"Fallen Radio" (Azrael x Alastor) HH!

✧. ┊    Chapter 4 - | All woven up |

out....

 

in.... 

out....

 in....

 out....

 in....

I counted every time the needle went into my flesh and came back out, golden droplets of blood sliding down my back as Alastor dabbed them away with a soft cloth. I winced in pain as the needle punctured my skin and as the thread wove my skin tightly together, my hands clenching onto the crimson red silk pillows, my face hidden so he couldn't see my true expression. My voice creaked out-

"Gosh.. co... could you be a tad bit gentler..?"

I could hear him scoff out a chuckle, his claw-like fingertips gently running over the stiches that were scattered across my back and spine. His scent was musky, but vile- I could tell he hadn't had a shower in eons.

"Unless you want your stitches to come undone, then I suggest you stop whining"

I let out a huff of annoyance, clearly finding his attitude towards me distasteful. My wings fluttered and flexed as my shoulder blade twitched from the pain, my usual light grey wings had become an ugly, darkened grey- that served as a reminder of my sins. I grumbled and shoved my head back into the pillows.

"... why.. are you helping me..? Don't you sinners hate us angels?"

I didn't hear an answer from the strange fellow, I was about to drop the question, expecting that he couldn't be bothered answering my question, but then I heard him talk.

"We do hate you angels, some... more than others."

I felt him tighten his hold on the needle and thread, as if he were 'sending the message home', I winced in pain- frowning up at him.

"... Miss Morningstar requested that I stitched you back up, if it were up to me, I would have left you out in the alleyway for the other sinners to feast off."




I raised a brow, clearly not believing a single word that came out his mouth. I lifted my head up and looked over at him, his features, his large- protruding smile, his blood red hair and black ends, his antlers and deer qualities.

"out of all animals, why a deer?"

I queried, I heard an amused scoff escape his lips, he gently plucked a feather from my wings, inspecting it as if it were some specimen, as if it were something that would, or should belong in a museum display case.

"out of all animals, why a crow?"