Short Stories!

With the Wings-Part 1

With the Wings
Sheyla bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. She watched as his ocean blue eyes studied the paper she had handed him, the gold emblem on the back reflecting onto the floor.
His eyes blinked in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing, creating wrinkles on his otherwise smooth face. Shaking his head, his eyes finally met hers.
"Even after what happened to her?" he growled.
"Even after," she said meekly.
He scowled in disgust, balling up the paper and throwing it over his shoulder, making a perfect swoosh without even trying. Blake was just good with sports like that.
"Plead your case," he said, pacing back and forth (his nervous habit). "After what happened to your mother, they should reconsider-"
"It's no use, Blake," Sheyla interrupted. "You know how the council is."
Blake mumbled some obscenities under his breath. Even angels that are gorgeous as Blake have flaws.
"Why so soon?"
Sheyla shrugged. "I haven't even been given the secret yet."
"This isn't right!" Blake said, his voice steadily rising. "Ancestral jobs shouldn't matter! Your dad isn't a Keeper, you shouldn't have to be!"
"But my mom was," Sheyla said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was very young when her mother was murdered, so she hadn't been close to her. It still hurt though. "So was my grandpa, and etcetera."
"And what happened to all those people?" Blake asked. Sheyla's eyes didn't meet his. "That's what I thought," he said softly. Then, ever so gently, he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing a small circle with his thumb as she quietly sobbed into his shirt. He immediately regretted bringing up her family history. While hers was littered with gaping holes of assassinated Keepers, his was whole, the last three generations consisting of living Guardians.
Both Blake and Sheyla had guessed for a while what their occupations would be. Blake's was clear, since his entire family was nothing but Guardians. But Sheyla's, well, it wasn't too bright. They'd both been hoping she would be a Guardian like her father, but when her twentieth birthday rolled around, they were disproven, by a piece of white paper with the gold emblem.
"Be safe over there," Blake mumbled into her hair. Sheyla sniffed, refusing to allow the waterworks to leak anymore. "I will try to come check on you when I can."
Letting go, she met his eyes, and nodded. Then, she turned to leave, not saying anything. Sometimes it was just easier that way.