Grand Angel

Chapter 28: Meeting The Family

Remiel was laying in her bed, staring out as the sunlight shined on her body. The blanket subtly moved, revealing more of her naked skin when a hand began to move up her side.
Her lover's head moved and began to softly kiss her neck and cheek.

"Good morning my love." He said.

Remiel smiled and turned to face him.

"Good morning." She said, kissing his lips.

"How did you sleep?" He asked.

"Wonderfully. I always do with you." Remiel kissed him again.

Her passion was nowhere to be found. Her lips felt cold and distant, despite touching his much like they did often.

"So, what now?" She asked.

He smiled and sat from the bed, his body muscular and toned compared to others in the city.

"I am not sure yet. What do you think we should do?" He asked.

Remiel smiled softly, unsure of how to answer.

"Don't know. I have no ideas." She said.

She stared at the wall, not her lover.

Her face was stoic despite the tone of her voice sounding loving and happy. She scratched the bed softly, her mind racing with her siblings and family.

The things she saw only a few days before. Her brothers causing a scene without her having any knowledge.

But then Remiel sat up, her stomach rumbling as she grit her teeth and hissed softly.

Her lover quickly turned and moved to rub her side.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked.

Remiel hissed more.

"Yeah...just some pain...should go away soon." Remiel replied.

Remiel got to her feet, almost immediately falling to the ground while her lover jumped from the bed. The blanket went flying and almost floated in the air before collapsing in on itself and falling to the floor in a tight heap.

Remiel was breathing hard and fast as she grabbed at her abdomen.

"We must...get to...my Father." Remiel grunted out.

"Where is he?" The man asked.

Remiel rose to her feet, taking his arm.

"The mountain. But we need to get my Brothers first." She said.

"Your Brothers?" He asked.

Raphael was lying in his own home he built. Much larger than any other in the city, almost looking like a temple more than a house. His eyes fluttered open slowly, his breath reeking of alcohol.

All around him were men and women sprawled across the floor, all of them naked and in all sorts of positions with their bodies.

Raphael slowly sat upwards, a statue head of his own likeness sitting on his crotch to block his member.

He looked down and stared into his own eyes, shrugging and rubbing the top of the fake head.

Raphael yawned, rising to his feet and walking over all of the bodies that were spent and sore.

The walls were all covered in hundreds of paintings. Statues of various figures that he had seen and carefully measured with his eyes. Everything was landscapes or people that he had seen. No interpretation or artistic liberty in any sense.