Date of report submission: X1-2X-20XX Date of incident: X1-2X-20XX

Location: [XXXX-XXXXX-XXXXXX- XXXXXXX Apartment 409]

Persons involved: Name / Rank / Duty: Cherry / Cherub / Cupid Name / Rank / Duty: Michael / Archangel / Military Commander Claim:

On the date listed above, aggressor Archangel Michael sought the victim, Cherry, for reprimad in for work-related performance. This was done in error. Duties were formed to satisfaction. (Recommendation previously forwarded if proof is required.)

Upon seeing a wounded Michael, Cherry invited Michael to his residence to administer medical attention. Fresh clothing and first aid were sufficiently provided.

Shortly after receiving medical attention, aggressor Michael suffered a lapse in judgement and fell to sexual temptation. Offender forced himself on victim Cherry in an exercise and abuse of power of a subordinate. Victim's hands were restrained. Offender continued, growing more aggressive and forceful in the assault. Highly likely that victim tried to reject sexual advances, free himself, and escape. Offender does not clearly recall. Probability of victim succesfully escaping to safety was considerably low. Offender did not cease advances until the chance ringing of a bell. Offender regains senses and realization of his assault registers. Offender apologizes, before fleeing.

Evidence of presence: 1 pair of shoes, 1 blazer, 1 buttondown dres shirt (bound in bloody towel), DNA evidence - 1 handtowel containing demonic and angelic blood, 1 bowl of water containing demonic and angelic blood

Considering the vast difference in size, strength, hierarchy, and access to confidential/sensitive material in the Kingdom of Heaven, offender poses a maximum-level threat to angelic subordinates and those of equal standing rank (re: Archangel officers) in the event of a loss of self-control or lapse in sanity. Immediate apprehension advised. Victim interrogation of indicent to corroborate this report recommended. Sufficient charges in addition to Violation of a Subordinate, and appropriate punishment/removal of offending officer to be further determined by The Higher Power and Council of Archangels.

Offender is last registered at the address below.

Location: [XX-XXXX-XXX XXXXXXX Floor XX Apartment 111]

Submitting Officer: Archangel Michael, Commander

Cherry's skin had reddened a little where he had tried to slip and tug his wrist against the strong grip holding him. His small fists clenched, hands rotating, chest arching with the muffled, whimpered effort to try and pry himself free, before suddenly, Michael pulls back. All of a sudden the pressure pinning him is gone, and on instinct the cherub scuttles back, breathless and teary as his chest heaves and already plump lips are kiss reddened and his face flush. In that moment he had been frightened of Michael, but quickly it all dissolves.

As he scurries back to curl against the arm of the sofa, looking back at him bewildered, frightened and confused, he watches as the scene before him plays out across Michael's usually so stoic and handsome features. He looks mortified. There are so many layers to the expression upon that face, and the thoughts swirling in his eyes that Cherry struggles to decipher them, but he knows regret and anguish when he sees them.

Now, Cherry is no longer frightened of Michael, but frightened for him. The realty of what the archangel had just done evidently crashing down upon him, and it causes the cupid to sit up a little, his own eyes growing concerned as he continues to try and catch his breath. He isn't at all surprised to hear Michael's apologies, he can all but read them on his face and his head gives a little shake. "W-wait-!" he croaks out, the silence between them having stretched, before Michael's last command, and Cherry knew what that meant. The tear collecting in those once piercing eyes causing Cherry's heart to clench.

"No... no don't leave!" The lower angel cries out to the empty spot where just moments before his new friend had been stood. Someone he had tricked. Michael had no defence against his touch, someone so regimented, he'd barely ever been touched. Cherry had just wanted to share with him, get closer to him and selfishly gain a little more of Michael's attention. He'd never meant for this to happen.

"No.. no please.. don't leave-" having scrambled to the end of the sofa, where the archangel had been, his eyes quickly welling as he grips at the sofa arm and the first few, fat tears start to roll down puffed cheeks. "Please... don't leave me" he begs as the happy, warm feeling of contentment through companionship seems to bleach from the air and drain out of him by his first sob. His head slowly hanging forward as with a sniffle he wipes at his cheek with his sleeve. His hand pausing, before slow fingertips are placed tentatively, almost exploringly against his lips.

His first kiss... and he'd tricked Michael into it. Hearing a loud, almost demanding meow down by his feet, Cherry glances towards the sound as he feels a chubby, fluffy body brush up against his leg, and another, impatient meowl for attention. "Oh Blossom.." he whines softly, feeling fresh tears well as he reaches down to scoop up the overweight boy cat, and press his face into felt-like, ginger fur with a shuddering breath as his eyes scrunch closed. How could such a nice evening have gone so wrong?

[ofholyfire]

The archangel has forgotten himself, quickly sinking into waters deep and dark, tangled within vines of love and lust that are indiscernible from one another. His righteousness is caught in the undertow as all that is light and innocent grows further and further away. He hears Cherry's frightened vocalizations, as gentle as they are, but they are distant echoes that do not overpower his mental replies: 'Be not afraid, I won't hurt you. Value me. Adore me. Care for me.'

None of these things are communicated, not even as Michael sighs and steals Cherry's breath. Not even as he feeds them to the other with a swipe of his tongue and pressure upon his cherubic lips. The little angel is at his mercy, afraid and dwarfed by him in both size and power. In no way is he a match for Michael's strength, and his avenues of escape are drastically few in number and efficiency.

As he feels Cherry helplessly sink backward into the cushions, his neck cranes for a better angle and he leans in again... Until he hears a bell. A soft, whimsical and gentle ring of Cherry's cat which has come out from it's hiding spot to sample the treats earlier left in its bowl. The metallic jingle snaps Michaels eyes open, pulling him from the drunken trance he is in.

SINNER.

The word booms in his head.

Immediately he notices his positioning and draws back.

He is too close. His lips are wet. He's nearly atop the little cherub, and his large hands are wrapped around his delicate wrists, holding him captive.

FALLEN.

This loud speech strikes him again with a searing pain to the heart, for this judgement is ancient and familiar.

Michael releases Cherry and scrambles to his feet. The small space in which he stands is too narrow, and the attempt to stand rocks both the coffee table and the bowl backward where they stand. Pink water spills over the glass surface and onto the floor.

Horror draws upon his features as he looks down at that sweet face, terrified and small and innocent, as he realizes what he's done and what could have followed.

He, Heaven's commander, a fiend who commits the unfathomable, the unthinkable, the unforgivable crime against God's beloved creations.

TRAITOR AGAINST GOD.

'Traitor' repeats in serpentine hisses, an endless loop of whispers and accusations. He has failed. He has succumb. He has harmed. He will burn.

Eyes staring wide in terror, Michael cannot relieve the great pressure in his chest and breathes in shudders. He looks down at Cherry with his hands, now foreign things attached to his wrists, are held up to show that they are empty and do not mean to touch him again.

"...I'm sorry!" he blurts out instinctively, for no other words find him. Even these two words are gravely insufficient, wholly useless in undoing what he's done.

"I'm sorry," he breathes again, clinging to these words like a prayer. All of him is out of sorts, but a single tear that sparkles like silver falls from his eye. His soul knows the pain he's caused and it weeps for both him and Cherry.

"Tell them," he says quickly with no further explanation. He has to part from the cherub to keep him safe. With a small step to back away, Michael disappears entirely.

Cherry pauses a moment, with the soft, plush tiers of his lips pressed gently to Michael's hairline, before he slowly draws back, his eyes fluttering open. He watches, as for a moment Michael's head remains bowed, before slowly it rises and with it a little of Cherry's elated heart beat. His heart flutters quite sweetly at just the simplest glance of attention from the archangel, with his strong, handsome brow and sharp gaze.

Quickly, however, that fluttering feeling shifts with a spiked thump of his heart, as large, strong hands circle around his wrists with a grip that did not speak of the gentleness with which Michael had touched him only moments prior. "Oh-" he gasps softly, eyebrows drawing a little with confusion as his hands are lowered and he meets Michael's gaze. A silence between them, only for a moment or two, seems to stretch, as Cherry awaits the outcome of his actions. Had he grown too bold with his touch? Was Michael going to scold him? He'd meant only to comfort and warm him, but the expression within those deep pools seemed to hold a curious expression.

It is only has lips press to his own, that Cherry understands. "Mn!" He lets out a muffled noise of surprise as lips kiss him, his eyes widening and his chin drawing back a little, but the other angel's movements were too insistent. Quickly he is over powered, Michael's large frame swamping his own as his hands are pinned and the cherub is left with no where to move.

His first kiss is quickly evolving, as his eyes scrunch closed and the soft, pink tiers are parted only for Michael's tongue to meet his own and steal his breath with it as he does. "Mnnm.. mnn!" More muffled noises, now trying to tug on his wrists but the grip is like iron. A pink flush quickly spreading over his rosy cheeks as he'd never imagined kissing to feel like this. He'd seen it in so many ways, between young sweethearts, active lovers and old married couples, but he hadn't expected it to feel so... scary.

He wanted it to stop, but soon feels himself being pushed backwards, Michael's impressive height looming over him and he starts to wiggle, wanting to break free from him because this didn't seem how kisses were supposed to be.

[ofholyfire]

Though it may not be evident, a war rages inside the archangel's mind. When those gentle hands touch his face, quite an intimate gesture in which Michael rarely partakes, his thoughts and body become drunk with conflicting desires. The warmth that fills him is foreign, strengthened trifold by the kiss to his hairline. He reflexively wants to draw back from this touch, but the affection in it lures him and binds him where he kneels. His skin now burns like fire itself and his brows furrow deeply as he fights the haze of thoughts in his head. He cannot fall to forbidden temptations, for Heaven, too would fall.

A kiss.

He shakes his bowed head, trying to empty it of thoughts impure.

Touch. Closer.

Michael's eyes squeeze shut as he tries to focus and discern urges of lust and...love? These things are useless to angels. They are not to be suffered by God's divine. Ignorance of both keeps them-- him-- strong.

Touch him.

The feeling of safety and comfort rake claws deep into his bare back and he shudders once more. To be held is a wonderful and selfish thing. But who cradles a tool of death, no matter how beautiful and perfect it is? The sword is mighty, respected, and feared; never loved. Not wanting to scare Cherry, the great angel releases a shaky sigh of frustration and wants to speak. He wants to command.

'Take this from me.' 'Don't touch me.'

This speech haunts his tongue. These words are unintentionally sharp blades, and he swallows them like swords to not offend this precious and gentle soul who has selflessly aided him. Even as he does, their razored edges split him at the chest and belly and those desires tumble out of him like gutted innards. They bleed over the cherubs lap as he feels his body draw closer, heavy. It answers to a siren's call that floods his ears.

Fight this. Accept this. You should have this. You don't need this.

Take it.

Opposing ideas wrestle with one another, one hard-wired, the other induced by passion. He breathes again, unsteady. He is now the fire that consumes all and stops for nothing. Shall he blaze forward or backward on this obscure path?

Perfect and pure. He is precious. Desire this love and embrace in righteousness.

Savory, twisted ideals.

Michael's golden hair shifts as he lifts his head and pries Cherry's hands from his face. Large hands close around thin wrists, firm but with no intent to harm. A creature charmed, his will falters at the need to feel something opposed to the cold and perfect nothing that he is designed to feel. Curiosity is his downfall and a flutter in his heart longs to know that which is taboo, devour it like Eve and the fruit of knowledge. Cherry's hands are guided further apart until his arms splay in the small space between them.

Indulge.

The command rushes up Michael's spine and urges him forward. Eyes that once settled on sweet and shapely lips are replaced with his own, the meeting rough and padded only by the fullness of his own tiers. His eyes have shut and the Cherub's hands are held down at his sides by an archangel's strength. He feeds from this kiss like something vile, a wolf consuming the innocent lamb put to slaughter in the way he dwarfs Cherry with his size. A second press is more insistent and lightly aggressive as he folds to blind instinct and forces Cherry backward.

Michael's body is overwhelmed with the knowledge of touch, repulsed by and yet gluttonous for more. His tongue leads the way, flirting with forced entry between Cherry's supple tiers. May he stop before he learns too much and all that is holy becomes corrupt.

Glancing away, Cherry had set the flannel back down, to drape against the side of the bowl, the bloodied end dipped in the water that had steadily turned pinker with the blood washed from Michael's skin. There was still more to do, but the largest spot that marred his lovely neck was at least gone. His lovely, effervescent glowing skin clear and visible again, lightly catching the fairy lights behind them whilst shadows only intensify the grooves and divots of his impressive body. Despite not outwardly staring, Cherry had caught glances at it multiple times already. He was just so big! Even crouched like this beside his couch, he filled the space and seemed so broad.

As Michael shifts, turning towards him, Cherry's eyes lift a little in surprise (again, the agility with such a wide set of shoulders in such a small spot), before he realises that Michael was now knelt on his haunches before him, and his cheeks soon heat. The soft, round apples dusting a warm pink hue as Michael's movements seem intentional, and soon those large hands reach out for his own. Dwarfing them as they hold him very gently and with wide eyes he watches the top of the archangels golden head.

Cherry didn't think he or anyone of his station deserved gratitude like this from someone like him! It almost has him wanting to quickly shake his head and insist that Michael stop, before he feels the gentle kisses against his skin and he is once more left mute to watch. He was a firm believer that even just the small things could mean a lot to someone and you might not even realise... Michael was walking proof of that. Even just a little help had meant a great deal to him, and Cherry could never refuse his very sincere and sweet thanks for that, knowing it probably meant a lot.

With his cheeks still warming, the cupid is left to smile a little shyly, chin sinking down into his neck as he watches him and thick lashes flutter a little, before his hands turn in Michael's hold and he gently cups either side of the arch angel's lowered face. Letting that strong, handsome jawline rest in his palms, no doubt increasing the effect of his touch with contact so brazen - before he leans forward to press a soft little kiss against the hairline at his forehead. Cherubs were full of love and comfort and if he could spread a little more to someone who desperately needed it, he was proud to do so.

[ofholyfire]

In a way, the brothers are celebrities in Heaven, but Michael pays no mind to any of that. He does what he was tasked to do; nothing more, nothing less. Avoidance of hubris and pride were lessons hard learned ages and ages ago. He only finds it necessary to be known in name because of his duties and believes in keeping a separation of himself from any personal glories and excessive praise. As commander, this also means less closeness to other angels than one might expect. He is a fighter and moments of tenderness are not easy to come by. His being unaccustomed to such physical contact is what makes Cherry's talents so effective. The fact that he caused the archangel to shudder is more than impressive on its own. Archangels are a resilient lot and are difficult to affect, yet the cherub has easily done so.

Michael himself is indeed overwhelmed by the sensations and tries to reason out what they are and why he feels them so strongly. His body reacts in another shudder and feels as if he has an excess of energy humming within himself. He doesn't know what to do with it, but the thought to draw closer to the source in some way does cross his mind. The impulsive urge to kiss or touch burns to be fulfilled, yet his logical brain keeps him from doing something so sudden and audacious. Michael does, however, continue to stare without realizing it as he observes the soft, beautiful features of the little cupid. ...Is this Eros, the deep, romantic type of love people craved? It was certainly different from the love he held for other angels and his brothers. This felt much more intense. Michael is aware that each angel has its own skills and talents in its own domains of power, but he certainly hadn't anticipated being on the receiving end of any. Much less, a cupid's enchantment. A warning would have been appropriate, but he is hardly angry about it.

His body pitches forward ever so slightly while he and Cherry are so close, and he finally blinks and shakes his head as if to wake himself from the trance when he hears Cherry speak.

"Ah.. I... No, it's alright," he says as his fingers absently brush the patch of skin the other touched. "This is... your God-given talent. It is your gift... How powerful it is."

He still buzzes with energy, like the jolt after a deep stretch, or a relieved gasp after drinking cold water to quench one's thirst. To relieve it and so show his gratitude as he initially planned, he turns around and sits back onto his heels in a kneel. Gently taking each of Cherry's hands into his own, he holds them side bye side before himself and bows his head in a show of humility.

"You also said that you weren't afraid of me. If that is true, then I am relieved. For your compassion and aid... thank you.. and these blessed hands."

Then Michael lifts them to his mouth and presses a soft kiss of reverence to the back of each.

Cherry feels a small smile curl at his lips as he is soothed by Michael's words. It probably was a silly question, but he didn't think it so, and that meant a lot to the cupid. He hums softly, listening with interest as Michael speaks about his brother, he seemed to really care for him, and that was nice to see. Cherry, like most of the other lower rank and file of heaven, had heard a lot about their archangel superiors. Stories, mainly, no one ever got to actually meet them! Starting with the meeting between Gabriel and Mary, the many military exploits of Michael, Raphael warning Eve and so many since then. They were, in a way, celebrities.

Lifting his eyes from the cut as Michael turns to him, with a slot bat of thick, light and slightly curled lashes, Cherry gazes back at the eyes smoothing over his face . His own eyes caught in their pretty, if not intense, gaze. "I hope it doesn't hurt any more" he says softly, voice almost a whisper, as they were so close. His finger gently curling back from Michael's skin before lowering the flannel to his lap, still caught in that deep gaze.

He hadn't really expected his touch to have an effect on a creature as powerful as an archangel, but maybe it was just the opposite. Someone so unused to touch, it might be a little overwhelming. It was intended to be a nice, warming sensation. The very fibre of a cherub's being centred around love and affection, so with their touch comes the soothing feelings of those emotions, but maybe it was unfair to spring it on a creature hardened by conflict who perhaps didn't know how to process those feelings.

Letting out a soft, breathy chuckle, Cherry lowers his eyes, breaking the contact of their gaze and lets his head shake a little. "I'm sorry" he murmurs gently, before glancing up to him again. "As a cherub, I can't really turn it off-" he tries to explain, hoping Michael hears what he means. No, you're not going mad, yes, it does feel warm and no, it's not real. Just... cherub things.

[ofholyfire]

Kiwamu Miyakubo.

[ofholyfire]

[ofholyfire]

The request for help appears to be acceptable and inoffensive, so Michael is satisfied. Cherry seems to be put at ease at being properly asked as well, so the tension in the archangels shoulders releases. Asking for help is still odd and he doesn't recognize his own voice when he does ask for it, but ultimately that does not matter. Only Cherry's charity and diligence to offer his aid matters. Michael makes a note to report it directly to the powers that be so that Cherry might be rewarded in some way for his many kind acts today, not just this one. If he could obtain permission, he may even be the one to deliver that mere token of recognition in some way. His mind busies itself with possible things to give the other while another part of it remains very aware of where that towel falls. Each stroke does not go unmissed. The pressure of lithe fingers behind the cloth do not go ignored. Muscles draw tight in anticipation of and unfamiliarity with a touch so gentle. And then his ear turns to listen to Cherry speak so that he can properly converse.

"It is not a stupid question. No questions are stupid if one gains knowledge from them," he reassures, his voice exceptionally gentle and warm in tone. It is the same tone he uses when he speaks to children or soothes weary souls. "It is a terrifying affair, and it is natural to be afraid. ...But I am not designed for this. I do not fear evil. I fear only for the safety and well-being of mankind and my brethren."

As Cherry wipes at his shoulder, Michael's eyes dart in that direction but they see little more than the towel and Cherry's fingers in their corner. He finds the question sweetly endearing and tries to put himself in the perspective of a cherub witnessing such a thing. His head tilts as Cherry pats his way up to the wound at his neck and makes a conscious effort to lightly draw air through his teeth as if it stings to be touched. He did ask for help, so he'd give Cherry something to help him with.

"You witnessed a possession?" he asks, interest piqued and clear in his tone. At the mentioning of his brother, Michael actually does smile. He loves his brothers, all of them, and misses them dearly. "That must have been horrifying for you, was it not?" That smile fades a bit as he continues. "Uriel is beautiful, wise, and sensitive. I am certain that he was hurt to not be able to save that precious soul. It always hurts when we fail. Do not worry, though... He may be used to seeing such things, but... he is resilient, and all good souls will be saved in the end." To lighten the mood, he adds a bit of trivia. "He is the most intelligent of us all, you know? And the most patient and calm. If you see him again, speak to him. Send him my regards, if you need an excuse."

Those gentle hands are soothing, if he must admit. He will readily praise Cherry for cleaning and bandaging him up once he is done. Michael decides he will also share a cup of tea and talk about the cat he hasn't seen to further show his appreciation. "If you were not concerned for me, I would not have known. Is the wound already healing? I cannot see it, but the pain is noticeable." It wasn't, but Cherry doesn't need to know that, either. He still sits, patiently waiting for some covering to be applied anyway.

"Ah... mn..." Only when those bare fingers touch his flesh does he draw a breath in and force it down into his chest. His skin crawls and a shudder runs up his spine, gently forcing him to straighten. The fine hairs on his body stand on end and an intense warmth unfamiliar fills his chest. Even the loosely curled ends of his hair brushing over his neck makes his skin raise in gooseflesh all over. He is not certain what this feeling is, but it is far from unpleasant. His dark brows furrow briefly as he is taken aback, and, as if summoned by name, his head slowly turns to look back at Cherry.

Curiously speechless and unable to combat it, he stares into eyes that seem much brighter than before. His gaze trails down Cherry's cute nose to his shapely lips where they linger, then draws back up over all of his youthful features until their eyes meet again.

Cherry does feel his chest expand a little with an inward, relieved intake of breath as the archangel in his home accepts his offer of help, even asking for it, possibly so's to seem polite, though Cherry doesn't think there could really be a rude bone in Michael's body. Not intentionally, anyway. He seems very thoughtful with his airs and graces, though his bluntness could come off a little impolite inadvertently. Cherry just puts this down to inexperience of these things. How much did heaven's greatest weapon actually get to meet the ordinary rank and file of heaven, not in a capacity as their superior? Not very often, he bets.

As Michael sets to unbuttoning his shirt, Cherry moves to set the water down and collect up the small flannel, starting off adverting his eyes so to give the other a little privacy, though he can't help himself but peek back with a glance of his eyes. The sight of the half undressed archangel does bring a little colour to his cheeks, though he quickly tries to hide it by busying himself with opening the first aid kit and finding the salve he'd need. All the while just thinking to himself wow. So that was what being a physically imposing military grade angel looks like... it is quite different to the soft body, gentle look of approachableness he sees in the mirror every morning, that's for sure! Cherry's got love-handles that would feel self conscious around such an impressive physique. No wonder Michael felt too big for most spaces they'd shared so far!

"A demonic possession?" The cherub repeats as he slowly slips closer, waiting for Michael to get comfortable in his chosen spot, before sinking down beside him, perched on the edge of the sofa. Even sat on the elevated surface, with Michael's torso length they were still the same height. "Was it scary?" He asks, before wincing inwardly at his own stupid question. "Stupid question.." he mutters under his breath with a shake of his head and dips the corner of the flannel into the water. "I bet you rarely get scared.." he says softly. Michael was so impressive, what was going to scare him!?

Lifting his eyes again to the other, he glances back at him before down to the dried blood and soot looking substance on his shoulder, before reaching out to gently start wiping it away. Working up slowly towards his neck, as he hums. "I saw one once" he nods, now idly chatting as he tries very hard not to focus on the impressively sculpted body suddenly very close that he was touching. All be it through a flannel, luckily. "Well, the after effects of one" he continues, working up the strong cords of Michael's neck and gently under the healing wound. "I saw Uriel, with his beautiful wings... he was sad because he couldn't save her" he explains a little. That was the first and only time he had seen an archangel and it had been from a far, Uriel had barely even noticed him, but Cherry had remembered. He seemed so crestfallen that the young woman hadn't survived, it had made quite an impression. To be so close to one of his brothers now, to the Michael, who even the other archangels looked up to! Well, he was quite out of his depth.

Lifting his eyes to Michael again he smiles softly, realising he'd zoned out a little there, with his memories. "I'm not afraid, you know, not of you" his curls bounce lightly as he shakes his head. "What you said before, maybe you worry someone like me would be scared of you, but I'm not..." now he's rambling, he can feel himself rambling, but he didn't want Michael to think he was afraid and be uncomfortable with it. "I know I'm not anybody special, I shouldn't be taking up your time but... I just wanted to make sure you were okay" he explains, his flannel having stilled a little before he lets out a soft little huff of amusement and glances down at his neck. "You're nearly all the way healed already! Maybe I was silly to worry-" the skin was indeed fresh and pink, new where it was healing up around the wound and it was already much smaller than when he'd first seen it. Michael didn't need his help, he'd probably made a fool out of himself.

It is then that he does it without really thinking, letting the pad of his finger gently brush along the healed skin, the touch of a cupid having an inadvertent magic of its own.

[ofholyfire]

Full screen of one of the photoshoot pics Cody had for STM Perth Magazine (2021)

Cody deleted the pic just minutes after he share it.

[ofholyfire]

CODY FERN

[ofholyfire]

A few things? Michael stands there in wonder of what 'a few things' could possibly be. The sudden fading of the smile on Cherry's face is quite blatant, and affects him more than he thought it would. It's a dramatic change from the cherub's former bubbly and joyous attitude, after all. So Michael blinks and silently watches him flit about to gather these 'things.' He grows more curious as he sees items for first aid collect on the coffee table a few at a time.

'I am fine. I don't need such things' perches on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken, but does not make it past his lips. These are necessities for mortals; utterly useless for divine beings like himself. He was more than capable of healing himself of the minor injuries he might have received. Only Raphael, the master of healing arts, had seen him out of sorts and in worse shape than he is currently in. Even then, that great brother had not made as much of a fuss as Cherry does now. It is a foreign concept for someone to worry over him when he is the head of the heavenly forces and always on the frontlines. The Archangel Michael is not weak; he is the strongest of all the angels. So it is written, so it is believed, so it is spoken, and so it shall be. And yet...

The urgency with which the little one moves confuses him as much as it moves him, and the spear to his heart is the way in which Cherry does not look at him. It is only now that he recalls how he first appeared to the other, all blood, flames, anger, and power, and now stands in his residence, still inciting the same bit of fear unintentionally. Like this, in war, and always, he remembers that he is terrifying.

"Be not...afraid..." he says aloud, much softer and less confident than he intended. A rarity for the one with the booming voice that commands. He finds this phrase to be less effective than it should be; just because one says not to be afraid does not always mean it ceases the fear. He covers his words with a clearing of his throat and feels a part of himself shrink at the sight of the other standing there hopefully... almost desperately... just to help him. Him, of all angels.

He does not accept the fresh clothing as his hands are dirty, but he does look down at them and, after a long pause, consents to aid with a nod.

"...If you could– ," a pause, rephrasing, "Could you help me? You've been so generous, but if it does not trouble you..." he says, albeit stiffly because he is unsure how to properly accept this kind of help. "I am grateful," he adds for good measure, covering his tracks. The worried, bright eyes are getting to him. To relieve the tension that likely only he feels in that moment, he unbuttons his dress shirt and uses it to simultaneously dry the ichor from his fingers. Button by button comes undone, and ultimately the dirty, singed fabric is pulled from his broad shoulders and down his arms. There is no salvaging this item of clothing so he folds into a less offensive square. Using the offered bath towel, he instead uses it to dry his hands and wraps the shirt up in it.

He's massive, much broader and more muscular than he looks inside of his clothing. His height evens him out and gives him a thin, compact silhouette, but his true form is this. He has a strong fighter's chest and shoulders, and his arms are sure to easily carry any weight they might bear. His skin is beautiful as it should be, slightly olive to the tone and scattered with dark, very human beauty marks upon his throat, down the center of his breast, ribs, and stomach. The archangel would be flawless were it not for superficial scratches, a few blood smears, and the deep laceration on the side of his throat that Cherry notices long before he does. He does not even remember receiving such a wound in the heat of battle as there was no time to stop and access personal injuries. It is nothing he will die from, but it would hurt significantly if he treated his body as more a part of himself than a costume he lives in.

Nevertheless, he looks for the best place to sit and chooses a spot on the floor between the couch and coffee table. Settling cross-legged just to fit in the space, he sweeps his blonde hair to one side and waits for the cherub. Though it takes a very discerning eye to see it, there is a paper thin scar between his shoulder blades where the joints of his wings would be. This one is ancient, not from any recent battles.

"To put it simply, I was battling at a demonic possession."

Cherry's lips part as he had been planning to comment on the other angels choice of wording that he 'lived humbly'. He was going to ask if Michael meant that to sound the way that it did, before he watches the glamour fade from the angel and he is once again reminded of why there were here and the circumstance the other had found himself in. Quickly Cherry's smile drops, his eyebrows drawing concerned before he nods. Silly of him. This wasn't just some pleasant meeting of new friends, he'd gotten carried away. "Of course I- wait, let me help. I just need to get a few things" he mutters a little hurriedly to himself, before turning away and shuffles quickly past the breakfast bar.

One his way he gathers a small towel, a bowl, his first aid kit from under the sink and sets all of that down on the coffee table as he passes. Next he's hurrying past Michael, not even really daring to look up at him, his head bowed as he slips into his bedroom. Coming back a short moment later with a folded shirt and a larger towel. "I have this that might fit you, if you wanted to shower and change-" he offers, holding the two folded items out. The shirt wasn't his but knowing the man it did belong to, he wasn't as tall as Michael, but hopefully it would do.

"Can I... check you're not hurt?" He asks softly, eyes lowering to the angel's neck where the largest smear of blood had dried. He didn't know if Michael was cut under that and would need, maybe an ointment? Did Archangels need first aid?! Probably not, maybe he's being silly. He just wanted to help.

"You'll tell me what happened?" He asks, moving past to fill the bowl with warm water, if it was needed. It was Michael's choice. He could go to the bathroom and sort himself out, or help sooth a little of Cherry's worry by allowing him to help. The cupid's large, big blue pools looking up at him as he stands by the sofa, bowl of fresh warm water in hand, ready to nurse, if he's permitted.

[ofholyfire]

A shimmering, royal blue envelope arrives at Cherry’s address, oddly settled not where mail should fall when entered into his mail slot, but rather placed directly at the center of his bed. On the envelope’s front, the cherub’s name is elegantly written in gold ink. Upon opening it, Cherry will find a letter penned on heavy, stark white paper with what is clearly a proper quill pen and black ink. The lettering is not of the human alphabet; it is the intricate celestial script of the divine, the language of angels. There are a number of strikethroughs which have been left in, as if this letter had been edited as it was being written.

Blessed Cherub,

Sweet-faced and lovely, creation of God. A perfect and good thing. Thy splendor shines as bright as God’s love within thee. Today, your day, we all behold in the name of Saint Valentine. How thy mighty arrows fly with purpose and love. Shoot straight, for there are weeping hearts who wait. Heal them from loneliness with your wisdom and care. Holy! Holy! Thou art the master of the lovers and the loved. And yea, the archer cannot shoot himself. Does the archer’s heart ache? I wonder It is a wonder... Does love find thee? Does he who assigns love be not loved? I differ in thought to this. Thou art loved greatly and not solely by the Father and The Son. 

You are loved, from your golden curls that shine with the warmth of the sun, to the youthful blush of thy cheeks, to the steadiness in hands that have touched me so tenderly and so fearlessly. This brave heart in thy breast beats unwavering and contagious. The warmth of you stirs a longing. To angels who do not feel, and yet I Passion, your tool of choice, is powerful. A terrible and beautiful force that rivals the fires of Archangel Mikael, Chief of God’s army, so that even I must yield.

“Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” Why does it still For all that you have taught me, for your guidance and patience, for your kindness and gentleness, for your stunning soul... I yield to thee. No harm will come to you, most beautiful one, forever and ever, for I am indebted. You have my gratitude. Come and find rest with me. Call my name in your times of trouble and strife, and in your times of peace. I will come, always, and tell you that you are loved. 

You are loved.

You are loved. 

~ Mikael   

Cherry @elysiumxii

[ofholyfire]

Whether or not Michael had a sweet tooth has yet to be discovered, even by him. It could have been completely coincidental due to the colors and appearances of food that caught his eye. Whatever the case, angel food cake and berries would be on the top of his list if he had one. If Cherry likes it as much as he does, it will give them some common ground to talk about it in painstaking detail despite being a rather simple dessert in and of itself. He does wonder in a corner of his mind just why this cherub is being so friendly to him when, previously, he didn't even know who Michael was. It's a bit bewildering but not overly surprising; cherubs were quite the cute, upbeat, energetic kind from what he's seen of them.

Well.... from what little he's seen of cupids in particular. The higher ranking cherubim could be rather terrifying to behold in their own right, and not all of them were as gentle as Cherry in personality. The fact that he makes a joke and is somewhat playing with this one says much. A short huff of laughter is pushed through his nose when he hears Cherry laugh, because cherub laughter is painfully contagious even for one of the most strict beings in Heaven. Not at all winded and a hair barely out of place, a tiny smile plays at Michael's lips as he waits for Cherry to open his front door.

"God made me this way," he says simply, adding, "You could have cheated. You could have flown."

He glimpses the angel hanging from the other' keychain and approves, though it might be impractical. His own keys were just that: keys on a ring or lanyard or stuck somewhere in a pocket. It was cold and not as cute, but it was efficient.

Patiently waiting to enter, he did so only when he was invited in once more in an exercise of his manners. As soon as he is inside, he closes the door behind him waits by it as Cherry makes himself at home. The curious archangel takes his time scanning the surroundings and deducing how the other lived. He undresses so easily as if it is routine, and appears so human that Michael's head tilts as he observes. Next, the soft glow of fairy lights strung up on the walls draws his attention. He's like to touch them for some inexplicable reason. Continuing his look around from where he stands by the door, he judges this apartment to be a humble, cozy space that feels lived in. The shake of a cat treat bag has him searching the floor for the cat; he didn't expect an angel to keep pets, either. ...He wouldn't be opposed to petting it if it allowed him to.

A bowl on the coffee table, low couches, a kitchen, a television, living room... Michael understands these as very necessary and normal human things. His apartment has many of the same things with the exception of an extra bedroom, so at least, visually, he is living like a normal human, too.

Even as Cherry reveres him from the kitchen as the great and powerful leader of Heaven's army, weapon of God, and divine judge and advocate of souls, in that moment he is just a tall angel idly taking in this space with a 'big head' full of questions, comparisons, and a fascination with the ambience a little string of lights creates. There may or may not have been a brief thought about what the cat's name is, too.

When the other speaks, commenting about the size of his apartment, looks to him.

"Does it need to be? You live humbly and offer me hospitality. That is all that matters. Your home gives me a sense of welcome. As for drinks, either is fine, but..." he trails off, dropping his mask of glamor and reminding Cherry of why he is here in the first place. Michael is still smeared in blood, and he remains by the door out of respect. He doesn't wish to track filth into a sacred place.

"May I use your bathroom?"

"Angel food cake-" Cherry replies with a slow nod, he didn't want to put the other off, he was finally opening up a little to him, but he might need a little more context on Michael trying such a sweet treat and it evidently having a lasting memory for him. "I think we'll get on great if you also have a sweet tooth" he hums, casting a small, half smile up at the other angel he already considered half way to becoming friendly with. Cherry just loves to make new friends! Sure, he hasn't had the chance to make friend's with any of God's elite yet, and especially not the flaming sword of Heaven, but, how different could he really be?

As Michael makes his joke, though his expression as refined as ever as he delivers it, Cherry splutters a laugh before lifting his arm to stifle it into his elbow. So he had heard that! Michael had quite the cute little sense of humour, it seems, because Cherry merely meant that everything of the archangel was bigger! His wings, his long legs, his big hands... and yes, his head a little bit. With Michael moving ahead to take the stairs, Cherry quickly hurries to follow suit though he does not miss how the long legged blonde can so easily take them two at a time, when Cherry is puffing by the end of it having to hurriedly waddle up each step with his short ones!

"Here.. this one-" he pants, waving a hand over at the door. Number 409, the number embossed on a gold plate on the door, as his keys jingle whilst he pulls them out of his pocket. A small, crocheted angel hanging from his keychain as he glances down at Michael's long legs as he slips past him to the door. "That's cheating, you know-" He grumbles before slipping his key into the lock and twists it before pushing on inside.

As soon as he's inside, the cherub sets to his usual routine. Flicking on the light switch as he starts to shrug off his windbreaker, hanging it up as he moves deeper into the apartment, now in just a t-shirt and jeans as he kicks off his trainers. "Come in" he calls back, assuming that Michael could be a little stuff with these things. As he moves through from the small entryway and into the living area, fairy lights are turned on, basking the small space in the soft, twinkling glow. Then next a lamp by his low sofa and he drops his keys into a bowl on the coffee table.

"Do you like tea? You know, I think I might have wine" Cherry continues to call back as he slips into his kitchen, moving to shake a small bag of cat treats into a bowl for the kitty, no doubt prowling somewhere, demanding to be fed as if he'd left her for days, before he finally turns back to look at the Archangel Michael, in his small apartment, and his chest expands with a small, huffed breath. "Sorry it's not very big.." he hums, offering him a small, somewhat bashful smile.

[ofholyfire]

Michael doesn’t know much about living a mundane life. His station does not allow him downtime or leisure, and not him in particular, for he was the head of the army. Being first in command means always being prepared and to always be on alert. All serious affairs, all the time. At his level of Heaven, there were no attractive little buttons to push or bus windows to stare out of. Leisure was a foreign concept lost to him since Lucifer’s fall. To see Cherry enjoy these things is new and strange, but something that intrigues him nonetheless. The cherub seems so well adjusted for his time here on Earth– about the same amount of time that Michael has been here, in fact. Cherry is comfortable and knowledgeable of the human way of life and it makes all the sense in the world for the role that he plays. 

Michael is quietly pleased with what he witnesses. The little one is helpful, caring, and compassionate to others around him… He’s a model angel in the little acts of service he performs. These good works are the essence of their purpose. And though Michael is present and naturally moves to help, there is little for him to do. Cherry is gentle and diligent as he should be and cheerfully takes care of fallen toys and heavy shopping carts himself. The archangel watches him closely, completely erasing his former infractions from memory. Cherry is so good. 

Making a decision about something in his head, the tall angel folds his arms behind his back and walks in idle step with the other. This seemingly stern body language probably doesn’t make him look any less intimidating despite his friendly human appearance, but old habits die hard. He walks with his head slightly lowered and an ear turned to listen. 

“I take no personal offense to your opinion. It is, in fact, best for you to understand those you must help. We–” he pauses, correcting himself, “Well, I don’t have such a strong connection to these ‘ties of fate’ like you do. You should be proud of your inherent talent; I have seen for myself today how powerful it is.” A compliment much deserved. Then he continues with a long pause. Enjoy? What did he enjoy? 

“Enjoy…?” he says aloud, contemplating. This question is more difficult to answer than it should be. “I enjoyed… angel food cake once. And bread and wine.” Food isn’t exactly a leisurely activity, but it is the first thing he equates with a sense of joy. 

As they come to the apartment complex, Michael looks up at it first to take it in, then back down to his company. The little joke catches him off guard and a corner of his mouth upturns in a light smirk. 

“Perhaps you can propel yourself from the top of my ‘giant head’ first, and then I’ll fly up after,” he says with a lilt of snark in his voice. A huff of amusement follows as he straightens, hands still folded behind his back, and sets off toward the building after Cherry. Once they reach the stairs, he makes a note to climb them two at a time just to spite Cherry and to ascend them faster than the cheeky cherub could.

Glancing to the side up at him, Cherry smiles as the big, scary Archangel reaches out to hold his finger but the little, red plastic button. Doing something so mundane, something humans do every day without even thinking, it was a privilege for them, or so Cherry thinks. To be with them, amongst them, that was really the gift God had delivered to the creatures of heaven. Giving a little nod once it was time to press, Cherry smiles brightly as if to say 'well done!' Before he shifts back and slips off the seat first.

"Oh, only about 11 months or so" he answers with a hum, turning to start to lead the way off the bus. As he does a small dolly falls from tiny hands and he crouches to quickly scoop her up off the bus floor, dusting off her dress before he's passing her back to the little girls waiting hands with a soft "here you go". Next is meeting an elderly lady by the bus door, currently struggling to navigate both stepping off the bus herself, and lowering her trolly on wheels. Happily he moves closer, resting a hand on her shoulder with a warm, comforting smile before reaching out for the handle. "Let me" he says softly, lowering it down easily before offering a supportive hand for her to take the small step.

The people around here were his community and what might seem frivolous or a waste of time to Michael, was just the cherub enjoying them. After she had thanked him, he takes a step or two down the street before looking back to his new, far too tall, shadow. "You said content earlier" reaching up he brushes back his hair from his eyes as he nods, giving Michael time to step along side him so they could walk together. "I think that's a good word for it" he nods, starting to think it through. "There is so much here to enjoy. I love heaven, don't get me wrong, but as a cupid, we're meant to be here, amongst them. I can't understand the ties of fate bonding people if I can't understand everything else that might bring them together!" Explaining with enthusiasm he nods, stopping by a small apartment complex as he turns to look up at the imposing angel.

"There must be something you enjoy, why don't you tell me about it?" He asks, one hand fishing his keys out of his pocket before he turns to unlock the door to the building. "I'm on the third floor, think you'll be okay walking or do you want to fly up there?" He teases, before moving over to start the assent of the stairs.

[ofholyfire]

There are all sorts of angels. Which one are you? Details of painted wings. (The first one is digital art.)

[ofholyfire]

The archangel raises a brow at the giggling but lets it be. Cherry seems like the type to entertain himself by himself, and Michael isn't so sure what is going on under those golden curls. He's still not even sure why he is on  a bus when there is much faster, more efficient travel available to them, too. He was all about efficiency. Appearing out of nowhere is an art form to him and he is very good at it. The angel's arrival is typically announced in fire and intimidation, but not always. He has a softer, gentler approach for children, so the duality that Cherry finds comical is not something Michael himself has given any thought to. Had it not been for the spat with Gabriel, he wouldn't be trying to remedy his awkwardness in human society, either. He only had himself to ask and learn from down here, so the lessons are arduous. Though, that does give him an idea about what to do about Cherry. 

At the question, he looks away from the window and answers in a slightly indignant tone. 

"I have a car."

A car that he got because it was the human thing to do. A car that he rarely drives unless necessary. And yes, this is his first time on a bus. Said bus hits a rough bump in the street and rocks him in his seat, disturbing his curls from their place and jarring him from the space he tucked himself into to give Cherry more room. He decides then that he does not exactly like buses, but he finds them convenient for mindless traveling. Also, he makes a mental note to return the money lent to him as soon as possible, lest his conscience gnaw away at him about owing a debt. Flight costs nothing, so he wonders why Cherry would bother with such petty trifles like bus fare in the first place. 

Before he can get the chance to ask, the little one beside him is already chattering on about where he lives. It is a learning opportunity, so the archangel quietly listens as he should. The information is a bit rapidfire, breeding more questions to be asked along the way, but he is attentive and his eyes follow the locations pointed out to him.

Just why would anyone want to eat so late at night, and why did Cherry eat at all? Was his body so empty of grace and so far removed from divinity that he suffered side effects like hunger and thirst? What business did cupids have being out until 3 am? Books... He understands those. Romance novels, not so much. These were not things in Heaven, as far as he knew. Not that he had the leisure time to read for pleasure in the first place. 

Ah, cafes. These were everywhere-- one of the first places he visited in the company of his kin. Angel food cake could be found there. He thinks to mention that he's been to cafes several times and wants to ask about the sweet dessert, but he stops short with a blink. Looking from the window, his head tilts and he absently raises a hand to touch it. Had he heard correctly?�� Did Cherry just say... his head is...big? The word of God says that all angels are perfectly made. If that is only a matter of opinion, then…

Cherry says something about a laundromat and a church, which Michael just barely sees go by, and he looks toward the mentioned button. There is one by his right shoulder, but the one over Cherry's head, on a pole, seems easier to reach. A finger goes to rest upon it, patient. He can't quite put his finger on it, but something about the privilege of being able to push it makes him feel like a child taking its first steps toward independence. Michael doesn't know if he likes that or not, either. He'd be lying, however, if he said he didn't want to try it. So he clears his throat when Cherry stops talking and processes all the information while he listens for the correct stop. Further discussion could be had when they were in a more private space.

"It seems that you are quite content with this area. How long have you lived here," he asks, soon pushing the button. The little ding is satisfying in its own way, and he remembers to duck when he stands to get off.

cherry & michael cont because BETTTAA!!! @ofholyfire

"It's nothing" the cupid hums, still fighting back a smile as he turns his head to look over at the squished archangel by his side. Looking every bit as regal as he does uncomfortable. There is no doubt that this angel flies everywhere - if he doesn't just appear, like he did this night, in an alleyway. All crackling electricity and dark, looming shadows. To think of that first impression, verses now? It was almost comical how different it felt. Now Cherry was more of less comfortable with him. Was Michael strange, stiff and far too judgemental? Yes. Yet was he also sweetly clueless and endearingly curious about the world around them? Also yes.

"You really have never been on a bus before, have you" he hums, head tilting as he seemingly makes the connection himself. He's barely been around humans at all, it seems, and to Cherry that was just crazy! A whole exciting world down here and Michael had, what? Just hung around with boring angel-folk up in heaven? Snore.

"See, this here is the district I live in" he begins, having glanced past Michael, out of the window to see that they were nearly at his stop. "That there-" he continues, pointing out past him towards a small restaurant. "The best late night chicken you'll find in the city, and they're open until 3am" he continues with a soft giggle. He had had more than a few late nights out in the city with the other cherubim and found himself needing an unhealthy, sticky chicken snack after one too many shandies!

"That book store there? Nice, but over priced. Two blocks down and there is an independent, better selection of romance novels and they even do a second hand scheme. Makes books cheaper. Oh and that café, good coffee there. Croissants as big as your head!" He chimes with a nod before glancing to Michael. "Well, maybe not your head.." he trails off before pointing over out of the other side of the bus. "I do my laundry there and oh.. that's the nearest church. Our stop is not far-" he explains with a nod before sitting back and glances up at him. "You can press the button if you want?" He offers, by way of a treat.

[ofholyfire]

Watching Cherry dust himself off and preen like a little bird was interesting and extremely human. Had it not been for his wings, arrows, and such just moments before, Michael would not have been able to differentiate between him and another mortal in behavior. This cherub was as strange as he was intriguing. Michael’s bewilderment is furthered when he states that not only will they take a bus, but also that he’d be lent money to do so. His brows knit and his head habitually tilts as he questions. 

“Bus? We can fly…” 

But Cherry has already brushed past him. His tone is so decided that Michael can’t help but to follow; there’s still the matter of that bus and why he sought Cherry in the first place. He will have his answers. And so he glamours himself into pristine and corporeal form: a black dress shirt and pressed slacks, clean, unblemished skin, thick, loose curls that soften his appearance, and a stern jaw despite himself. He looks a bit more youthful this way and possibly more approachable, but he is not approached. Instead he sticks by Cherry and finds himself wedged into a bus seat that feels a bit too small for his long limbs. Cherry gives him the seat by the window which he stares out of, watching the world go by in blurs of colors and shapes. The sun is rather bright and shines at his eyes, highlighting their striking blue color. He is wonderful to look at, tall, broad-shouldered, and modelesque, but he does not notice it. 

He also doesn’t notice the older woman eyeing him like the last number on a triple BINGO card, or a decadent piece of chocolate cake. Perhaps it’s best that he doesn’t. The looks he and Cherry get go right over his head as well because he doesn’t pay attention to them. He’s too lost in thought about why they have to take a bus and how the smell of old leather and a hint of diesel fuel linger in the air. At one point, his eyes drop to see graffiti on the wall beside him: a crudely drawn cross and ‘OMG!!’ written in black Sharpie sits right under his elbow. He would try to logic out why this was written here of all places, but it may not be worth the effort. Humans seemed to love doodling and drawing on things that they shouldn’t. Despite that, he turns his attention back to the window. A warmth at his thigh where it touches Cherry’s grabs his attention somewhere along the way and he’s reminded of his size. While the cherub looks almost comfortable and happily fitting into his seat, the Archangel thinks that he’s occupying too much room. In his head he makes himself smaller, but the attempt to shift closer to the wall and bring his knees and elbows closer together doesn’t do much in the way of providing more space. He looks more like a giant, well-behaved German Shepherd on a car ride. 

Just how long will this trip be? He doesn’t know. Cherry is the pilot, more or less, so he must go along for the ride. He does try and count the stops they make, however, to keep track of how far they’ve gone. That is, until he hears the giggle beside him. Michael looks to his left with a blink. 

“What?” 

Cherry notices that Michael is more than a little unused to being touched, though it does not in the least surprise him. A creature capable of causing all that chaos and destruction, who would dare get close enough to touch? Him, that is who, and whilst Michael does not expressly tell him not to, Cherry is going to perform a little experiment of his own. Can he familiarise an archangel with touch?

Touch, to Cherry, was the lifeblood of all things. Why else exist in this world with so many other living creatures, if not to share touch with them? There was not a cat he would walk past and not peck, a mortal he would not enjoy the gentlest brush against whilst invisible to their gaze and yes, even an archangel that he would not wish to share tender touch with. He cannot stand to see a creature so unused to the soft brush of another.

“Okay then” he hums and nods, understanding the request to keep such talk to a more suitable venue, and his apartment will just have to do. With Michael standing, the cupid does the same, brushing off his knees a little, up to his thighs and especially his bottom where he had sat perched on the concrete of the roof. He quite liked these mortal clothes, though true to heaven’s doctrine, he had thrifted them. “We will take the bus to mine” he announces, because he had also learnt that Michael was quite good at following orders, if one was authoritative enough. It must be all the militantism they drum into them.

“I’ll lend you bus fare, come on-” he teases with a glance up to him, before the cherub happily skips past him. Though the cupid in fact wasn’t joking, smiling up at Michael, sat beside him on the number 901 bus out from the city centre towards the district that housed his small one bedroom apartment. They were catching some rather odd looks. One older lady, with her shopping bags packed onto a push trolly, looked a little like she wanted to take Michael home. Sat so perfectly presented , rigid one austere with a beauty about him in his gold spun hair… on the shabby city link bus. Glancing away it has Cherry giggling softly behind his hand. She was cute! They’d make a good couple…

[ofholyfire]

More gorgeous shots from STM magazine