97. Guardian
As the clouds part, letting down the rays of summer sun shine and a pair of celestial beings, from down below, a piercing wail sounds.
Ciel slaps his hands over his ears, cherub wings snapping open to balloon the air currents and halt his downwards spiral. His companion glides pityingly over. "What is that awful sound?" he grumbles, as Angela gently removes his hands, her double wing set indicate her high ranking in the heavenly hierarchy. Their great length double her own height, primary feathers just ghosting over Ciel's round cheeks.
"That is called crying, Ciel," the beautiful angel explains, shifting her wings to lead them further down through the clouds. Her thick sheet of platinum hair billows behind her, Ciel never once loosing sight of her glowing aura.
Compared to his mentor, Ciel is under grown, both in height and in stubby wings- an owl must have a greater span!- he thinks miserably. The other angels have simply labelled him a bad egg from his hatching. Quite the contrary to human folk lore, angels are not the souls of the departed- angels are created from holy eggs that grow from a great tree up above. They are born fully grown, however have to earn their wings on missionary work, from new born single, to the acclaimed tri wing status.
Little Ciel was an odd cherub from the start. Already his underdeveloped wings brought attention to himself- though he was assured they would grow in time- his slate grey hair the colour only a demon wears, and disabled right eye sent off enough alarm bells for the celestial community to ostracise him.
Only Angela ,with her normal light coloured hair and fully fledged body, was kind enough to take him under her wing. So to speak.
"The noise is strange because we do not have that emotion in heaven," she continues to explain, gliding to a hover, looking down on a Victorian garden. Peering down, Ciel can see a small child on the ground, face to the sun as it bawls loudly. Strange water rolls down it's ruddy cheeks. "Those are tears," Angela adds, before he can ask himself. "See, it has fallen and scratched itself."
Softly, Angela floats down, invisible to a human eye, and blows sweetly over the child's bloody knee. Only Ciel sees the sudden burst of angelic magic, and the cut mends, the child's face suddenly clearing and an added rub of happiness sparks from her fingertips, making the human giggle suddenly and clap it's hands.
"Phew!" Angela sighs dramatically, flapping back up to join her apprentice. "It's such a chore to keep humans happy. But that's what a good angel does!"
59. Toy
As the sun rises to the middle point of the sky, both angels are made aware of the presence of more than one supernatural being in London today. As the work load today is heavy, Angela allows Ciel to part, ordering him to come find her if he gets in over his head.
Ciel adds a tiny push of magic to an old woman's back- curing her of her tight muscles and enabling her to carry on with the laundry- and is exiting the house when a clamorous shout echoes out from the street.
A man, pot bellied and wearing breaches, is wielding a rusty stained pipe, facing a slighter man holding an equally lethal looking weapon. As they spare off with words, Ciel discovers the smaller man has embezzled to the other- and has just been caught out.
The fine print of being an angel says you can not directly interfere with humans, only slightly push them in the direction they should be going towards. This means Ciel can't influence the men's mind's into not fighting, nor transform the weapons into clouds of air. Thinking on his wings, Ciel remembers Angela explaining the law enforcers in this part of Earth. Calling up his powers for a summoning spell, Ciel is shocked to his feathers when a sudden mute veils over the spell.
It is like someone has slipped a black bag over his head, or parried a blow of a sword swing.
Angered, a burst of contained magic showers out from his chest and fingers, the pressing force shifts uncomfortably, before being push further away. A shrill whistle sounds, and the stamp of horse hooves indicate the Scotland Yard's arrival onto the scene.
Exhausted from the excess amount of magic he has used, Ciel is eager to fly away and seek out a sunny place to recharge. He finds it in one of London's squares, the few remaining grasslands for miles. Not having to worry about humans seeing or colliding into him, Ciel settles himself down on one of the iron melded benches, closing his blue eyes to recover.
He's hardly suspended in animation for five minutes before a velvety voice breaks the spell.
"My, my. I thought I felt a sickingly good presence earlier."
Irritated at being disturbed, Ciel glances under his lashes to discover a face white as bone and sharp red eyes leering down at him.
A demon.
Ciel's pearly wings fluffy out in alarm, a natural reaction when coming into contact with a creature spat out of Hell herself. But apart from his eyes widening a little more, Ciel doesn't jump up or exclaiming loudly.
"Was that you interfering with my fun before?" the demon chides patronisingly like a parent does, pale lips curving up into an enduring smirk.
"What do you want, you disgusting beast," Ciel finds his tongue again, still paralysed to the bench, fingers gripped into tight fists.
"Do you praise god with that pretty mouth of yours? Shame on you. One wouldn't expected it with a face Botticelli himself might have painted," if possible, it's smile widens, and in a liquid motion swoops down on the angel to grip his chin between black claws fingertips.
The touch is icy cold, like the graze of something void of all life, and Ciel freezes up like a bird caught in a bright light. Its scent is strange, not at all like a celestial being, something hotter and muggier, something that can't be described in words. "Naughty little cherubs who disrupt my work and curse me, have to be punished."
Ciel has no living heart, but his body experiences the same functions that any creature suffers when under threat. The demon looks hungry. Does it plan on eating his life force? He's heard that demons enjoy snacking on human souls, and even tales of angels when caught. Reflected in its gleaming eyes are his own, large and frightened.
Before he can- quite literally- be given the kiss of dead, a tremendous crack splits the air, and the demon buckles as if whipped from behind. Ciel slumps sideways upon release, gasping silently.
"Sebastian!" wings out in full glory, Angela swoops in for a second attack, another thunderous crash rings out, the demon- Sebastian- smart enough to spring out of harm's way in the nick of time. It lands safely in the branches of a tree.
Angela steps protectively in front of her apprentice.
"In trainings are off limits."
"'Twas only going to be a small bite. He's so tiny after all," Sebastian smiles at Ciel from around her lavish amount of feathers. Angela doesn't move, nor rises to the bait. With an attitude of thinking angels need to lighten up, the demon transforms itself into a black cat, which leaps from the tree and slinks away.
"Was he really going to eat my soul, Angela?" Ciel asks in a much stronger voice than he thought he was capable of.
The angel glances down with a worn expression. ". . lets just get back to work," she settles on saying, confirming Ciel's fear.