For which you cannot atone

DATE |  Thursday the 20th of August 2020
TIME |  Around the later part of the afternoon - 17:24
PLACE / AREA |  Little Lamb - a quant little boutique dealing in magic on Filligree Cres. 13 in Oarkheart, Gaia.
WEATHER | The tempatures are well around 27 to 28 degrees celsius, though the sun is slowl setting. And the sky is clear.
ATTIRE | A pair of tighfitted jeans and just a simple airy and white button-up short, only really buttoned in the middle, and the front shoved half-heartedly down the edges of the jeans and the sleeves folded up to the elbows.



It was so hot these days. Scorching like heat was seeping through cracks all the way down from Hell itself. And the wind was anything but merciless. It only blew once in a while when you’d have almost forgotten just how it felt, when it grazed your cheek. But still the afternoon was beautiful. The sky was blue and the few clouds, few and far between, were the purest of white. The sun shined to happily that it would make even the most resentful man feel shameful for cursing at the heat it produced. The light brought out the idyllic feeling out down the cozy little side road, not far from the shopping square of Oakheart.
With tall apartment buildings of timeless architecture that still stood as it need many years ago, the afternoon sun bathed the narrow cobblestone street in turning orange shades and casted shadows the simply greatest the old timey depth. The street curved ever so slightly as it went and there never seemed to be much traffic down it. Only the cars that were already parked halfway up the pavement and then the occasional one who passed through were what those living on Filigree Crescent had to deal with. That and the birds, that apparently had wandered even into the more populated parts of town.

A single shopfront mingled in between the buildings, though it did not stand out too much, maybe except for the old metal sign hanging from a rod and showcasing the name. Little Lamb. Luscious green ivy grew wild up the brick wall and around the large display window where it was possible to look into the shop before walking in. A front door of well-kept mahogany stood completely open to let as much air into the store front, but yet the bell above it in the frame would still chime a small tune as someone past over the doorstep. Inside, on the desk, placed by the far wall facing the door, a white as snow animal laid in the direct direction of the drafts, all spread out. Not dead or hurt. The ferret did just not handle the heat as well as its witch. Even with the store enchanted to be somewhat manageable to spend time in, the familiar looks as if it was melting.

It was a quiet day for business. Few had ventured outside to visit in hopes of a relieving spell for their own place among other things. But there hadn’t been much to do over all. So the little witch had taken the liberties to actually organize. The shop was not a mess in anyway, things were where they should be and even if people couldn’t find what they were looking far, Saga knew exactly where everything was. But it had gotten better as more people helped around.
As she fought and stretched her short body to successfully put away smaller cardboard boxes on the top of shelfs her thoughts kept wandering off. Dreams, weird dreams, had started to invade her sleep more and more. Fuzzy dreams. And it was only lucky for her, that there were times where she did not sleep much to begin with or she would have not been so alert and awake and proper functioning as she was now. It still tucked on her mind. The dreams. She pushed the cardboard box with the last piece of the tip of her finger, balancing on one tiptoed foot on the wooden stool, when she guided the box just the last bit in place with a bit of mental manipulation.

It had been a rather spontaneous idea to come here. But with the worries increasingly invading his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on much else until he'd found a solution. Anything to ease the problem. He had tried to deal with it on his own. He had prayed to his father many times. Repenting for his sins of desire. He’d asked for forgiveness and the strength to resist the temptation. He’d tried to distract himself with work. But nothing had helped. The thoughts of Lenina were impossible for him to shut out and the urge only grew stronger with time. Michael had not wanted to admit it in the beginning. But when the desire for something was this overpowering, it had to be an addiction. For that reason, he’d ventured into Oakheart and was now walking down one of the smaller side roads, trying to find a shop named Little Lamb, or more specifically, the witch owning it. Hoping that she’d know a way to help him. Because despite his attempts at resisting it, he knew that he’d inevitably end up seeking Lenina out again. He looked up at the metal sign with the shop’s name on it, then at the store-front windows. Making sure there weren’t any apparent symbols or objects that were connected to dark magic. But who was he trying to fool? If dark magic was the way to rid him of this unwanted obsession, then he’d at least have to consider it. It was like that saying: extremis malis extrema remedia. He walked inside through the open door, letting a breeze of cooler air enter the boutique. His gaze scanned the room, taking notice of the ferret laying on the front-desk, before it stopped at a woman placing a box on one of the shelves. “Hello,” he greeted, walking a few steps closer to her. “I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he said, looking at her with a hint of hope in his green eyes. “It’s a rather unusual request,” he added, not knowing if she’d be willing to accept this kind of request. But when a witch had gathered all these things, it usually meant that they were quite proficient. And even if she didn't sell anything that could help him here and now, she might know of alternative remedies.

Almost immediately as the imaginary bell played its soft little tone to welcome the visitor, the white ferret shot it’s head op, proving that it was still very much alive. Its small ears stood up and its golden beady eyes focused in on the man. Curious. And by some degree: drawn in by the very faint but sickly sweet scent that seemed to catch its nose as he walked in. Probably carried by the slight breeze he brought with him. Much appreciated, though the delight was short.
The witch, however didn’t visibly react before the first spoken word had left his lips. A simple hello. She turned her head to look at him before she finally lowered her arms and came back down to stand on flat feet rather than balancing. “Welcome.” Naturally intense eyes watched him without any hesitation for discomfort involving eye contact but then it fell, as she needed a bit of eye cooperation to not fall off as she calmly stepped all the way down. Standing on the stepping stool had given her just enough extra height to be standing taller than the man, so as soon as she was on the ground, her head went from tilting forward to now leaning back after so slightly.

“Unusual you way?” Saga frowned a dark brow just the tiniest bit as she took the liberties to scan him as he stood. She neither sensed or saw anything particularly ‘unusual’ about him. But the hint of hope in his eyes did give of a more saddened feel in her. Like on the edge of turning into desperation. She’d seen it before. But why did it look so misplaced in his eyes? “I believe that I should be able to help in some way since you’ve come directly to me. Guessing that you didn’t just stumble upon here on accident.” People rarely did. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to explain it a little further to me before I can do much,” she then ascertainably laid out for him. She took a small step backwards to first create polite distance between then before she softly nodded him to follow along and turned to take steps towards the front desk as she continued: “In what way does your request describe as ‘unusual’? What seem to be the problem?” In the meantime had the ferret become less liquid on the tabletop and actually stood on its short legs, looking a bit back and forth between its beloved witch and the stranger. No signs of danger, which Saga already had taken notice of. She was sensitive to her surroundings but not as much as her familiar, so of course she trusted them.
She turned around again, looking back at him as she awaited his explanation. Her head tilted a little to one side in poise interest to what he had come to her for.

If she only knew who he was, unusual wouldn't cut it. It was extremely fallacious of an angel. Moreover, the part about going to a witch about his problem rather than keeping his trust and patience in God. But the longer he waited, the more torturous he felt, and what was worse, it affected his work. He was slightly relieved that she didn’t seem to care much for his aura. After all, it wasn't all witches who liked angels, and the last thing he wanted was her or anyone's judgment regarding this. He flashed her a grateful smile as she seemed willing to help him. He hadn’t researched as much about her as he normally would, but he wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t think there’d be a good chance that she could aid him. He then followed her towards the front desk, sending a quick glance to the ferret that now stood on its legs, before she asked him about the problem again and his eyes returned to her. It was hard to know where to begin explaining it. Because how could he describe it without sounding like he was in love with the woman? He had never heard of anyone being addicted to another person. Not like this. And he wasn’t much for admitting it in the first place. But he knew that he needed to in order for her to help him. “I believe that I’ve gotten an addiction caused by a spiritual or supernatural power,” he said, looking into her eyes to see if she might have dealt with that kind of thing before. He firmly believed it to be an unnatural kind, because otherwise his body would have healed from it by itself. “... to a woman,” he added reluctantly, thereby revealing what he'd deemed to be the unusual character of it. “I know how it must sound... but whenever I’m away from her I start to feel sick and restless and all I can think about is how badly I need to be with her... and when I am, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud of ecstasy... but I also get greedy and sinful and incredibly addicted to the feeling... and that feeling, it can solely be satisfied by her touch or kiss... so that's why I'm here, to ask you for a remedy that could easy those symptoms or make my urges vanish entirely,” he explained, trying to ignore the conflict inside of him, telling him that all of those feelings were good and not wrong at all. That if anyone deserved an escape from the misery in their life, it was him. He tried to push those thoughts into a vault in his mind because he knew they were caused by the addiction and if he let them get to him, he'd only reject the help that he desperately needed.

The mention of a woman being the cause behind this supernatural addiction – as he explained it – made the witch furrow a brow once more. This time creating a slightly deeper winkle, though the expressions she showed were still pretty mellow. This wasn’t particularly what she dealt with on a day to day basis but she probably wouldn’t be one to actually call what had happened too... unusual. No. But she deemed the more unusual part was how he no way had given of the feel of being and addict when he had walked in. He had been in control. Maybe a little unsure as newcomers tended to be. Hopeful, yet sceptic. But that was until the very moment he started to explain. She could in a way almost hear the longing for this woman as he spoke, simply from the way he used his words. Like the only thing missing was for the man to suddenly be of loss of breath.
Slowly and discreet as he laid the problem out in front of her, she leaned backward and up against the desk behind her. Her hands rested on the edged of it as well, so not to cross and give the customer to the feeling of her closing herself.

The wrinkle between Saga’s brows smoothed out rather quickly from the moment he finished and with a vaguely deeper breathing she lifted her chin a small bit and straightened her body. “You say greedy,” she pointed out as the first thing just before she leaned in towards him. It wasn’t much, she wasn’t really that close, but the gesture had tendencies to provoke the feeling of overstepping. A thing she clearly was immune to worrying much about, since she did it without hesitation. Her eyes looked at him but it was more of someone observing and analysing instead of really looking. She had been reading his body language beforehand. This was a little closer inspection. She wasn’t scanning for his reactions and demeanour at this point. “Does she make you feel possessive? Like only you can have her? Or is it simply these lustful cravings of needs?” she asked, and by the last question her glance finally ended its run around his face. She found his eyes again and at last she drew herself back to a casual position.

She didn’t stay there for long, though, since she then gently pushed herself away from the desk, not actually stepping any closer to him as she did. She held up an elegant hand in the direction and levelling of his face, frozen there, as her lips parted to speak: “May I?” She looked ham him with brows now raised, awaiting his accept. It couldn’t be difficult to imagine what she wanted. Not from the way her fingers seemingly tingled to search.
The little witch was patient for an answer. And then only with the permission from him, her hand would move to his face. Fingers bent and placed half against his jaw and cheek before she softly ran her thumbs along his lower lip and over the one corner of his mouth.

He figured that the more he described the phenomenon, the easier it was for her to find an effective solution. And surely, he couldn’t be the first customer to ask for help with an addiction. Even if this was a rather unusual one at that. He nodded affirmatively as she repeated the word greedy. He genuinely felt as if he could never get enough of her. With every touch and kiss, he only craved them more. It was a dangerous sin to fall into. And he wanted more than anything to get out of that. To regain the control that his life and work required. He stood still as she leaned closer to him, sensing the way her gaze studied him. He narrowed his eyes, not exactly sure of what she was looking for. Otherwise, he kept up his usual stern expression, although it was clear to see the longing and desperation while he’d explained his situation, and even when he was done, that longing could still be seen in his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t think about anything else. And this longing. It had to be something she'd seen before. Maybe even related to at some point, although for a completely different reason. He glanced to her collarbone as he thought of this. The mate bond probably didn't feel like an addiction, but then again, he had no way of knowing that. Either way, it didn’t matter if she could relate to it. All that mattered was that she was willing to help.

He hesitated at her next question, shifting between her blue eyes as if the answer would lie in them. He had never been the type to feel possessive of a woman unless he’d developed feelings for her, but these feelings she’d brought him, they were unlike anything he’d ever experienced. So yes, it was more than just lustful cravings. And that was probably what scared him the most. “Yes,” he confirmed. Besides, if he was the only one who could have her, she’d be able to satisfy his cravings that much more. And even if that wasn’t the only reason behind this feeling, it didn’t matter. He still couldn’t be with her. His gaze moved to her hand as she held it up, wondering whether she’d be able to sense the power Lenina had over him. He granted her permission with a nod, returning his eyes to her face as she placed her fingers against his jaw and cheek. He couldn’t help but tense up at that initial touch. Michael rarely felt a gentle hand against his skin. More often, he was used to being beaten or burned. He remained silent as she moved her thumb along his lower lip, looking into her eyes as he tried to see if she felt anything from touching him.

The touch, however sensual and intimate it might seem for the outsider looking in, was nothing more than sampling of the residues on his lips. He had spoken of not only of this woman’s touch but also her kisses and while lips often would be swept and wetted by the tongue unconditionally out through the day, she imagined it would still be a place of a larger buildup of… whatever that might have affected the man. Just as gently as she had placed her hand on his skin, she removed it again. Freeing him from what apparently was a tense experience for him. “That’s… not optimal,” she commented back on his certain reply. “An addiction only become more difficult to take care of the longer it goes untreated. And you experiencing possessiveness tells me that either you’re simply more sensitive to the phenomenon of this woman or that this has been going on for more than just a single exposure. Over all; it makes it more problematic to deal with.”

What Saga was saying wasn’t with the intentions of leaving the poor man in utter hopelessness. They were facts. And she mostly felt obligated to states those facts for the client to better explain the following processors. That was, if there were anything she would do in the end.
She calmly lifted her thumb - the same one she at just ran over his lip - first to her nose where she discreetly sniffed to catch the faintest of sweet scents, the same that her familiar probably had caught already from the moment the man had stepped in and dragged a breeze in with him. But then she moved the thumb to her mouth. She was, at this point, very careful as she stuck just the tip of her rose colors tongue out to lick it. It was very subtle but she felt a tingle. A shadow of a high that died down immediately thereafter. Mhh.. She then turned her upper body around and held her other hand out. Seconds later a muslin cloth appeared from a compartment from the other side of the desk, manipulated by the mental power she possessed, and flew into her hand, where she grabbed it. Then by crumbling it up on her palm for a moment, when she opened her hand again, the cloth appeared moistened and wringed of water by the casual magic.
"The distinct scent of Devil’s Point always seem to linger on visitors,” she then suddenly stated as her eyes feel to her hand and she began to rub her thumb with the cloth to ensure not to accidently lick it again. “It’s no different in your case and my guess is that you caught this woman’s affection there, correct?” She looked up at him for a short time as if to amplify the question. “Though, the potency of the aphrodisiac that I sense from you is too pure and too raw for something I imagine being given to customers there.” Saga move from the space between him and the table to instead walk around and stand on the other side of it.

He quickly realized that she was trying to collect residue from his lips, having not considered that Lenina’s kiss would have left remnants, and that if it had, that those wouldn't have vanished. But she seemed very assured of what she was doing, so he didn’t comment on it. He just waited expectantly. She then stated that his feelings of possessiveness weren’t optimal. And truth was, it probably wasn't the only emotion hindering or complicating the matter. He was incredibly conflicted about his feelings towards Lenina. He had already assumed that it would be problematic to deal with due to this. Still, he’d lie if he said he wasn’t slightly concerned about her stating it. Not because he was worried about what it would require of him. But because he was worried that there might not be a cure to his problem. “I know,” he said in an exhale as he watched her examine whatever substance she’d gathered from his lips.

He arched a brow as she somehow knew that the scent originated from Devil’s Point. So, perhaps she had dealt with this kind of addiction before. “Yes,” he replied. Michael had only shown up at the address because of an appointment Lilith had made. But she was correct. That was where he'd met Lenina. Admittingly, he had been foolish enough to have sought her out again after that, which now had resulted in a worse stage of his addiction. And it only complicated things further that his affection was requited by her, making it easier for both of them to give in to the temptation. He narrowed his eyes briefly at her next sentence, wondering what she meant by it. Either way, he surely hoped no other men fell victim to this. It seemed highly unethical of Devil’s Point to enforce addictions upon their clients. Although, the whole concept of such clubs naturally seemed this way to him. He'd never fathom why anyone would create a place that promoted sin, and in that sense, the title was quite fitting. His brother had spent most of his life leading people toward sin. “So, you've helped people with this before?” he asked, moving closer to the desk as she moved to the other side of it. It didn't seem like she needed additional information from his part Rather it seemed that she was done with her assessment. “What do you propose would help?” he asked, hoping that she’d come to some sort of conclusion regarding his case.

”I have,” the little witch replied. “I haven’t dealt with something exactly like you’ve described but I’ve had people come for here with similar requests.” His situation was indeed ‘unusual’, as he had presented the problem at first. Or rather, it was peculiar. He might have been surprised if he knew just how few would see this addiction, he felt, in the same limelight as substances like alcohol or drugs. Let alone seek help for it in the same way. As the angelic man had stepped closer to the desk, the ferret had taken to chance to sneak closer to him as well. Curiously stretching its long body to explore his presence. Familiars and angels had nothing in common. They could almost not be further from each other. But they were both divine creatures.
But then with a simple, silent tap on the desk with a finger, a discreet command, the ferret raised its head, turned towards Saga and seconds later it scurried away from the hope-seeking man and over to its witch where it ran up her arm to stand balanced across her shoulders. “It really is an easy fix. In theory. You’d have to destroy the roots of it. The most troubling part, however, is not to figure out where the roots have placed themselves or how they have done so or the procedure. It’s the time following.”
Even though her familiar’s movement were an easy focus centre for attention, Saga’s blue eyes had not left him, the man in front of her. “With the roots destroyed the rest – the traces – would need to wither away before I believe you’d be completely free, since the slightest bit of exposure would result in the traces growing roots again. Does that make sense?”

She tilted her head ever so slightly as she checked in with him. Her face still soft and the look in her eyes were neither impatient nor arrogant. She did not wish to scare him off. After all, angels didn’t seek the help of a witch very often and she would be lying if she did not find this… intriguing. “I can destroy these roots,” she then finally said, the overall procedure explained. An unnecessary action, perhaps. He hadn’t yet given her the impression that he doubting having this addiction dealt with. “And it being supernatural should make it easier handleable. But I’ll need to know a few things. Is it…” She held up her thumb. "External.” The index finger joined the thumb. “Internal.” Lastly the middle finger joined in. “Surrounding. So if can, think back to the very first time you felt… something. Did something feel different from the moment this woman was near you? Did it occur from her first touch? A kiss?”

//OOG: Beklager virkelig ventetiden! Jeg har ligget med en heftig omgang influenza den sidste lange uges tid... 

It was reassuring to hear that she had dealt with similar requests because he assumed that meant the procedure wouldn't be a first for her. He watched as the ferret neared him, seeming curious about his presence and his expression softened as it looked up at him. But the moment it moved back to the witch, he returned his gaze to her. He felt relieved to know that she considered it an easy fix. But as she got to the difficult part, he tilted his head slightly, wondering in what ways it would trouble him. “How so?” he asked, wanting to be prepared for the possible aftereffects. She then explained it further, and he understood that he'd likely feel withdrawals after she'd removed the roots, and for that reason, he needed to prevent an encounter with Lenina. Because once the traces had withered, he'd be completely free from the aggravation, and that was all he wanted. He couldn't continue his life and fulfill his obligations with an addiction of this kind. “Yes, it does,” he replied, and to be honest, the following troubles were easily a distant concern at the moment. Right now, he was just happy to know that she was able to destroy the core of his problem.

She then went on to explain that she needed to know where he'd first felt something different, and he knew the answer instantly. Yet, his mind still saw it as an opportunity to visit the memory of their first meeting. It wanted to remind him of what her touch had felt like. How it had seemed to alleviate all his problems as if they had never existed. Michael had never in his life felt that way. He parted his lips, hesitating to answer because of the thoughts that told him to walk away and once more indulge himself in those feelings. And he wanted it too much, he knew that. It was the whole reason he'd sought her out to begin with. “It was her touch,” he replied. He had seldom experienced something so powerful from something so simple. And he'd felt so intoxicated by her that it hadn't occurred to him what was happening before it was too late. He had embraced the poison and the feelings, and nothing inside of him had wanted to listen to his conscience, telling him that it was wrong and sinful, because it didn’t feel that way. “But the feeling only accumulated with her kiss,” he added, not sure if that meant that the roots were planted both externally and internally. But if it was the initial source that mattered, then it had come from her touch.

//OOG: No worries!

Saga watched him as he thought back to the beginning memories. She was observant but she was no mind reader. All she could do was study the signs and draw theories as to what pictures he relived. He found his answer and as he had done so far he made it short and precise. Or at least at first but then the faint sound of excuses left with the following words. “Perfect,” she replied back. And it was how she stated it. It was not impossible in any way to neutralize the source if it had been either through a kiss or hanging in the air surrounding him. But it being external removed the extra step of creating a medium for the magic to adhere to. With this all she needed was the physical contact. Hopefully. “The kiss would simply have been an amplifier. Whether the kiss could carry a more potent effect the roots would be planted by the touch.”

Her eyes turned to the side for a moment. The ground floor of the building was structured in a bit of a L-shape with the larger part of the store front being a comfortable square and then having a smaller open area attached to the left side - or right side, if it were from the perspective of Michael. Past the spiraling metal staircase, that lead up to the living spaces. This corner was like the rest of the store, just settled deeper and windowless. Saga turned to the angel again. Her back straightened for productivity once again. Arms now laying lightly folded across her chest. More relaxed than closed off. As if there weren’t anywhere else to have her arms.
“This way,” she said before gesturing him with her like she had done not more than a few moments and explanations earlier. She stepped away from the desk first and lead the way into the smaller corner. The ferret jump with natural agility off her shoulders to stay by the desk. Keeping an eye on the door as the corner not only was a blind spot for people looking or just coming inside but also the other way around. This was a thing that would demand at least a bit of privacy from prying eyes of windows-shopping tourists that might end up wandering the smaller streets of Oakheart. That and… other kinds.

She let down her arms again to bring out a high stool further into the middle of the floor for him to take a seat. “Where did she touch you that first time, can you remember? Your hand? Your chest? Your leg?” Still looking at him she reached around her head to gather the short black strands of hair in the back in a messy mix of a ponytail and a bun. Some strands that didn’t agree fell loose immediately and stayed around her face but she achieved to get the most out of the way.

He nodded slowly as she said that the kiss would have been an amplifier, and he considered himself grateful for this. Because there would be less of a risk of complications with a simpler procedure. And he felt more at ease, knowing that before long he wouldn’t hear any more tantalizing whispers or feel the constant pull to go see her. So, perhaps his Father had heard his prayers after all, and perhaps it was him who'd guided him here in the first place.
He raised a surprised brow as she simply told him to go with her, without discussing the cost of the matter. He could only assume that it meant the procedure wasn’t that costly for her to perform. Michael had walked in here in casual attire to appear more ordinary, although it was usually a hit or miss due to his aura, simply because he was used to witches bargaining heavily about their price. And as soon as they discovered who he was, they only raised their demands. If he could avoid that, then it only resulted in a better deal for him. It wasn’t so much because he was afraid that she would spread rumors about his affair. He doubted that she'd have any incentive to do so, and the angels most likely wouldn’t believe it anyway.

He followed her to a more secluded area of the store. “I was wondering... do you perform tracking spells, or alternatively, divinations?” he asked, glancing at the shelves for a moment before returning his eyes to her. Due to Samael's and Maelle's agenda to avenge him, more and more angels had gone missing. Michael had thankfully found Zachary, Malachi, and Adriel in the past three months. But it had recently come to his knowledge that one of his sisters had been missing since June. Heaven had not been able to locate her, so they’d decided to finally tell Michael about it. And now they depended on him to find her.
He watched as she pulled the stool into the middle of the floor before he sat down, looking at her as she asked him another question. He lifted his right hand to imply that it was where she’d touched him first. “My hand,” he replied simultaneously. He remembered how she’d lead him up the staircase towards the private room, and the strange feelings that followed. He'd been foolish for not seeing through it, but if one touch was all it took to plant the addiction, it had probably been too late to prevent it from spreading. Naturally, those feelings only deepened as she massaged his back and shoulders, but that was probably just an amplification of the effect - just like the kiss would have been. He looked at her face as she gathered her hair behind her head before he looked at the ceiling, towards Heaven, sending a quiet prayer to his Father about the success of the procedure. Because he only wanted to put this addiction to death and be led back to what he knew was righteous and good. “I am ready when you are,” he said as he lowered his gaze to her again.

With him seated and – hopefully – comfortable, Saga turned to go to walk a few steps to one of the nearby shelves. ”Divination has never been a branch of magic that I’ve had an affinity for. Much to my father’s slight disappointment, I’m sure,” she said calmly, still with her side turned to him and her eyes looking at a small metal case, that had the same shape like that of an antique cigarette case. But opening it relieved it to be a sewing kit. Or somewhat of a sewing kit. It only held the needles. No thread or small scissors. She picked a needle at random and clapped the beautiful case shut before placing it back, where found it.
“I can’t place a tracker. And I can track said ‘tracker’.” She returned to him and stopped in front of him, resting her eyes upon his as she finished. “But I don’t possess the magic to search and find something – or someone without.” She gracefully held her gaze for a few moments longer as if she was trying to figure out, why he had asked for such a thing. His eyes were a lot deeper than most. Hardened nonetheless but…

She finally lowered her eyes. Not to look at his upheld hand. Instead they feel to her own hands. She held the sharp needle gently between her thumb and index finger and started twisting it back and forth. And as if she had been twisting wood against wood at a high enough speed the needle’s point began to glow heated red. She might as well have had it heated up on a flame because the metal reacted in the same way. And as she stopped turning it between her fingers the metal quickly cooled down and the metal returned to it original colour, thought the tip was still hot to the touch after the sterilization. Then without keen precision and not much hesitation she pricked herself in the tip of her ring finger, drawing out a growing droplet of red blood. In a quick movement the needle got stuck in the elastic that she had just tied her hair up into and she reached out to grab a hold of his hand at last.

The way she held his hand was as soft as the way she had caressed his jaw and wiped his lip. She cupped it in her own, making sure to have his palm turned upwards for her to get to work. “What is it that you’re seeking?” she asked looking up at him for at split second before looking back down at his palm. Even with him sitting down, she was still not much taller than him standing up. The stool was of course of a height that made it so she neither had to bend down or tiptoe to reach. She made sure his hand remains stretched properly why holding his fingers down with her thumb, before drawing the first curved line in blood over his skin. And then another. Creating the symbol.

“That’s unfortunate,” he replied. He could hardly blame her for not being experienced in divination or knowing more about tracking, even if he’d hoped for a different answer. But either way, it never hurt to ask. Truth was, he only asked because he preferred to get a professional’s help rather than ask his friends for favors. They would most likely insist on going with him, and if he could avoid dragging them into a fight with demons, then that's what he would do. The only thing he had was objects belonging to her, but of course, it wasn’t guaranteed that she’d be attached enough to any of those for them to contain magical properties. It had just been his first intuition, that said objects could be used in a spell or ritual of some sort.

He seemed calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, he was filled with the disarray of thoughts and emotions mixing with each other. A part of him wouldn’t for the life of him do anything other than stay in this seat. But another told him to do the opposite. Reminding him that doing this would bring him back to a life of melancholy, pain and loneliness, and that deep down, that wasn't what he wanted. Like any other time, Michael tried his best to ignore those voices, but being this close to his final remedy. It made them sound much louder than any of those prior times.
She stopped his thoughts momentarily as she took his hand, and knowing that she was about to begin, made it easier for him to focus on something else than his thoughts. He lowered his gaze to their hands, wanting to observe what she was doing. She hadn't expressed that the procedure was going to be painful, so he trusted that it was going to be an easy fix. “An angel,” he replied as he watched her draw the symbol. “She didn’t report back from her mission a few weeks back… usually we would be able to find her without a tracker, but it seems that wherever she is, her location is heavily warded,” he explained, seeing flashes of various scenarios, of what could have happened to her. And none of those eased his worries, so he quickly tried to forget them again. “And I thought that maybe you’d know some alternative ways of finding her, but it’s okay, I'm sure I'll figure something out,” he said as he raised his eyes to her face. It was okay that she didn’t have a way of helping him, and he didn’t expect her to go out of her way to search for any either. After all, this didn’t regard her the slightest. And Michael had considered other opportunities such as seeking out a dreamwalker or a person with a highly developed tracking ability. But those were a bit more difficult to come by, and it was still no guarantee of finding her unless the warding started to weaken.

Mission. Blue eyes peered up at him, intrigued by his choice of words and as if she really wasn’t worried about him noticing it she then didn’t hurry to look down again and hide it away. “Do you believe she could be held at only one location?” Saga asked looking at him with a newly found curiosity. She had momentarily stopped creating the symbol in his palm, though she still kept his hand in her own and still kept his fingers from curling into a first and compromise her actually pretty simple design. “You usually can’t place a strong ward without it creating some sort of disturbance in the natural environment. It’s a spell that blur the lines of which the spell is place upon after all. If it’s set in place the mind would get used to it much quicker... than if it moved around.“ She wasn’t entirely sure in what way it would be of help to him. It would be a tedious task to play the game of tag that this method would potentially lead to. But there was at the same time a slight chance of noticing a fresh change. And of course, being on the move would create the need of setting up new wards.

“There might be something I can do.” A little gentle smile finally decided break though her stoic expression and show itself in the corners of her mouth as she said that. But she did not elaborate on it. He had not come to her for that kind of help, not in the first last at least and one could discuss whether which problem he faced had higher priority.
She returned her focus towards his hand. The symbol still intact and… the blood didn’t seem to have coagulated but Saga did have to put some pressure around the tiny hole she’d made with the needle to draw the last bit of blood for the last bit of the symbol. It was right that she had not explained the possible effects of the spell she was about to perform on him but it was not an actual reassurance that it would not go by unnoticed. A witch’s magic was never pure. Not completely. Much like a witch was never completely without sin since a witch’s birth in a way was such. There was no guaranty that this would be painless for someone like him. Nothing excruciating. Like a sting maybe. Maybe nothing.

The smile had smoothed itself out again as the relaxed concentration had returned. She reached out and placed her other hand on top of his so she had her down palm over his but her fingers were curled around his wrist. Her dainty hands were in a clear contrast to his larger, much more muscular frame. She took what could be described as a deep breath before she activated the magic, channelling it through not only the symbol but also the blood. We would probably be able to feel how her magic travelled a bit up his arm and how it somehow disintegrated… something that had taken root. He had been right. He had had something supernatural attaching itself to him. But as well as the roots dissolved there would be another feeling of exhaustion as the body suddenly wasn’t under this constant overwhelming feeling. Horrible withdrawals all at once.

It was highly unlikely for his sister to have stayed in one location for all this time. Otherwise, his angels had done a lamentable job of finding her. “All I know is that there’s no trace of her in the city she was deployed in,” he said, and that much was certain. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d moved her to multiple locations after that in order to avoid the angels from finding her. He looked into her captivating blue eyes, seeing the curiosity in them. She didn’t tell him something he didn’t already know, but the wardings being connected to magic was the exact reason he’d asked her about it to begin with. And if those who’d taken her knew this as well, they would have most definitely moved her around to redirect his angels. So, they needed a more creative method of finding her. He arched a brow when she said she might be able to do something to help; despite the contrary impression he’d gotten earlier. A brief smile appeared on his lips as she said this. “If you have time to look into it I’d be beyond grateful,” he said, and that was all he really asked of her. For any knowledge that could potentially help him in his search.

His heart rate increased steadily in his chest at the anticipation of the procedure, and he tensed up the moment she curled her fingers around his wrist, knowing that it'd be mere seconds before she’d cast the spell. He lowered his gaze to their hands when he started to feel the effect of the magic, and how it flowed upwards through his arm. He curled his own fingers around her wrist as he felt a sudden sting in his forearm, clearly where the roots of the addiction had planted themselves, and as soon as it was over, new feelings emerged from its remnants. They surged from where the roots had once been to the rest of his being, and despite the burden being lifted, it didn't feel that way. He felt exhausted at first. As if his body had put up with this for far too long, and with that followed occasional moments of dizziness, which made him close his eyes. He felt his regenerative stamina trying to fight this fatigue. At the same time, his temperature climbed up to a feverish level, making him exhale slowly. But it was impossible for him to use his thermal manipulation to change it as the pain gradually worsened. His healing ability fought to contain the beginning sickness, and he quickly realized all of this was the aftereffects she’d warned him about.

He opened his eyes again, realizing he still held on to her, so he quickly relieved her from his strong grip. And if she had told him to let go earlier, he wouldn’t have heard her. It was clear to tell on his expression that he didn’t feel the slightest okay, but it didn’t stop him from getting up from his seat. He looked toward the larger part of the store, feeling his sight blur slightly and seeing the shelves tilt to one side. He closed his eyes at this and inhaled a sharp breath. “Can I have a glass of water?” he asked in a low voice, not sure what he really needed to make all of this go away. But either way, he hoped the water would help him cool down, knowing that it was going to take some time for him to recover completely. He moved his clean hand to his temple as if that would ease the throbbing headache, and for brief moments his healing did manage to make it go away, but it still felt like his body was fighting itself on the inside. Perhaps that was the most exhausting part. He opened his eyes again, seeing things a bit more clearly, wondering how he was going to get home as he wouldn’t be able to teleport in this state, nor did he think flying would be the best idea. But he didn’t want to take up more of her time, so if she’d grant him the glass of water, he would be on his way to his home shortly thereafter.

Saga was quick to grab a hold in him the moment the side effects clawed their way into him. He still had a rather tight grip in her other hand, but she still had one free to grab a hold of his biceps to try and keep him from potentially collapsing from the overwhelming dizziness. She took a step closer to him as well to also use her body as a supporting anchor. She wasn’t a strong witch in the physical sense had he actually fallen over, she might not have had much luck in keeping him standing up right but at the very least, she would have controlled the fall for less damage. Luckily, he seemed to upkeeping his balance properly himself. All she needed was to hold him steady as he got more accustomed to what was happening to him.
He let go of her, but she did not let go of him. Not even as he stood up, to her dismay. All she did was recreate a bit of distance between them again so she didn’t stand so much up against him but she still didn’t trust his own stubborn. “Of course,” she said after a few seconds, which could easily be confused of hesitation. And she then took another step back and slowly removed her support from him. Let him stand in his own without her worries of him not being able to. Then her eyes escaped him to look towards the stool in which she held up a hand and with a soft gesture the sound of the stool squeaking over the wooden floor sounded. She looked up at him again. A sneak peak to the demand, her lips spoke thereafter: “Sit.” It wasn’t a question. Maybe something along the lines of a suggestion. “You aren’t going to feel any better any faster by standing up too early.” Whether he did as she asked or he stayed on his two feet she still reached a hand up to his face. And with the back of it she felt first his forehead and then his cheek, checking on the increase in temperature. It would be inhumane of her to send him off as he was now. The heatwave outside would knock him unconscious in the middle of the street.

Saga stepped further away from him before turning around and walked to the desk, where the white ferret probably hadn’t done the greatest job in watching the front door, since it had been keeping an eye on the ritual as well. The witch hunched down behind the employee-side of the desk too look for a glass or a cup, that she used to have at hand. And sure enough. She found an intricately designed crystal glass. As she stood up, she reached out a hand, and the moistened cloth she’d used before flew to her palm as if attracted by a magnet. And she walked back to the angel.

The cloth was the first thing she handed him. “For the blood,” she explained before then holding the glass in a proper way so the non-existing water in it wouldn’t spill. At least it was non-existing until she tapped her finger on the side of the glass a couple of times and the glassed filled up with clear life-giving liquid. Water.
“What.. is your name?“ she asked with her head tilted slightly to the side, watching him and waiting or him to be done with the cloth and it could be switch with the water. It was a question that seemed more needed now than it had been earlier where they had only been client and dealer.

He barely took notice of her hold on his arm as he felt the pain surge through him like wildfire, and had he been any other being, he’d most likely fallen unconscious. It was first when he’d stood up that he noticed her support, and for good reason, as he surely would have walked in an uneven line had he attempted to continue. But he wasn’t used to witches behaving that way towards him, so it made him send her a different glance. He stood still as she moved away from him, trying to get a hold of what was happening, but it seemed to drag him into so many directions that it was impossible to truly get a grasp of it all. And as she said her command, he sat back down in the chair behind him, knowing that he’d only walked so far before he’d get the need to sit down again. He knew he wasn’t going to feel any better from moving too fast, and perhaps he’d even collapse on his way home, but she had done her deed. He didn’t want to take up her time any further. He narrowed his eyes as she placed a hand against his face as if he was unsure of whether she really cared about the misery he was feeling. She’d feel his burning temperature as his body had more pressing things to fight than that, but he knew that he deserved the pain. That it was a punishment of the sins he'd committed. “I’m fine,” he said, not wanting to worry her, let alone make her feel like he was an obligation and that she needed to keep him here until he felt better.

When she walked away to retrieve the water, he lowered his gaze to focus on a small crack in the floor, feeling terrible from this overcoming of his addiction. But he knew that as soon as he’d suffered through it, he’d be free from it all. As her steps neared him again, he looked up at her, taking the cloth to wash off the blood on his right hand. When he’d cleaned his hand, he handed the cloth back to her and reached out for the glass of water. “I’m Michael,” he replied to her question. Many men had been named after him, so if she hadn’t discovered that he was an angel, she most likely wouldn’t suspect him to be the first Michael of this world. He quickly drowned the cool liquid, feeling the temporary relief of his burning state, although he wasn’t so sure of the effect. “Thank you,” he said as he handed the empty glass back to the witch. “What is your name?” he returned the question, running a hand through his hair to brush off the droplets of sweat on his forehead. He had only heard of the shop, and that a witch owned it, but not who this witch was, leaving her name a mystery to him as well.

She took took both the cloth and then the glass as he finished with them, one at a time. “You’re welcome,” she replied back. She shoved the cloth into the back pockets of her jeans to get it out of her hands, only for her to then hold the glass in both her hands instead of just the one. Her fingers automatically started mindlessly fumbling with it. Her eyes didn’t leave Michael. Michael. He had merely confirmed his identity for her. Fed a suspension to a full stomach. “The spell is difficult only for the receiver. And the roots must have dug quite deep, having you react so strongly.” She did warn him. Somewhat. Was it really possible to make something less merciless if one was simply… prepared for it? She doubted it.
By him reversing the question back to her the little soft smile made a reappearance on her face. And the way her eyes lowered for just at moment made her almost feel melancholic. “Rhyss. Saga Rhyss.” So, he had not yet been aware of her before making his visit. Not too surprising looking back at how he in a way had looked lost, when he had first entered.

A short gust of wind found the strength the travel in through the open front door and swirled a route round the corner and into the cornered part of the store, playing with the flyaway strands of Saga’s tied back hair, and like did a twisted turn long the walls before moving on outside in the streets. Hopefully the weather would soon cool down as summer after all was coming to a close.
“Can I ask how you found your way to me? How did you know that I would be able to help you with your…’rather unusual request’.” It was very much intended how she used his down words. It was not to make fun of him though.

Saga didn’t mind the more closed knowledge of her shop and her services. She liked the feel of having some place local rather than it being well known in the mainstream. And it kept the place from prying eyes. Made it a neutral place… for neutral businesses. Even if the place wasn’t cloaked by wards. And it also made it so she relied on word of mouth. Or the constant switching of owning hands of business cards that always seemed to find the hands of people who was in need of what she was capable of.

The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile at her comment, albeit only for a brief moment. The rest of his expression remained stoic as he was still painfully affected by the withdrawals. He kept reminding himself that it was merely what he deserved and that it was a small price to pay in the long run. Besides that, he wanted to repent for his sins, to give in to the pain, and let it heal him from within. Even if some part of him begged for it to stop. For him to go see Lenina and make it all go away. But he was happy to hear that it only proved itself difficult for him, knowing that it sometimes drained witches quite influentially to perform certain spells. “Does this happen often?” he asked, inhaling another deep breath as the heat reached unbearable temperatures. And Michael wasn’t used to this, always having the ability to manipulate the temperatures to his liking, but at the same time, he didn't want to delay his healing by doing so.

He looked at her face as she introduced her name, and for a short moment he wondered if he’d ever heard of her family before, but even if he had, he could have easily mistaken it between the plethora of names in his mind. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, and he truly meant this. It wasn’t solely based on her ability to give him a remedy to his problem, although this naturally was the main reason for him being grateful for their meeting. Rather, there was something intriguing about her that he couldn’t quite place. But his head was a mess at this point, so perhaps that explained away the feeling. The gust of wind that made its way through the store felt refreshing for the burning angel, and he parted his lips slightly to breathe in the cooler air, embracing its temporary appearance. He then felt a spike of pain in his abdominal area that made him lower his gaze to the floor again, yet he stayed quiet, focusing on taking calm and controlled breaths until the pain vanished. He exhaled slowly at this before straightening himself, focusing on a point in the store behind her.

He looked around the shop at her question. “One of my contacts recommended this place, said you were a witch, and that you helped people with requests relating to the supernatural,” he explained, wondering why she wanted to know this. He guessed that it was because her business wasn’t well-known unless you knew what you were searching for, in which case, it presumably had quite the reputation. “So, what do I owe you?” he asked as he returned his eyes to her. He had no idea what the price for her service would be, but surely, she hadn't done this for free. And the sooner she told him, the quicker he'd be able to get out of her way.

”No,” she replied with full carefree honesty while she shook her head a little. “Or I presume it would if a woman with this kind of abilities works at a place like Devil’s Point. But I’ve not dealt with many victims like yourself. Some, but not many. What you experienced, not a lot are self-observant enough to notice that it can be something supernatural.” The discomfort was so vivid not only in Michael’s face but his overall presence and Saga’s seemingly unempathetic attitude could easily be mistaken for cruelty. But there were just not much she could do about it and the use of kind and reassuring words were not a thing that came natural for her. Had he shared his thought with her then she would agree with those who told him that this was his own doing and that he had to get by the consequences. This was his choice.
However she did furrow a brow as he cramped over, if one could really call it that. He barely leaned over. All he did was tilt his head forward. Again; barely. She was sure that it wasn’t wrong of her to sense just how ‘used’ to bodily pain this man was. Adamant to now show any of it if possible. And for eyes more prone to not focus on the smaller things they may have been invisible as well.

Saga did not return the verbal curtesy of stating her feelings of their meetings but she still made it clear for him, that she felt the same through her way of looking him in the eyes and nodding ever so slightly before she started walking away from him. She did not go far. The store wasn’t that big to begin with. She was still well in ear shot for her to listen to his explanation. It made sense. She was a witch, as he had been told and she did deal with magic and spells. It could maybe be a bit of a stretched that she helped people except that what she did was most definitely helpful to them. She had found her way back to the payment desk, the crystal glass placed back on the counter top where it for a moment reflected a fleeting afternoon sunray out through the store. Little Lamb at night would probably give off a mysterious and ominous feeling for some. But in the summer afternoons like these, where the store front was still bathed in some of the warm sunlight, it was as cozy as could be.
A drawer got pulled out and her eyes wandered over the content of it. The sound of glass clinking against each other reveal the probability of a lot of smaller glass bottles stored there. “A feather.” The answer was spoken with nonchalant confidence as if it was the usual price. She didn’t even take her eyes from the drawered until she found what she was looking for and in a shift movement she pulled first one, and then another of the glass bottles from the drawer, closed it and walked back to Michael. “One of your own, of course. Preferably a primary. Or secondary; wouldn’t want to leave you flightless,” she reassured him as she stopped up in front of him and pulled the cork of one of the bottles with her teeth, shaking a pod like a cardamom pod out into her palm and corked the bottle again. Repeating the action with the other one, this time shaking out a bit of what looked like coarse sea salt except it was burning orange.
The bottles got put aside on the nearest platform before she, with hands flat, rubbed them together, making the coarse substance rough up the plant pod into a chunky powder. She finally looked straight at him again as she held out her hand for him to do the same so she could transfer the dry mixture to his palm. “Here. It’ll take some of discomfort off momentarily.”

It was erroneous of anyone to put such a detrimental effect on anyone. But he had the feeling that Lenina didn’t fully grasp the extent of her ability, nor the long-term consequences that followed. Because surely, she couldn’t possibly have the desire to lead people into addiction. Besides, it certainly didn’t conform with what she’d told him of her world. She'd described it as a place where everyone belonged to everyone, and where monogamy and families were illegal. But if she caused people to be addicted to her, then how would it not make them completely devoted to her? Michael wondered if it only affected him in this way because of who he was. But even so, he could only assume that he wasn’t the only man who’d fallen victim to her ability. Whether they realized that it was supernatural or not. And it was no wonder that he'd caught on to this. It wasn’t just due to the many supernatural abilities that he’d been affected by throughout the ages. More so, it was that he would always heal from the effects that weren’t in some way affected by unnatural powers.

He closed his eyes once more as if the darkness would shut out the pain and discomfort, but at least then, the world didn’t seem to spin as much. He heard the faint sound of glass clinking against each other amongst other sounds coming from her neighbors or the street outside. However, as she stated her price, he opened them again and turned his attention to her. Normally, he would be reluctant to let a witch get a hold of something such as a feather, or anything that belonged to him, for that matter. It had nothing to do with his ability to fly, but rather the possible power that she could gain from it. He tilted his head as he looked at her through the room. He contemplated whether it was likely that someone would use it against him in some sort of callous, voodoo way. But then again, he doubted that the outcome would turn out that bad. As far as he could tell, she had no idea who he was, so the chances of it getting into the wrong hands seemed diminutive. And it might be meant for completely different rituals or spells entirely. Besides, his feathers grew back, so in that sense, it wasn’t that big of a deal for him. “Okay,” he said calmly, agreeing to her demand. “Just tell me this. What do you intend to use an angel’s feather for?” he asked, wondering if she had any particular purpose in mind, or if it simply was just another ingredient to add to her collection. He thought it was only fair of him to know this, now that she required it to be one of his feather’s specifically. After all, in his mind, she should care less about who it belonged to. Let alone what type of angel feather it was.

He watched her as shook something from a bottle into the palm of her hand. For a moment, narrowing his eyes as he wondered what she was doing. Until she revealed that it was to help with his discomfort. And she didn’t have to do this. But at the same time, his body begged him for any relief to his pain, so he reached his right hand out for her to transfer the mixture to him. He watched it glow for a moment as it took effect before feeling the serene energy flow from his hand to the rest of his body. His temperature reduced itself to a normal level meanwhile the magic eased the severity of his other symptoms. “Thanks,” he said, looking from his hand to her face again. At least now he didn’t feel like he was burning up in Hell for his sin. And it was a freeing emotion, finally gaining back some of his strength as the magic aided his healing.

That is for me to know. The words rested complete on her tongue already from the moment he had finished his question but she did not speak them. Yet she didn’t obviously shallow the words either. Then while pressing her lips gently together she wetted them with the tip of her tongue. “That I don’t quite know. There’s a lot you can do with a feather from an angel. All depending on where it was plucked. When. And from whom,” she chose to explain, and it wasn’t any less the truth than if she had exposed that she indeed knew who he was. She rarely lied. She merely held back information if she needed to. “Dress an arrow with one and its route won’t be swayed by any wind. Dry the fibres and crush them into an elixir and the healing properties would likely increase. It’s a rather valuable item for those who don’t grow them ourselves.” Even for those who did, they would be valuable.

Saga watched as he looked to get better already from just holding onto the mixture. Letting it seep into his skin. He hid his pain very well so it wasn’t an easy task noticing the small changes like a let compromised posture of a calm in the jaw. Mostly she saw it in his eyes, when he looked at her again. She let them both marinate in the embracing silence for a moment or two before she spoke again: “Shallow it. That way it’ll spread the effect more evenly. And become more stable as it works.” She nodded towards his hand with the coarse powder and then down at her own, where a bit of residue from when she had crushed the two ingrediencies together. But instead of brushing it off in her jeans, she instead she lifted her hand to her face and licked her palm. She already knew the taste of it. Like sweetened ash. A hint of cardamon lingering.
“It may be a bit dry. But it should dissolve with our saliva.” She had of course done it so show him that it was harmless to eat. And it wasn’t just a thing that a witch’s stomach would tolerate. She wasn’t out to trick Michael..
She didn’t lick all the mixture off her palm, though. She didn’t need it like he did so it would be stupid of her to do. So, she lowered her hand again, clapped it against her other one to then brush herself clean so she could cross her arms without risking dirtying her pretty white blouse in the process. “I’m not in any hurry to receive the feather. You might be feeling better but you are still in no condition to be plucked. I believe your body is under enough stress already. Rest. And then you can bring the feather in a few days’ time.” It was clear in her voice that she trusted him to go through with it. She trusted him to not leave and then never return without paying for the services she’d done.

He raised his chin as she said its value depended on a few factors, wondering if this meant that she knew who he was. Because if she did, she had been exceptional at hiding it. “I suppose now wouldn’t be the best of times then,” he said with a minuscule smile on his lips, although it disappeared just as quickly as it was formed. If the timing mattered, it was probably preferred for the angel to be in a better state than his. She then went on to state some of its useful properties, both of which he knew of already. “I see,” he said, looking into her eyes to see if there was an ulterior motive behind them. But it seemed that she was telling the truth.
He kept his gaze with her as she told him to swallow the mixture, watching her as she lifted her own palm to her lips to lick off the powder. It had already started to take effect, so if ingesting it would relieve his symptoms further, then he saw no reason not to. He curled his fingers to keep the mixture in place as he lifted his hand up to his mouth and leaned his head back. He poured the loose powder into his mouth and swallowed it. He then straightened himself again, smoothly wiping his thumb downwards from his upper lip to remove a bit of residue from the powder. The effect quickly grew stronger, aiding in reducing his symptoms and his overall discomfort before it stabilized itself, making the withdrawals much more endurable for his healing.

He reached his hands to the bottom of his t-shirt, about to pull it off when she said she wasn’t in a hurry to receive the feather, so he let go of the fabric to rest his hands on his thighs instead. He hadn’t expected her to say that. Because even if there were better times, why would she take the risk? He knew that his aura emanated trustworthiness, and he was going to pay her, but he doubted that she’d notice where the angel feather came from. All he had to do was tell another angel to hand him one of their feathers. That way, he eliminated the threat of her being able to sell it to someone who could harm him. Because despite the kindness she’d showed him, he wasn’t all that keen on trusting her. Yet this, allowing him to leave without payment… it was very trusting of her. “You astonish me, Saga Rhyss,” he admitted, looking into her blue eyes with a newfound curiosity, albeit it only lasting in his expression for a few seconds. So, perhaps he was going to decide to be fair in their agreement and grant her one of his own feathers. “Well, in that case, there’s no reason for me to take up any more of your time,” he said as he got up from his seat. She wasn’t wrong about his body being under a lot of stress, but he couldn’t really get himself to impose more than he already had, especially not when the dizziness had diminished. And he knew that the long walk home would be the least of his concern the following hours. “I reckon you’ll receive the feather on Monday,” he informed, looking at her as he awaited her approval of this.

Like the smallest of smiles managed to be so unavoidable on Michael’s lips the genuine surprise. that suddenly painted the little witch’s face when he told her how she astonished him, wouldn’t have been able to go unnoticed. No matter how soft the expression itself stayed. She looked at him with her eyes widened, looking him as deep in his eyes as he did hers and for a moment her too young a face for how mature she acted and held herself, seemed to match her much more as he had succeeded in taking her back. His compliment confused her. She wasn’t entirely sure as to why he thought that. What had made him say it. And the way he said her name in full made her realise just how natural it laid on his tongue. “How so?” she asked with a mostly neutral tone. She verily was interested in hearing his reasonings.

Saga automatically took a step or two back to give the angel proper room to stand. She didn’t comment on it this time, and although she let her arms unfold to be ready to support him, should he wobble like before, she could already see how much more stead he was this time around. A relief nonetheless. But she did run her eyes over him, observing the way he kept his balance, just one more time before she agreed enough to actually let him leave on his own this time around and she nodded an agreement. She had done what she was capable off. More than he might have though necessary. But now, he wasn’t the one with experiences in the dealings she had.
“Excellent! I’ll make sure I’ll be here to receive it then. Please see to that you’ll be the one delivering the feather, though,” she expressed as her eyes found their way back to his, the green colour of them reminded her of flourishing valleys. She didn’t hold his gaze for long however, as he then walked in front of him to then lead him like she had when showing in to the closed off corner, though now it was to lead him the opposite way. The white ferret was immediately aware of the situation and again seemed to perk up, its golden eyes following the angel as he would pass the desk. It even scurried over the tabletop to the edge closest to him. “I'd like to see you again.” Stopping up near the open front door she turned to Michael with those words and a pois smile, and a longer pause occurred before she spoke again, explaining her further. “See it as a check-up. It would, of course, be beneficial in a way for me to just do this over and over again but… I’d rather have that my efforts don’t go to waste.” Yea. He felt fine now. With the ashened cardamom in his system. But that relief would fade in due time and the withdrawals would return. She trusted him to have the willpower and sense to not give in like she trusted him to actually bring what she’d asked…