The Angel Project

Caged Dove

 "Do you think she got the message?"

Admael's lilac eyes shake as they dart around the cold, dark room. The stone is so cold that it feels wet against his skin, or maybe it is wet. He wouldn't know. His arms wrap around his shoulders in search of comfort. The tips of his fingers make contact with the fluffy white feathers of his wings.

"I shouldn't be talking to you," the gruff voice answers from outside the door. Admael is quiet for a while until he whispers, "Why do you think he's doing this?" A sigh comes from the voice, "I... I'm not sure. He flips quickly. Hard to read."

Admael's eyes turn upwards, catching tufts of white curls, the most he has seen of his appearance since he was brought here. He put up a fight when he was first captured, or summoned... or whatever happened. If he was honest, he wasn't sure what had happened, "How can two archangels be captured like this, Sariel?"

"Don't say my name, they'll know we speak." Sariel wasn't chatty. Of course, he helps keep Admael from becoming insane, but certainly not for conversation, "Do you think I'll get them back?"

Admael's hands palpate against various bandages on his body until Sariel responds, "I don't know." How helpful.

Admael's legs shake as he stands. The chains holding him to the wall rattle with every movement, making him cringe. If he is too loud, more guards will come and then they'll both get in trouble. Time passes differently in the cell. In freedom, Admael would be tending to his people. He was well-known for protecting women and children. Of course, now that he is captured, he can no longer do that.

"I wonder how they're doing... I can feel them praying still. Sar- sorry," Admael presses his eyes closed, head pressed against the cold metal of the door, "Do you?" Silence fills the cell. Admael pulls at his fingers anxiously awaiting his response, "No. I haven't since... you know."

Sariel had been cast out. Admael and Sariel weren't friends before being captured, but they certainly knew of each other. He can still remember when Sariel was cast out. He remembers the sobbing. The pain. The screaming. Sariel had sinned and was now known as the fallen watcher by God.

"Was it worth it?"

"If I can even catch a glimpse of her face, it will be."

Sariel had fallen in love with a mortal woman. He had come willingly in hopes of seeing her once again—a stark contrast to Admael. Bruises and wounds still litter his pale skin. He fought tooth and nail to escape and had the marks to show it. It was luck that Admael was still holy, otherwise, infection would've taken him by now.

Moonlight floods into the small cell from the barred window, "Finally."

With a slow inhale, he closes his eyes tight to focus his energy on healing his wounds a little more. His skin flexes and changes color under the light. He needs to be slow with it otherwise he'll be figured out. He exhales slowly, "I guess I'll see her soon."

"Isn't it intrusive to send her so many dreams?"

"She needs to prepare, lest we all be killed."

Heavy boot steps sound from the end of the hall and Admael scrambles back to his spot. Sarial's boots click together as he salutes the approaching officer. They speak lowly so Admael cannot hear. Keys clink before the door is opened. Admael was in for it now.

Thuds can be heard from behind the door. Sariel's eyes press closed. There isn't anything he can do if he wants to see her again. All he can do is watch – something he has been cursed with since the creation of humanity. Admael's muted wales claw their way to his ears. How does he not blame him for simply watching? For standing by the door and not intervening? Sariel would.

It's over before it even started. Bruises coat Admael's skin. He can even make out the soldier's fist on his arms. The soldier's heavy footsteps leave the cell before Admael moves from his cowering on the floor. His legs wobble as he stands, and his voice comes out as a croak, "I'm going to try leaving again..."

"You can't!" Sariel quietly yells, his head whipping around to stare at the door that separates them, "You risk everything doing that! Just wait. I can do something."

"What has waiting gotten me? What has it ever gotten me!" Admael hisses. His chains rattle with every step towards the door until he's leaning against it for support, "Blindly following a diety that turns their eyes against us? Putting pity on humans who treat us like this? You were cast down! Where is your anger?"

Sariel is quiet once again, his eyes wide. In front of him stands a tall, barrel-chested man decorated in his best steel. The general. John. He was the most brutal–one who was more than happy to torture Admael for hours if he so wanted. There he was standing before him. Grinning.

"Man, here I thought I'd be bored with you, little dove!" His steps clink before the door opens again, "You know what birds need to fly? Their wings? It would be a damn shame if someone prevented my dove from flying again."

Admael's eyes nearly pop out of his socket when John yanks his chains back. His hands are rough against Admael's ankles as he undoes the lock. Admael's chest heaves with every narrowing breath. His feet move before he can think about what he's doing. The stone floor hurts his ankles as he runs through the corridor. Did he know where he was going? No. All he needs is his luck to produce a window or some sort of opening.

Admael can hear John's armor coming from down the corridor. He knows Sariel is following too. He mumbles prayers to God under his panting, hoping he may be helped. Arms grab hold of him and he's surrounded. Tears flow freely down his face. His lilac eyes shake violently, head turning in search of an escape or something to free him. Nothing. His prayers become louder and desperate when John stands before them, but a stranger covers his mouth.

"I wasn't serious, little dove, but now I certainly am," John's words are breathless, his hand on his dagger. The metal scrapes against its holder, "Turn him around. I want those wings on my wall."

The strange hands turn Admael so that his back is turned to John. His eyes land on Sariel. His face is etched with equal terror. This was the first time they'd seen each other in forever, but Sariel never imagined that Admael could be so frail. Pink, blue, and purple splotches litter his skin. His cream-colored curls are so much longer than he kept them before. One eye is almost swollen shut.

He has to stop himself from reaching out when the blade comes into contact with the end of Admael's shoulder blades–right where his wings are. They are going to cut his wings out. Admael's face contorts in pain. Sweat beads on his face, and the tears come in full force. His screams could deafen everyone in this corridor.

"Aha!" John holds the wings in his hands with pride. Admael goes limp against one of the people holding him, his chest rising and falling much slower now. Laughter rings from John's chest, "Throw him to Sariel. Take him back to his cell, would you? I have new prizes..."

The man holding the unconscious Admael pushes him to Sariel and he lands against his chest with a thud. His eyes steel themselves when he looks at the pitiful angel before him. He carries Admael to the cell bridal style but doesn't chain him once again. They had gotten what they wanted and wouldn't be back until they were bored once again.

"I'll get us out of here..." His gray hand brushes Admael's damp curls out of his face, "Just wait a little longer. Please."