When Stars Collide || On Hold

2.

ICE COURSED THROUGH her veins, her feet seemed planted to the ground, like roots were keeping her in place. Every head turned to look at her simultaneously, puzzled looks on each and every one of them. In the ten years that she had been at GTS, she had never once been called down to the headmaster's office. She was by all accounts a good angel and an even better student, she had the makings of a perfect Guardian. So why couldn't she get rid of the pit in the bottom of her stomach?

It seemed like several minutes had passed, as if time actually slowed down, when in reality only a few seconds had passed before she started walking toward the office. She kept her shoulders back, her chin up and her face blank as she made her way through the staring crowd. She was frantically racing through her mind trying to figure out what she had done that warranted being called down to the headmaster's office. On the outside, however, she was calm and confident as ever.

The secretary stood wearing all white; white heels, a white pencil skirt, a white sheer and flowing button down overtop of a white tank top. Even her perfect acrylic manicure was white. Her wings were just as blindingly white as the rest of the ensamble, Thistle nearly squinted looking at her. She flashed a white smile and Thistle couldn't help her inward groan, Ms. Lupu was exact how Humans had depicted the angels. At least she got rid of all the chrome, she thought, taking in the white-everything office.

"Headmaster Goldiva is waiting for you," she said, all too politely.

"I don't suppose you can tell me what's going on?" Thistle asked, already knowing the answer that lied within her stern gaze. "Right," she sighed, slowly walking through the white oak door.

The office was primarily white, but with black and grey accents placed throughout. The desk was made out of the same white oak as the door, centered in the spacious room. A pair of light gray tweed chairs sat in front of the desk, all three pieces of furniture sat atop a charcoal gray rug that muffled the click of Ms. Lupu's heels as she set a handful of manila folders on the desk. Goldiva stood with his back to the room in front of the large round-top window on the center of the back wall, hands clasped behind his back.

Goldiva was still rather young, only in his late thirties in their form of years. In Human years he'd be closer to about eight hundred and thirty-three years. Roughly, twenty-seven of the Human's years was the equivalent to a single celestial year, the celestial beings–Angels, Demonium–had lifespans of around twenty-five hundred Human years–roughly ninety celestial years. Goldiva had light brown hair, stripes of sandy blonde placed throughout. His eyes were the color of honey, slightly darkening around the edges. His face sported a strong jaw, covered in a slightly darker shade of facial hair than his roots that he kept neatly trimmed. He always wore tailored suits, slim, nearly skinny black slacks, a different colored button down every day and a black blazer that hung on the back of his office chair.

"Please, have a seat, Miss Croner," he said, his back still to her. She nodded silently and stepped toward the tweed chairs, finally noticing that only one of them was empty. Her eyes lingered on his perfectly normal brown, curly hair, just as they always did, before moving down to his light brown face and meeting his sapphire eyes. They stared at each other for a half second before she tore her gaze away, gently sitting down in the chair parallel to the one he sat in.

She wanted to lean over and ask if he knew what this was about, giving him a sidelong glance as she prepared to use her lowest whisper. When she looked at his face, though, she realised his usually comfortable features were just as tense as her body felt. He didn't know anything.

She looked forward again, trying not to play with the silver ring on her middle finger as she typically did when she was nervous. She was desperately trying to keep calm, but the back of her mind kept bringing up every slightly rude thing she had ever said, or every wrong move she had ever made. Stop it, she told herself, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.