Cherub.

4

Cael sat hunched over with an ache that seemed to weigh him down with every second spent on Earth—he knew his time was running out but he had to hang on. He had to hang on for Angelo, his dear brother. He fought through the sore back, thumping head and clumsy walking. "Time is scarce." He said hoarsely. The seraph was suffering.

"Then leave." His cherub sibling said, standing behind his brother, watching as his legs dangled over the edge of the building he stood on. He watched as the rigid celestial chuckled, his shoulders moving up and down with each stomach rumbling sound he made.

"You enjoy punishing others, Angelo, don't you?" He wheezed, pain surging through him. He hadn't a clue on how to take care of his vessel—ignorant to the fact that he needed to eat, sleep and hydrate—his mortal body was suffering due to his unknowing. Cherubs had always been the wise ones. "Just come with me."

"What's your cause, Cael?" Angelo shouted in annoyance. "To wreak havoc on my freedom?" He frowned at the barefoot seraph before him. Cael scoffed, throwing his weak hand up at his sibling.

"Freedom?" He spat, sounding as if the words tasted disgusting coming from his own mouth. "My cause is righteous!" Angelo sucked his teeth, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the back of his brother—seeing the indentions from his many hidden wings.

"Your cause is just to serve Father." This had angered Cael—he moved at the speed of light, grabbing the throat of his younger brother. He knew he could crush the windpipe of the vessel his sibling housed and easily send him back home where he belonged but he didn't—although a seraph and assigned to adorn God directly as well as obey every command he was given, he refused to act violently against Angelo. He loved him dearly and he knew he'd never be forgiven for such an act.

"Angels do not serve anyone!" He reminded, suddenly feeling a surge of power as he gripped Angelo's neck—his scratching at the man's arm nothing but a nuisance. "We are warriors, not servants." He spat coldly, dropping the cherub on his behind. "And you remember that." Angelo stared at the eyes of Cael—they were once gold but now they were a dark brown, almost black if they were any darker.

"Give up," Angelo cried, pulling his knees to his chest in a tiresome manner. "I will leave Earth on my own terms—not on His. So go home, brother."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Then perish on Earth alone!" He blurted, emotion overwhelming him. He hadn't meant to say that. Bad vessel! He stood up, watching the look of sadness waver over Cael. "I didn't mean t–"

"Earth really has taken its toll," Cael expressed, mouth slightly ajar as he stood in shock. His fidgeting  made him feel the gravel beneath his aching, bare feet. "Or perhaps it's that demon you run around with." Disgust was evident in Cael's tone, causing anger to surge through Angelo.

"Kahlo is as pure as any Throne," Angelo compared, causing his brother to laugh sarcastically at the absurd comparison. But in Angelo's mind, Thrones represented the steadfastness of the love of God—Kahlo not much different. He was a young, curious demon who was filled with love and as much empathy as any other angelic being—Kahlo was lost in a world of choices already made for him, much like Angelo. And Angelo wouldn't dare stand for slander towards his dear friend. "Eat and rest, brother." Angelo said somberly as he exited the roof, sighing before he began his long journey down the flights of stairs.

Getting used to not using his wings was something he began to hate.