Among the oldest race in the universe... we're also the loneliest.
"Leo... are you there?" my voice quivers as I reach desperately in the darkness for some form of life.
"Stay still, Ralph," he says, calm and comforting. I can barely tell where he is, panic and fear overwhelming me.
"Is your leg bleeding? I thought I heard something tear when that asteroid hit you."
"I-I I don't-" Attempting to stand, I immediately feel pain thrash up my leg. Too much to bear, I collapse from the lack of strength to support myself.
"Ralph what did I say?!" Leo hears me collide with ground hard, and worry consumes him. Inspecting my wound, it seems that piece of space rock managed a long, deep, gash up my right calf. The bitter scent of my silver ichor ran pungent, the freezing liquid flowing in rivulets down my smooth skin.
"You are bleeding, aren't you?" It amazes me how quickly he can compose himself. It was always that level voice that's guided me all this time. Only this voice that's been with me .
"Leo, I'm okay. It's just a little scratch." I lie, trying to ease his concern. His voice abandons me, minutes of unbearable loneliness. Just my subtle breathing and the sounds of crickets accompanied the abysal night.
"It smells worse than that." His voice is small, tired.
My turn to be silent. Laying in the grass, my silver essence painted the sweet greenery. Stars from which I fell poured their meager light onto the apathetic night sky. Evil stars, biased stars. They never watch over Leo and I - we're living proof. Only one planet so seductively welcoming, yet scornfully spiteful as to lure us so. We've managed to call such a place home for centuries, quietly feeding. Hopefully watching. Such a jealous planet to have struck me with it's moon, and pulled me back down.
"Something must have saw me." I breathe.
"I know." He sighs.
A moment of silence as it often occurs between us just wondering about the evolution of our existence together. After a while, I feel him inching closer to me, pressing his back against mine. His breathing echoes through my being, his heartbeat thudding against mine.
"You can't lie to me Ralph," he sighs again, "I've only got your voice to hold on to in this endless oblivion. Don't let all that I've ever believed in be a lie..."
My heart skipped in jagged pain. All that we've ever gone through, striving to hold our hands at our sides and heads high, it hardly ever occurs to me that all of creation has each other, while all we have is a voice. Leo has no idea what I look like, how my lips quiver when I lie, or how my ears twitch when I'm excited. I'll never know the curves of his face, the spark of hope in his eyes, or the brilliance of his smile. Just his voice.
"I'm sorry." I whimper, tears stinging my face. His soft hand gently touches mine, finger pads resting on the backs. He twines his fingers in mine.
Warm. Cozy. Comforting. Yet I sob anyway. From the existential horror of being an Angel. From not realizing how important my words are to the one person that's been with me since eternity. My leg will heal, but this heart may not. I can't help but audibly weep, always, "I'm sorry" on my tongue. He squeezes my hand, and though he tries to hide it, I can feel the studder in his lungs.
Into the morning, his hand turns cold. My arm shields my frozen face from view.
8
"I have no idea who made these exquisite sculptures, and I wouldn't be able to thank them enough for this enamorous gift. There's much to inquire about the meaning of these statues, I daresay! Why do the Angels weep? It's clear they've each other when the world turns to hell."