[Metal Tsubasa]: 95.The Angels of Sol Haven.Irafel.Secrets of an Angel

Blood splattered the stone covered path as the body struck against it like a rag doll tossed aside in neglect. Bones could be heard breaking from the impact, but the figure standing, watching the destruction of this being did nothing in response. He stood staring, cold and emotionless, his almost white blond hair, now stained with blood, blowing over his stern features.
He hadn’t really expected the creature to stand up after such a vicious attack; after all, he had hoped to break his opponent’s legs in such an aggressive throw. That would make things much easier, then he could get his kill and return to where he belonged. Even so, demons are stubborn creatures, and this demon was no exception. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, his breathing heavy and all his weight placed on his right leg, which had been spared while the other leg was completely distorted, with the ankle twisted backwards and the knee pointing inward.
The demon collected all the blood in his mouth and spat it at his attacker, spattering pristine white robes with its dark crimson color. The figure was less than pleased. “I had not planned on washing these,” the figure said plainly as he moved closer to the demon. “It would be best if you simply died, then I could return home and sleep, I am rather tiered.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead!” the demon shouted as he began to give up his human form for a figure shaped by moving water.
The water rushed all about him, into his nose and mouth, all in the demon’s attempt to drown him. Irafel continued to stare forward; he would not be killed by such a panicked attack. As the water continued to pound on him from all sides he finally decided to close his eyes.
The water stopped. Wind blew. And Irafel opened his eyes again. There was no more blood to be seen anywhere, nor was Irafel wet in the least; from the inside of his robes to the thinnest strand of his hair was dry. The demon lay sprawled across the stone path, trying his best not to cause himself any more pain. Irafel’s wind had struck him so hard that his back had shattered against the stones.
Irafel leaned over the demon, his expression as if it were carved from stone. “It does not seem quite fair that you get to sleep before I do,” Irafel stated, “but I suppose that is how it must be.”
It was a quick attack, but it would certainly not be a swift death. The demon lay bleeding all across the stones, as the blood spilled from his neck. Blood went everywhere and Irafel was no longer clean. Dark, almost black blood covered his face and chest, and even dripped from parts of his hair. Now he would certainly have to wash, unless he wanted to smell of demon blood, which was never appealing, especially for such an auspicious angel.
He turned towards a small pond, which was a few steps from the stone path, and looked into his own reflection. He found it rather hard to believe that he was seeing himself, blood spattered over his seemingly emotionless face. Even as the demon continued to suffer a slow and painful death, Irafel knelt down next to the dark blue water and inspected his bloody face and hair. With hair as fair as his, it would certainly stain and he wasn’t one who enjoyed the color red. He sneered in disgust at the dark water as he began to pull his hair back. Soreth wouldn’t notice it then, at least it would be inconspicuous enough for him to get to Roeshea, who would most certainly clean out the blood, just to make sure no one knew of the angel’s actions. Now all he had to worry about was getting away from the dying demon and that was hardly a task at all, because it is known that angels aren’t truly flesh and bone, like humans and demons.
Angels are images created by their mother elements that supposedly mimic the soul they were created from. This is why there was no problem with getting somewhere fast; after all, Irafel was a wind element and blew about where he pleased.
From the tips of his fingers to the ends of his hair, it looked as though Irafel was unraveling. At one moment he had hands and the next he didn’t even have arms; a spirit, drifting without notice. He moved towards the demon, just to see if he had died yet, but he would be dying there for a while now. So Irafel left him there to die, he didn’t have time to deal with scum like that, not if he wasn’t told to. He moved farther away, as far as he could, knowing Soreth would question about it.
Vorseth was a beautiful place, even with all its towering stone castles and elaborate palaces, but nothing in comparison to the unspoiled paradise that made up Sol Haven. The beauty of Vorseth was spoiled by the demons and dark creatures of the like. They were the reason Irafel would come to Vorseth and they all so had much to do with his visits to Heaven.
The cool breeze that was Irafel suddenly stopped and began to form a figure. Wisps of color took the form of bone, then muscle, then flesh, then hair and clothing as Irafel touched the ground. Lazily Irafel sighed as he brushed a few strands of hair from his face, looking as though a rush through the air of Vorseth had tired him.
“How can you always look so amazing?” a voice questioned from Irafel’s right, a voice that belong to Soreth.
Without even waiting for an explanation, one could easily tell that Soreth was a fire element. His clothes were thick and dark, to make sure they wouldn’t burn, and his hair, which was pulled back and tied into a short tail, was a sort of orange-red that seemed to be fire itself. Ironically enough, he and Irafel were the best of friends, one being the darkness and the other being the light.
The smile that came over Irafel’s face was the best he could muster and the only one he would show someone he trusted. Smiles always seemed fake when coming from Irafel, a natural born killer, but Soreth took it as a compliment nonetheless.
“Soreth,” Irafel said calmly as he turned to his friend who had just walked out from behind a tree, “you are early.”
Two angels stood just off the path and both smiled as if a brotherly scrap was about to take place. Soreth cocked his head to the side, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Roeshea said that since I was coming to get you anyway that I should okay the completion of your mission.”
“He could have told me directly.”
There was silence and Soreth hesitated to speak. The silence had become a force of habit over the years. Before, it had been the time when Soreth would question about the mission, prodding the by-the-book air angel, and then Irafel would return with, “You know I cannot tell you.” After a while, though Soreth was incredibly stubborn, he gave up asking, which caused this silence.
“Well,” Soreth said, shaking his shoulders as if he was shaking off the silence, “let’s go for that walk you promised me.”
Irafel smiled as he motioned back towards the path. “Yes, of course.”
The path was long and winding, but neither Soreth nor Irafel bothered with the direction they were heading in. They had few chances of actually conversing like this and they cared little for anything other than the conversation and the company.
“Roeshea’s been in a bad mood lately,” said Soreth, his arms crossed behind his head, while his companion’s were placed neatly together against his white and blue robes. “I keep asking him what the deal is, but he just gets mad and yells at me for asking.”
With a slight nod Irafel replied, “His,” he paused, returning to Soreth’s words, “‘deal’ is simple, Soreth, he has to tend to all the comings and goings of the Sol’s. Of course you, Alevex and I all take care of the other angels, but he has so much more than our menial tasks, I can understand his frustration.”
“Menial, you mean like ‘basic’? I wouldn’t say our jobs were basic.”
“Does your incomplete vocabulary disrupt your ability to comprehend a simple statement?”
“Going with the big words to try and confuse me, huh? No, I don’t have a problem listening because of your big words, I just wanted to,” Soreth then paused, putting an index finger up on each side of his face and shaping quotation marks with them, “cl-ar-i-fy.”
“That is clar-i-fy, Soreth.”
“Damn you and your vocabulary!”
“I do believe-.”
“Don’t say it!”
So went the conversations between Irafel and Soreth, but neither ever got mad at the other, not truly mad. Though they were both the same class of angel, it was obvious that Irafel had learned a great deal more from his mentor than Soreth had.
As with the story of Earth’s ‘God’ and his angels, that had always been and always would be, Soreth, Irafel and Alevex had been with Roeshea since the beginning. They had grown and developed just as all the others after them, but they were the only ones to witness the passing of their mentors; the only three angels to ever actually die in Sol Haven. Nonetheless, they were forgotten, even by the only angels they ever taught. It was how Roeshea had wanted it and whatever Roeshea wanted, he received.