Revelations

German stood at the edge of a crowd of pedestrians, his back pressed against jagged gray bricks and his father's guitar in his hands. As he strummed absentmindedly, he leaned his head back to feel the warmth of the sun against his skin. Every once and awhile someone in the crowd would pause for a moment and glance at him, and a moment later he'd hear a clinking sound in his guitar case.

He glanced down at the case, and his heart sunk as he saw the meager amount of change inside, then he looked at the setting sun. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to afford dinner for the third time this week. That was not an option. Returning his attention to the guitar, German began plucking at it with more ferocity, filling the air with a string of complicated melodies. A couple more heads would turn at him, and the beat of clinking and shuffling slowly increased for about an hour until the floor of the case was covered in rubles.

German smiled, and slid down to a sitting position, returning to his lazy strum, his already calloused fingers sore to the bone.

"Are you really an angel?"

Tovia strode down the street with august in her step, two children following her trail. Even to the casual observer, it was certain these children weren't hers. They lacked the long legs and litheness of movement she had. The had to scurry to keep up with the woman, gazing at her with wide eyed wonder.

"Of course. I would not lie about being a messenger of the Lord," Tovia replied, voice too flat to be playful.

"Where are your wings?" The blonde little girl asked, skipping along, "All angels have wings,"

"You just can't see them, young one. Only a certain few can," The angel responded, red hair bouncing in the wind. She pursed her lips as she looked around; they were almost together. She could feel his mind, her heart, working ever so slowly. The prophet could feel her too, she knew. No matter-

He couldn't hide forever.

She turned the corner, following the sound of the guitar and the tugging in her heart.

"Prophet," she spoke in her ancient language, her soft voice echoing through the streets. A few people looked around, confused by the seemingly random gibberish, "Come to me, Prophet,"

Confident that most of the people on the street had begun to ignore him, German began to pluck out little experimental riffs on the instrument, trying a number of different ways to get the right sound. Slowly, the tune faded into nothing as he felt a... presence. It was as if someone had began to push down on his chest, or rather, his heart itself was trying to move in a certain direction from the inside of his body.

The first thought that came to his mind was that he was having some sort of strange heart attack. The man shook his head and continued to play, convincing himself that it was simply his body finding yet another way to communicate that it needed food.

But that didn't explain the redhead walking around the corner. By the time he saw her, the feeling was impossible to ignore, and he stood up, unable to look at anything else but her. She didn't necessarily glow, but she emitted this radiance. There was something on either side of her. Almost a shadow, but one that flickered and shone in the light. Every time he tried to get a good look at them, his eyes slid away, and focused on something else.

He stood, the neck of the guitar still clutched in his hands, and took a few steps toward the woman. He noticed the map of freckles, and her long, graceful limbs, ones he hadn't seen in years.

He frowned in confusion and dread. This wasn't her. How could it be? He wasn't even positive that this woman was human. He took another step toward her, his eyes wide, "Lilly?"

Tovia made eye contact with the man, no recognition in her eyes. The angel quickened her step, soon arriving in front of the Spaniard. She reached out for her face, her fingering ghosting over his tan skin. Lips parting in a welcoming grin, freckles dancing in the dying sunlight, the angel leaned closer to the man as her blue eyes flashed with something clearly inhuman.

"Lilly is no longer here," Then, her entire palm placed against German's cheek bone, she pressed them away. (She couldn't explain the process more than that. The world was so small; the process of tearing the pair from one place from another was simple for someone of her rank. The landing, however, was challenaging.)

The ground met her feet again after the millisecond of electricity and freedom. The sunset had been replaced by night and the street by a broken, dark room lit by only a candle on the lopsided desk. The angel's body, young and frail, was still shaking from the power radiating from her true self, but she had no time to waste. Letting go of the prophet, she quickly staggered to the door, drawing a knife from between her breasts.

"Prophet, I am glad you are not injured," she said, dragging the blade across her palm, "The demons have not taken you, I am glad." Painting her blood on the door, Tovia looked over her shoulder at the man, "You must know the Enocian symbols by now, correct? Assist me with the demon wards,"

German felt the angel's touch against his skin, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. But he was too transfixed by the rest of her to care. A touch of pressure and suddenly the jolt turned into a torrent, one that ended as quickly as it had begun. The man looked himself over, shocked that he hadn't been completely ripped apart. Yet there was no pain, and that was just as surprising.

He stared around the room, then pressed his hand against one of the walls, just to make sure all of this was real, and not some elaborate hallucination. Sure enough, it was dry, grainy and cold against his skin, as real as ever.

His eyes flashed back to the woman, and the bloody knife in her hands, "Lilly..." He approached her slowly, his head trying to wrap around the closest explanation, "Lilly, give me the knife. Please. Whatever thing you're on now, you're not in your right mind, so just listen to me. I'll help you." His breath shook with fear that he didn't understand, and his hands shook, but he tried to stay calm for her.

Tovia stared at the man in bewilderment, her eyes blue searching for an explanation. The prophet... seemed to be clueless. Hadn't he noticed how he was different from the rest of the world? How others had been watching him closely? No matter, she could explain.

"I am not Lilly, German-" The angel paused, surprising she knew the man's name. The vessel must have remembered the Spaniard. She released the knife as he asked, meanwhile searching through the mental storage the vessel contained.

"German, please," The vessel was young now, her voice higher and clearer than what Tovia was used to. "I need them, I need them!"

The addiction burned her throat, ripping her heart. The shakes, the sharpness of life, the pain were all too much to handle at once. If she could have one more hit, one more pill, she could live.

"German, please, baby, I love you," she cooed, tearing staining her cheeks, "I need it. I'll do anything," She reached toward the buttons of his pants, eyes falling towards the floor, "Anything,"

Tovia blinked, unemphatic. Drugs would explain part of this. "Again, I am not Lilly. I am אלוהים הוא טוב, Angel of The Lord," Her eyes, vapid and clear as ever, sparkled brightly, as the candle in the room began to flicker. The energy in the room was changing; there seemed to be a new source of light, even as the room grew darker. "You may call me Tovia, Prophet."

Hand still bleeding profusely, the woman returned to creating her symbols on the door, wings unfurled and erect.

Germano took the knife in his hands, then gazed back up at Lilly (or... not Lilly). He knew her body just about anywhere. And yet, he was inclined to believe that he was also being told the truth. It was all very confusing. He held the knife in both hands, his grip tightening slightly so that the blade cut into his hands. The pain just made his tears come more quickly. "So then where is she?" He asked, his throat constricting around the words.

Upon hearing the word 'angel', the man froze. Even through his foggy eyes, he could clearly see something shining through Lilly's frail body. Something more present than visible. "Tovia," he whispered, too frightened to pronounce her full name aloud.

Something clicked in his brain, and his hands suddenly recoiled from the knife, dropping it loudly on the floor. The pain in his hand shot through him. He looked at the cut, and saw that it was really more of a gash. His palm was entirely covered in blood, but instead of crying out in agony, he walked towards the door.

Stopping a few feet away from the angel, he spoke again, "You call me prophet. Does that mean you... want something from me?"

"Lilly? She mentally combusted a few months back," Tovia didn't turn to face Germano. She didn't even sound bothered, really. The apathetic tone in her voice, the almost lassitude drawl, was the opposite of what an angel should sound like. Tovia, unlike her brothers and sisters, had little interest in faking empathy. "Angel Possession rarely allows more than one mind to exist in a space. The mere weight of my true form crushed her soul."

The angel finished the writing, letting the blood dry on her hands. Her symbol curved and spiraled, unlike Earthly writings. It was a better language than those; it was a language that could change the world.

"I would prefer if you did not fear me; that would just make things harder," Suddenly, she was in front of him, cradling his injured hand carefully. "And I would recommend stay safe. Healing you is an inconvenience." She let his limb drop, the deep cut already gone.

"I want a few things from you, you could say," she agreed, "But mostly your safety. I would rather none of my family joined us in your vessel."

Tovia's words bounced around the walls of his mind, creating a pain that echoed and resonated through his empty thoughts. He focused on the symbols, his soul finding a primal comfort in them, while his heart couldn't allow himself to feel anything but resentment for anything created by the being now filling the space left by Lilly's tormented soul.

But when it appeared close to him, touching his hand, filling him with life, Germano found it impossible to place any blame on her. He stared blankly down at his hand, entirely unable to process all the miracles going on around him. He let out a breath that sounded like a mix between a silent sob and a laugh, "Everything they told us... Angels aren't supposed to be killers."

"So that's what this is about? You're going to kill me too, aren't you? That's why you brought me here. To possess me." He laughed again, "Not that I mind. Better an angel than pneumonia, right?"

"Oh, no, I would imagine illness would be better than being crushed by a host, depending how long you hold out for. After a few weeks your soul would be compressed beyond believe and you'd be overcome with the sensations of light speed travel and burning."

Tovia nodded, almost happily. Then, considering how the man could take this, the angel quickly added, "Lilly died within seconds. It was rather quiet and peaceful, really.

"It wasn't a murder," she replied, grabbing the man's hand once again and pulling him to the bare, four post bed. As she cooed about how malnourished Germano was, the angel sat on the bed and pulled him into her arms. "I cannot kill. I cannot do a lot of things. If anything, it was her suicide; I warned her she wouldn't last. Lilly thought it would make up for the bad she had done."

Lovingly, Tovia ran her fingers through his hair, like a proud mother. Unlike humans, the holy host thrived when touched and found comfort to the stranger's presence, "I would never give up this vessel's sacrifice, even if I had the chance to occupy a prophet. Your life is worth more than a low level angel like me deserves."

The man's already feeble smile quickly vanished. He started to feel very unsteady on his feet, and if he had any food in him, it would've been thrown up by now. But somehow, somewhere in the mess of pain and confusion that was his mind, a hand reached out and took hold of his own, bringing some form of order to the chaos of his emotions.

Germano didn't resist the contact with the angel. In fact, the woman almost made him feel like a child again, forced to try and understand someone who was infinitely more powerful and wise than himself, yet somehow also concerned for his safety. He felt protected, and he felt wronged and sad.

Suicide... It hit him like a mallet on a large hollow drum. A tear escaped from the corner his eye, then another, and another. Soon he was tightly hugging himself to the angel's wiry frame, sobbing into the soft fabric of her clothing. He shook with years of pain that had built up inside of him, Tovia's presence more than enough to draw everything out. There was no way Germano could keep himself from falling apart.

With gentle strength her thin body shouldn't have, Tovia pulled the man into the lying position and rested herself against the dry board wall. She delicately moved a piece of hair from his face, her own ginger curls falling on to his head. She could feel his emotions- the prophet's empathetic abilities were stronger than she thought. There was the ball of burning hunger in her belly, the dizziness of loss, the overall confusion. But, Tovia found herself unable to ignore the crushing saddness.

"Child, does the night cause you fear? Does your hunger pain you?" she asked, world oddly blurry. One hand started to massage the bunched ball of muscle in his shoulder while the other continued to stroke his hair, like a worrisome mother. "Are you overwhelmed, Germano?"

There was a tickle on her face, a wideness in his eyes. The overwhelming sense of low filled her chest; the angel felt like she could crumble at any point under the roughness of his touch. Even though her shoulders did not shake and her nose did not run, she could tell she was crying. Her body was mimicking his. That was it. She couldn't possibly feel sad for a simple human, especially one like this.

The woman watched as the first tear, red with her own blood, hit his hair, nestling in the black. "Does Lilly mean that much to you?" She asked softly, "She didn't do anything for you. She slept with others for drugs. She was sick and bitter. But you, glorious child," she laughed, a hiccup of a sob sneaking in, "You actually cared. How pitiful."

Germano rested his head on the angel's body, which seemed far too warm and comforting than should have been possible for such a bony, demure figure. "I... I don't know." He mumbled after a few long moments of silence as he waited for the tears to dry, "Everything is happening so fast. I don't... I can't..."

He let out another shaky breath. His eyes flicked up to the angel's face, and he narrowed his eyes, muttering tiredly, "You're bleeding." But that was a detail from which his attention slowly slipped away.

He grinned, his voice and eyes still rather raw, "She is my friend. Of course I care." His smile faded a little as he recalled his closest memories of the girl, "Her life has been filled with pain, but she is a beautiful person. I love her dearly."

The angel nodded. Part of her knew that she should attempt something more than just nodding, but she couldn't figure out what. Friendship here was so different from back at home. She was used to the word in more of the “acquaintance" sense; she could refer to Djinn as a friend (despite his overall poor attitude) and still be correct in Enochian terminology.

Friendship only equaled love because they were brothers and sisters under God.

"Pain is something human's give to themselves," she replied ever so quietly, wiping her dark tears off his forehead, unaffected by the sight of her blood,"If she had not turned to drugs, her life would have been much better." The angel shifted, the susurrus of sheets, skin, and vaguely feathers the only sound in the room.

"But, you have been a good human," she continued, "A pure soul in the farrago of society," Tovia wrinkled her nose, freckles dancing across its bridge, "Pure for human standards, of course. But, maybe that's why you have been blessed with the role of a prophet,"

"Yes..." Germano mumbled rather hoarsely, his voice barely audible in the already silent room. That was something he had thought to himself a thousand times. If only Lilly had been a little luckier, born into a better world, her life wouldn't have turned out so tragically. She was so beautiful, and so smart. She could have amounted to so much, but for some reason she started falling and never stopped. Now he'd never get the chance to speak to her again.

"Prophet... You keep calling me Prophet." He shook his head, the confusion becoming more pronounced again in his mind, and the deep lines in his forehead making a reappearance, "What does that mean? Why have you chosen to notice me out of everyone else? Maybe I'm... 'pure'... but I'm not special. I never have been."

Tovia let out an exasperated sigh, leaning away from the darker skinned man for a moment to examine the ceiling's cracking paint. Her fingers continued to explore his skin, not erotically, but scientifically. As if she was learning about him through touch.

"Humans always make these affairs hard," she commented, her reflective gaze shifting to his skin as she seemingly compared it to her own. "I wish you all were more informed on heavenly matters. It would make my life easier." She held her arm against his, studying the freckles with great concern, "I'm above human contact, really; I'm a warrior, not a fraternizer,

"Sadly, your perception of yourself doe not influence how special you are," she was sullen now, "It is not just me that has noticed you, but the demons as well. Simply put, you make the perfect vessel for both angel and demon. I would like to assure you are either empty, or under angelic influences,"

"I'm sorry," He muttered, "If my questions are frustrating." He could feel her fingers gliding across his skin, and they reminded him of lying in the grass on a warm summer day. It was almost as if she was made out of nothing but sunbeams and life. But there was still that hint of humanity in her, no more than a shadow, which muted her otherwise overpowering aura.

"So, does this mean that... that if you did to me, what you did to Lilly... I would not die?" An ounce of fear returned to him. She was speaking of him as if he were some rare artifact. Though, maybe that was exactly what he was, "And these demons. Will they try to... to find me?"