Thoughts
Raffe doesn't try to think about Penryn.
In fact, most of the time, he doesn't even realize he's doing it.
Such fantasies are unrealistic and mangle his composure, he scolds himself in quiet moments when his thoughts tend to wander. It makes no sense why he would torture himself – barriers and veils separate the two of them now, with her safely in the Earth's atmosphere and him so high above it. Thinking of happier times only maims his heart, so why should he inflict the pain?
But, although he really, truly doesn't want to, Raffe oftentimes finds his mind drawn back to Penryn. Not in a conscious, brooding sort of way – the thoughts don't rip up his emotions like he'd convinced himself they would, don't anguish him with memories poisonously barbed. No, when he thinks of Penryn, it's just a soft reminisce – as if his mind truly isn't registering her or thinking at all. As if, when idle, it prefers to revert to a comforting image of the Daughter of Man.
This, again and again, he attempts to chase from his mind, vanquishing thoughts of those days on the road beside her, as her equal, and keeping his mind honed into the present. In every passive moment, she manages to slip back into his thoughts. And, every so often, after realizing her intrusion, Raffe will allow her to stay there.
Though he'd never admit it to himself, the great Wrath of God grew quite fond of the warm radiance that shed its light upon him every time he thought idly of her.
He thought of nothing in particular. No particular witty conversation sprung back in his mind, no particularly dazzling smile. In these special, special times, the only thing in his thoughts was just Penryn. He'd never, ever say it, but these were the quiet, docile thoughts he valued most when surrounded the busy angel community.
And this was the way things were until one day, while scouring the earth for any Nephilim remaining from darker ages, Raffe decided he had grown accustomed to thoughts of Penryn, and thought that perhaps he could take on memories and fears that lurked in his nightmares, kept him awake for hours on end.
His decision was quick and absolute – the moment Raffe made up his mind, he shifted paths, his white wings carrying him to a much-deserved and far overdue meeting with the girl he loved.
A poignant sorrow pooled in his heart as he soared through the city now overgrown with emerald green and populated with more deer than people – there was no fear of being spotted in this dense forest surrounded by forgotten skyscrapers, for there wasn't enough humans here to fear, and those that did dwell in the hidden nooks and crannies of these overgrown streets wouldn't dare shoot down Penryn's angel.
Silently, Raffe touches down lightly in the meadow where she lays, nervousness building alongside a deep ache in his heart. He yearns to go up to her, to lie down beside her and partake in another exchange of corny jokes and flimsy wit. He wants it so badly that his heart pulses painfully in his chest, and his hand constricts around the single wild rose he'd picked on his journey here. The thorns slice into his hands, but he cares not.
The sun filters in through the trees, and a pair of hawks circles overhead. Slowly, slowly, Raffe approaches her, guilt gnawing away at his heart. Would she reject him? Would she scream at him? Would she tell him it was all his fault?
Because it was.
Heart trembling and mind filling up with just the sort of thoughts Raffe had been afraid of since the very beginning, he kneels before the cold, grey headstone, and gingerly places the broken, mangled flower before the name inscribed in stone.
Sweet Mary mother of Jesus, what did I just write?
I sort of just threw this together in thirty minutes… I don't have the time to go through and edit it, so I'll post it as is. Sorry for any typos.
Sorry for any feels?
Ciao,
~wolfluvermh
