Insert clever title here (Minibit)

She shrugged as he told her that his teaching skills would be limited. "Well, teach me how to go up, how to land, and how to steer. I'll figure the rest out on my own." She was carefully eating the grapes once more, wary of seeds and their less than pleasant taste. "After a couple lessons I'll head back to the house where I got these and look for the things to stitch up that knee and some clean clothes."

She eyed his knee and nodded. It wasn't bleeding as much anymore, which was good. "Would you like some water?" She asked him. She dipped her hands into the bucket and took a drink herself. "We don't have a cup, but at least it's something to drink."
 
"Water would be good" Dante replied, waiting for her to finish her drink before sliding the bucket to himself with his near hand, only to freeze halfway.

"House?" He asked with some concern "abandoned, yes?". He knew there had to be a dwelling of some sort near the barn, but if there was fresh food and clean water, it may not be as dilapidated as the building they were sitting in.

Cautiously twisting and finding it do-able, he cupped his hands to lift some water to his mouth. It tasted a bit dusty, but better than the grapes. It dripped down his chin, and he wiped it with his wet hand, which didn't fix the problem much. Well, he wasn't done anyway. Scooping another gulp, he swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, and then drew another handful to splash over his face. Refreshed, he wiped his hair back from his face and looked about with clearer eyes. Spying something poking out from a pile of rubbish that may have been hay a long time ago; a shovel, or pitchfork perhaps. Either way it seemed to have a shaft long enough to do for a walking stick.
 
She shrugged. "I don't think the house was abandoned, but I guess I'm just going to have to risk it to get the supplies we need." She pointed out. "We won't make it far covered in blood, and you're badly wounded." She got up and stretched. "If I help you get setting outside, will you yell instructions at me while I try to fly?" She was pretty excited; flight had always looked wonderful.
 
A cloud had been growing over Dante's expression as the points Mara made started to stack up. It was irritating enough that he had to rely on an angel without her also being right about things. The idea of yelling for a while seemed to perk him up, though, and he couldn't deny that getting the formerly nice rags off his back would be nice, although the blood from his more minor injuries was drying; removing the clothes might not be as pleasant as putting clean ones on.

"All right, fine. Grab me whatever that is there and I can walk with that I think" he said, gesturing toward the mysterious implement.
 
She walked over and pulled out the pitchfork, handing it to him. She couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Humans had always pictured demons as red with horns and cloven feet, wielding pitch forks. It made her laugh a bit that the pitch fork was the took he used now. She nudged the door ajar and held it open for him so he could get outside. When he was out she let it swing closed and stood next to him. She wasn't sure where to start, so she just waiting for him to tell her what to do.
 
Dante gripped the tool tightly. It took a few steps before he was used to substituting the pitchfork for his foot. He felt a tingling around the tourniquet as the wound lowered past his heart, but he felt if he didn't move it too much, it'd be less than terrible. Perk of being a supernatural being; he wasn't as easy to kill.

Outside, the wind that had carried them earlier was still going strong, blowing small clouds of dust across the plain surrounding the barn. Leaning against the side of the building, Dante flipped the pitchfork in his hand to wave at Mara with the point. "Well, you're not going anywhere without wings." He pointed out.
 
She sighed, glancing at her back. She had forgotten that they'd vanished already. "I don't know how to bring them back." She told him. It was true, they'd been in the middle of a heated argument last time, she wasn't sure what it would take to bring them out this time. She closed her eyes and tried to will them to appear, but after a moment or two she realized she was just making a fool of herself and opened her eyes again. "Until today I didn't even know I had wings, let alone how to make them appear."
 
"You don-" Dante cut himself off, pressing his free hand to his temples. This was really her first time getting her wings? He knew she seemed surprised back at the pub, but he'd figured it was because she'd released them unintentionally. He had no idea how an Angel summoned their wings; his experience with the subject was limited to hoping they didn't. He knew how to transform and bring his own out of course, but he'd never imagined teaching it. Demons were born in battle form; it was more work to learn to look human. Besides, would Angelic wings even work the same?

"Well, I could always try to take your soul" he half-joked. "That seemed to work earlier."
 
Mara felt the sting of anger at the reminder of their deal, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, cause I'm so happy right now I'm sure you fulfilled my heart wish. This is exactly what I wanted, to be on the run with a crippled demon." She tugged on a long strand of her hair as she thought. How to bring out her wings, she'd never thought she'd have to try. What was it her mother used to do? She'd just close her eyes and they'd appear. Maybe it was harder for a half-breed. That must be it, she was half breed, and that's why it was so difficult.
 
He decided to ignore her ill-tempered retort. It was just a soul - he'd never understand why other species got so uptight about them. In any case, it'd be easier to move if they could both go airborne; she didn't weigh that much, but it still slowed him down and hampered his already-limited altitude.

"Maybe it's an emergency measure." Dante mused. "I knew another half blood once, and the only time he ever transformed was in a dire pinch".

"Are there any other transformations you can control?" He asked, remembering her burning Radiance from earlier.
 
She sighed as she ran a hand through her long hair. "No." She replied. "I've always been much more human than angel." She slumped down against the wall, realizing that she may not get to fly after all. It was a depressing thought; flying was something she'd always wanted to do. Ever since she was a little girl watching the angels dance in the sky. She could still remember begging her mother to teach her.

A nearby angel, overhearing the young girl's question, laughed aloud. "You?!" He said incredulously. "A little half breed like you, flying? It will never happen. The dirty human blood in you...you'll always be earthbound." The young child burst into tears instantly, and the angel moved away as her mother pulled Mara into her loving arms.

"Don't you worry, my pet." She said. "A beautiful little creature like you, of course you have wings. Don't listen to the likes of him. You have your wings hidden away somewhere inside you, and you'll find them. When you're ready."

Mara shook the memories away and looked over at Dante. "Maybe I'm just not meant to be able to fly." She said with a sigh.
 
Dante observed the dejected halfbreed through the corner of his eye for a moment. Even if he was feeling generous - which he wasn't - he doubted he could be arsed to try and comfort her. "There's worse things" he noted, straightening from his former stance of leaning against the barn. "You mentioned a house - we should raid it before that mob goes back home - someone might live there yet." After all, he noted silently, the Borderlands were not exactly known for the high real estate value.

He hobbled forward a few steps before turning to face her, leaning on his makeshift cane. "Come on, maybe we can find another halfblood to teach you in a slightly less hostile territory" he offered, not really believing it himself. He'd seen only a handful of half-bloods in his time there, and he'd been around a while. There might be more in other areas not quite as near to the actual Border, but he found the idea dubious at best. Regardless, he was at the moment far more concerned with getting out of Dodge.
 
She nodded, pulling herself to a standing position and leading the way to the house. She had to go a little slower than usual to accommodate him, but she tried not to get annoyed. She offered him her shoulder to lean on several times, and they slowly made progress. It took awhile, but they eventually reached the grape vines. She gestured to the house. "There it is." She said quietly. "Are you ready?"

She made her way up to the door, which of course was locked. After a moment of contemplation she moved to a window. After struggling with it for awhile, she managed to shove it open and wiggle inside. There was silence, then she swung the door open and let Dante in. "Come on, we need to hurry." She said. She was getting spooked pretty quickly. "Let's get what we need and get out of here."
 
Dante hobbled along as best he could, attempting to remain dignified as he limped beside an angel-human half-breed on the run from a human mob through the refuse of the planet's former ocean. But at least his chin was up and his back and shoulders straight and he would have been dressed sharply if his shirt, jacket, and trousers were not damaged by the attack earlier.

He declined the offer to stop and rest - as much out of pride as haste - and waited impatiently as she wriggled in the window - although the view of that act was rather enjoyable, for the second-and-a-half it lasted. When the door swung open, he stepped past her, into the interior of the house. If you could call it a house. It was tiny, it looked like the sitting room they'd stepped into was the largest one, and it wasn't exactly a cathedral. Looking around, he saw two doors; one directly across from the door, and another immediately to his left. "Right." he said, heading towards the closer option. Luck. "Kitchens in here" he noted, stepping over to the nearest cupboard and pulling it open. Fresh bread and some unspoilt grapes; helpful, and he grabbed the bread, being rather suspicious of the fruit, but he couldn't help but think the property owner may return soon. the place was definitely inhabited.
 
She nodded, heading into the other room. "Looks like the bedroom." She told him. She tugged some clean clothes out of the closet and bundled them up. After some digging she also found some thread and a needles that she also added to her growing bundle. When she thought she'd found everything they'd need, including a sheet to tear into bandages, she joined him in the kitchen. "Put the bread in here." she said, holding out the open bundle. "It will be easier to carry."

She dug through another cabinet and found a metal cup that she also took. "I think that's everything." She said. "We should get out of here bef-" She was cut off by the sound of the door swinging open with a bang. She tensed. "You didn't....see a backdoor, did you?" She asked in a barley audible whisper.
 
Dante froze as the sound of the door hit them. He cursed, in his head. He hadn't even heard anyone approaching; although in a dustbowl like this, a person could walk pretty quietly without a lot of effort.

"No" he hissed back, scanning the room. No windows, but a rack of cutting knives. Hoping they were sharp, he grabbed the largest and one smaller one, as quietly as he could, and edged behind the door with all the stealth of a cripple. Even as they whispered, he could hear the sound of boots clomping across the floor toward what Mara had identified as the bedroom, where they stopped. Dante glanced at Mara and the bundle of fabric in her arms; assuming she'd been quick about it, there was no way the occupant wouldn't notice the mess.
 
Mara was frantically looking for a place to hide. Spotting what looked like a broom closet she hurried inside and pulled the door most of the way closed. Her heart hammered in her chest. An angry shout came from the bedroom, followed by the sound of running feet. The sound made her heart skip a beat and she dropped the bundle to pull her knife out of her boot. Watching through the crack in the door, she could see Dante. He was standing behind the door into the kitchen.

She thought about trying to signal him when she saw something that made her heart stop. A human slowly walking into the kitchen, a hatchet in his hands. His eyes traveled across the room with anger in his face. This was no human afraid that someone was in his house. This was a human hunting some trespassers. She tried to stay as quiet as possible, terrified that he would find her. Of course now, the worst possible time, was when her wings decided to appear.
 
Roden was still fuming as he stomped in his front door. Despite the walk from the village to his house, he couldn't stop seething over the fact that some half-witted guard had let an angel into the Borderlands. These were supposed to be human refuges; it was bad enough they'd let the demon in, but at least he seemed benign enough. There were even rumours he'd lost his powers somehow before today.

Still, sheltering Angels or Demons, however harmless they might seem, was always a mistake. They'd learned that today, maybe, learned it in the tears of demon claws and the cuts of Angel blades. It didn't matter if they were half blood or not - though the very notion that there could be half bloods turned his stomach - humankind was better without the lot of them.

So wrapped up was he in his hatred, that he almost missed the signs of invasion, until he looked to a set of hooks where a clean shirt he wanted to change into had been hanging, and saw that all of them were bare. It only took a second for the rest of the mess to register from there, and he stormed out of the room, grabbing his trusted hatchet from where it had sat near the door; a bit of regret that he didn't have it earlier pounded through him; it could have put a nice hole in that angel's face.

He entered the kitchen, looking about. The cupboards were open; someone had stolen food. Eyes narrowing, he stepped farther into the room; listening carefully.

A draft from behind him as the door swung shut turned him around almost in time to block Dante's stab toward his stomach. A combination of the demon's damaged balance, lack of energy, and Roden's hatchet kept the blade from cutting much more than his shirt, however, and Dante had to quickly dodge back - against the door - to avoid a return strike
 
Mara, shaking her hands in distress, slung the bundle over her shoulder and tied it there, drawing her blade. She took a deep breath then burst out of the closet, wings stretching to their full, astonishing span. She rushed the man, stabbing her blade towards him and forcing him away from Dante. She glanced at Dante as she took up a stance next to him. "What's the plan here, chief?" She asked him quietly. They were pretty much trapped here. She kept a wary eye on the furious man. He lunged towards her with the hatchet and she struggled to deflect it with her slim dagger. A thin cut on her arm was the worse she gotten, this time.

Her wings fluttered anxiously behind her and made a quiet whispering sound against the wooden walls. She watched the man step away again as he dodged another swing of her dagger. "We better think of something quick!"
 
"Let's just get out of here!" Dante bellowed, stumbling backward to avoid her outstretched wings. Their attacker - or victim? They were invading his home after all - seemed to be knocked back off balance, catching himself against the counter. Dante seized the opportunity to pull Mara back by the sack she had affixed to her shoulder, sidestepping to the doorframe. His weak leg surged pain as he accidentally banged it against the doorjamb, and he briefly reconsidered his plan to "just get out". Odds were if they wanted to make an escape they'd need to incapacitate their opponent, or at the very least make sure he couldn't give chase.

Fortunately, Dante still had a height advantage over the angel, and his impromptu weapons in hand. Reaching upward, he took quick aim as the human was on his feet again, and tossed the knife like a dart. It's weight, however, was mostly in the handle as it was a cooking implement and not a crafted weapon, it fell short of the mark, hitting the foot of his foe near the toe mostly by coincidence of him stepping forward at that moment
 
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