The Heart Of Asariel

2 || Caught

Usually, Micah didn't particularly mind getting caught. No-one could ever punish him in a way that mattered; there was no possession he cared enough about that they could take, and no room they could lock him in without him finding some way to spin the situation into one of fun. His escapes were getting rather efficient.

If anything, getting caught was the most amusing part. There was nothing quite like the annoyance of another, their glower deepening the more he laughed.

Now, all that spilled from his lips was a nervous sort of chuckle. The wind lashed at his dangling legs, whipping up the bottom of his tunic. He pinned it against his thigh with his free hand. There was nothing like hanging mid-air in front of your seniors, having just dropped their most treasured possession into the abyss, to make one feel self-conscious.

"Hey, guys," he tried, at least grateful the gusts hid his voice's uncertain tremble. "Is the feast over already?"

Every angel save Siofra could form a decent glare, but none burned with quite the fire that Ghidor summoned. His amber eyes almost cast a garish glow as he stepped forward, his teeth practically bared in anger, the spiked tips of his leathery, copper-coloured wings scraping over the marble. Even hanging limp at his sides, they cast broad shadows. Micah doubted he'd be able to spread them to their full width within this bottomless room, let alone in the confines of the corridor.

"Where is the Heart?" he snapped.

Micah glanced down, his stomach twisting. Should he have plummeted after it? Yet it had been moving with rapid urgency, and he was having enough trouble beating his wings enough to steady him now, let alone out in that turbulent sky without a thing to cling to.

"Um." He swallowed. "I may have dropped it."

Somehow, the flame in Ghidor's eyes managed to flare even brighter. "Get down from there," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Nerves scratched at Micah's throat. "I actually rather like it up--"

"Get down!"

He cringed, the roaring shout hitting him like a punch to the temples. "Alright," he muttered. "I'm coming. No need to be impatient."

Carefully releasing the ledge, he sank a little in the air as his wings took his weight, then made the cautious journey to the corridor's end. Ghidor shifted aside to give him room to land, blocking his view of Jinx. His wing brushed Eike's shoulder as he touched down. The old angel didn't even flinch, still fixed on the space Asariel's Heart had fallen into. Guilt formed a tight coil in Micah's chest. Trouble was a nuisance to many, he was fully aware, but it was never supposed to hurt anyone.

A sudden, biting grip on his arm severed his thoughts. Yelping, he staggered in the direction of Ghidor's yank, failing to pull free. Micah certainly wasn't one of the smaller angels, but Ghidor still easily towered over him. It wouldn't take much for his head to scrape the ceiling.

"Can you even begin to understand the weight of what you've done?" His nails dug into Micah's arm, long and sharp as claws. "The Heart of Asariel is what keeps us alive, Micah. Its magic glues our world together." He took a long, rumbling inhale, his eyes smouldering. Pale light filtered upwards from the sky lit his thin hair like wisps of flame. "And you just gifted it to the humans."

"He did what?"

Micah jolted around, aware of the rapid thump of his heart. The dance really had whirled him into dizziness by now. He could feel control slipping through his fingers, the world spinning out of focus. Part of him was glad for Ghidor's vice-like grip if only to serve as an anchor.

Ghidor turned as well, his wing shifting aside to reveal Nerezza's sharp gaze. Wings the blackened violet of a night sky draped in curves from her narrow shoulders, tickling her ankles as she slowed to a precise stop a few paces away. Her lips pursed. "Well? Are you going to explain yourself?"