Part 1: Earth Angel
It had been a long and rainy day, now it was a dark and rainy night. God, I hate the rain!
Sighing, Azariel turned back to her laptop and continued typing her field reports.
"Tell me, my dear," Othello managed to squeeze beside her in the chair, "Why do you continue to write those reports? The king is here, I am here, but still you write. Why?"
She shrugged indifferently, "Old habits are hard to break." She shot him a sideways glance, "You of all people should understand that, my prince."
Othello grimaced, "Yeah, whatever…and stop with the 'my prince' stuff. My name is Othello Farelle. Call me by my name."
She shook her head, "As you wish…and if you must know, I'm writing these reports for myself. Not you, and not Ororon. It gives me a sense of peace that I can't find among the senseless clutter you choose to surround yourself with, Othello."
Dropping the subject, he slipped his hand under her suit jacket. "Hmmm…" he murmured, "I should have never sent you to heaven as a diplomat…you've reeked of angel ever since…."
Azariel arched an eyebrow, "Oh? So now that's a bad thing?" She shrugged off her jacket in an attempt to thwart him.
"Oh no," he muttered into her neck, "It's quite alright…it's a very enticing scent now that I think about it."
Deciding that she might as well take a break from typing, she ran her narrow fingers through Othello's longish blonde hair. Oh well, my wrists were cramping up anyway…
Sighing, she batted his hand away from where it was tugging at her shirt collar, "Watch it. I'm not one to trifle with, my prince."
Othello shrugged, "True…but as you often say, I am a prince, so maybe it is I who should not be trifled with?"
She raised her eyebrows, "Prince or not, I am your second in command, and if you ask me, you sir, are harmless."
He smiled slyly, "Second in command is what you are, true…but if it weren't for politics, I imagine you'd be much more than just my second in command."
Catching his meaning, she narrowed her eyes, "Get out of here! I have work to do!"
He looked at her sadly, "Is your work more important than me?"
She smiled, "Yes it is." Turning back to her laptop, she continued typing, "Besides, I find much more pleasure in my work than with you. Now be quiet before I—"
Ahhhh!!!
Suddenly, Azariel sat bolt upright in her chair, eyes wide, "What was that?!"
Othello looked at her with his strange blue eyes, "What was what, Azariel?"
She frowned, "You mean to say that you didn't hear that? That scream?"
He raised an eyebrow quizzically, "No. I haven't a clue what you're going on about." He smiled crookedly, "Now where were we?"
She shrugged, "I believe I was telling you—"
Oh my God!!
She stiffened. There it is again…could it be?
Leaping from her chair, Azariel grabbed her coat and bolted for the door. Grabbing her shoulder, Othello spun her around to face him, "Azariel, where are you—"
His eyes widened as he saw the look of pure agony etched on her pale features, and biting his lip, he let go of her.
As he watched her rush out the door, he felt something tickle his hand, and looking down, he saw a single, gray feather.