Behind These Wings

Matches

She couldn't talk.

She could barely move, just the robotic control of her hand clasping onto the fork as she stirred the contents of her plate around. Occasionally she would catch one of the Saints' watchful eyes and be forced to put something into her mouth but more often than not she found herself just placing an empty fork between her teeth.

She had tried distracting herself, looking at the ornate sky blue ceiling or the marble pillars that stood in the four corners of the room encrusted with delicate gold filigree, even observing the flecks in the oak circular table at which they all sat. However, each of these distractions proved futile to Izzy. In the end there was only one thing her mind could fix upon in this room.

Food.

Izzy could feel Drew's reassuring hand resting on her knee and she could tell that he was anxious too due to the tapping of his fingers against her bone but his anxiety was of no comparison to her own.

What if they found out that she was a failure?

Would they strip Andrew of his title?

Would they take her away from him?

Luckily Bernard had been persuaded to take the bandages off of Izzy's wings and so they were safely withdraw into her back. Now, the largest indicator that something was amiss within the Palace was her eating habits but as much as she tried she couldn't bring herself to swallow a mouthful of what she was sure was delicious food.

Drew should be ashamed of her.

Not even strong enough to put on a good show for the important people.

The Institute had taught her how to handle dinner parties; there had been numerous lessons on how to sit and how to handle the cutlery along with the appropriate course of conversation and how to tackle the situation if tensions rose between guests. But not one of these lessons could have prepared her for this occasion. She had been taught to restrict her meals, yes, she had been told the appropriate amount to eat but never had they suggested what to do if you were unintentionally offending your hosts by not eating their food entirely because your psychotic husband's father had mentally screwed you over.

They hadn't seemed to think that that was an applicable subject to cover.

"And the town? I gather that the worst has now been cleared and the rebuild is beginning? Just how large an area did the rebels affect?" James asked.

There were nine Saints at today's Gathering, not a brilliant turn out but that was to be expected owing to the disruption on Earth that was currently consuming some of their number. The remaining nine sat in their high backed chairs all merrily digging into their second course of the evening. The meeting had been running for over an hour already and so conversation was in full flow as the assembly addressed the pressing issues of Heaven and Earth, discussing ideas and possible solutions in the warm room.

Izzy thought that the whole idea was rather bizarre if she was being honest, why design a meeting in which people were expected to discuss only to ask them to eat at the same time. What was wrong with a nice normal meeting, boardroom type set up with a simple supply of water only?

Men; ruled by their stomachs.

"Yes, the wreckage is cleared now, that was completed last week and the rebuild of Falamount and Wethigh has just begun. These were the two worst areas so we are focusing our attention here first and then we will turn to the smaller towns. In total six towns were targeted and we believe the figure of those affected to be within the thousands although it is very difficult to gage this with people coming and going as they get in contact with relatives and find new accommodation. Currently the Palace is housing over five hundred, Isabelle and her team are doing a wonderful job and making sure that everyone is attended to but I am sure you understand that the angels are not altogether overjoyed about the arrangement." Drew replied as he polished of the remained of his mushroom soup.