he stumbled into faith and thought && open, injured joiner

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    phanuel was beautiful as he fell.



    ivory fur whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his paws reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain figure that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. as a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards causing momentarily the of cease breathing; but phanuel knew he deserved it. and after what seemed like that of an eternity of soaring through an ebony enveloped night sky as silent stars looked down upon him in judgment, he finally hit. a sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with tattered wings feel like a prick from a thorn. phanuel did not yell, but rather squirmed in the agony as he felt his body scream in protest.


    he was trembling, trembling with such fersciousty as tears formed within eyes bluer than mortally possible that appeared like stardust lining his gaze. lord, what had he done? what had he done? it was as if his body was dying all around him, immortality drained away in place of fierce crimson staining lovely pelt of once purist white. everything bore into his tarnished heart with such ferocity, burned within his soul like the hellish flames of brimstone in which he'd once bravely fought with halo forged from gold and sword of heaven rusted. and for all that was good and kind, he simply could not cease crying. how pathetic.


    lost.


    lost, lost, lost. in every movement, in every thought, in every breath; he was utmost and uncertain for now he held no purpose. without his lord, without his creator, without his truth, without his wings- his wings. phanuel choked against his own breath, as he slowly craned graceful neck to finally dare to peer at his crimson stained back. they were gone, tattered, horrendous appearing stubs of torn flesh and tattered feather where grave beauty once bestowed. he wasn't perfect anymore. the fact caused great nausea, a feeling which he'd never experienced, to befall the once angel alongside rivers of sorrow continued flowing down perfect cheeks. what a fool he was, what a fool. why did he weep? phanuel knew it was his fault, knew he deserved it. but understanding something did not cause it to hurt any less.


    phanuel mustered strength to move forward, each step graceless and uncertain and stunning gaze wide with utmost fear with uneven breath. he'd so caught up within his thoughts he'd been that it was solely now he managed to take note of his surroundings- it was all so, empty. gray seemed to be main color scheme alongside the scent of thinning bone and rotting flesh; the perfume of a dance with death. it was entirely overwheelming, phanuel found himself on the brink of unconsciousness due to the disgusting, repent-able scent; as if he'd never struck down wide-eyed children in the name of virtue and the promise of a savior.


    he was deep within this place, of no concept of borders standing within the middle of some form of camp under the guise of night frightened and utterly alone. the creature forged from the gates of ivory promises and a blue which rivaled mortal skys came forth with agony in each paw step, and amongst his overwheelmed, dismay something caught his etheral eye. a corspe. phanuel was cautious at first, gaze lined in broken trust and unsurity, but as he came closer a frown polluted haunting features. the being seemed to have been tortured, body carved with marks of cruelty and dying with eyes wide open. perhaps it had been deserved, perhaps it had not; but either way phanuel's gaze softened as he managed to do what he was forged from heaven's clouds to be. he dipped his graceful head, pale eyelashes brushing against ivory fur as he closed stunning eyes in respect. and thus beneath the gentle moonlight a creature stained crimson prayed over a corpse to a savior that had damned him. (tl;dr, keep scrolling)


    (tl;dr basically phanuel was an angel who had his wings ripped off and was cast out to earth, after freaking out for a good while he came across a npc corpse in the middle of the exiles' camp in the middle of the night and began to pray for it. also, i apologize for the bad ending rip )


    「❤」

    Marisol had no religious god. Sure she was considered a demi-god(dess?) but that just came with fancy new blood as far as she knew. Gods found their way to earth as did angels and demons. The extraordinary were ordinary here, and she was almost an outcast. Mari was normal, just a simple beauceron dog with near no sense of self worth or confidence. She envied the extraordinary, the confident. It was why she'd come here to Shadowclan, to be mentored by one of the most confident extraordinary people the world knew.


    So when she saw someone literally fall from heaven (pain and all), it was no surprise to her. The only thing that concerned her were the ripped out wings from his back, the wounds an angry pained red. "Sir? Sir I don't think this is the time to be paying respects to a dead enemy, your back its.."


    TAGS — "SPEECH." — PLOT

    luca had abandoned his god long ago, just as his god had abandoned him. the religious pendant that struck his chest as he walked was an insult- a mockery of a display of faith. he was toying with it at the time of the fall, a habit he had picked up long ago. his paws got destructive when there was nothing for them to do. he looked up when something struck the ground, loud and sickening and visceral. something holy, or perhaps something that was once holy. how could he ignore it? he followed behind marisol, eyes flickering with the lustful flames he'd been forged in.


    when he came upon the fallen angel he couldn't help but stare at his pretty and broken body. he always felt so disgusting around angels. how was he supposed to deal with two holy creatures in one place? the thrum of his heart against his rib cage told him that he couldn't. his initial response to all angels was to try and drag them down; to corrupt them and pluck them from the sky. but there was no need for this one, right? the absence of wings on his back was as glaringly obvious as the limbs would have been if they remained there. his dragged his own wings closer to his sides, immediately feeling as if he'd stolen them from the creature himself.


    beautiful, pathetic angel. luca wondered what he had done to get himself expelled. it probably wasn't anything worse that what majority of mortals had done, most heavens were cruel like that. luca dragged his tongue over his teeth as he tried to think of something to say. could phanuel feel the subjective evil that clung to his bones? the kitsune decided to ignore their obvious differences for the time being, batting long lashes and sitting down. "do you need medical attention?" he asked after marisol spoke, his soft voice hanging in the air.

    Rinto, like Marisol and Luca before him, truly had nobody he could call 'God' or even something to worship. Had he ever? Racking his mind back to his first living moments... he had just always flocked to the leader, idolizing them. That was just the order of his world; he was just always destined to be a follower. He of course had been a deputy once, under Radio, but it wasn't like he was good at that job, and he even left them after being manipulated like a child.


    The closest thing Rinto had to a god was unsurprisingly, Luca. He was like the kitsune's little cult, lust and desire hidden behind narrowed pink eyes as he approached behind his idol. If Luca had a fanclub, Rinto would be the proud leader.


    Looking upon the sad, crumpled form of the angel, Rinto's eyes widened, for he had never seen an angel. The closest thing was Milkyway, the father of his ex, who tortured him mentally, but he had never connected the sadistic doctor to angels. He knew they were generally holy, good people, and thus he wasn't alarmed, but hung close to Luca just in case.


    Then he realized he was the medical attention, and approached him. "Hey- I'm Rinto. I know some herbs and stuff. Need help?" He said, noting the crimson color and the rather disgusting scent of injury. "You don't look so, uh, great."

    is fact, however, did not discourage phanuel. the injured once-angel simply finished his silent prayer with haste, gently muttering a soft amen. phanuel then allowed hues of such a blue that the no mortal sky could dare rival, gazing to this newcomer with an expression of questioning ever so slightly lingered with anger. had she not taken note of his actions? mortals truly had strewn far from the path of righteousness. then he recalled the agony which came from tattered wings as crimsons stained pelt of an utmost pure porcelain. but then, he looked to her further. there was a form of celestial nature clinging to her bones in which he simply couldn't place. "It's the perfect time," phanuel responded in a matter of fact tone, "This creature needs prayers far more than I." once angel or not, some habits did not die with ease. they weren't the sole ones to stray from the path. none the less, he'd be swift to attempt to jump back on it. it was due to this realization, however, a more sorrowful expression overtook haunting features and phanuel gave no words of cruelty to the girl which approached him and regretted those he spoke; a fact which was read upon his perfect face. but then he became complacent, sorrowful gaze of a blue to put pleasant mortal skys to shame hallowed and dizzy as he observed the world about him. "Excuse my ignorance," he began, offering a horrednously fake form of smile, "But...where am I?" then, something different caught the once angel's attention.


    evil.


    the creature appeared beautiful, with exhaustion seemingly threatening to consume him from perhaps some recent traumas. one would assume a gentle being such as phanuel could comphrened this, especially given his own circumstance, but old habits reined supreme. the world, in the former angel's eyes, what that of strict back and white and this being was an oncoming threat. phanuel looked to merlot with a frown, grand judgement flickering through lovely eyes. he did not like that one. not in the least and the fact could be seen easily upon his face. "No," phanuel responded to luca, firm and cruel with a cold gaze which could make even the chilliest of winters feel warm. but the next to come forward, who appeared close to the demon, did manage to allow phanuel another sorrowful smile of the broken variety. "Thank you, but I deserve what's happened to me," he was utterly regretful, pained, "So I'd rather eave it to fester." he needed to focus on the pain which he so deserved, to let it consume him, to prove to his god he knew he was undeserving of heaven. the words falling from a tone like a lullaby were destructive and strange to the normal being, but that's all the angel now knew.



    ★ ★ ★ it seemed that the porcelain creature was late upon the scene. it had not been long before she had taken home here, now turning her attention to familiarizing herself with the expansive forest. not to mention chatting the the many members a long the way. though the imagery that the holy figure had stumbled upon was not pleasant, seeing a body lay unnaturally upon the ground. it felt as if another was twisting and pulling her heart as rus had moved forward to get a better view. what had once remained of great and powerful wings had faltered into tattered feathery stubs. even if her wings did not work, clipped so carefully and purposefully for any flight feather to resume its position, at least she had them. of course, the goddess never had shone sadness upon her wings. it would be a waste to do so. "you've landed in shadowclan, dear stranger." his dialect was admirable, the pale vulpes noted, slipping through the small crowd to be seen better. the angelic being was careful to not accidentally touch another as she had done so, not wanting to bother or hurt them. "may i ask your name?" softly, the being had cooed, desperately wanting to lean in and asses the damage. to her, it was like a golden glow had surrounded the ethereal creature, showing off the angelic status held and purity. golden eyes had sparkled at the prospect of learning more about this stranger. russet had no recollection of her past, no memory tied in. perhaps…perhaps the winged beast could be of help? the fox could easily spot some similarities, so what would the damage be to learn?


    "speech."

    tags-

    SHE WORE WILD FLOWERS IN HER HAIR