October 9, 2007

• Beggingings Chapter 10

  

  Well, Sara and I decided since we both have gyped the last few chapters, one of each of us would write half of it. So the first half is hers, the last mine. Enjoy?

  
  Beginnings Chapter 10: colab chapter!

  Painting was a great way to ease the pains of life. With the brush in his hand, he felt the world would simply melt away. Slowly, a landscape began to take shape on the canvas as he smeared the paint around in delicate strokes, and he hummed cheerfully. Gold mixed with pink to create a fluffy cloud here, or the hinge of a gate.
   
  “Not bad,” Vlad commented from his vintage point on the bed. “It looks almost real.”
   
  Azazel stepped back and peered at his work with a scrutinizing eye. He tapped the brush against his pallet before resuming. “Almost?”
   
  Vlad sighed. Clearly, It would take more than that to get on the other’s good side. “Sure. I feel like I could walk through the gate right now.”
   
  The blonde blushed, but his smile practically lit up the room. “Thank you.”

  Vlad nodded, though his companion couldn’t see it. “Where are you going to put it?”
   
  Azazel hadn’t thought of that. He paused in his work to look around the room. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe above the bed or the desk.”
   
  It reminded him of home, so putting it where he would always see it was a must.
   
  Again, Vlad nodded. “Above the bed would be good. Then you can look at it before you go to sleep.”
   
  This time, Azazel turned to him, surprise in his silver eyes. “I do believe you said something friendly.” He talked with a smile, however.
   
  Vlad grinned as well, before snorting and the moment, whatever it had been, was gone. “I’m not an ass all the time.”
   
  “Could have fooled me.”
   
  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or strike out at his companion. Every time he thought the Fallen was warming up, the blonde had to make a stupid comment and throw his hopes out the window.
   
  - - Two Hours Later- -
   
  Azazel hung the finished artwork on the wall and moved onto his next piece of canvas. Vlad, meanwhile, continued to stare at the painting. It did indeed look like he could walk across Heaven. It was exactly as he remembered his original homeland, with a touch of the artist spilled into the swirling patterns.
   
  “Hey, Azazel.”
   
  The blonde turned to him, allowing Vlad a quick glance at his next work. He wasn’t quite sure what the fuzzy image was supposed to be, but various shades of orange and red melded with black. “Yes?”
   
  The Fallen of Shadow had given up all hope. He sacrificed his life to fate. Why it had taken so long to realize that, despite his odd quirks and his scathing tongue, Azazel was perfect? “Come here.”
   
  Azazel looked concerned again. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  He was half surprised that Azazel showed any bit of concern for him, but he guessed that they both would have formed some sort of a bond over the trying months that had passed them. Smiling reassuringly, Vlad instead sat next to Azazel, who was still looking at him with worry-stricken eyes.

  “I just wanted to talk is all,” Vlad replied softly. “It's been so long since I Fell, I almost forgot what Heaven looked like.”

  Taking a glance at the painting, Azazel, not for the first time, wondered how exactly long Vlad had been down here in Hell. He was given the impression that the Fallen of Shadows had been there much longer then even half of the others, but he was never given a number to put to it. Curiosity drove him to wonder, and give him the gall to ask.

  “How long have you been down here,” Azazel asked in the same quiet tone. “I mean, I know you've been down here a long time, but really, how long?”

  “Millennia,” Vlad replied. “I was part of the first group to Fall, and haven't seen Heaven since that day.”

  “That's...” Azazel began, but not able to really finish as he looked away. It was much longer then he expected, and to think of all things Vlad had to have seen. Taking a quick glance at the journal, he wondered if Fate was trying to do something, maybe giving him a friend to talk to, to work things out with?

  Taking in a deep breath, Vlad smiled, he always smiled. On the inside, he cringed. He felt a wall, larger then the one he was already trying to scale, being built up so that he couldn't get in easily. That's the way things seemed to keep happening over the past few weeks, he'd make some ground, trying to figure out things for himself and trying to read Azazel's signs, trying to see if Fate really was just toying with him. Yet with each wall he breached, there was one larger, one thicker, one that seemed impossible to cross. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  Azazel didn't miss the pain or confusion that happened before the smile, he rarely missed things like that anymore. Michael had taught him to be sure not to miss the smaller things like that in case a flash of anger would show and would mean he would have to be prepared for a beating or something of the sort. Yet, Vlad didn't hide anger, he hid something much more devastating, something that could eat away at him until there was nothing yet but anger left; sorrow. Something stirred inside of him, something that wanted to help Vlad not to become the empty shell like he had, maybe even heal over some of his own still open wounds.

  Deciding that maybe taking a chance this once wouldn't hurt him, he leaned on Vlad slightly, deciding that this wasn't so bad as the other casually wrapped a wing around him. Had he missed being in the presence of another, of being like this? At the moment, his answer was yes, however at any other time, he would have denied it up and down.

  “I don't think I'll ever miss Heaven,” Azazel sighed, leaning more heavily into the embrace. “After what happened up there, I think I have a better chance here of becoming stronger and maybe even not getting raped day after day.”

  “I'm not sure which one of us had it worse then,” Vlad replied, actually liking the the feel of Azazel leaning on him and he even allowed his wing, in no way their former glory, no longer the white with hues of violet that they once were, wrapped protectively around him. “The one who had their innocence denied, or the one who had it taken away.”

  Azazel looked up at him curiously. Did he really think that? Or was it a trick again? A hole to fall into, to think that he was safe, to think he had found a kindred spirit, only to find out that it was a sham. Everything he believed in was a lie yet again, that he was meant to feel nothing but pain for another's pleasure.

  He wanted to tempt Fate, he wanted to see if it was really just his imagination or he really found the perfect one, if he had found the other half he had been searching for. His first kiss was soft but anything but chaste. He was amazed that Azazel didn't fight it, didn't struggle or push away, but melted, something he didn't expect. If anything, he expected to be rejected, to look upon a repulsed look and never be able to go near him again. This all didn't seem right, yet it did all the same.

  For Azazel, he wished that he'd never met Michel, that he'd at least saved himself for a moment such as this. He'd never shared such a soft kiss, it was like it was coaxing him out of his shell, making a promise that wouldn't be broken for anything less then death. However, the only question was that was Vlad a virgin or not, because damn, he knew how to win someone over with a kiss.

  Breaking apart, Vlad and Azazel stared at each other in shock. What the hell just happened between them? Azazel began to turn a furious shade of red, and he could have sworn that he seen Vlad do the same. Separating them, Azazel sat on the bed, staring at Vlad who stared at him back on the floor, until he could have swore that Vlad had a film of sorrow in his eyes as he looked at the floor.

  Getting up, he left without a word, leaving Azazel to wonder what happened. Looking at the unfinished painting, he had lost the desire to paint for now, and instead stared at the finished one. Heaven, it was supposed to be a place of beauty, wonder, hope, but he had found all of that in Hell. So what was Heaven to him then?

  Looking up at the bare ceiling, he decided that figuring out that was something left for another time, since he had a slightly larger problem to deal with. Vlad had changed their fragile relationship, and drastically. Running a quivering hand through his hair, he wrapped himself up in a caccoon of his own wings, letting the frustration out in a flood of tears. Of Falling, of being betrayed, and some part happiness, for finally find something to have hope and believe in.

  Vlad, however, laid on his own bed, wide eyed and refusing to let his frustrations out. He had promised long ago, after seeing Sairari die, after Falling himself, and after becoming top assassin, that he'd never cry again, that he'd become stronger, become better then he was before. However, his actions may have lost everything for him again, Azazel most likely never wanted to see him again, never wanted to have anything to do with him again, and that hurt. It hurt his cold heart, it hurt his promises of a future, and it hurt his head by thinking about it too much.

  Curling up, refusing to give in, he instead forced himself to sleep, never realizing the tears escaping before he reached unconsciousness.

  • 9:54 pm
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