The Heart Of Asariel

6 || An Angel's Heart

The suffocation of silence quickly flooded back in to overwhelm Micah, dragging at his steps. Much to his relief, the path to Josephine's house was short and simple, and they didn't linger long outside it. Still, flickering flames rose again to beat softly at his heart as he watched Corinne shake her hand, reluctantly allowing the vigorous action, ending it by pressing a fistful of crumpled paper into her palm -- money, Micah assumed, from the silvery glints he caught sight of. Josephine's gratitude was fervent and animated, while Corinne accepted it all with her usual stoic expression. The hazel in her eyes was back, although that was likely only a reflection of the amber-lit lantern hung above the house's door.

The child clung to Josephine's hand, his wide gaze not leaving Micah for the duration of their conversation. He twined a silver-touched lock of hair over his finger, leaning as casually as he could against the opposite wall without crushing his wings. At least no questions were asked or pistols brandished. Perhaps there was some faith to be had in humanity.

Soon enough, they moved on, and Corinne led him deeper into the maze of streets. He'd lost all sense of where he was -- they might as well have been traversing the same four paths over and over -- and so he clung even more tightly to her form, sometimes even literally. The problem with silence was that every tiny sound was amplified. After the second time, however, he learned to stop seizing her arm.

Eventually, they approached the porch of a larger house, this one somehow a touch more intact than the majority he'd seen. Paint washed the brickwork in a smooth creamy white, and a window gleamed with a distant blue tint, too high up from the street to catch a glimpse of anything more than packed shelves and the electric light cast over them. Corinne marched up the pair of steps that led to the door and rapped on its surface.

A couple seconds ticked by with no answer. She threw a glance over her shoulder, then blew out an impatient sigh and knocked again. The door flung open the moment her fist met the wood.

A hand curled over her wrist. "It's late."

"It's urgent." She slipped her hand free, cooly lifting her chin to face the man taking up the doorway.

He reminded Micah, oddly, of a tree. Every part of him seemed to blend seamlessly in the knots and weaves of bark, from his brown skin to his choppy hair to his dulled eyes. Even the scar winding up the curve of his chin matched the effect. He was as stiff as a tree too, unmoving even as Corinne tried to shove past him, his gaze hard.

"Rivo," she snapped. "Let me in. I need to talk to Lilith."

Rivo's eyes shifted from her face, settling on Micah. He clasped his hands before him, wringing them even as he attempted a pleasant smile. "That would be nice, yes. It's freezing out here."

Looking back to Corinne, Rivo folded his arms. "Who is he?"

"It's complicated." She tossed another glance along the street. "And best discussed in private."

He examined her for a moment more before dipping his head and stepping back into the hall, making room for her to slip inside. She gestured to Micah, and he hurried after her, awkwardly shifting into the tight space and shoving the door closed behind him. He kept his back pointing towards it in some attempt to hide the inevitable bulge of his wings. In the dark street, safety had been easy to cloak himself with, but in these close quarters with bright light filtering in from the side, that feeling of exposure returned. He hugged his coat a little tighter around himself.

Leaning against the frame of the open doorway to the right, Rivo eyed him, only briefly letting his attention flick back to Corinne. "This isn't another of your lost puppies, is it?"

She threw him a sharp look before peering past him into the adjacent room. "Is Lilith even here?"

"Upstairs. Your compassion is going to get you killed, you know."