Ezekiel had been gone for a few weeks, and London missed him more than she thought. He just stopped showing up at her place. She figured he had gotten bored or his ‘boss’ shipped him to an angelic rehabilitation camp. She thought about praying to him but it wasn’t like a phone call, it was one way for the most part. And she thought of it more as a Big Red Button sort of scenario, praying to him like he was her personal celestial being. she thought about the little bearded cherub and smiled, wondering if the small angel was okay and still pestering Michael; London hoped she was.
Fine, whatever.
Then there was the toothbrush in a potted plant. Earrings in the egg carton. And shoes. At least four so far. Including a Mary Jane so small it had to belong to a doll. Ezekiel had taken to leaving random items around London’s house before he disappeared. She wasn’t sure if it was a game of some sort or an obscure Angelic ‘thing’.
She had just been notified that her personal pod had been finished and put into position and all her belongings moved accordingly. London was delighted with the changes to her home. There were a few minor alterations she had added after the initial design had been accepted, but the builders had no problems accommodating her requests.
She hadn’t chosen to merge her soul, instead she chose to be born like Athena or Venus, whole as she was and upon her death the portions of her soul would merge. So part of her was out there, doing whatever she was supposed to be doing, feeling a little less ‘lost’ she figured. She was still assimilating the memories of her past two (three?) lives so her nights alone weren’t the most restful. At least she didn’t always wake up screaming anymore. Maybe she should get some therapy. That first session would be fun to be sure.
What she needed was a distraction.
So she has been taking aerial dancing lessons and even had an anchor installed in her ceiling. She found it relaxing to stand on the bannister of her bedroom loft and launch herself into space, twisting and spinning as she practiced various forms. The movements helped clear her mind of the usual noise when she was too stressed to sleep. Her favorite was to climb almost to the anchor wrapping herself in her ‘silks’ before releasing and falling dramatically towards the floor, only to stop in a nosediving swan position.
She was so tired.
She opened her eyes to find Ezekiel lunging towards her, wings outspread and arms extended towards her trying to break her fall. She was as usual dazzled by his beauty, the light diffusing through his feathers, how it highlighted the slight curl of his hair, the curve of his ears glowing from the backlighting. His mouth caught in a slight open frown to match the one in his eyes. She let herself relax and promptly lost her grip and fell to the floor with a lovely thump and groan, tangled in the silks that had suspended her. So much for looking cool.
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Ezekiel had just landed on London’s balcony as was his custom. She had mentioned getting her home remodeled to her personal tastes but he was surprised when he reached the proper coordinates of her abode only to find a completely new habitat. It wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite. He had been gone for a few weeks to assist with an altercation that needed a neutral arbiter and he had been specifically suggested. He had done his duty and had only just been allowed to leave. He had stopped long enough to acquire some trinkets to scatter about London’s abode as per a dissertation he had read on the courting methods of early 21st century humans. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely correct, but from some of the movies he had watched with her on the couch, they weren’t far off.
So he had been hiding random earrings, toothbrushes and shoes around her house the last week or so before he had left. He hoped she wasn’t too upset at his sudden departure and in apology he had brought her a small robotic cat and a bottle of mead. He wasn’t too sure about the alcohol, but he was pretty sure the robotic companion would soothe any ruffled feathers. As he patted his pockets the Angel happened to glance through the giant tinted wall of windows to see a figure tangled in sheets that were connected to the ceiling lean over a railing and start spinning rapidly to the floor. Dropping his packages he yanked the door open with a terrified shout and rushed in, launching himself towards her with a burst of speed. As he moved he noticed so many things about her that tugged at his heart. The curve of her lashes when her eyes were closed, how her lips always seemed to have a hint of a smile when she was enjoying herself but didn’t want anyone to know. The crinkle of her brows when she was working her way through a particularly difficult problem. She had dark smudges under her eyes as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. Even falling, her movements were as graceful as ever.
His heart lurched in his chest at the thought of losing her. Not knowing when or where her next vessel would choose to reside. Of not speaking to her as she was right now, right here. No more rainy nights cuddled on the couch watching movies. No more opening his eyes and her sleep creased face the first thing he saw. No more walks beneath ancient trees or across battlements and aqueducts older than the both of them. Just when he thought he could hear the crunch of her body breaking on the floor she stopped, arms swept back, a beautiful expression on her face as she swung slightly, breathing hard from exertion and exhilaration, inches from the ground, ribbons of fabric trailing over her shoulders to cover her hands, one leg bent at the knee tangled in more of the fabric holding her aloft. He was frozen at the sight. And just when he thought he could get his heart to stop racing, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, a surprised smile spreading across her face for a second before panic set in and she fell the last few inches to land ungracefully into a pile just beyond his hands. “Oh, you’re back. Uh, hi?”