[IMPORTANT: I DID IT AGAIN LOL. I SKIPPED A CHAPTER 💀 CH. 8 WILL BE POSTED 3/24/23, RIP)
"IRIS? Iris Irai, I can feel your pulse. It's rising. Good—good. If you can hear me, try to open your eyes."
I've been attempting to do that anyway. It's cold. Dark. Painful. My head's throbbing, and my body is tight and cold, sparking from within. It feels like my marrow's gone sour, trying to rush out from my bones.
Light magic—it's inside me. It's everywhere.
When I open my eyes, finally, Riel's hovering over me, his pink lips pinched tightly. A soft cupid's bow. He moisturizes.
Focus, dammit. Fucking angelic charm.
Riel is covering my hazy vision; I can't make out where I am. I take a few breaths, bursting into a crackling, weak laugh.
"Fuck...did I die? Am I—"
"Thank God." he sighs, raking back his cornsilk hair. He leans away, and I see that I'm in a dark room—black walls, marble, silver trim, red lights. Spacious, clean, smelling faintly of cinnamon and metal. Immediately I recognize it as Paradise. A suite. Good. We're not in Heaven.
"Thank Satan." I mutter in return, attempting to move. My veins are glowing. The urge to hiss, recoil, swirls within me, but I swallow it. Push it down. I'm wearing a robe—black with red trim, of course—and my undergarments.
He took off my old clothes before. I know it shouldn't bother me, but it tickles the back of my throat.
"I apologize for the discomfort, but you were scratched up, and bleeding badly. So I had to heal you, or else..." he trails off. I look over myself. My dark skin is covered in fine, golden scars, like Midas has drawn lines across my flesh. I squint at him. He looks apologetic, but firm. "It's been a day since the tornado; it is roughly noon now. We need to get started immediately. I have ordered room service, and hopefully—"
"Wait." I mutter, taking a few breaths, pushing myself upright. I feel electric—sore, tingly. But I'm alive. And that's what matters. "Give me a second to process the whole 'tornado-nearly-fucking-killed-me' moment. Okay?"
Riel nods and faces away, turning his attention to the glass device. I'm alive. Good. Giant tornado. Not good. He was just mentioning cataclysmic events happening at dinner; could it be—?
No. It was just a freak storm. It happens. And there's nothing exceptional about it.
I was so close to being dead, though...
"Okay. I'm good. Yeah. Fuck." I say after a few moments, shaking out my hands. "How much magic did you pump into me? I feel like I'll explode if I touch metal."
Riel debates, tilting his head to the side, staring up. Mental math. "Roughly nineteen units of light magic, which constitutes about a third of my energy stores, and can power—"
"Rhetorical question." I cut him off, exhaling slowly, looking over my arms. I trace the scars. There's enough of his light magic in me to make my skin tingle at contact with itself.
"Oh."
"No sarcasm in Heaven, huh?"
"Angels speak directly. Honestly." Riel sets the device down, slipping it into his pants pocket.
"What a boring existence." I adjust my body, legs dangling off the side of the bed, and push. Stand. My knees wobble; I slip backwards to keep myself from falling. Riel's hand is firm on my shoulder, steadying me.
"I'd rather live an honest life than a dishonest, but exciting, one." Riel states, still holding me. His dappled gaze hooks me like a fucking fish—I stare again, his thick brows low, a bit furrowed, in worry. "Do you find your life exciting? Since you care so much about it, after all."
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Paradise | ONC 2023
Romance"If I cannot move Heaven, then I will raise Hell. And I will do it for you. Again, again, and again." *** Iris Irai, a half-demon of wrath, is living in anything but paradise. She works as a cleaning lady at the Paradise Resort, a hotel in the Flori...
