"Invent a creation myth involving string and feathers."
I just wanted to write about wings lmao
and I somewhat recently started playing Arknights and Adnachiel is my fucking BBY
I also like Courier and Earthspirit a lot
here's what Adnachiel looks like:
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"Why am I here?"
Adnachiel could recall...
What could he remember?
La... Laterano...!
That's right... he is a citizen of Laterano...
And he... Sankta... yes... he is of the Sankta race...
What else...?
O... Ora...? Orpa... Oripathy...!
Sick... he was sick... Oripathy...
He died of Oripathy...
And...
The Doctor... The Doctor was there... She couldn't save him...
So why is he here...?
Right... The Sankta people are angels...
Even in life... halo... he had a halo...
He reaches up to his head but is stopped by pain shooting up his entire body.
He faintly hears the heavy drag of manacles, and attempts to move again, though it's painful.
It's too dark to see, but he can feel the shackles weighing down his limbs.
Hot tears streak his face and he sobs helplessly, unable to comprehend anything around him.
"Do you remember?"
Who...?
The voice... female...
He knows... that voice...
She is...?
A sigh, "I thought so."
The voice is everywhere, and he can't decide what direction to orient his body towards.
A sudden flash of light.
Suddenly, he remembers her.
She is the mother of all the Sankta, the leader of the angels.
They, the angels, are sent to the mortal plane as soldiers to protect the people. As a result, they lost their wings but their halo remained.
"Be still, my son. You must be cleansed of the blood on your hands before our home will accept you back."
Adnachiel did as he was told.
For a moment, there was light, and he was surrounded by the home he'd grown up in from the mortal life he'd just lived, and it made him feel like a child again.
This was such a cruel fate, to have a soul last for eternity in order to protect the world, while those he loved would all die, residing in their respective parts of the afterlife.
He shuddered as a blindfold was placed over his golden eyes, and he was once more submerged in darkness.
Light washed over him, he could feel it, even if he couldn't see it. It caressed his body as thick, soft, buttery warmth, giving him the taste of happiness. He subconsciously reached out, hearing the cold rattle of chains but choosing to ignore them.
The light passed and he was at peace.
Then the pain came.
Spiking from his mid-back, searing pain crept through the entirety of his body, tearing his flesh and muscle into ragged fibers, shattering his bones, scorching his blood and ravaging every cell in his body a thousand times over.
He shrieked in his agony, but still it continued, and his voice gave out far before the worst was over. His body would not allow his mind to shut down, and everything pulsed incomprehensibly.
His burning body writhed, all his muscles tensing up. His mouth was locked open in a hellish scream that was painstakingly stuck in his throat.
The pain only resided ever so slowly, leaving him weak and gasping for air.
He inched himself forward, hearing shackles drag behind him, but he was so, so weak...
He collapsed ungracefully, a heap of himself with no strength.
Then, the light washed over him again, so warm and soft, soothing his mind and putting him at peace.
"Sit up, my son."
On trembling arms, Adnachiel managed to, at a snail's pace, get himself in an upright position.
"War stains not only the hands but the soul red."
Adnachiel stared unseeingly before him, still blindfolded. He gasped sharply at two sharp pricks in his upper back. "Ah!"
He tensed up, but the mother rubbed between his shoulder blades to loosen him up. "Your wings."
Adnachiel bit his lip as the mother sewed on his wings, feather by feather. The base of his wings were sewn into his back, wounding him, but it would heal.
Countless hours were spent,with Adnachiel sitting still, wincing or crying out occasionally as the mother sewed, feather after feather after feather.
"You were a hero in life, highly valued by the Doctor. You have much blood on your hands, but as a result, far more souls were saved. Therefore, your wings will be that more magnificent."
After hours, possibly days, they were finally complete.
"Try them out, my son."
Adnachiel breathed deeply, then shyly tested out his wings, slowly willing them to spread. They were truly astounding, soft to the touch but powerful beyond comprehension.
"Now stand, my son."
The heavy manacles still weighed him down, but he forced himself to get to his feet. It took far more effort than it should have, but he stood straight and tall.
The blindfold was removed, and the chains melted away.
