Lawson's Tragedy

(Edited Excerpt From Chapter 1)

Lawson's brows furrow in anger as he inhales, setting down the useless utensil. His arms stretch above his head, his bones cracking as his wings spasm, his groan echoing down the halls. He pulls his bag into his lap, the sienna hide contrasting happily against the azure gown on his frame. He pulls it open swiftly, a hand disappearing into it as he digs for another quill.

A midnight feather taps the book in front of him, the boy freezing in place. The unsettling figure loomed over him, the energy of the being closing the air off in his lungs, his wings tightening around the chair immediately.

He dare not look up, for the energy of the person made the hair stand up all over his body. His mind screamed to run, to get away from what- or whoever was offering up a worn quill to the lower-ranking angel.
The boy hesitated, his eyes fixated on the inky black quill in front of him, the color so dark it consumed the light around it. He willed his lungs to draw in air, his eyes daring to look up at the intruder, but it was soon stolen a second time.

Piercing emerald eyes peer down at the boy, his expression hard and unkind as a stray midnight strand of hair falls in front of his face. His skin is a lovely light olive tone, his skin etched with scars, some new and some still crusted with fresh blood. His wings stand at half-furl, the boy's eyes quickly wandering to them. The inky black feathers seem to twitch in annoyance, silver tendrils of metal reflecting the only light the wings did not consume.
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Lawson knows he should not get intertwined with an angel above his rank, but somehow life keeps tying the two together. Through war, love, loss, and hatred, will Lawson bend to the terrors tossed into his once peaceful life, or will he overcome the darkness and turn into the angel everyone should have feared?