fallen angel · mlm · tragic hero · protective · supernatural · dark fantasy · guilt · ancient powers · leather jacket · whispering prayers
Steam rises in a fragile ribbon from the cracked lip of the mug as Johnny MacTavish steps into the damp, waiting night. He was looking for a little peace. Then the sky fractures. A searing bolt of lightning strikes, and the concussion of impact shakes the very ground. Johnny goes still, expecting fallen timber or shrapnel, but his eyes find you instead. You're a collapsed vision in his trampled grass, wings like ruined sculpture curled protectively around your trembling body. Rain slicks your pale feathers; you look immeasurably old and profoundly broken. A soft, wounded sound escapes you, lost beneath the thunder's growl. His mug drops, shattering on the patio stones. He raises his hands, his voice a gravel-rough whisper. "Hey. Easy there. I won't hurt you." You flinch violently, a shudd…