PSL: Faith and the Fallen (for quiteafew)

[notannie]

It wasn't that he had nowhere else to be, really; he could have chosen to be anywhere, and there he would have been in less than the space of a blink. But he liked being, plainly put, in the middle of goddamn nowhere, because there he might actually find some small measure of peace, the calm of not having a raging headache.

Being all but entirely incommunicado with the deity that created you was a mild pain in the ass--if by mild you meant enormous. Still, Ani had gotten increasingly used to the new baseline sensation, and though he rather liked the world around him, being in things and seeing for himself the practical paradise humans had. Even if the difficulties of having wings the appropriate size to carry your ass in flight outweighed some of the small pleasures, nothing would ever top bathing. The experience, the ritual, was oddly glorious, even if he did need to go about it half like a human and half like a bird, shaking himself all over and laying out in the sun to let the feathered appendages dry. He could get used to this. Had already gotten used to it, if he really was honest with himself: he was settled on a flat-ish rock, worn jeans pulled on to cover his legs and his wings unfurled, making a sort of shade umbrella over his head so he could read. (Books were awesome, he'd summarily decided after reading the first one.)

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[quiteafew]

They don't make the middle of nowhere like they used to. Irony, however, appears as potent as ever given the company shortly incoming. Said company appears in a puff of dark smoke several feet down the bank, far enough that the faint smell of brimstone might not survive the distance. He's dressed in worn but well-cared for clothes, nice enough to be a poor man's evening outfit. His eyes were closed when he appeared, and so they remain screwed just a little too tightly to block out the sun.

It's the middle of the day, and Kurt Wagner has just seen Jimaine Szardos on a train to Berlin.

Roughly, he rubs the heels of his callused and strange hands against the scars on his cheeks, mostly healed but still prone to tugging. Common enough an occurrence, particularly with the set of his jaw tight enough to ache. Odd that it should be mirrored in the scars along his left arm, long enough healed that they rarely draw taut. Frowning, Kurt rubs absently at his arm with a muttered, "What now?" in his native German.

[notannie]

The pair of legs stops absently kicking, and the great white wings rustle as one lifts enough for a face to peek out from between the feathers at their dark, stormy gray ends. It's a pretty face, one most people would assume to belong to a sweet-natured person.

So it may be a surprise when its mouth opens with a huff of laughter. "You can't tell me you don't see the irony here," the voice says, laughing still as the body sits up. Aniel leaves the book open on the rock where he'd been lying, settling into a comfortable enough upright position, careful of the extent of his ever-so-slightly-damp feathers, so as not to drag them through the water again. Preening might be easier not having to make do with a beak, but still it takes too damn long to be lightly begun.

[quiteafew]

Kurt whirls at the sound of another voice, the discomfort in his arm momentarily forgotten in the light of more pressing concerns. The laughter of a stranger is never a good thing outside the big top. Things too often have a tendency to be thrown at his head, such as beer cans or fists.

Hence neither his body language nor facial expression are very welcoming when he looks at the being sitting on the rock. The wings don't register at first, giving Kurt enough time to draw in a breath to speak.

"What--" And cue the shock when Kurt realizes those grey shapes aren't part of the rock. "--Are you?"

[notannie]

"Damp," Ani says, answering perfectly legitimately: he is still drying off, the wings and his hair taking the longest of anything. He kind of missed being the smartassed one in a conversation, this is a good first volley.

He's currently sitting peaceably enough, and hasn't moved any closer to Kurt, though now that he sees the writing on the man's face he wants to. Not many people know that language, and he's never seen one before with it scarred into his skin. Surprisingly the blue and demonic--which is so narrowly defined Ani could laugh himself sick--is not all that odd to him; he himself is walking around looking like a spectacular amalgam of human and pigeon. Wonders really never do cease. (No, literally, ask him about that sometime.)

"What are you?"

[quiteafew]

"A performer," Kurt answers automatically, because it's the only concrete answer he has. 'A freak' would be truthful enough, save that he refuses outright to think of himself that way. Though he's known many who wear the title as a badge of honor, for Kurt there's none in it.

The resemblance to the secular idea of an angel hasn't gone over Kurt's head. Said appearance is why he's bold enough to make eye contact, head held aloft and tail lashing irritably above the dirt. He doesn't believe the other being to be anything of the sort; ironic for a man of such deep faith, but perhaps understandable. Of all the ways angels are described in the Book, rarely if ever are they winged men. Men, somethings; things with wings, often. So rarely both.

[notannie]

"And what do you perform?" he asks, singsonging it, folding his wings carefully as he cocks his head to read the scars cut into Kurt's skin.

"You're awfully far out here."

[quiteafew]

Kurt's expression tightens, becomes less innately warm. "Acrobatic for the Munich circus," he answers, lifting his chin as though daring the man to try and dent the pride and joy and takes in his abilities. Appropriate, given that long-healed scar on his chin is for his pride. The angle also sheds better light onto his healing cheeks, both of which bear a series of symbols meant to mark one as an oath-breaker.

"The same thing as you, I imagine." He nods curtly at the wings. "Drying off, I assume?"

[notannie]

"So apparently that pride thing's still going on," Ani chuckles, turning his head to read the symbols on his cheek, obviously interested in the text as his eyes scan it.

"What, do they bother you?" he asks, flapping them once and sending the grass and water around his rock into waves and lifting himself off the ground by an inch or two. These are not undersized tiny model-worn wings, but iron bands of muscle that can clearly propel him. "Well yeah, walking around naked and soaking wet is the setup to a joke around here, I'm told."

[quiteafew]

Kurt blinks, taken aback enough that his defensive pride fades but a little. "There are not many people I have met who read Enochian." Notably, he doesn't try to hide his face this is not Eden; these may be his sins, but they are his that he wears willingly.

To that question Kurt snorts inelegantly, his tail pointedly swishing in the grass behind him. "That would be a bit hypocritical of me, ja?" There's a tiny bit of awe in his expression; angels may not look like that but he'll be damned for a liar if he tries even in his own mind to pretend the sight isn't striking.

[notannie]

"Yeah, well, you learn something like that once and it kinda sticks with you," he reasons with a tilt of his head.

"Hypocrisy rarely stops people. Especially from something like judgement." He's learned this over the years; it was one of those misunderstood things about people that led to him being an utter idiot for a split second and ending up down here. "You act like you've never seen an angel before."

[quiteafew]

"Ja, it does."

He really did have some salient points to make about hypocrisy and judgement, particularly forgiving ones about the nature of fear--and then the man claims to be an angel. Kurt blinks, his shoulders slump, and he turns right on his heel. "You know, I think I know a symbol for you," he calls over his shoulder, walking toward the lake. A second later he sketches the Enochian for 'liar' into the air with his tail.

[notannie]

"Why would I lie to you, Kurt Wagner?" he asks dryly, looking over as he steps off the rock and onto the grass. "You who have just seen your sister, your lover off on a train to Berlin, whose scars are aching even after healing because you're standing in the presence of a messenger of the Lord. Give me one good reason why I'd need to lie to you. Or want to, for that matter."

[quiteafew]

Kurt freezes, his tail stiffening behind him. His stomach tightens with dread, an apology warring with accusation.

"You could be," he answers, carefully calm. "But a question, if you would?" With waiting for permission he pivots to look at the other man. "Why would an angel of the Lord cause me pain to be near? Demons do that, but never has a thing of God."

[notannie]

"I believe you're familiar with the concept of Falling," he says. "The emphasis is necessary. Long story short never risk something important to you on the idea that people--and by that I mean anyone living on this earth--won't be an ass."

He ruffles his feathers somewhat irritably and draws them in close to his back.

[quiteafew]

"I'm sorry." What else can he say, really? Beyond a vague horror at the sort of pain he imagines the.. being? Is going through, he really has no basis for comparison. That's assuming the man is telling the truth, of which Kurt isn't quite convinced. Demons can be magnificent liars. "No one should discover how duplicious men can be in that sort of way."

[notannie]

"Why would you be sorry?" he asks.

"Angels act like idiots all the time--I'd know. But some of us manage to take that a little far and bet our Grace, for lack of a better term, that someone who doesn't want to be redeemed can be. For the record, I was wrong. Also for the record, demons can't withstand holy symbols if there is genuinely belief behind them, and unless I'm much mistaken there is definitely belief in those scars you've put on your skin."

Beat. "Which yes, I can read, because I was there when they made it up."

[quiteafew]

"Because I cannot imagine how much that hurt, and I don't like the idea of anyone in pain."

His eyebrow quirks up at that last part. "Ja, this I know. Also I know that the human body acts to dull the effect, and if a man who looks like me can be born, then why not one with wings like an angel?"

[notannie]

"No, you can't. I'd say it's like having your heart torn from your chest, but I really don't think that'd cover it," he says lightly.

"They can be. But I'm not one."

[quiteafew]

Kurt grimaces, his light eyes softening even as he maintains his doubts as to how truthful the tale is.

"Then again I am sorry," he mumurs, following with an expansive shrug. "And how am I to know that you are telling the truth? I am a man of faith, ja, but not a naive one."

[notannie]

"Have you heard the phrase 'for the believer no proof is necessary, and for the skeptic no proof is enough'?" Ani asks, the sarcastic tone practically dripping from him.

"I have no way to prove to you that I am what I say I am, short of the fact that a scar like this is rather impossible for a human, however gifted, to survive," he says, uncrossing his arms to show a ragged scar that looks like a hatchet might have bee taken to the middle of his chest over his heart. There's a matching one on his back that he turns to show.