Elvirund | ✔️

Chapter Six

I woke up with sore ribs and a pounding headache. My throat was very dry and a cough threatened to rise up from my lungs.

"Here."

A glass of water was thrust before my face and I looked up at Chip. It took me a moment to process exactly what he meant, and another to remember how to use my body.

"Well, I mean if you don't want it I can–"

I cut him off by taking the glass. He didn't need to see me hacking my lungs out.

"Don't choke."

"I can't choke on holy water."

"You have to admit that was terrible."

I nodded with a dry laugh.

"Clearly I am the master of awful humor."

"True. Anyway, we have really nothing to do today since its our day off."

"Day off? Oh right, it's Sunday."

I sighed heavily and regretted it within seconds. Even Chip cringed slightly when my hand flew to my side. Despite an entire night of motionless slumber my body hadn't been able to heal it entirely. Earth was slowing down my angelic qualities, at least when it came to the abilities that I'd had. Just two decades was enough to make an angel feel human, then. So how in the world had Raphael survived for so long here? Maybe I wasn't cut out to survive. Maybe I was meant to die on Earth, nameless and faceless to the angels.

"Don't strain yourself too much today."

I rolled my eyes. If anything Chip would be the one straining himself.

"Doctors orders, I suppose."

Chip, to his credit, smiled sarcastically and gave me a pity laugh.

"That wasn't much better than the last one."

"Sorry." I grinned.

"I'll be on the back patio if you need me."

He closed my door and I unfurled my wings. The light dusting of gray at the feathers closest to my shoulders wasn't much larger, to my relief. With enough time on Earth, they would turn completely black and I would never be able to return home to Elvirund. The thought returned to me that there had only been one single recorded case in angelic history of a Brimmed Angel returning to Elvirund, and that had been Raphael himself, High Angel and the head of all of the other angels. I would be lucky to return home with half white wings, at this rate.

Even criminals were Restored if they survived their sentences. Was I really worse than a criminal if I had been acting for the good of the human race? That was the job of the angels, to protect the humans. Wasn't I doing my job then?

Was I less than a common criminal?

I slipped into a light jacket to cover any signs of my angelic body and met Chip out on the back patio. The sun was out, and he had pulled out the canopy for comfort. Wind blew through the parched yellow grass, scattering dry leaves and pine needles around the lawn. Earth recovered quickly, I was discovering, and the humans weren't terribly far behind.

"Hey." Chip turned a page.

"What book?" I raised an eyebrow.

"The Great Gatsby. Old book, eccentric language and slightly hard to understand but a good book regardless."

"That was one of the first human books I ever read. An interesting experience, but worth the read."

"It requires a certain taste, I will admit."