"Okay," he brings his hands together as he spies over at the two of them, they'd put it off as long as they could, but the time had come that they couldn't put it off any longer. "I want to look over their wings. I don't expect it to be an easy feat." He smiled, there was only one who could make the younger of the two prisoners so peaceful, there was no regret to be had in pushing their beds together. "We are going to treat this like their wings have been clipped." He looks to his apothecary. "Zed, I need something to numb them while we work." The Virtue nods, heading off the create what's been asked of him, the sooner its completed the better it is. He turns to his Captain "Oren, you are going to aid me, I need you to gather the necessary supplies. Oils and rags, plenty of rags, lavender soaps, brushes, lotions, razors, and bandages." His Captain nodded, heading off to gather what was needed, he turns to his mental specialist. "Akriel, help him, we need a basin of warm water." He nods, heading off to help his brother gather their necessary things.
Raphael turns to the rest of them. "The rest of you continue on with your duties. Things should run as normal as possible here."
The others nod at his soft command, turning to return to their patients and duties, leaving the Healer with the task of telling their most important what they intended to complete that day. Raphael rubs at his cheek lightly, nodding to himself, as he turns around to cross over to their bed. Abner looks up at him at his approach, stroking his fingers down the back of his brother's neck, Gadreel's eyes are closed, expression peaceful, nearly asleep under his older brothers gentle touch.
"What is on today's agenda?" They've been here for quite some time now, and they still had some time to come. The Archangel smiles at him tenderly. "I want to look over your wings."
Abner nods understandingly, looking down at his younger brother under him, resting peacefully against his chest. "Look over Reel first," he scratches the back of his scalp lightly and the younger sentry nuzzles his cheek against his chest lightly. "He took the brunt of it all. They were harsher on him then they were on me."
The archangel nods gently, kneeling down, the young sentry stiffens under his touch. "Gadreel?" His eyes open, still cloudy from the peaceful slumber he'd been drawn into, but aware of his surroundings. "I'm going to look over your wings, alright?"
He whines softly, ducking back into his older brother, and Abner curls his arms around him gently, rubbing at his scalp and neck. "It's okay, Reel. It's okay. I'm going to stay with you, okay?" He nods languidly against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. They're going to help you. They're going to make you feel better, I know it hurts, they're going to help." Gadreel sighs deeply, slowly being pulled back into that peaceful state of almost slumber. "Good angel, very good."
Raphael rests his hand on the back of his head, leaning forward slightly, Gadreel's eyes flutter open briefly before the close again, but their gazes meet for a single moment. "I'm going to release your wings, alright?"
He waited for his traumatized patient to give him his nod of consent, and when he does, he stands back to his full height, and makes a semi complicated hand gesture of his shoulders, releasing the wings from where they are kept on the metaphysical plain when they're not being used, out into the physical plain that they live in now. The urge to release a small gasp at the sight of them is an urge that he holds back with great difficulty, as his eyes slowly rove over the injured appendages, taking them in for all that they were worth. He wanted to commit their sight to memory, something he wanted to remember even in the darkest of nights, the consequences of compromised judgement.
Abner looks up from his brother's peaceful expression, if not a bit pained, and peers over his head to see the extent of the damage. His expression saddens as he gazes upon the extensive damage, he had never seen them before, Gadreel had kept them tucked away when he wasn't in the back room, their torture chamber, all he knew of it was the screams that echoed down the silent hall, save for the soft moans from the other prisoners, he knew the pain from the deep gut wrenching screams he'd let out.
And then he'd return.
Hanging limply between two hardened guards, they open his cell door and throw him in, he falls limply on the cold stone ground and doesn't move again. The guards laugh at him as they slam the cell door shut and leave him there. He'd watch the younger sentry just lay there, as still as the dead, and whisper to him through the bars of his cell, hoping for some sort of response, anything, even the slightest twitch of a finger, anything to know he was still alive.
His only response was the smallest twitch of his fingers.
It wasn't until more prisoners had started coming, more then the Prisons could hold, and they'd been thrown into the same cell that he finally got to meet his neighbor. Gadreel had flinched away from him at first, both of them having retreated to their own corners, away from the other, having been trained that others meant pain. You were safer alone. Safer on your own. It had been after one of his own torture sessions that the first move had been made between them, he'd been laying against his corner, curled up as tight as he could manage, when shaking fingers curled around his limp hand. He'd looked up from under his arm, to see the pale fingers wrapped around his, and curled his around his in return.
They grew from there, Gadreel eventually made it into his corner, huddled between his legs, leaning against his sore and abused chest.
He returns to petting the back of his head, ducking down, he doesn't want to see his baby brother's wings in that manner.
His wings are a shell of their former glory; the lower parts, where the primaries had been, were bare. The feathers had been yanked free without a care, the skin red and inflamed, even after all this time. The guards were not healers, they did not care enough to aid them, and thus did not do anything to keep them clean from infection. Butts of feathers still poked free, the shafts of a few sticking out like pale thing twigs, the wax covering the infected skin was thick and charred, as it had been hardened, excruciatingly for the one unfortunate enough to be on the other end. Welts were hastily scabbed over, they would scar, the scabs were thick, they'd been broken many, many times. More then half of his secondaries were yanked free, some broken halfway down the shaft, others broken at the quill. There are long lines, cut deep into the flesh, thin lines, whip marks. Hooks are curled under the arm of the wing.
The archangel closed his eyes for a moment, turning away from them briefly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He set a hand on the sleepy sentry's shoulder lightly. "We can fix this."
He left them for a moment, crossing away from them for his apothecary's workstation, he was busy making the strong pain reliever he had requested.
Zed looked up at his approach.
"Zed, I need a sleeping drought, the strongest one you've got." He peers over his shoulder. "This is not going to be very pleasant and he should not be awake for it."
Zed nods, turning away from his cauldron, to the shelf beside him, and sifts through the vials he has there. He sifts through them for a brief moment, and finds the one he's looking for, turning to pass it to his archangel. He takes it in hand, nodding in appreciation. "Thank you, Zed, how is the pain reliever coming?"
"It should be done by the time you're through."
"Good." He nods, turning slowly. "Very good."
Oren and Akriel are waiting for him at their bedside, their sent for items sitting on a rolling table beside them, their whispering softly with Abner, not wanting to disturb the slumbering angel before his procedure. He nods at them, kneeling at the head of the bed, in front of the peaceful sentry. "Gadreel?" His eyes flutter open, and he pops the cap off the vial, holding it out to him. "Drink this." He nods weakly, his lips curling, and needs the help of the Healer and his brother to lift himself high enough to keep from choking as he swallows it. The affects take hold quickly, his eyes flutter again, and he lays his head back down as his eyes flutter closed.
They don't open again.
Abner strokes his fingers over his forehead worriedly, calling out to him softly, and when he gains no response he looks up to the Healer with wide distrusting eyes.
It breaks his hurt to see that expression, solely meant for him. "What did you do!"
"He's alright. It's just a strong sedative. It'll keep him from waking while we work." He looks down over his wings. "He shouldn't be awake for this."
Abner seemed unsure, but gave an ounce of trust, nodding silently in acceptance, as he looks back down to his younger brother and strokes his fingers over his cheek tenderly.
He turns, Oren's got his sleeves rolled up as he washes his hands in the second basin of water, dries them on the cloth hanging over the side. Akriel has lit a burner under a smaller basin, heating the coconut oil inside, soaking strips of cloth in the warming oil. He nods to them both in thanks, stepping up beside his Captain as he too rolls his sleeves up, washing his hands in the warm water, and dries them on a clean, dry cloth.
The Healer gestures for the Virtue to take the left side, as he takes his place at the right, reaching over his shoulders for one of the straight razors, Oren hands it over at his beckoning. They exchange looks over the tortured appendages, and then begin their work, chipping away at the thick wax coating his wings, cutting away chunks at a time, peeling away layer after layer, as one would peel an apple, as the rags soak up the warmed coconut oil in the small basin.
Above them, the sun slowly travelled across the sky, moving them passed noon and into the afternoon, and by then they had only just managed to get the thick layers shaved down, a small piles of peels formed around them, at their feet, around the stools they sat on as they worked fluidly over their appointed wings.
Oren pauses for a moment, looking up at the angel they were tending to, watching the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders. "How's he doin, Ab?"
The older sentry looks up from watching his younger brother's peaceful slumber, meeting the inquisitive eyes of the Virtue over his head, smiling at his inquiry. "Sleeping."
He smiles at the sentry. "Good."
He reaches for a rag, dampened with warm coconut oil, and pressed it firmly to a portion, letting the warmth soften the wax, and the oil mix in to soften it more, and ease the burn as he peeled it off. The archangel soon followed, both trying to be as gentle as they could, not wanting the pain as they worked to overpower the sedation.
Gadreel stiffened, the muscles in his arms tensing, a soft whine escaped his throat, and the older sentry was quick to lull him back under, brushing his thumb over his forehead, he whispered down to him soft reassurances and the tension slowly melted as he fell back under the affects of the sedative.
Abner lay there, the younger angel laying between his legs, using his chest as his pillow, trying to offer as much soft comfort as he could even in his brother's deep sleep.
The skin was raw once they removed the wax coating, and the Healer was mindful as he reached for a pair of fancy looking clamps, using them to pull the free-standing quills out. He tugged on the feathers that remained, Oren working in sync with him, plucking at the ones halfway broken, and tenderly smoothing the ones that managed to remain where they lay, the ones that hadn't been touched by his torturer.
They both took a sponge from the basin of warm clean water, lathered them up with lavender soap, and moved on to washing the inflamed skin with gentle circular strokes. Digging the sponges in a bit more firmly when they made to wash out the gashes cut into the inflamed skin, rubbing firmly at the whip lashes, and Gadreel whined again, his fingers flexing in his older brothers shirt. Abner curled the fingers of his right hand over the one clenched at his tunic. "It's okay, baby brother, you're okay." He rubs the tension from his hand soothingly. "Go back to sleep." He smiles gently when the younger sentry nuzzles his cheek against his chest and settles back down. Turning a glare up at the two healers. "Be more gentle."
"We're sorry," the Healer sets his sponge aside and reaches for the lotion to rub into the warm raw skin. "We're just about done." They both reach for multiple swaths of bandages and begin binding the sensitive, freshly cleaned, raw wings.
Gadreel sighs, a small bit of comfort from such a small comfort of having ones wings tended to.
"And you, young one," Abner looks up at being addressed, both Archangel and Virtue watching him carefully. "How do your wings fair?"
"They are fine, sore, but fine." He looks back down to his sleeping baby brother. "Just a few pulled feathers." The older sentry looks down at the younger tenderly. "They went after Reel more than they did me."
…
"Tus?" The young guard he'd taken as his own turned the corner into the bedroom he was preparing, making the bed, hanging the new tunics in the wardrobe, ensuring the lamps were lit, making sure they had enough sleeping drought to get them through the month. The Power in question looks up from folding the trousers silently, smiling at the young guard in greeting, beckoning him forward. "Tus, what are you doing?"
"I'm preparing a room for our two new young ones."
"Who?"
He finishes folding the trousers, places them within the wardrobe on their assigned shelf, and closes the door gently. "Abner and Gadreel. They need a safe, quiet place to recover, and seeing as I'm head of the Guards I chose for them to come here."
Andre's eyes widened in surprise. "Gadreel and Abner?"
"Yes," the Power nods gently. "Both of them. They have been through something quite traumatic and need somewhere stable to begin to heal."
"Titus."
Both Power and guard turn at the voice. Oren stands in the door way, cradling one of the new companions in his arms, the other standing at his side, clutching at the other sentry's hand tightly. The one at his side watches them carefully, eyes distrusting but hopeful, the one in his arms half asleep, barely away of his surroundings, from what Titus has heard, they keep the younger of the two pretty sedated.
The Power gestures them forward. "Here, here," he pulls the blankets down for them. "Set him here." Oren nods, stepping into the room, keeping his pace slow as to not break their connection as the other sentry limps at his side slowly. The younger whimpers softly, and he coos down at him softly as he bends to set him on the bed, stepping aside for his brother to slide in with him. "It's alright, Reel, let me get you tucked in and you can have some of your tonic." Abner settles on his side, pulling the younger sentry closer to him, Gadreel whimpers again, his hand shakes lightly as he reaches out to clutch at his older brothers tunic. The Virtue's Captain tucks the blanket up under his chin, fishing in his pocket for two vials, he kneels again, cupping the back of his head, he presses the first one to the younger's lip. "Here you are."
He drinks it in two gulps, shivers softly, and settles down against the older sentry quietly as his eyes flutter closed.
Oren holds one out to the other. "Here, Abner, yours too."
Abner takes the vial quietly, downing the concoction in one gulp, and barely manages to pass it back before his eyes start fluttering.
The all watch as they two of them curl up together.
Oren smiles at them for a moment, before turning to the Power behind them, Titus smiles at the sight they make. "Alright, they should be out for a while, it's a strong sleeping drought." The Power nods attentively. "Gadreel needs to take the pain reliever and the sleeping drought every four hours, his wounds are more extensive then Abner's are, we've been keeping him pretty sedated while his wings heal." The captain of the Guards nods, paying apt attention to the instructions. "Under no circumstance is he to walk on his feet, the skin of his soles has been flayed down two and a half layers, the flesh is too raw for any heavy weight." He smirks slightly as he gazes at his good friend. "You'll have to put those muscles to use, Tus." Titus shoves him in the shoulder, and they share a soft laugh. "Abner doesn't sleep during the night, he needs to take a sleeping drought before bed, we've been giving it to him after supper, so he gets plenty of sleep." He nods, going through his mental checklist to ensure he hasn't forgotten anything, and he nods slightly. "Oh, and they're not to be separated, Gadreel panics if he can't touch Abner, they always have to be able to touch each other, at least hold each other's hands." He looks up as he thinks. "Oh, and, Reel's bandages have to be changed once a day to avoid infection. Akriel will come in the morning to see them, they've been talking for the duration of their stay with us, and their meetings will continue for some time still."
He nods, knowing that he covered everything, and turns back to watch them for another moment. Their peaceful expressions, the gentle rise and fall of their shoulders, the younger sentry's fingers curled limply in the elders tunic. "And make sure to show them love, lots and lots of love, they need as much of it as they can get."
Titus nods, stepping up to meet at his side, Andre following him, and they watch the two freed sentry's sleep peacefully unaware of their audience. "They'll be well taken care of."
