Chapter 5

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Pain, all Arthur could feel was a crippling pain. His wing ached to be free but doing so would just alert the others to his presence.

He settled for cursing in Enochian under his breath, a steady stream of curses that didn't befit the image humans had given Angels. Angels were warriors and prophets who believed themselves to be the highest things in existence.

Arthur just thought they were a bunch of twats. Well, not all of them. His dad had been one of the good guys, from what he'd gathered he was pretty powerful too.

Haah, he missed him. Alana had the same laugh- carefree and loud but beautiful.

He missed hearing her laugh.

He missed the other Nephillim too, he had to leave them behind when he was turned, the thought of one of them seeing him like this, turned into an undead monster... It was daunting to say the least.

Hurts

Dammnit, his willpower was weakening. It's not natural to have your wings closed during malting season- he's basically going in to heat soon.

Arthur frowned, sniffing at the air and snorting. Francis was wearing perfume, girly wanker. It wasn't even nice perfume! Some expensive toilet water shit that Arthur loathed.

Ugh, it was overpowering- that bastard had to be doing it on purpose! He cussed him out for it last time so he was getting payback, the cheeky git!

Fine, he gave in. He threw off his shirt and closed his eyes. He slowly extended his wings, unfurling them ever so carefully. White feathers with golden tips, , each row of feathers clearly distinguishable from the next. Arthur was proud of his wings, white wings were actually rare; his sister had brown, like an owl's.

The relief was instantaneous, the heavy overbearing pressure on his back was gone and his head was clear. He frowned in dismay when he noticed a feather fluttering free and the first stab of arousal appeared.

Right; still had the in heat part of this cycle to go through.

Bugger.

Then, he heard a commotion from his sisters room.

Something that sounded suspiciously like an Italian getting a taste of Alana's nasty side.

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Fuck fuck fuckidy fuck fuck.

Fuck heat, fuck wings and fuck life!

Knock, knock.

"Who the hell is disturbing me when I have specifically asked to be alone" she spat, storming towards the door, throwing it open.

"Ve~~~ I was wondering if you were feeling okay" said Feliciano with a bright smile.

Alana grimaced.

"No I'm not, Feli. I feel as if my back is being ripped to shreds and my head is pounding. I would thank you very kindly from staying the fuck away until I say so. Got it?" hissed the blonde, emerald eyes narrowed sharply on the squirming Italian.

"Ve~~~ Scaaaaarryyyyy"

"Is everything alright?" asked Arthur meekly, peeking out of his room.

"It's fine Arthur just- you know." she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Need a hug?"

"Yes please" she sniffled.

He darted into the corridor, wrapping his arms gently around her as she tried to regain her composure. They had clearly forgotten Feliciano was standing right there- he had gone completely silent.

His mouth was hanging open as he stare at Arthur's wings.

Oh.

Ohh.

Oh shit.

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"You saw nothing!" yelped Arthur, darting back into his room and shutting the door quickly.

"Agreed, sorry for being rude" mumbled Alana, sliping back into her room too.

Leaving Feliciano stood alone in the corridor like an idiot with his mouth hanging open; only one thought running through his mind:

I have to paint his wings.

"They're sooooooooo pretty! Ve~~~~"

He thought he had imagined it, when he saw them all those years ago when Arthur saved him and his brother from the wolves in Venice.

He hadn't and he was determined to never forget again.