Raphael is drawn to the Safe House
Time: April 27, around two AM
Place: on the front lawn of the Manor
Status: PUBLIC (anyone up at 2AM who wants to find him catching his discorporation out there)
Summary: A tired and weary Archangel discovers the Manor
( Raphael kept on, feeling drawn by an unknown force that seemed to tug at his weakened aura. )
Place: on the front lawn of the Manor
Status: PUBLIC (anyone up at 2AM who wants to find him catching his discorporation out there)
Summary: A tired and weary Archangel discovers the Manor
( Raphael kept on, feeling drawn by an unknown force that seemed to tug at his weakened aura. )
For a while, he only lay back trying to catch his breath. He didn't remember much of the dream. That was just as well, considering what happened in the ones he did remember.
He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come again. For a while he tossed and turned, then he gave up. A look at the lighted digits on his alarm clock told him it was a few minutes before 2 a.m.
He felt in need to fresh air - more of it than opening the windows could give him.
With a heavy sigh, he got out of bed, dressed in yesterday's clothes and took his cane to go outside. He's have to be careful on the stairs in order to not wake anyone. The idea of him, of all people, trying to sneak through the manor at night, made him grin. Almost as an afterthought, he took the pistol he owned and put it in his jacket's inner pocket. Couldn't be too careful out at night, in particular if you weren't all that suitable for close combat.
A little while later he stepped outside. it was raining, and everyonce in a while, lighting tore apart the clouds, followed by rolling thunder. It was pretty good weather to take a man's mind off of bad dreamas, he thought.
In the light of the next thunder, he saw a huddled figure standing by the gate. it seemed to be clutching something to its chest.
His free hand almost moved to the pocket here he kept the weapon of its own accord.
The next lightning revealed the man's soaked wings. Why was he surprised? McLeod had told him of angels living here. He just had never noticed any of them had wings.
"Hey!" He called out to the figure - angel? - as sharply as he dared at this time of the night.
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He slowly rose to his feet, careful not to do anything that would be considered threatening. Not that he was much of a threat with his presence as weak as it was, but that bit of information may not be as obvious to some beings.
"Excuse me..." He gritted his teeth, failing miserably at surpressing his shivering. "Could I get a dry blanket and maybe a carrot?" The poor bunny needed some food and something dry and warm.
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"Are you injured, sir?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "Here, why don't you come inside. It's certainly dryer there."
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"Are you sure it's alright?" Raphael didn't want to impose and he was well aware of how he must appear- wet, bloody, clothes torn and huge draping wings soaked with rainwater. It wasn't the sort of thing most people liked having in their building. Still, despite his uncertainty, he did want to go inside. It felt safe, and even though he couldn't explain why that was so, he still wanted to seek refuge beneath it.
He suddenly sensed the weapon (a gun, perhaps? He couldn't tell, his senses were fuzzy and clouded, like murky water in a pond) and stiffened again. "I have a very scary attack bunny," he said, hoping he sounded convincing. The shivering didn't help and the places where the demon had sliced into him throbbed and slowly oozed with blood, still not yet healed and probably getting infected now. If the man decided he was a threat and shot him, Raphael could do nothing but lay there and bleed to discorporation. "I... I'm not going to hurt anyone," he finally said, shivering pathetically as if in proof of his words. "I just- I just need something for the bunny. He's- he's cold and wet and... and... I can't do anything more to help him."
He looked at the man hopefully and he couldn't remember a time when he felt so desperate.
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Joe let go of his gun, in one fast motion hooked the handle of his cane over his wrist and held on to the railing instead for balance and support before reaching out with his other hand to offer the stranger and his bunny a hand up the steps.
"Don't worry. It'll be okay. Come inside - we'll get the bunny dried off and I'll call you a doctor."
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"A doctor cannot help me," he admitted, his words sounding foreign to his ears. "I am an angel." Did he even have a right to call himself that anymore? He was supposed to be the Archangel of Healing. The man helping him had a cane and he could sense physical problems in the legs. If he had the power he would heal him completely -he wanted to help, he wanted to help... and yet...
He hears screaming and fear fills the room like a thick fog. A gunshot fires and there is silence... only silence...
he's dead he's dead he's dead he killed himself
...He took his own life and he couldn't stop it, he couldn't... couldn't...
Another violent shiver snapped him back to the present. He turned to the man, a human who could have easily ignored him, let him slowly discorporate. What reason would a human have to help an injured angel after all?"Thank you," he said hoarsely, feeling inadequate for not being able to truly express his gratefulness. He ruffled his wings, rainwater streaming from soaked feathers.
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Out loud he said: "You're also injured. But come in first. Let's discuss dictors later."
It wasn't that the angel seemed to be in any shape to resist anyway.
Joe took his cane again as he pushed open the door and held it for the other to go in first. He'd take him to the bar and sit him down first, then go grad some towels for angel and bunny to dry off a bit. Mary Hodges hopefully wouldn't mind if he took hotel supplies for a good cause.
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The moment he stepped into the building the soft thrum of safe safe safe became a tidalwave, surging through him so strongly it made his soaked feathers ruffle. Freeing a hand from the bunny he held the door open for the man. "What is this place?" he finally asked.
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He stopped to unlock the door to his bar and opened it, went in and took down two chairs from a table.
"Here," he said. "Sit down. I'll get you something to dry off with."
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"Can- can we help the bunny first?" he asked. He curled his wings around, shining beneath the artificial lighting.
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When he came back, he sat across from the man and handed him two, keeping a third one himself. "Here," he said. "Dry off a bit. If you let me have the bunny for a moment, I'll try to rub it dry."
He held out his hands for the animal. "By the way, my name is Joe Dawson. I run this bar."
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"I'm Raphael," he said, bringing a wing around to dry with the towel. "And that's Fella," he added, motioning towards the bunny. He frowned at the poor condition of his wings, sliced up just as bad as his body was. "Erm, I might stain your towels," he said quietly. "I was... uhm, attacked..."
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"So... So people stay here?" he asked. "Like a hotel?" He wondered what he would have to do to stay here as well, it felt so safe somehow... "How did you come about this place?" He started towelling his wing, twitching a bit in pain when he dug his fingers in to dry them. The firey feathers seemed to hang there miserably, jutting in every direction and covered in so much blood it was difficult to distinguish between the fire-color and the deep crimson.
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