"Lay him there, lay him down, move with haste!"
It had been the third attack in a row, solidifying the notion that someone was going out of their way to target the messenger and fledgling whenever they saw the opportunity, and it set the council on guard, closing the gates for the time being, locking those within and unfortunately locking the ones stationed on earth out, though not unprotected, garrisons had been deployed to assist them in every step, no one angel was to be on their own. Not until these attacks could be delved into and interrogated.
This time, the fledgling seemed to have been spared the collapse into the frigid waters, having been pushed onto the thicker ice cap when their precarious position had finally cracked through, she stumbled, falling forward on the solid ice, turning to watch as her friend fell through the ice again.
These attacks were far from coincidence; the first was a cruel disadvantage, the second a coincidence, but the third, that was to be taken as a planned attack.
She stood back, curled in thick blanket, tucked into the leg of the choir master as she watched them lay her unconscious friend down on the solid metal table, over the thin sheet that had been placed. They all stood around, antsy to step in, waiting for any possible order to be given, as the Healer tore the messengers tunic open to reveal his pale dripping chest, he bent the head back, pressing his ear to the messengers mouth, and his eyes widened at the lack of sound that came from within. He moved to press his ear to the young messengers chest, all of them silent so he may hear what he was listening for, "He has water in his lungs!"
Another healer had long since begun chest compressions, following a beat, one two three, one two three, over and over again.
All around them; healers and the bedbound, watched as they tried to revive the unconscious messenger.
After thirty seconds of compressions, the Healer bent and pressed his mouth of the messengers, blowing into his throat as much as he could manage, and then nodded for the other to begin the compressions anew once more.
It took some time, what felt like a life time, the three other Archangels watching anxiously, a tiny fledgling staring up where her beloved friend lay as still as the dead, Principalities and Virtues and Powers standing behind them all as though to block out any outsiders from witness something that was so personal between them. But, after that lifetime seemed to pass, they finally had some progress, both healers jumped back when the messengers eyes flew open, choking on a mouth full of regurgitated water, and he was turned quickly onto his side to let the swallowed water that had been slowly drowning flow from him as it drained in massive waves of heaves.
There was a collective sigh of relief among them all, none so much as the fledgling and the two Archangels who stood closest to the messengers heart. The Messenger looked as though he wanted to rush for his Captain, but knew better then to step forward without his older brother's permission, and he watched closely as the Healer finally sat him up, patting between his shoulder blades like one did an infant, to force the remaining obstruction free, and thus more water came spilling from him.
When the flow of water seemed to dry out, he coughed harshly at the regurgitation, bracing himself with his arms as he began to shiver.
"Those….Those bastards."
It was the fledgling that broke through the surrounding barrier of adults, ducking under hands and legs, running forward for her friend. Zaves bent over the side of the bed to catch her, and they hugged each other as close as they could, neither wanting to let go. This had been the third time that they'd been attacked while out together, and it was the only time that the messenger had pushed her out of harms way before taking the plunge once more, and they clung onto each other in the same fashion, the others were sure, that they had during those rough nights when such friendship was hard to come by.
"Zaves, I thought I lost you!"
"You can't get rid of me that easy!" he tugged on her damp braids "I'm like a—"
"Rash!"
He laughed, a bit scratchier then it should be, and it ended with a cough, but they all stood on edge to see what he would say in return.
"Exactly! I'm like a rash, can't get rid of it even with medicine."
The Healer sighed deeply, as he turned to gather up a few things, though there was notable relief in the sigh, as there was running through everyone else, that the messenger was able to joke (despite how terrible it may have been) and it solidified the fact that everything would be okay.
And with that knowledge in mind, Heaven's Commander and Strategist, Michael and Lucifer, left them to investigate these attacks on their own. This was becoming a personal affront to their own family, and the wrath of Heaven's archangels would rain down on whom ever dared seek to harm their family.
It was a notion, their combined anger and power directed at one being, or a group, seeing as to what damage had been caused with their tempers and anger and strength turned on each other, there was no telling what could be with all of that power focused together in alliance.