Anathema had opened her door, looking back and waving Ezra goodbye; quickly closing the door, she fell against it clutching her chest. Tears fell from her eyes, her heart ached, she was confused to the point of her brain being in pain. Dropping her things at the front door, she rushed to her kitchen, water, and aspirin later, and making it to her bedroom, exhaustion took over. Anathemas' bed seemingly called to her. It called to her, and she responded by falling into it, asleep before her body hit the black and green down comforter that covers it. Her eyes closed she sighed, then a sound, a slithering sound.
Anathemas breathing increased rapidly; she didn't want to open her eyes, sleep, just needed to sleep. The slithering was closer; something brushed against her leg, causing her eyes to open to utter darkness. Breath hitching, eyes trying to take in the dark, adjust her eyes need to focus, she kept telling herself. It slid against her leg she shrieked, then something, no, someone touched her shoulder ever so lightly. Turning on her heel, she came face to face with, wait, eyes, fire, warmth. It called to her. Anathema followed, fear of it gone, fear of losing it presently persisted, eyes of liquid gold and fire, she chased after as it darted further and further away.
Agile, nimble in its form, glimpses of waves of curls, light flashes catching the red, the fire that burned underneath it all. Anathema reached for the figure as it whispered in her ear, around her, she stopped, turning following the whisper. Gentle, soothing, what was it beckoning her, why was it, what was it? She tried to talk, but words escaped her, her voice stolen by the beauty of that voice. A breath hotter than fire was at her neck, but she was not burned, her body lit up like wildfire. Her breath stolen from her in a gasp, Anathema woke to clutch at her blankets, her clothing soaked, her breathing ragged at best. Slowly she sat up secretly thanking Ezra for telling her to stay home, she must be ill.
Crawley opened his eyes from lying back in his chair, filling his need to tempt a human, or at best disturb their sleep. Anathema was just that, fun, she was easy to call, she was more aware of her surroundings, more aware of the unseen, the unheard. Well more aware of him, which made it fun. Taking a sip of his wine, he grinned, the fact that Ezra, the angel as far as he was concerned, was brought into the dream as well, well, it went without saying. A forked tongue licked the wine off his lips, lost in his own thoughts for a moment, the kiss was just unexpected, he hadn't even meant to do that, but there it was. Smirking, Crawley started to look around the laboratory. Time to cause trouble, he thought.
Ezra had prepared himself a cup of tea, relaxing in his library of other men's words and other well-handled books he felt comfort, sanctuary. It was grounding for him, especially after the dream he just had. Never having been one of having unique and compelling dreams, the most were some as exciting as reliving the days' events, normally Ezra could at least place what on earth he had seen or felt. This though, this dream he could set Anathema, his friend, but that was it. The darkness that encompassed him felt organic, who was that, the one Anathema was chasing and why. Ezra closed his eyes only too see the highlighted red hair, slightly lengthy, coils of curls, the shine of flame when the light touched it.
Then his intelligent mind resolved to go back and reflect on the kiss, it was thrust back at him. A gasp escaped him as what was a dream, exhibited more like a reality, his painfully blue eyes opened. Urging his fingers to let go of the arms of the chair he sat in, he extended out his fingers and picked his cup back up, a sip of tea was exceedingly needed. Pondering over the day, another oddity that he had all but unquestionably pushed to the side was the unusual way Anathema had acted towards him. Granted, she wouldn't be in the next day, maybe she was feverish, but the question of why persisted. Anathema knew he was alone because there just wasn't any man out there for him, he knew that she knew he thought this, so why? Ezra sat with his thoughts, his reasoning until his brain decided to shut off, and he slept once more, but in the warmth of his library.
Crawley had the run of the laboratory once again; the mischievous temptation decidedly withdrew from the enclosure, walking around. With a snap, two more alarms were added to the group; every two minutes, seven seconds apart, the three alerts would go off. Very creative if anyone bothered to ask him, but of course, they wouldn't, so he praised himself going to the next item on the agenda. Crawley had decided to switch the wall on which the enclosure was on, it took some figuring, but in the end, he changed the room one hundred and eighty degrees. Kicking back in the angels' chair, he spun and cackled a bit, pulling a glass of wine from the air he drank it. If he was honest, which he usually was, no one believed a demon anyway, he truly was bored, and his torment of these humans was only getting started.
Rifling through Ezra's desk, he obtained some pictures, he couldn't help the smile that cemented itself on his face. In his hand, he held a picture of Ezra, presumably at a lake with Anathema, friends possibly, but it wasn't Anathema that made him smile; it was the smile he found on the angels face. In his opinion, it should be listed as a temptation, not a smile, he looked at it for far too long when he, himself, felt the smile on his own face. Coughing a bit, he snapped the photo to join with the drawing, digging deeper, he came across more drawings, each one more beautiful than the next. This human was rather good, was rather handsome in fact, and at the bottom of the drawer was a single piece of mail, with the good scientists' address. The wickedness in the grin that now found its rightful place on Crawley's countenance was, well, was right where it should be, on a demons face.
Crawley leaned back in Ezra's chair rather pleased with his playing on this particular night. An address of an angel, he played with, glancing at the time he smirked, Crawley could have all the time he wanted, but on this night it was getting late. Decidedly Crawley got up, cleared out anything of his own to give him away, with a snap and the thought of an address, Crawley stood in front of an old beautiful victorian. Crawley tilted his head, taking in what an angel lived in, he wasn't certain if it was a house or a library. Though he could easily see in, as lights were on, did this man ever sleep, he wondered. Bookshelves lined walls, all filled with books, and from his angle, it looked as though so did the floors.
Crawley looked more confused than anything, so inaudibly he approached, onto the porch he went and gazed in. It was still late, or early depending on when you wake or sleep, but his view was perfect. He saw Ezra sleeping in a plush looking chair, a book on his lap, his feet up on a hassock, and, of course, a tea nearby. Crawley held back a chuckle as the last few weeks he had observed this man eat and drink plenty, he had come to his own conclusion that one, not only was he a glutton, but he was also a hedonist with an oral fixation. Everything was in that man's mouth, from pens to clips, paper, end caps of pens, and even the quill he wrote with on some days. Although without a doubt, his favorite thing to watch the angel with was a particular pipe that looked very old but was, in fact, made to blow bubbles.
The man that slept in that chair caused a demon to snap himself unobtrusively inside, he leaned upon the book-lined shelving and watched. Regarded every breath, every hair, his form, and the fact that he was, in fact, an angel. Maybe a lost one, one that fell and forgot, but there was no way this man wasn't. Could he be just a mortal? Crawley was determined to find out, going over to Ezra; he moved a fallen curl off his face and smiled beside himself and then cursed himself after. He was a demon, after all, this was not okay, or was it. Ezra sighed into the touch, Crawley swiftly drew his hand back, unprepared for the response that it had elicited. That exhalation sealed the demons' curiosity. Not only was he going to drive them insane, but he was also going to find out more about this man, this human angel.
Gabriel grinned most unbeknown to Crawley as he watched the "serpent" move freely about the laboratory. Covering his mouth to hide the exhale of his gasp when the room shimmered and flipped. Silently stood there as the "serpent" drank, spun in a chair and laughed, Gabriel, wondered what was going on when he first arrived though. Upon looking in, he saw the man, with dark apple red hair that seemingly glowed with a fire inside, he was leaning back in a chair, inside the enclosure. Gabriel could see an actual serpent sleeping; however the man was wiggling his fingers and moving his lips as though talking. It was when the mans eyes opened and he appeared outside the enclosure that Gabriel truly kept silent and watched.
Deciding at that moment, when the "serpent" or Crawley disappeared completely, he would say nothing, this was a bigger find than he had anticipated. As far as he was concerned, both scientists were disposable now needed, friend or not, this discovery was worth more than their lives. Gabriel would wait and see where it went, he required more proof, more information, he wanted more. Gabriel would take all he could from his friend, friend, he thought, no more like a trustful unknowing partner. Gabriel smiled arrogantly to himself before heading home. No one but him knew, he was sure of it, and he would keep it that way, at least for the moment.
