CHAPTER ONE

THE IMPOSSIBLE WORDS

"No, no, no!" Arthur growled and slammed the book shut, the heavy pages thudding weakly together and dust billowing out from between them. "… this is completely wrong."

Arthur sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching, his pale hands craning to the arched ceiling of the library before falling limply back to his sides. He stared at the wooden beams and intricate designs over the oak wood far above his head, little specks of dust floating in the rays of evening light that came through the tall windows facing the west. He turned his head, still slightly upside down, and fixed his eyes on the shelves nearest to where he sat at a mahogany table. Thick books, skinny books, short books, tall books, heavy books, light books… he'd been through almost all of them, and there was absolutely no mention of what he was looking for.

Perhaps he was looking in the wrong section. Arthur sat back up and shoved the book he had been looking at to the side of the table with all of the others, frowning to himself at the thought. It didn't seem likely. Arthur reached for his copy of the Scripture, flipping through once again to the part that was troubling him.

"'And darkness into darkness, light into light, the kingdoms have fallen…'" Arthur read aloud quietly, frowning to himself. "… and once again peace shall fall upon these lands.' But why? Why was that there…? No, there's definitely… hmm, but there's not a chance…"

"Muttering to yourself again, Arthur?"

Arthur inwardly groaned and lowered his book, peering over the top of it with glaring intensity as his piercing green eyes focused on the man who had appeared before him. Perfect skin, deep blue eyes, wavy blonde hair… and that stupid beard…

"Francis," he scowled. "What do you want?"

Francis looked at Arthur with a dramatically offended air. "Why! I was simply asking a question… no need to get so defensive."

He smiled at Arthur like a cat eyeing a bowl of cream, and Arthur frowned. "… I was not muttering."

"Yes you were," Francis slid into the seat beside Arthur with a sing-song voice. "What is it about this time?"

Francis reached forward and grasped the book from Arthur's hands, with an indignant exclamation form Arthur. "Oi!"

"The Scripture?" Francis held the book out of reach as Arthur attempted to retrieve it, his hands flailing wildly as Francis kept it at bay with a hand to his chest. "Again?"

"Stop it!" Arthur finally managed to snatch it back, holding it against his chest protectively, the white folds of his blouse draping over the cover of it. "Gods, Francis!"

Francis held his hands up in surrender as he chuckled, Arthur standing with an irritated huff. He swiped his blonde hair out of his eyes and then began stacking up the mountains of books he had collected on his table.

"I honestly am curious though…" Francis attempted to help, but Arthur slapped his hand away. "Why are you reading it again? You've only read it a million times over."

"If you must know," Arthur filled his arms with books and made his way over to the nearest oak shelf, where he began putting the books back in exactly where he found them. "I took the little ones to see the original Scripture at the Palace as a sort of field trip…"

"And your interest was piqued once again?"

Arthur shot Francis a scathing look over his shoulder. "I've been to see it a million times before, you know. Something just took me by surprise, so I'm doing some research."

The memory of the thick, elderly book with its scarlet, gold-bound cover and yellowing pages behind protected glass took over Arthur's mind.

"Don't touch the glass, Peter."

"Aw, man… why?"

Arthur sighed as the group of ten angel children huddled around the square glass container, pressing up eagerly against it and one another to see the very first Scripture. A few other angels passing by shot Arthur amused looks as he tried getting the young and ever so enthusiastic children to be respectful.

"Mary, that's enough- do you want to have the guards come down and have us leave?" Arthur scolded a small brunette who immediately stepped away with big hazel eyes. "That's alright, darling. Just be careful."

"Arthur?" Arthur looked down as his robe was tugged on, to see Benjamin looking up at him. "Why do they keep it behind glass?"

"Well, it's very old," Arthur explained, watching as a bit of afternoon sunlight came through the stained glass windows and reflected off of the glass box. "They don't want it to be damaged, or stolen."

"Why would someone steal an old book?" Peter piped up, making a face. "We've all got copies of the Scripture at home."

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow and reminded himself that they were all just children- even if Peter was a bit more rambunctious than the others. "It's the original. The very first copy ever, the most blessed and treasured object by the gods- just think. This book was written by those blessed by the gods themselves, so many years ago when the demons were banished and us angels took on our duty to protect the humans. So perhaps someone out there thinks that they can steal it for money."

The children all looked at Arthur with wide eyes and mumbled anxiously.

"No angel would steal it, though, right?" John blinked widely up at Arthur. "My dad says that only humans ever steal anything."

"Now, John," Arthur scolded, looking at him, though he addressed the whole group. "You know that's not true. There are angels who are persuaded to do bad things just as humans are. That's why we have jail- if every angel was good, we wouldn't need one, would we? Perhaps humans are a bit more inclined to sin, but they don't have the same beliefs and dedication to those beliefs as us, and devotion to the gods makes us less susceptible to- Peter!"

Peter had wandered away from group and had climbed under the satin rope keeping visitors from coming too close to the Scripture. He was standing on tiptoe on the marble pedestal holding up the glass case, his nose pressed against the glass for a better look.

"Peter!" Arthur rushed forward at the same time the Royal Guards saw the child and started over. He grabbed the little angel around the waist and pulled him off, the boy complaining the whole time as he was forcibly taken away. "What were you thinking? You just wait until your parents-"

Something caught Arthur's eye. He stopped talking for a moment, squinting. The original Scripture was always open to the same page, the passage speaking of the angel's triumphing over the demons, but perhaps Peter had jostled the case, because one page had fluttered slightly up, revealing words on the next page, words that Arthur couldn't remember ever seeing… and that was impossible.

Arthur frowned. It really was impossible, so why was he so bent on looking for those words he might have seen?

"Hello? Arthur?" Francis waved a hand in front of Arthur's face, but he snatched it back as Arthur narrowed his eyes and tried to bite his fingers. "Hey! You could have marred my perfect skin."

"Whatever," Arthur dismissed Francis and went over to the next oak shelf, placing the remainder of the books back. "Look, the point is that I'm busy, so go away."

"My feelings are hurt again," Francis pouted and leaned against a shelf. "Besides, I hate to interrupt you, but we're patrolling together tonight. It won't be too bad; it's just some farming village by the Southern border."

Arthur sighed as he put the last book away. "I hate patrolling. Can't you get someone else to go? I've got to get up early tomorrow; I'm taking the kids to the-"

"No, I can't, and frankly, you should let the kids have some time to just be kids," Francis said dryly, shrugging as Arthur glared. "Hey, you're always taking them some place or another to 'further their education'. Let them be their age, at least sometimes."

"I will not have you telling me how to instruct my class, Francis," Arthur snapped, wings bristling angrily, the pure white feathers standing on end. "I'll go on the stupid patrol, just get out."

"Very well," Francis sighed and spread his own wings, the huge golden-tinged appendages brushing the book shelves on either side of him. "I'll meet you at the usual spot."

The angel blew Arthur a kiss (which the other pretended to catch, throw to the ground and stomp on), before he was airborne with a great pump of his wings, flying out the skydoor on the ceiling into the evening.

Arthur watched him go before turning back to the table he had been sitting at. He put his copy of the Scripture into his satchel, along with the quill and ink he had brought along just in case. Slinging the satchel over one shoulder and then adjusting to be sure that the strap was firmly between his shoulder blades, he spread his wings. Arthur rather liked his wings- they were pure white, not some stupid gold color like Francis, and although that meant that they required a lot of cleaning, he didn't really mind. Adjusting the golden rope around his waist, Arthur took off, leaving the library below him as he twisted through the skydoor, a cool evening breeze immediately blowing across his face as he left. Even though it was probably nothing, Arthur couldn't help but puzzle over the words he had seen on the original Scripture. He most definitely had never seen them in his copy, and none of his research books mentioned anything of the sort. Perhaps it had been translated wrong, he mused, though something pricked at the back of head that translators of the Scripture didn't make mistakes.

Arthur shook his head and concentrated on flying properly, and on the beauty all around him. The capital of the angel kingdom was surely the finest place to live in all of Etrillium, and although he'd seen some of the outlying towns in the angel territory, he didn't think that any of them compared to the majesty of Ginesis. He banked to the left, his skin the color of the white marble surrounding him as he flew around the great columns supporting the circular structure of the Library, angels walking together below him in conversation with their arms full of books. They turned their palms to him as he flew overhead, choosing to take the airpath instead of landing, and he did the same customary gesture. Large green ferns tickled the ends of his wings as he soared past the Library windows, the green tendrils reaching out a friendly gesture.

Finally emerging from the airpath, Arthur flapped his wings a few times to a current slightly above where other angels were flying, preferring the solitude of his flight home then to engage in any typical mid-flight conversation. All around him were the lush forested hills and valleys of Ginesis, dotted with the pure white of marble, starting as sort of random, scattered bits but then merging into a great city surrounding the beautiful Palace. It sat on the largest hill, looming over the city with strength and majesty, great arches connecting the smooth walls of safety and protection, the Bell at the highest point and ready to be rung every Saturday for the weekly Prayer for the gods. The dark figures of patrolling angels could be seen like little ants on the flaming surface that was the sunset, swooping around the top of the Palace not unlike birds around a body of fresh water. Even from here, Arthur thought that he could see the gleaming swords they kept at their sides, the silver metal daggers flashing dangerously as a warning to any demons that thought that the Palace was a place to be raided. Indeed, it was foolish to think that any creature could be so stupid as to attack, but once in a while, a ghastly Lesser demon had tried it- only to be struck down the moment its scaly, slimy, or furry foot stepped into the city.

Arthur didn't particularly care for violence, but even he had to admire the strength of the Royal Guard.

Below him, he made a small check-list in his mind of shops he'd visit on his way home from his patrol, the brightly colored tents of the marketplace standing out to him from their circular position in the city square between more permanent, fancier shops of marble and stone. They were arranged without organization, some selling food and others selling artwork; merchants who moved around from place to place to sell their items and never staying in one place for too long. He liked going to the marketplace- not only were items cheaper and more appealing that the permanent shops, but he liked the angels that sold them, no matter their 'rougher' disposition. They'd seen so much and been so many places that Arthur held a deep respect for them and the culture from their respective cities that they brought with them. In fact, he thought, slowing down, he really needed to pick up a new quill… yes; he'd do that, and just wait to stop by his home until he got back from his patrol.

Arthur gently glided down, circling low over the roofs as he waited his turn for the landing pad (a large stone square used specifically to avoid landing in large crowds and causing a disturbance, with plenty of wing room), before he alighted and folded his wings against his back, stepping off so the next angel could land. Despite his dislike of crowds, Arthur took a deep breath and dove into the midst of angels, a bit excited at the thought of a new quill… and the thought that Francis would have to wait for him wasn't bad either. The white marble shops stood against the tall trees above him, the three story buildings advertising herbs and spices, new fabric, fresh food, and the lush smell of the forestry around them blended sweetly with cooking pastries and brewing tea. Arthur was a bit taken aback by how eager everyone seemed to be to get to the shops and stands. It wasn't the peaceful atmosphere he was used to, and he had to fight his way to the circular marketplace and red tent that he enjoyed so much.

"Hello, Arthur," Yao, the owner of the tent, turned his palm to Arthur as he ducked in. It smelled of spices and incense, wind chimes tinkling in a slightly stuffy breeze. Trinkets from human cities along with beautiful statues, fabric, and artwork from the angel city Shingang Yao came from were all neatly arranged on tables, and Yao sat on a stool in front of a large canvas he appeared to be working on just behind the trading table, his long brunette locks of hair tumbling over his shoulder. "Just looking around?"

"No, I came with a purpose this time," Arthur smiled slightly and made his way over to the quills. Yao hummed in acknowledgement and went back to inking the hills and valleys of Shingang on his canvas. Arthur had a habit of coming into this shop and just wandering- he might love living in Ginesis, but other large angel cities that he hadn't been to, and especially Shingang, simply fascinated him. Yao had been all over the angel kingdom, finally settling here for a few weeks before packing up and going traveling and then coming back. Sometimes if Arthur lingered long enough and Yao was in a good mood, the angel would tell him stories of the places he'd been and powerful people he'd met. "I'm looking for a new quill."

Yao looked over as Arthur gently rifled through a jar of beautiful feathers. His trademark chocolate-colored wings of his home shuffled as he got up and went over to Arthur, peering at his slender fingers going through the feathered tools. "What sort of quill are you looking for? I have some lovely waterproof heron and duck quills I just received this morning."

"No, I just need a simple one," Arthur reached into his satchel and extracted his much-loved robin feather quill. "Something like this. "

Yao tsked and reached for the jar next to one Arthur had been looking through. "Do not come to my shop if you are looking for something so small and unreliable. You write a lot, so you need a sturdier quill than a robin. Robin quills are good for one who uses it to draw, not to write."

The longhaired man rifled through the jar for a moment before he pulled out a deep brown quill with a downy white base, his almond eyes glittering as he took a moment to admire the work. "Here. This is what you need. Eagle feather quills are the best for one who needs a quill for a long-term assignment or many different projects. Very sturdy and reliable."

"Alright," Arthur took the quill. It was bigger and thicker than his usual quill, and the metal tip for writing was silver instead of bronze. "Thank you. I'll take it."

Yao looked pleased and Arthur followed him to the trading table and exchanged a few silver coins for it and a new bottle of black ink. "I heard you had a small mishap at the Palace," Yao spoke as he counted the coins. "With one of the children."

"You heard about it?" Arthur sighed and accepted the change. "Yes, Peter is rather troublesome. Tino assured me that he'd be punished, but the guards frightened him enough, I think. He used to be such a pleasant boy, but ever since David died… and then Tino just doesn't have the heart to discipline him properly."

"Young children who lose one of their parents so early often have trouble accepting that they are with the gods and watching over them," Yao spoke calmly, putting Arthur's quill into a silk case with a red and white pattern. "Their faith is not so strong as one whom has lived longer. Peter has it especially difficult. He lost his birth parents, and now one of his adoptive ones, and though he never knew his birth parents, three parents are now gone from his life." He looked at Arthur with a knowing gaze. "You can relate on some level."

"I never had any parents at all," Arthur muttered, thinking of his childhood spent in a little townhouse with an older brother who was always working and leaving him alone for extended periods of time. "But yes, I had my rebellious phase."

"Then perhaps you can urge Peter to turn out as you did," Yao smiled kindly and handed Arthur his purchases. "You have turned out quite well."

"Ah, thank you," Arthur accepted them a bit sheepishly and put them in his bag. He turned his palm to Yao, who used the Shingang farewell, putting his hands together and bowing. "Have a good day."

"And to you, Arthur," Yao turned back to his canvas painting, thin fingers picking up the bamboo brush and beginning long, leisurely strokes on the white surface.

Arthur watched for a moment before turning to leave, when an idea occurred to him. "Yao?"

Yao looked over and raised a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Um, well…" Arthur shifted a bit awkwardly, smoothing his tanned apparel with a bit of discomfort. "… this is going to sound silly, but… have you ever heard of a blue-eyed demon?"

Yao looked at Arthur a blankly. "A Lesser demon maybe… but a Greater demon? Never… you know they all have red eyes and black hair. Why? Did you see one?"

"Oh, no, I just… saw it mentioned somewhere," Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, his heart sinking a bit. It seemed that there really was nothing to what he thought he had seen, if ever-traveling Yao hadn't heard of it. "In the library, you know. Something about 'a demon with the sky in its eyes'. I mean, I assume that means blue."

"You should try spending less time in the library," Yao said, not unkindly, going back to his painting. "I think all of those fiction stories are going to your head a bit… try mingling with other angels a bit. Or even a human- they've been coming to Ginesis in swarms, damn tourists… trying to trade their silly metal trinkets for good tea and spice…"

"Er, right…" Arthur backed out of the tent. "Yes, I'll try. Thank you, and sorry to bother you."

After exiting the tent, Arthur heaved a sigh, glaring at his sandaled toes. 'Mingling with other angels'… it wasn't as though Arthur hadn't tried. They just didn't particularly like him for his odd fondness for books over people, or his friendless towards children and animals, when he tended to stay away from angels his own age. They thought that made him unfriendly or snobby and even though it was all ridiculous, Arthur didn't really feel the need to correct them in their assumption. He liked spending time alone, and enjoyed working with only his thoughts and ideas to keep him company. Being a Guardian was nice too, because although troublesome, children were simple in their innocence and naivety to the world. Arthur enjoyed guiding the little ones through their younger years, teaching them and showing them different things until they were old enough to leave his care and begin an apprenticeship of their choice. That was his life- he was with the kids until the mid-afternoon, and then he'd go to the Library or go home, and spend the rest of his day alone.

It was fine, and Arthur was happy. Maybe not exceedingly so, his life was certainly mundane, but he really was happy enough. He looked up and watched the thinning crowd leaving the market for their homes, their satchels filled with new fabric and other objects that they had purchased, things that they would surely use to make other people happy; their friends and their family, perhaps customers or human tourists. Whatever the case, Arthur felt distant from them and their beautiful faces, all smiling and talking and occasionally stopping to look towards the Prayer Bell and bow their head for a moment. Because although Arthur did all of these things, he did them differently, and no one was quite sure how to feel about it. Arthur didn't know how he felt about it himself.

Perhaps Yao had a point- maybe instead of spending every day after work at the Library, he could go to a tea shop and at least keep up an appearance of "socializing"… it didn't sound appealing, but not interacting with many others had gotten him thinking that there was something wrong with the Scripture, and the fact that he had even considered it was a problem enough- Arthur looked over the heads of the crowd of angels and to the Prayer Bell at the top of the Palace. It gleamed in the setting sun, reflecting the light across the marble palace and giving it a beautiful golden glow. He rather wished it would ring- then the Queen would come out and lead them all in a Prayer with such elegance and grace that Arthur surely couldn't manage on his own.

Nevertheless, Arthur closed his eyes and murmured a prayer, asking for forgiveness in doubting the Scripture, and perhaps some guidance as well. He then straightened up and fixed his satchel, joining the crowd to the take-off pad, ready to go on patrol with that frog-faced Francis.

~oO0Oo~

A few seconds after Arthur left, Yao put his brush down and looked at the red fabric of the tent swaying gently with the angel's departure. Slowly, he then stood and walked over to the drawer on the trading table, his slippered feet shuffling on the ground, and produced a key from around his neck. It was large and bronze, and he looked at it hanging on its chain before putting it up against the drawer's lock and turning it, the gears inside the box rotating with the key and lifting the catch keeping it shut. Gingerly, Yao opened the box and peered down. The inside wasn't much, containing a simple brown journal and a little box with intricate designs of fish over it done with a thin, beautiful stencil of gold. He opened the box with an air of hesitancy but then took out an envelope folded up so it was small enough to fit, and carefully unfolded it.

The parchment inside the envelope crinkled a bit as Yao smoothed it out over the trading table in order to read the words carefully and precisely inked on the front.

He furrowed his brow and looked to the ceiling. He liked his life here. It was simple, friendly, and stable- at least from the outside. It was absolutely appalling that this one letter could tear apart his life and the lives of all in Etrillium. Yet, Yao was under orders, and he pocketed the letter, resigning himself to sending it once the marketplace was closed down and he could leave his tent without fear of thievery.

"Ai-ya…" He murmured, sitting back down to paint. "Forgive me, gods… but I am too old for this."

~oO0Oo~

The woods were getting darker as the sun set, the shadows slipping off of the trunks of trees to crawl slowly across the blackening ground, reaching with long, spindly fingers to consume what was left of the daylight. The trees themselves were turning into nothing more than giant solid structures that if looked at the wrong way, could be mistaken for a creature readying itself to jump out of its hiding, for the moonlight did not penetrate the thick branches and leaves overhead. There was a dry breeze blowing through the forest, circling around the trunks of the trees and rattling the leaves, picking up broken twigs and trampled plants.

Besides the sound of the wind singing mournfully, however, there was no sound to be heard.

… and then the snap of a twig being stepped on.

Immediately, a dark figure darted from between two trees, footsteps quick and light, skidding lightly on the damp ground. It dashed towards the sound of the twig, and in the darkened cacophony of colored leaves on the ground, a small mouse was seen running for its life. The predator chasing it could hear the quickening of its small heart, the racing of the blood in its veins as the tiny clawed feet scrambled on the loose soil as it ran for its burrow. It could sense the fine hairs on its pelt rippling as its muscles worked to get it to safety, the whiskers brushing the branch of a bush, the darting movements of its bulging, panicked eyes...

"BOO!"

The figure chasing the mouse suddenly tripped, falling face forward onto the ground with a startled yelp, the crash echoing throughout the otherwise seemingly empty forest, masked only by the sounds of cackling laughter from the treetops.

"Bravo!" Came a high, hissing voice dripping with mirth as another, deeper one whooped mockingly. "Nice job, kid! Even the awesome me can't screw up that bad!"

The figure slowly picked itself up from the ground, clawed hands brushing twigs and dirt from its clothes. "Gilbert! Antonio! You morons!" It hissed. "I almost had it!"

There was swift sound of two heavy objects falling through the trees, and then two demons landed somewhat lightly on the forest floor, still laughing, two sets of red eyes glittering in the darkness. They sauntered over to the third figure, one looping an arm over its broad shoulders.

"Don't be mad, Alfred," The first demon was tall and skinny, his boney yet muscular arm squeezing the third's shoulder in mock-friendliness. His skin was too pale for a demon, his hair, wings, and tail white. Like the others, he was dressed in black. "We're only looking out for you. You shouldn't have to eat crap like that. Right, Antonio? The awesome Gilbert would never let that happen."

"You fucking albino," Alfred growled, shoving Gilbert's arm away. "In case you haven't noticed, that crap is the only shit I've been able to find in days."

"Whoa there," Gilbert flicked his tail lazily, unaffected by Alfred's threatening stance. "No need to get nasty. We're telling you about the raid we're organizing, but hey, if you wanna live off of mice…"

Alfred's eyes flashed between the two. "You've never asked me on a raid before."

Antonio shrugged, tossing back curly black locks, scarlet irises gleaming. He smiled. "You never asked to join one."

"And you creep us out," Gilbert added, slinking closer to Alfred. "You're unnatural. You call me a freak, but at least there are other albinos. What does that make you, dipshit?"

Alfred swiped a clawed hand at Gilbert when he got too close. "So then what made you change your mind, asshole?"

"That's two assholes, actually," Gilbert motioned between him and Antonio. "Well, we couldn't help but notice your most recent garb, actually. Pretty awesome."

Antonio slipped around Alfred, eyeing the black leather jacket he wore. "Si, this is the nicest thing you've managed to snag on your own. And white minx fur on the collar. Expensive."

"I don't barrel in and kill anyone who gets in my way, believe it or not," Alfred said dryly. "It's thievery, not homicide."

"And it worked!" Gilbert held up a finger, grinning, his fangs glistening. "Which is why some of us are going to be 'sneaky', and raid a village your way."

"It won't work with a big group," Alfred rolled his eyes. "If one of us is spotted, the human's will raise the alarm and-"

"You've already referred to the group as 'us'!" Gilbert laughed and made to punch Alfred's shoulder good-naturedly, but thought better of it and stopped. "See? You're in."

Alfred thought for a moment, looking around. The mouse was nowhere to be seen. "… how's everything divided?"

"Nothing is divided," Antonio absentmindedly scratched behind his horn. They were long and swooped over the top of his head before curling up at the ends by his neck. "We all raid, but you take what you grab."

A dry, cold wind blew through the forest, and Alfred licked his lips, running his tongue over his fangs, tasting the wind. It was going to be cloudy tonight, and fog was already beginning to seep through the trees, making for a good cover. "… I'm in, then."

Glowing blue eyes flashed before Alfred was gone, melted into the shadows with the other two demons.

A/N: So… I wasn't going to post this.

I lost all motivation for this fic these past months and I just couldn't WRITE. It was very frustrating, and I would sit with my laptop and stare blankly at the screen with no idea how to start this fic. The entire story is plotted out, I know where I'm going, but I couldn't get it down!

And then the weather turned warm and sunny and I couldn't stop writing. I was like, Superman, typing more and more and re-typing and ya-da ya-da. HOORAY FOR SPRING!

I feel like the first chapter is kind of choppy- the flow isn't as great as I had hoped for, but I got what I needed to say out of it, I think. I promise that the next chapters will be written more smoothly. I also wanted to have a few more chapters ready so I could start posting these every week and be ahead of the game, but you've been waiting long enough to get past the prologue, so here it is!

Please leave a review- I am determined to respond to every one of them! (I'm so bad at it- but trust me, I ADORE REVIEWS! I blabber about them all the time.)

Half the credit for the storyline goes to my fabulous, wonderful, amazing girlfriend: Inkaugneato! Check out her Hetalia fics!

KEY POINTS (at the end of every chapter, I'm going to write a small bit about anything I mentioned in the chapter about Etrillium you ought to know if you didn't pick it up)

-Most angel's wings are white with some sort of very light shade- gold, silver, blue, and gray are all common.

-Angel cities are a bit like countries- for example, Shingang would be like going to a sort of China, still recognizably "angel", but with it's own culture. Most angels there would appear to what we think of as "Asian". Of course, there's no Asia in Etrillium. Dark colored wings are found here.

-"skydoors" are basicly big windows for angel's to fly through to get into buildings instead of walking into.

-"airpaths" are like sidewalks while one is flying, usually right above a real sidewalk or hallway, marked for flight instead of walking