Linen

[Second Best]

(( Glad to have you, @Qimbra =) Maybe we could go defeat a demon altogether? ^.^ Your characters are very interesting, by the way.))

As Macbeth sat down, Apollo smiled wider and took another drink of the liquid. Digging in to the meal, he grabbed himself some garden salad, drizzling plenty of ranch on it, as well a couple slices of ham along with buttery mashed potatoes. As he was about to begin eating, however, he noticed that Macbeth had been silent the whole time, seeming tense. He didn't ask, though, and allowed Macbeth to stew in his thoughts. When he was finished with the food, he sighed contentedly and watched the conversing angels.

Soon after, the Head Angel had stood up and clanged his glass, catching everyone's ears and attention. Seeing his arms outstretched, they too extended their own glasses, but Apollo glanced at Macbeth with a curious glance. Looking back to the H.A. as he begun to speak, he smiled at the first part, but the smile fell when he hesitated, and added an unneeded comment. Blushing slightly, he muttered a thank you, and looked at Macbeth, who was currently studying his food very intently. Apollo heard the chatter around them revert to the mocking of Macbeth, and he stood up to get away from the table before he broke a heavy goblet over one of their heads.

Standing near a large window, he stared out into the night, clearly seeing the reflection of everything behind him, and himself, against the dark pane. Thinking deeply, he hadn't noticed Macbeth walking towards him until their hands were connected. Apollo looked to him with a small smile, letting him take the lead, since he knew where everything was. As Macbeth explained their reason for leaving the party, Apollo nodded in understanding and smiled in sympathy as he commented,
I'm glad to leave those jerks. They've no need to talk about you like that.
Apollo's eyes widened in surprise as Macbeth pulled his hand onto his hip, blushing a bit more deeply with the intimacy. He looked at Macbeth's own flushed face, and recognized that he had a slight buzz, and remembered that Macbeth was a purity angel and probably was a lightweight. Not that it was a problem, that was just his nature.

Walking through the halls, Apollo noticed another pair of angels, one very talkative and the other silent, and looked at the two in interest. As the one with green eyes glanced at him, nodding stiffly in greeting, Apollo felt his wings bristle beneath the suit from uneasiness. Looking away quickly, he was going to ask Macbeth about it, but noticed his drooping eyelids, and kept his questions to himself. Apollo slowed, allowing the busy couple to go ahead, and saw that their room was near Macbeth's and his own.

Going into their own room, Macbeth headed inside and Apollo was once again stricken by the majesty of the environment outside the room, the deep ink of the night bleeding into the room. Driven away by the lights as they automatically flickered on, Apollo immediately took off his suit shirt and undershirt so that his chest and muscled abdomen were bare. His darkened wings fluffed out, calming from their irritation, and he stretched his arms up toward the ceiling. He caught Macbeth looking, and smiled at the attention, watching him loosen his bow tie. Hearing him suggest a bath, Apollo replied,
Thanks Macbeth. We've had a long day.
Waiting for Macbeth to finish setting up the bath, Apollo retrieved a faded t-shirt and sweat pants for sleeping in, and took them into the bathroom with him. Macbeth exited when finished, and told Apollo that he'd be sleeping, and Apollo nodded in acknowledgement, closing the door to the bathroom and taking his clothes off.

Laying in the steaming water, Apollo allowed himself to recline against the wall and rest himself from the day's events. Reflecting on everything that happened, he spent a good 30 minutes cleaning himself, pondering on who the mysterious angels were, lingering on the several ways he could harm the Head Angel, and wandering towards thoughts of the purity angel he had by his side. Everything's much more complicated when you're not taking the souls of dying humans, he murmured, and came out of the tub, taking the plug from the drain and setting it to the side of the faucet.

There were numerous ways the fragile bodies of the people on Earth could die, Apollo thought as he slid his sweatpants on, such as burning to death in a house fire or getting their heads smashed through the windshield of a smashed car. No matter how, he thought as he put the shirt on, no matter when or why, Apollo was there, to take the suffering souls from their mangled bodies, in sickness and in health, in poorness or in wealth. Apollo was always busy, staining his hands with the blood of thousands of humans, forgetting his humanity along the way.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he headed into the dark room, dressed in his 'pajamas', and viewed Macbeth, so vulnerable and innocent in this state... remembering the deaths of sick children, leaving the physical realm in their sleep, in the most peaceful manner. Apollo took the blankets and placed them on top of Macbeth, tenderly placing a pillow beneath his head. Laying next to him, he snuggled into the warmth of the bed and put his back to Macbeth's, soon finding himself asleep and experiencing his always-disturbed dreams.

 

[Charles Yager]

Macbeth's eyes fluttered open as he could here those Angels muffled argument from the next room over.
It was still night and he yawned softly.

He turned to face the bathroom, seeing Apollo already done with his bathing.
Another soft yawn came out of his mouth.

As apollo got out of the bathroom, Macbeth scooted and made more room on the bed.
His face was still turned to him as he snuggles his head into his pillow, letting out a purr like noise.

he brought his hand to his face, moving a strand of hair out of Apollo's sleeping face.

 

[Qimbra]

Axel's expression changed from amused to bemused as Jace walked past him, wresting the towel from his already-loose grip. It wasn't until Jace was safely behind the door of the washroom did Axel allow the frown to sweep across his considerably softer features. He folded his arms and stared intently at what he knew was behind the white door. It had been quite a while, nearly half a year, since he'd been glued to Jace's hip as a Purity. If he were to be quite honest with himself, it's been quite the interesting term. When he had first met Jace, he thought the same thing as most: the Power was not someone to cross. Well, it went without saying. Jace was an entire rank above him after all. Rumors had it that Jace was well on his way to becoming a Throne, completely skipping the two ranks of Virtue and Dominion. But he had spurned the promotions: he'd felt more useful to the Courts on the battlefield and not delegating duties to other Angels.

Axel just thought Jace didn't want to live a boring existence and loved the thrill of battle and frankly, he didn't blame the perpetually silent bastard.

With a sigh, he began divesting himself of his armor. His hair moved at a single thought from him, shucking the blades and extending to place them on top of the drawer that sat next to the hanging axe. He removed the hair tie from around his hair and let the tendrils roam freely about the room, brushing against almost any and everything as he moved about the room to place the armor where they belonged. It was late and so he would just have to be up early to clean their battle equipment. With another sigh he looked around the room. He felt more like a Squire than a partner to Jace, but he'd just have to live with it until he can find a way to get the man to at least deign to have something of friendly conversation with him.

It doesn't help that you do everything he doesn't like, his mind supplied unhelpfully.

"It's the only way to get a response out of him," he reasoned with himself, mumbling. He sighed, again, frustrated. Then he smirked. Jace's reactions sometimes were truly unpredictable. Like when Axel is able to make the man pause in whatever he's dong. Jace doesn't look at him, no, but the acknowledgement of whatever it is Axel said to capture his attention seems like a step in the right direction. The Principality's smile dropped around a weary yawn. His eyes became half lidded as he was finally undressed and he brought his life-like hair under control, confining it to its hair tie once more. Red eyes glanced at the large bed, covered with fresh white linens. It was tempting but he was still dirty and Jace was still in the bath. The water was nearly only just lukewarm when Axel ran the bath. He knew there would only be cold water left when his superior emerged, but a clean body was a clean body.

With a soft grunt, Axel sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and yawned again, prepared to wait for his turn to clean himself up. He didn't know when Jace was finished until something waterlogged and cold smacked him square in the face and fell into the groove where his hips met his legs. The Principality jerked awake with a startled yelp before sleepily glaring at the back-turned Power.

"Could have just said you were done," he grumbled, expecting the silence in place of the never coming reply.

When Axel emerged from the cold bath, Jace was already asleep, as close to the edge of his side of the bed without actually being precariously balanced. Axel simply took in a breath and held it, not wanting to sigh too loudly and be on the receiving end of another lecture about being noisy. He was tired, and just wanted to sleep. Even if Jace's deliberate distance would torment the back of his mind while he rested.​

 

[Charles Yager]

Macbeth continued to look at Apollo's sleeping body. He moved closer to him, turning Apollo's body to face him, knowing he would slightly wake up but knowing he wouldn't mind.

He wrapped his arms around him tightly and pushed himself in Apollo's chest.
He could feel Apollo's arms hovering over him, not knowing what to do.

His legs intertwined with Apollo's and he could feel himself drift off again.