Of Feathers and Death
By Uplifted
A one-shot,
Inspired by: Mika-Angel
Tattered grey feathers stretched to the utmost limit, straining from every fiber to feel the kiss of the gently waxing moon on soft dove grey down, embrace the wind of the sky and atmosphere. Matted dirty blonde hair fluttered across the feathers, and the wings twitched at the feel, shifting and flapping as if of their own violation. A golden light, surreal, burned in her cerulean blue eyes, her pupils distorted, her face lax and carefree.
The half-breed that had once claimed the name of Relena, was happy.
And because of her happiness, she glowed. Her wings were stretched to their utmost, her back stinging from the taut muscles she used to command the power of flight. But her wings were only a part of her happiness.
She loved the balance that she had been ordered to preserve. Gabriel, Lucifer, God Almighty could keep their power struggles to themselves. Here, she simply dealt with the easy choices. Good, or bad. Evil, or kind. And to the being that was once Relena Peacecraft-Dorlian, these easy choices were like a tainted mirror, reflecting the hard and difficult decisions she had been forced to make as a human.
Now, she was more.
But her diligence in preserving the balance between holiness and ultimate horror and sin had proved both fruitless and fault-less. She had never wavered from her path. She had abandoned her life before hand, her diplomatic prestige closed the instant the final coffin nail had been driven into that crate of wood that had been Relena's final resting place. Fruitless, for her memories had also slowly evaporated, leaving simply slight images of warmth and smiling faces, and dark eyes. She should have known that there would be a price for continuing as one of the influence, who helped the humans and hindered the demons. Who, frankly, incurred the wrath of exorcists everwhere for her simple existance.
But they weren't her problem. She hadn't been 'deported', as they so-cunningly called it. She had never once stepped off the path of righteousness, of future good, because that was what she honest-to-God believed in. That humans, as slight and frail as they were, could rise, and bask in the reflection of their own glory, instead of their war-mongering.
But tonight, everything had changed. It had only taken a simply whisper in her ear, a whisper from someone who was not there, and the memory of a past that no longer existed. It raised the small feathers that grew at the nape of her neck in alarm, and her skin pricked. Her ethereal glow suffused itself around her, until her entire frame had been enveloped in the welcoming warmth. But that hushed, slight voice had called for help, and the being that used to be Relena always responded to those calls. She flew to the human's aid.
It was a woman, succumbing to the rather strong whispers of a deamon in the worst sense. By the human's whimpering, she was possessed by some part of the deamon, and the angel half-breed frowned as she walked into the abandoned church-yard. It was the cemetary where her own body lay in rest from the affairs of the mortal.
Nearing her older years, the woman was sprawled near the headstone that announced the death of a young girl, politically active, smart and strong. And dead. Still thinking, the half-breed bent down, and touched the woman's pale forehead. She was mumbling, her eyes fluttering out of sight in their sockets, her long dark hair tangled and dark against the dry grass of the grave. Her wings flaring behind her in astonishment and wonder, the young defender of God knealt, and hastily pressed her hands against the woman's temple, muttering choice words of her own. But the influence of the deamon was either too strong for her, or she just wasn't powerful enough to save this one soul. Closing her eyes in regret, the angelic being closed the woman's eyes, as she passed on to her own after-life.
Feeling the heavily accented aura of the deamon who had 'whispered' the woman, The angelic being leapt to her feet, eyes narrowed, wings out-stretched…
And confronted the murderer. Her own light eyes, circled in a heavenly glow widened to an impossible degree, her face falling slack in astonishment as she stared at the deamon in front of her. The man she had been willing to die for, to love and cherish for the rest of her life, stood in front of her, dark eyes glaring intently at her own. But no longer was he a man.
Black, gaping wings, riddled with holes and burns sprouted seemingly of thin air behind his back. His dark eyes darkened to a deep garnet, flashing when the moon slipped over the flinty surface of the deamon. His adorable hair (for the half-breed secretly admired him, as her eyes widened in horror) was sharper, messier, and covered the half-breed deamon adequatly.
"You…"She heard him speak, or heard herself. It no longer mattered to her, the delicate balance that had been preserved for so long. The person who had been dearest to her (beating) heart had died and gone to hael. Tears crept from her eyes, and plummeted down her cheek, making her look pale and drawn. She sprang into action, her wings clipping the air as she rose, and leapt away from the terrifiying creature that stood before her.
But as she streamed away, her faith cracking as her soul questioned, she missed the single tear that cascaded down the deamon's cheek, marking him forever as a cursed half-breed. And that night, the half-breed angel that had once been Relena Peacecraft-Dorlian, died once more.
Fin?
My first one-shot to be completed. It was done very quickly, and is very short, so I'll understand if you don't like. But it was based more on the emotions than the length. I really liked doing this. As a disclaimer, I neither own, nor claim to own Constantine, or Gundam Wing. They belong to their respective owners.
As always, thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!