Expellion

Slumped in the rain, wetness trickling in riverlets down my back and shirt, suit sticking to my skin. I wonder, why? Why am I dying? Why not somebody else? I don't realise until now that I've gripped my head in my hands. Breath ragged, rocking back and forth with a wail of pain. Emotional pain. Why doesn't he leave me? Why doesn't everybody? I'm beyond help and I can see every time I have a fit I'm a burden. Did you know the thorns move in the night? I wake up, I feel them settling under my skin. Crawling. I'm cursed to die and everytime, in their eyes, a burden. There isn't a morning that I don't wake up choking on my own blood and rattling

White, blinding. Pristine except for the faint taints of bland colour and the fruitful wildernesses that were tamed throughout the realm. A crumbling roma, stones of white and the weather e'er fair; sun beating down, only rarely giving way to rain that would encourage the fertile growth of all gifts higher Powers had to offer. That which He offered to them. Angels existed in their own planes and handled the aftercare- taking the pure souls gifted them by the neutral reapers and grooming them, shaping them into another body anew. The gift of life; They could handle it all- but for the fallen ones. Insane, broken and tainted with false hope.

"Where did we meet?" The words had escaped from my lips, unbidden and unprompted as I shuffled my papers and glanced over to the room. Well, the rest of the people in the office before my eyes settled on the blonde by my side- The not-ronald blonde. I knew that smile, that voice. The way he got ready to talk- But on a whim I put one hand forwards. Finger, index, pressed solitarily to his lips. Halting his speech even as my thumb guilty pleasure lightly stroked that dark, downy facial hair he'd always insisted on having. I smiled right back. "I only meant to say it in my head. This… It reminds me of something I can't forget." Eyes narrowi

He'd never forget his birthday- an almost endless series of dates and events coincided that ensured this. His first day at reapers academy- only three days prior. Meeting Eric- two days after. Yes, his birthday was probably the most memorable date of all. The day spent working, sharing sweet nothings in the way of brushing fingers tentatively against those of his broad lover with little smiles as the moulded leather which clung to their heated hands. Brush of material-on-material. Small smiles- The usual exception every decade or so. Maybe two years running but not often- working together. Today the exception; not the pleasant kind where th