Sunday, June 5, 2011


    When Ivy had dreamed up the angels it was just a silly little game, a white lie and a little fun. But now that the angel sagged in
front of Ivy her mouth dropped. Blood had matted into the feathers of his wings and cuts where visible everywhere. On his shoulders his
 bare chest that hardly moved with his breath. A long cut covered hes cheek and roped up his face, along his eye. He was beautiful, yes,
but there were marks that laced over his chest, over his neck and down into the waistband of his designer jeans and tight, neat abs. He
reached for Ivy, his fingertips just lightly brushing her cheek, and then he fell to her feet gasping in such a horribly heart breaking way
that tears had gathered in Ivy's eyes. She dropped to her knees and laid his head into her lap, he watched her with his golden eyes and
held onto her hand so tightly that her hand began to burn.
    "Shh," she said smoothing dark hair from his face. Tears slipping down her cheeks and onto his face. "Your going to be OK,"
she promised, trying to sooth herself and her own fears. All the while he watched her and with one delicately tattooed hand he wiped one
tear away, and pressed it to his lips tasting her salt. And then he closed his eyes and sagged into her arms. She cried over his sleeping
face, until she fall asleep with her head on his chest.
    She stretched and her hand brushed against something soft and warm. She opened her eyes to see but it was pitch black and
her hand slowly twisted one soft feather around her finger. A rustle in the dark made her sit up and feel around her.
    "Angel?" a soft chuckle next to her ear made her turn her head to him.
    "Is that what you have chosen to call me?" his soft deep voice said. It made her blush and hide her face in her hands. Cool
fingers tilted Ivy's head up, her hair falling behind her into the unholy darkness. "My name is whatever you chose,"
    "Well, don't you have name?" She wondered pushing back her bangs, a nervous gesture that she had learned from her mother.
    "Yes, I do,"
    "Well what is it?" She said, shifting around in the bed, jumping a little at the feel of wings against her skin. He chuckled again
at her jumpiness.
    "My name is Lucifer," his voice hardened a little when he said his name, making her think that he hated his name. She dropped
her head. "I don't hate my name. It's just the history behind it, I get a bad reputation from it." Frowning she lifted her head, her lips
touching warm skin just for a moment.
    "Turn on the light, I can't see anything,"
    "I can see you," for some reason a blush crept back onto her cheeks
    "How does this work?"
    "Every person has an aura, your aura is bright. It's gold and solid, which means your a kind person and your calm," she blinked
and picked at her nail. "I know that your picking at your nail because your blushing and that when you blush you curl hair around your
finger." She reached for her hair but thought better of it and dropped her hand making Lucifer laugh.
    "Well you know all this about me, but I know nothing of you," she said straining her eyes to see. "I don't even know where we
are," a small shift on the bed and a click, the room was bathed in light. Ivy was in her own room, surrounded by the neat stack of books
and papers that cluttered the floor. Clothes strewn across the arms of her chairs, the curtians billowed out from the open window,
showing the night outside.
    "Home," he whispered softly.
    "Why are we here?!" she squealed fighting to keep her voice quiet. "What about my mother and father! And my sister?!" she
bounced off the bed and started pacing around the square room. "Oh my god, their going to be furious! No they'll be murderous! They'll
chop off my head and feed it to their co-workers! Better yet their going chop you up and feed you to me!" her hands were on her head
pulling little tiffs of black hair. Blue eyes bulging into a child-like size. Lucifer enjoyed watching her babble about different ways her
family members would kill her and him. His soft laughing made her turn to him angrily."What?! this is your fault you know!" she accused
pointing a pale, tiny finger at him. Her bangs had flopped into her eyes and her cheeks were flushed pink with rage.
    "I brought you here because you told me to," he said waiting for her reaction. Ivy put her finger down and messed with the
end of her baggy tee-shirt where she must have picked at a lot because the end was frayed. She twisted the thread around her pinky.
    "Oh," she whispered.

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