Visitors Bleeding Feathers. RP for believeinthis.

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Visitors Bleeding Feathers. RP for believeinthis.

Healing takes time.

That pithy little phrase was the bane of her existence. Time? She was Immortal, for Darkness' sake!

And it grated that a few pathetic months indoors were getting to her when she'd spent centuries stuck in that little cave, completely out of her mind and unable to push aside one little rock fall.

However, things were improving. She could now move between rooms without pausing for breath and she could read the New Scientist cover to cover without falling asleep.

Still, it wasn't quite living and there was this gnawing feeling that something was missing. Something that she could name but chose not to.

It was safe inside the apartment, with its wards and protections and lack of angels. She could rain down plague on the city from her window - bad cold and 'flu season in LA this year, worst for decades.

Something was missing.

Something that was now within ten feet of her apartment. Huh.

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Pissed that Pes had actually gone so far as putting sigils in her apartment, Loki was stuck outside, able to go no further without a considerable amount of effort. It was effort which, off the back of a particularly intense judgement, he didn't have. Instead he was looking up at the window he knew from experience belonged to her bedroom.

Pes tried to locate him, wondering why he hadn't simply appeared in her apartment.

Then, she realised he was on the ground and stuck her head out of the window.

"Loki?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" Loki asked, head tilted back to return the look.

Pestilence drank him in a for a moment, then frowned.

"You're hurt. Why are you outside?"

"Because you don't want me inside." That's clear enough just from the simple fact that he tried getting inside and he's been blocked off.

Pestilence frowned. It was partially true, of course, but it's not like that should've stopped him. Had never stopped him invading her space before, so why-

The sigils.

Cursing herself for ten kinds of fool, Pes left the window and headed for the kitchen. She drew a butcher's knife from the block and walked into the living room.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she took her Rembrandt print off the wall to reveal the first sigil. Slashing open her wrist, she smeared her blood over the symbols, neutralising their power.

She clutched her arm to her chest and made her way to the mirror, knocking it off the wall and letting it smash on the floor. Another rite of blood - and it's done.

Her home is open to an attack of angels.

The second he can feel those barriers gone, he's flying up into her apartment, managing to stay on two feet for all of a few seconds before he's having to slump back against the wall.

Pestilence hurried to his side, bloodied hand on his cheek, instantly knowing every injury.

"Come on - you need to sit down before you fall."

She tried to support him, but holding an angel upright with barely the strength of a human isn't an easy task.

"I don't need to--" He changed his mind soon after that, following along with what seemed to be the best laid plans. Maybe he did just need to sit for a couple of minutes.

The sofa seemed miles away, but somehow they staggered close enough to sit on it instead of collapsing on the coffee table.

Pestilence's hands were already on the clasps of his armour.

"Hell weapons? I smell the sulphur."

"They're in chaos. I was attacked when I was leaving." Loki meant Hell was in chaos, and as a result none of them knew what they were doing.

"Pathetic. Soldiers without leaders love nothing but a riot."

She shifted him out of the breastplate, fuelling her worry into anger. It was wrong that Loki, Angel of Death, should be surrounded in this stench of Hell. They had tried to drag him down - Darkness, she would make them pay for this.

"Here - let me."

She placed both hands over the long gash in his side and drew the poisons of Hell-steel into herself. It took a moment to absorb the shadows, but she was a creature of black.

Her fingers flitted to the next wound.

Trying not to move away from the hands, no matter how much they were helping, Loki let his eyes slide shut, trying his best to heal himself. It was slow going all thanks to just how weak he'd been left, but he'd made it back here. And he knew he'd be back to full health in an hour.

Pestilence lifted her hands from the worst of the wounds and, satisfied that he was on the mend, she stroked his cheek.

"You're going to be fine," she whispered, cursing the wobble in her voice.

"I know." Loki's response was nothing short of the blindingly obvious. He knew it would take more than Hell brats to keep him down for long. It didn't mean that he didn't appreciate all of this, though.

Pes smacked his shoulder. "Bite me, feathers."

She then settled into said shoulder, exhausted beyond all reason and taking advantage before her better sense kicked in.

"Maybe later." Or, more aptly, when he isn't about to get some rest, angel style. He needs to work to repair his vessel, and the chips loosened from his Grace.

Pes slipped her arm across his chest and closed her eyes.

"Stay," she mumbled, her body giving in to healing and the warmth of Loki's Grace.

"While I heal." He couldn't promise anything more than that. Not when he knew he was already getting behind on his work. Sinners kept sinning.

After an hour of rest, Pestilence opened her eyes and smiled at her body pillow.

Without thought, she placed a quick kiss to his forehead and then rose from the sofa to make a cup of tea. She felt better than she had in weeks, angelic Grace warming her and chasing away the pains of healing.

Batteries recharged, Loki felt Pes leave the warmth of whatever it was they had going on and, after a few minutes, twisted his head to face the door. Less than a split-second later, he was in the kitchen, leaning up against one of the walls, eyes fixed on the tea-making.

Pes looked up at the soft flutter of wings and smiled.

"Tea?" she said, already filling the pot with a steady hand. She knew they were reaching the end of their time together and didn't know how to hold on to this...whatever between them.

Shaking his head no because he had no need for tea, he stayed mostly silent, happy enough to simply watch as she made her own.

Letting the tea brew, Pes took a step forward and smoothed his tunic across his shoulders, now rumpled from lying on the couch and not really befitting a great warrior.

Trying not to look as amused as he felt, he looked down at her, the smallest smile starting to curve the corners of his lips upwards.

"If anyone ever saw you doing this..."

"They'd wonder why I wasn't sticking your feathered arse with a sword."

Pestilence stepped into his space, hands resting on his shoulders.

"But that would make such a mess in my kitchen."

Her eyes fell to his lips and, between heartbeats, her mouth was against his in a tender kiss.

"I'd like to see you try." He managed to get the comment in before a pair of lips were pressing up against his own. But he wasn't pushing her away.

"You know I could take you," she mumbled against his lips, taking one last kiss, before stepping away.

"I know, I know - you have to go and save the world."

"Something like that." Or, really, taking more Sinners down to the Pit. This time, however, he'll be ready for what's there to greet him at the Gates.

Pestilence brushed her hand along his shoulder again, thinking.

"You should have a base. Somewhere safe where you can rest."

"Like here." Loki doesn't beat around the bush. It's why he's just saying what she's thinking.

"Just like here."

Her hand found his, entwining their fingers. "I think you need this."

She took a deep breath. "I need this."

He says nothing about not needing anything or anyone. Times change.

"I'll be back." He just doesn't know when.

"I know you will."

She presses another kiss to his lips, a promise.

"Be careful. The rules are changing."

"I'm always careful." At least, he is when it comes to his job. He knows that still comes first, no matter what else he's up to.

"Then you'd better get your armour on then."

She stepped back from him with a small smile.

"Oh, and I need your blood."

He sighs, pretending to be put upon at the request.

"You and everyone else."

"Unless you want to keep calling at my bedroom window, Romeo."

She took hold of his arm and reached for a knife, leading him into her living room.

Interested in the fact they're actually using the doors rather than flying, Loki stops just inside the doorway and holds out an arm he knows she wants.

With an apologetic look, she draws the knife across his arm and daubs the wall in his blood, creating the anti-angel sigil with a practised hand.

"There. All done."

The wound already healed up and gone, Loki looks at her handiwork and gives it an approving nod. It'll keep everyone else away, at least.

"Enjoy your tea." It's a goodbye, but he knows he'll be back soon enough.

"Enjoy smiting."

She picks up his armour from the sofa and dresses him, securing the clasps with care, before picking up his sword from the coffee table and handing it to him.

Taking his sword, he takes the time to step forward to kiss her on the forehead, not bowing his goodbye until he's stepped back again. The smile he leaves with is affectionate, until he's gone in a rustle of feathers.

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Visitors Bleeding Feathers. RP for believeinthis.

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