The angel had piercing, pupil-less ice blue eyes,
black flowing hair to his shoulders, and perfect features.
His shoulders were broad and smooth, with perfectly toned arms and uncalloused hands,
clutching a golden bow in his right hand, a phoenix-feathered silver arrow in his left.
His muscled abdomen was hinted at under his black robes,
and his wide silver wings fluttered in the breezeless air.
Magnus watched the angel in silence,
fully aware of it's unbelievable magnificence, but totally unable to move.
The angel spoke three simple words, spreading it's arms wide and embracing the warlock with ageless warmth.
"Your wait ends," It sang, then it started to shimmer, fading into nothing right before Magnus's eyes.
"Wha- what wait? Stop! No- who are you?"
His hand shot out to grab the angel, but grasped empty air instead. The perfect creature was gone. An unsettling cold wind swept his long hair into his eyes, and he sank to his knees.
All the light in the field was gone, leaving the clearing dark and cold.
There were no stars in the sky, no moon to guide Magnus to light.
Feeling as empty and alone as could be possible, the warlock cried silently into his palms until it started to rain, cold, pelting drops of water.
Magnus woke from his afternoon nap with something cold and wet repeatedly touching his face. He rolled over and sat up in confusion. A startled growl came from under his yellow sheets, making his jump.
"Chairman Meow! You scared me!" He scooped the small but fat cat out of his bed, cradling him to his chest with one arm as he wiped the cat saliva off his nose. "Stupid cat," he muttered. Chairman Meow hissed at him.
"No, I just fed you before. Let me wake up in peace." The cat made another noise, prying himself off Magnus's chest and padding out of his bedroom.
"Stupid, ungrateful son of a-"
"MROW!"
Magnus chuckled to himself and ran a hand down his face, stifling a yawn.
What a weird dream, he thought to himself.
It was unusual for him to dream at all, what with him being a warlock and immortal and everything, but when he did it was always for a very good reason.
Maybe it's a sign, maybe I'll meet that gorgeous-eyed spunk of an angel while walking Chairman Meow or something.
It seemed unlikely though, whether he was referring to meeting the angel or Chair actually allowing himself to be walked by Magnus, it didn't matter. They were both pretty much impossible outcomes.
He slipped his feet into fluffy red slippers, pulled a cashmere blue robe over his bare chest and headed to his apartment's kitchen. He snapped his fingers and a muffin and coffee appeared on his cluttered kitchen table.
"Mmm. Nice and fresh, that's how I like my evening coffees." He started to whistle for no apparent reason, and slid into one of the red leather chairs sitting at his (circular, of course) table.
As he dug his fingers into the delectably fluffy goodness of a Top Deck chocolate-chip muffin he downed his coffee, and snapped it into the bin outside his Brooklyn apartment.
Settling into the world of content fullness, he put his feet up on another chair and relaxed. That is, until his phone started to ring.
Again.
Magnus remained seated, mouth still full of chocolate crumbs and frothy caffiene, as his phone rang out, and the frantic voice of Jocelyn Fray shouted at his voicemail.
"So, you've apparently managed to contact the magnificent Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Chairman Meow, cat extraordinaire, et. etc. First of all, congratulations. Secondly, if you are a client of any kind I am currently in Tanzania on vacation, so hang up now. …
Right, now if you're still listening I assume you're a friend or significant other, but I'm afraid that unless I am asleep or ignoring you I actually do happen to be out. I may or may not decide to get back to you if you leave me a message after the beep, but that, my friend, is up to me, and me alone."
There was the faint sound of Chairman Meow hissing, and then a girly 'fuck!' as Magnus was scratched, then the fateful beep.
Not a second later, the harsh cries of what sounded like a dying donkey were filling his otherwise quiet apartment with sound.
"MAGNUS BANE, MY DAUGHTER NEEDS YOUR SPELL NOW, OR SHE WILL START TO SEE DOWNWORLDERS AND SHADOWHUNTERS, AND I ALREADY FEAR THAT SHE MAY HAVE STARTED TO, SO IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR LAZY BEHIND BACK HERE FROM WHEREVER THE HELL YOU MAY BE IN THE NEXT TWO DAYS I SWEAR I WILL PICK UP A BLADE AND GO CLAVE ON YOU! BY THE ANGEL, YOU ARE SUCH AN INSUFFERABLE FOOL, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDE-"
Still cringing from her harsh cries, Magnus pulled the answering machine out of the wall with a snap of his fingers. His message bank had been full of much the same messages three days ago when he arrived home from, incidentally, Tanzania. He had been visiting friends in a village not far from the main city.
He sighed and relaxed back into his chair, putting his long arms behind his neck and leaning back.
Let her believe he was still there, after all, who was she to threaten a three-hundred year old warlock?