For which you cannot atone

A smile slowly formed on his lips as she asked him how she astonished him, looking deeply into her eyes as if that would unveil the mystery that she was to him. “You're unlike most of the witches I’ve done business with,” he simply replied. But it was purely in a good way. “I would have given you the feather as a payment for the spell alone. Yet, you chose to relieve me of my pain, and now, you grant me the opportunity to cheat you out of the deal,” he explained, shifting between her eyes before he leaned slightly back. Of course, it could all be a façade. Something she only did because she wanted to keep him as a client, but it was not the impression he got. It seemed that she would have done the same to anyone. And if she proved to sincerely be this way, then he could easily see them becoming more than the ordinary client and dealer. The feather was the perfect start to that, a way to test her trust and loyalty further. Because he was fairly sure she knew exactly why he wouldn’t want his feather in anyone’s possession. And if she had the intention of keeping him on her good side, she knew to ensure that it wouldn’t be used for evil or harm.

It was as if she knew that he would send someone else to give her the payment, the way she specifically asked him to be the one to deliver it. He didn't see why she preferred that, seeing that it was a rather simple task. He followed her as she led him back to the door. Now standing in the orange light from the beginning sunset. He looked into her eyes for a moment as she said she’d like to see him again, anticipating her to tell him why. A check-up. He nodded slowly as he considered this. He highly doubted that it would become necessary. If he managed to get through the nights and resist the temptation to see Lenina again, that was. However, she was the one who’d performed the spell, so he could hardly complain about her wanting to be thorough about the effect and ensure that he was healed from his addiction. “Of course,” he said in agreement. “I’ll see you Monday then.” He tipped his head as to say goodbye before he left the store through the open door.

August 24, 17:05. 18 degrees, drizzling rain. Outfit.

Michael’s determination to be healed from the addiction and do penance for his sins was by far greater than his desire to see Lenina, and every time night turned into day, the thoughts about her turned as well. He went from thinking about her every minute to every hour, to a couple of times a day. And now he finally felt well enough to take up the meetings he’d postponed. It was his duty to address the issues that the angels faced, and with his father’s absence, that job easily took up a whole day. But besides the more practical matters, he’d also decided to move forward with his plan to expand his army. He had for a long time wanted to create a new species of angels in relation to this. Although, it had first been a priority of his when his spies allegedly claimed that Maelle had been creating an army of fallen angels. And if he were to face a war against the fallen and corrupted beings of Earth, then he wanted to be absolutely certain that he was going to win superiorly.

As his councilor left his office and the last meeting of his day ended, he got up from his seat to walk towards a bookshelf and unlock a drawer. He took out a dark wooden box, decorated with Enochian symbols before he teleported to Filigree Crescent in Oakheart for his 'check-up' and payment delivery. He of course hoped to hear that all the traces of the addiction had disappeared. Because today he’d finally started to feel like himself again. He walked up to the Little Lamb and opened the door, hearing the imaginary bell ring as he walked further inside the store to place the rectangular box on her desk. Inside of it was a navy-blue velvet interior, and in the middle was a large snow-white feather stored inside a glass bottle to protect it from outside damage.

The answer he gave her seemed to satisfy her curiosity although it didn’t remove the entirety of the confusion. Some still lingered but she knew all too well that it was the common symptoms of a brain too prone to speculations. A researcher’s mind, like her father had called it. Never truly content with what information that got stored in its marvellous library. So, she simply raised her chin in a way to forward an appeased nonverbal ‘I see’ to him. Him then adding a deeper explanation, complete with examples, had her think. She was not the first witch he had had dealings with in the past, therefore he must too be intelligent enough to know not the cheat one. And she believed him to be just that. Intelligent. She would be disappointed if he turned out to not be.
The little witch mimicked his tip of the head, only hers was somewhat softer and feminine and far less prominent. Instead her eyes told their respected farewell. “You will,“ she replied back without even the smallest of specks of condescending attitude despite the choice of words. And she followed him with her eyes as he exited her store, wandering out into the calm street of Filigree Crescent.

She watched his back for a longer while. A sound of wings flapping came from behind her. Wings much smaller than what the angel would be in possession of. And as she expected its arrival, a white crow landed on her shoulder, its golden beady eyes looking after Michael with its head cocked. “I agree,” Saga said, glancing up in the orange sky before she moved back inside and away from the door.


The heat wave of the weekend had finally subsided, relieving Oakhart with a bit of a lower temperature. And not just that; but also rain now washed the cobblestone street glossy. And slippery if one did not tread carefully. “You are an angel, Saga. I fear what I would do without your spell craft,” Mrs. Brown proclaimed, her elderly gratitude a true soother for the heart. The lady giving Little Lamb a short visit before an awaited payment delivery would arrive, was a silver haired woman with kindness folded into every wrinkle of her face. Aging hazel eyes. A woman with grandchildren that would have been the age of what Saga herself appeared to be.
The beautiful chime from the doorbell rang, but surprisingly enough, Saga didn’t immediately look up towards the door. Not before a white crow, sitting on the railing of the spiral staircase screeched to both make its own presence known for the angel in dapper black and to announce the return of him. Then Saga for a short moment removed her attention from the elderly customer, who also took a glance over her shoulder to see who had arrived, to look at Michael at catch his eyes. She was not surprised to see him, of course, she wasn’t, but from the attire she had seen him in the last time, she had not expected him to dress so formal this time around. She quickly lifted a telling finger at him as to tell him to wait a just a bit as she finished up here, a white bandage thinly wrapped around her hand. And she returned to mrs. Brown, just as the elderly lady spoke: “You seem to have fine company so I’ll take my leave, dear. A real catch, if I do say so myself.” She even smiled an innocent smirk as she grabbed her purse from its rest on the desk and then went on her way. Nodding politely to the well-dressed man as she passed.

The elderly mortals were surely bold. Sage kept her eyes on the woman till she had gotten out of the door as if to make sure that there were no problems. And then the intense blue eyes finally looked to Michael. With her full attention this time. Naturally, she looked down at the wooden box he placed between them on the table. “This is the feather I assume?” she calmly asked as she took the liberty to reach out to open it up to see it content. The feather was beautiful and for a while her eyes just looked it up and down. Inspecting it. It was well-kept, not so much as one chip in the fibres. It was an angel’s feather. But if it actually was his wasn’t anything she could determine right then and there. She had to trust him.
She looked back into Michael’s eyes; her chin lifted slightly. “And you seem to be doing promising.”

His eyes turned to a white crow on the staircase screeching, and had it been a white dove, he would have connected its presence to the holy spirit - and as another sign of this being the rightful place for him to be. But something in its eyes made him almost certain that this was the ferret he’d seen earlier that week. So, Saga’s familiar could shapeshift into these two forms, and it made him wonder if the animals related to her personality. He then looked towards the ladies, not saying anything as to not interrupt their conversation. He noticed the white bandage when she lifted a finger as a sign for him to wait a moment. He then looked to the elderly woman as she commented on his appearance, making him flash her a smile before he politely lowered his head. “Good afternoon ma’am,” he wished her on her way, then watching her as she left the store. “Well, you heard her. I’m a real catch,” he said with a teasing smile planted on his lips, finding it quite amusing how elderly women always seemed to want to comment on such things. Especially when you considered that he was far older than them.  

He then returned his gaze to Saga, seeing her take interest in the wooden box. “It is,” he confirmed. The feather was as divine as could be. An archangel’s feather. And in the right light it might still emanate his holiness “I trust you’ll take good care of it,” he said as he looked from the well-preserved feather to her face. He deemed her smart enough to know what that meant - that she’d keep it away from unholy creatures who wished to harm him. And even better was it if she kept it to herself and used it for a righteous purpose.
He looked from the feather inside the box to her eyes as she commented on her impression of him. “Yes, the nights were rather difficult. I will admit to that. But I feel much better now,” he said as a confirmation of this. He had been much more troubled the last time they’d met. And even if he still craved the feelings that Lenina brought him, it felt much easier to resist now. He didn’t really know how she wanted this check-up to go, but he assumed it wouldn’t require much more than a single touch to his hand or another one of those powdery remedies. So, he was quite hopeful about things turning out for the better. “What’s happened to your hand?” he then asked as he glanced to her hand with the bandage wrapped around it.

So, the ancient angel had a sense of humour still. “That would mean I’d have you securely trapped in my net, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t return him a smile when she said that but the light-hearted tone in her voice should’ve worked well enough as an indicator that she was playing along with his tease to the best of her abilities.
Saga carefully pulled the box closer to her before she even dared lift the big glass jar out of its protective little nest of velvet. Knowing the weight of the glass casing, she noticed just how light the feather must be. Fragile and strong at the same time. Most of her knowledge of angel feather came from the written words of books or scripts, with good reason. Michael would probably agree with her that the species of the two of them didn’t socialise very much with each other. Making this business relationship just as unusual as the request that had led him to her. She held up the glass in front of her face to have a better look at it, turning it gently to try and bring out nuances. But it was as pure white as freshly fallen snow. Only tinted by the warm lights from the ceiling lamps and burning candles around the room.
“Of course. I appreciate the faith,” she attested, placing the feather back into the box before closing it shut. She then ran a finger along the line where the two halves – the container and the lid – met and spoke a few Latin words to seal it. Just to be sure. She had no intentions of selling the feather. She had other, hopeful plans with it. Harmless for him. Possibly. Money and materialistic wealth weren’t a factor which she held up front after all. No. She believed in a different kind of superiority.

With the feather now checked through it was his turn. And as soon as he had confirmed an improvement in how he felt, her eyes openly looked him up and down. Cleaned up. Polished, even. “I can see that,” she then agreed and stopped her inspection of him to instead just hold his gaze. Curling the corners of her mouth upwards to some extent in a way of showing some peace of mind. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t doubt how well you’d hold up after the effects of the ashened cardamom would disappear but you might have started to think that with the roots and the traces faded you’d be able to meet up with this woman again. Which would jeopardise the process. I can see I didn’t have anything to be worried about. So far.”

His change of subject seemed so sudden for her. At first, she looked dumbfounded before her eyes wandered down to her hand as if she had forgotten anything even had happened to it. She hadn’t. She turned her hand around a couple of times. “I cut it. This morning.” Her answer was as nonchalant as if she had answered to a mundane question like ‘How are you?’. And it probably was just as mundane for her. She healed much faster than a human, but it wasn’t instant. She assumed he’d be able to put two and two together after seeing how blood had been a part of the ritual she’d preformed on him so she did not explain further.

He chuckled at her comment, glad that she was comfortable enough near him to play along with his banter. “So that’s why you insisted on seeing me again,” he said, teasing her a bit with this as she had sounded rather firm in her request of him being the one to deliver her payment. Of course, if he'd fallen into a state of desperation again, he would have come here regardless. Because if it stood between visiting her shop to get another treatment or seek out his darkest desire, he knew what he'd choose.

The moment she picked up the glass jar he felt the instinctual need to hold his hands underneath it, ready to catch if she were to drop it. As if it was one of his dearest possessions. But instead, he just took a step closer to the desk and placed one of his hands on the tabletop. His gaze followed her movements carefully as she inspected the feather. He had already made sure that it was in perfect condition, but nevertheless he understood that she needed to inspect it. He exhaled the moment she placed the feather back in the box, simply nodding to her saying that she appreciated it. And hence the deal was fulfilled. Now, he just hoped his good faith wouldn't turn out to be a waste.
Saga's attention then returned to him, looking him up and down as to confirm for herself that his wellbeing had improved. And he understood her concern. He must have looked quite awful after she’d performed the spell, and he’d lie if he said that his state hadn't gotten worse once the remedy lost its effect. Because as the thoughts grew stronger, so did the other symptoms of his withdrawal. Yet he hadn't gone back to her or asked anyone else for help. He'd simply suffered through it. Michael had been through much worse ordeals in the past - ones that had made him suffer for a much longer time, in much more vile ways. And as she analyzed his expression, there wouldn’t be a hint of discomfort to see, despite his persistent troubled mind. “I did think about it about a thousand times, and probably a good hundred times while I was in here last week,” he confessed, moving his gaze to the more secluded area in the store where she’d performed the spell on him. “But no. I haven’t seen her,” he confirmed as he returned his green eyes to her. He wouldn’t want to cause a setback or risk her planting new roots in him. Besides that, he knew that it’d be best if he didn’t see her again. The addiction made this realization difficult. But it would have never worked out between them, and after he'd suffered through the withdrawals, he'd only be foolish to risk falling into the addiction again.
He nodded as she said she cut it this morning, and as soon as he knew that it was caused upon herself, and not by an attack or accident of some kind, he changed his focus back to the purpose of their meeting. “Are you going to check whether the traces of the addiction have vanished?” he asked assuming that this was what she intended to examine.

Saga followed his gaze towards the little corner of the shop shortly after he had turned to look himself. And as she saw him turn his eyes back to her, she once again followed along. She tilted her head at the information he disclosed to her. She hadn’t really thought about what battling thoughts might have roamed his head that day. And she hadn’t given him so much time to sink into them either, if she remembered correctly. It had been like ripping of a bandage in one confident swoop. Not allowing for any takebacks. After all; it had been what he had requested of her. And luckily, it seemed like he didn’t regret it. Good.
When he asked more directly to the ‘check-up’, now that the payment was successfully completed, she gently took a deep breathe which by, expanding her chest, straightened her body. It was almost as if she felt some pieces in her spin click into place as she did so. The little witch was proud of just how strong her posture was, but she was no superhuman and after an extended night and day she must have been starting to slouch. “I can’t,” was the first few words she laid out in front of him and then didn’t say any more for a second or two. Seconds she used on taking the first couples of steps about the desk. “There isn’t anything concrete way for me to see if any of the traces are still there or if some are still in the process of fading. I don’t possess that kind of abilities. It’s simply a matter of time. And it wouldn’t shock me if it was different from individual to individual.” She walked all the way around and stopped in front of him, his height forcing her to lean her head back to look at him. Just a little bit. “There isn’t really any way to tell for sure.”

Suddenly she showed vague signs of perking up and she turned her head to the table next to them, or rather to the side, where she had just been standing. “Attempting to make a good catch or keeping an eye on your recovery state wasn’t the only reasons why I wished to see you again in person,” she then admitted, backing half a step and then turned to walk back around the desk, where she was quick to open one of the many drawers. This time a shallow one compared to the others. There she pulled an envelope. Just a standard white one that everyone could buy at the local post office. Nothing special there. After all, it was only to keep the content from potential damage. Saga closed the drawer with her hip and soon she returned to Michael’s side of the table, back in front of him so she could hand him the envelope. “Here.”
Did he open it right then and there he would find piece of paper in it. Not larger than a squared A6. Nothing else. The paper was a dark maroon, almost black colour and on it in white ink was an intricate symbol drawn. And sealed to become one with the paper.

He became slightly confused as she replied that she couldn’t, wondering why else she would have required him to come. He knew that it wasn’t because of simple interest in him, so if it wasn’t for this or the check-up, then it was for a third reason entirely. She then walked closer to him, making him lower his head slightly as she gave him an explanation as to why this was. “All right. I suppose all I can do is pray about it then,” he replied, understanding that it was outside of her abilities to sense the traces. Michael had a long time ago learned that patience was a virtue, and considering how well he was feeling, it probably wouldn’t take many days for the traces to vanish completely. At least, this was his hopeful wish. Of course, he knew that Saga most likely didn’t pray to his father, but many witches were pagans, praying, and sacrificing to their own false gods. So, in this respect, she might still know the powerful properties of prayer.
He was still pondering why she’d insisted on his arrival, but he didn’t have to wait long before she turned her head to the table and explained that she had another reason for bringing him here. Getting the idea that it was her primary reason. He turned his head as his gaze followed her back to the desk, watching her take out an envelope from a drawer. Michael already dreaded what this was about, being fairly used to receiving grave news through letters. But he was equally intrigued to know what it was regarding. Because he didn't have as much as a qualified guess.

Once she stood in front of him again, he reached his hand out to hold the envelope in his right hand where he wore a silver ring on his index finger. He looked down at the plain envelope before he took out a pocketknife from his waistcoat pocket. He opened the envelope in a swift movement with the blade before he secured it and took out the dark piece of paper. Simultaneously placing the knife back in his pocket. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the symbol written in white ink, scanning his mind for any recognition of what type of symbol this was. A part of his mind telling him that it was related to witchcraft. But before his mind wandered too far, he raised his eyes to her. “What is this?” he asked, demanding her to explain why she'd given him this paper.

“A spell,” she told him without much needed demands from him. Saga had had no intentions of actually keeping what it was for herself. She would get anything out of doing something like that. “I told you I would look into what I could do concerning the missing angel you were looking for. It’s not a tracking spell of any kind but…” She didn’t sway from his eyes, only hinting that she was as honest with him as she had been the whole time through and in a relaxed manner, she then learned her hip up against the edge of the desk at her side. “I’ve attached the magic of the spell to the paper. What I wa-… Your job would be to transfer the spell to an object with strong connections to who you wish to find. And then keep that object with you while you search. It’ll not be able to tell you where she is.” She remembered him referring to the missing angel as a female. “It will, however, start to emit a sensation when the object is in the vicinity of her. I speculated it might be better than nothing.”
Her dark brows rose a bit as she watched him with anticipation in her blue eyes. He could accept it. Or he could not. Actually, no matter what he did it would tell her a little more about him.

Though, after some time she lowered her eyes. They nearly closed all the way as she leaned her head all the way to one side to stretch out her neck. And then she leaned to the other side. A hand reached up and rand through the thick tufts of black hair to then throw it to one side, bringing the side part further to the side and bringing comfortable volume to her shoulder short mane.

More words were about to pass on from her tongue when the front door slammed open like a powerful gust of wind forced it open like a swing door. Except the door had a perfectly working latch system. Saga’s lip had already been parted, ready to speak those words, but instead she immediately turned her head and full attention towards the door with a gasp, shocked by the sudden loud noise. The slamming shot a shelve by the wall nearest and a broom, standing by the door fell down to the floor. Luckily it was the only casualty. The sound of the rain outside was not much louder, and the remainder of the wind howled in an escape further down the street.
Saga might not look it, standing there still calm and nearly not having flinched other than the head turn, but her heart was pounding in her chest. The white crow, just if not more startled than the witch, had taken off from the staircase railing and was wildly flapping its wings. Cawing a few times from its displeasure of the disturbance.

He traced his fingertips over the symbol as she explained that it was a spell and that it was concerning the missing angel. He had not expected her to go as far as to create a spell for him, but the gesture was truly appreciated. He looked into her eyes as she further explained it. It shouldn’t be a problem for him to attach it to an object of hers, and he already had a specific belonging in mind. Of course, a tracking spell would have been preferred, but as far as he was concerned, this was better than nothing. And it was certainly needed since his angels had failed to find her on their own. “Thank you,” he said, feeling better knowing that the envelope had brought good news. And once again she managed to exceed his expectations. Doing more than what he'd asked. He then put the paper neatly back in the white envelope before he placed it inside his suit jacket.

“I do insist to pay for your dinner as a sign of my gratitude,” he said as if it wasn’t up for discussion, about to reach for his wallet when the front door slammed open. And his eyes immediately darted towards the entrance at this. Anticipating a person to walk inside the store as it admittingly looked like the kind of dramatic entrance that he had the tendency to create. Except said person was nowhere to be seen. Creating a spooky ambiance to the witch's store. The lights then flickered, making him look up at the ceiling. It was a strange occurrence. He was usually able to see ghosts, being one of few with an ability to send them into the light - or the dark, for that matter. But after he’d scanned every corner of the store, he didn’t see one. He then lifted his hand, using his air manipulation to shut the door again, stopping the rain and winds from blowing inside of the store. “It’s okay. It was probably just a ghost,” he said as he lowered his hand again, although he wasn't exactly as sure of this as he sounded. However, regardless of what it was, he wasn't frightened by it. More so, he was interested in seeking an explanation for the incident. Michael began walking towards the storefront windows to look out on the foggy street outside, trying to see if there was anyone out there who could’ve caused the spectacle. “Hm,” he said in a low voice as he discovered that the street was empty. “Has that happened before?” he asked, still with his gaze focused on the street before it turned to the door to look it up and down. Checking to see if the sudden slam had destroyed its hinges.

With the light flickering her eyes slowly moved from the door to the lamp above them, frowning discreetly. Heart still beating like a drum in a marching band. But on the outside, she was still pretty much calm. Like Michael this hadn’t particularly frightened her. Just shocked her by the suddenness of it. And instantly cautious. Her mind working on overtime to try and notice a thing of two that would make sense of the occurrence. She looked back down from the lamp as it stopped flickering and as she saw her angelic visitor raise a hand out of the corners of her eyes, just in time to witness him close the door from a distance. Did he possess telekinesis like she did?

Saga look a last glance around the store before she walked over to the door, passing Michael as he inspected the streets through the large window. She squatted down by the fallen broomstick and lifted it from the floor as she stood up again while she ran her eyes over it; making sure it hadn’t been damaged from the fall. “No. Not exactly. It occurs that some customers like a grand entrance when they arrive but they usually prefer a more silent approach. There are some who likes to do their business in private. This would be to scare away already visiting visitors if anything,” she explained only looking to the archangel once before taking a closer look at the beautiful dark mahogany door. So cracks or dents on its surface. The wood was not only strong but also magically reenforced. So was the glass in the small crossed window. So was the glass in the storefront window. “Even those with more dramatic and bold tendencies wouldn’t be slamming my door.” She furrowed her brow even more when she saw the state of the hinges. The door was completely fine but it hung ever so slightly. She stepped closer and reached up to run her fingers over the highest hinge, feeling how it bend. And it was visible too. It was enough that it needed to be fixed or replaced.
Just as she sighed a drained sigh the white crow had hovered over and landed securely on her slim shoulder. Cawed once, this time not as alerted, at her as if to make a comment on the whole thing. Calming its dearest witch. Knowing her better than most in what she’d need. Saga could be apart from her familiar, no problem, but they didn’t mean that there still wasn’t a bond between the two. There always was.

“Is this perhaps something that follows you around, Michael?” Saga finally turned to Michael again. Stepped a few steps in place to turn her body towards him. She still held on to her broom, holding it unconsciously in a horizontal line by her hips. He had been quick to assume that this was some sort of planned happening which only confirmed that he always must have been on his toes. Not surprisingly for someone with supposedly enemies in every corner of the world.

He had been quick to assume that the incident was due to who she was. After all, they were in her shop. Oblivious to the fact that most people didn’t have the same level of hostility surrounding them. Not in this part of the world, anyway. So, when she suggested that it might be to scare a visitor away, he looked over to meet her eyes. Realizing that she thought he was the reason for it happening. “Maybe,” he said contemplatively, moving his gaze to the window again. It had been a lousy attempt to scare him off, so if it was someone who wanted to target him, they had to come up with something better. But for a while, nothing happened. All he saw as a couple walking down the street to their apartment across the shop.

He looked back at her as she reached up to touch the highest hinge, discovering that it was damaged, just like he had moments before. He then turned around with his back to the window, looking around the store once more and briefly seeing the white crow fly by him towards Saga. He shot her a side-glance as she asked him a rather indicative question. He wished that things like this didn’t follow him around, but it would be a blatant lie to say that it didn’t. “So, you know who I am,” he said in a calm voice, still with his side to her. He had suspected this the last time they’d met, but the way she asked her question made him almost certain of it.
“But it does I'm afraid. I have far more enemies than worshippers in this part of the world,” he replied. It was the consequence of living in a place full of dark creatures when you considered who he was and the work he did. “That is why I am here,” he continued with his gaze searching the room for a presence. He was primarily sent on Earth to fight the evil that roamed it and put an end to the beings that caused corruption and devastation upon humanity. Naturally, this had gotten him into a lot of trouble and the list of people who wished to rip him apart had grown exponentially with it. “Did you know that on average a murder is committed once a week in Gaia? Sometimes it's ten or five... but the number of victims who have to live traumatized and afraid because of the many wicked minds that live here, it's distressingly high,” he said before he looked at her, standing there with the broom in her hand and the crow on her shoulder. Of course, she might think that Michael was no better himself, having killed far more than most living beings. But he didn’t care what other people thought, so long as he knew that he was trying his best every day to help people and do what he knew was right by God.

”I do.” Once again the little witch didn’t even hesitate in giving him an honest and truthful answer. She didn’t even need time to think it over, if it would be wise to reveal it. She had not hidden that she knew. Not entirely. There was still a difference between telling a lie and holding back information, the only thing was that Saga maybe thought something wasn’t needed to be told, things that Michael – or other who had come across her in their life, for that matter – thought. Just like a different morale.
She held her gaze into his eyes for a longer while, still blinking and not staring intensely, so she clearly didn’t have any problems with eye contact. At all. But after some time, she lowered her eyes in almost a shameful way, wetting her lips at the same time. She then turned her head to look more to the side and her lips parted a few second before she spoke again. “I believed It would’ve been rude of me to neglect the opportunity for you to introduce yourself, on a somewhat equal plan. So I didn’t mention it.” Did he have a lie detector at his disposal he would only find her telling him more truths. She actually hadn’t told him a lie in the entirety of them standing face to face. Not ones. That had to count for something…

Saga turned her head back to him, but instead of looking at him in that instant, her blue eyes passed him to look out the window. And then they glided back to his valley greens, listening to him speak. He had a powerful voice, although it was both calm and collected. The broom in her hand got switched in her hands, drawing a parallel line so all she had to do was place it up against the wall right next to the door and it stood perfectly leaned. Hopefully the door wouldn’t be slamming open again any time soon.
Her face softened. “You yourself must be part of that increasing number. Traumatized by wicked minds. But you’re lucky that you’re also strong enough to bear it around with you. No need to process it. And maybe; no time to do it either. Gaia is a large area of corruption, I learned that quickly when I arrived.” And when she chose to stay. She slowly wrapped her arms around herself. Grabbing a hold in each elbow with the opposite hand. “I’m not familiar with the exact statistics but I’m not blind to it.”
“Do you consider me to be a wicked mind?” she then asked. Not accusingly in the slightest. It was only fuelled by curiosity. He had admitted to be astonished by her, but that was about the only thin she truly knew revolving his thoughts about her. The crow watched the angel in much the same fashion. Tilting its head, switching a bit from side to side. Circe had still not caught onto any hostility from Michael.

If Saga had any prejudices about him, he was certain that he would have heard them by now. And most people were too curious not to say something, so perhaps she really was just polite, taking his misery into consideration at the time. Or maybe she could care less who he was. “I must have painted quite the picture... Archangel Michael, not only fallen from grace to sin with a daughter of man but also becoming addicted to her,” he said with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. His voice carrying an underlying sarcastic tone. But the sins of desire were the ones he was most prone to fall to, and when you lived a life with pain and horror it was no wonder that he sought out love and desire as a contrary relief to that. At the same time, he knew that he should try to avoid love altogether. Because as soon as people got attached to him, he only brought danger into their life.

He turned to face her, from those first words thinking that she accused him of contributing to the increasing numbers. Until she said that he was amongst the victims. Michael wasn’t used to people taking that approach. But of course, the trauma was a consequence of seeking out the wicked. She then added extra insight. He knew that she was observant, but it was rare for people to attempt to understand what his life was like. She was right, however. Most of the time he didn’t need to process things. He simply got it done and moved on. And in any case, he rarely got time to process it. Because regardless of his state of mind, the monsters would continue their corruption of Earth. “Why did you decide to stay then?” he asked as she’d admitted to knowing its corruption upon arrival.

As her question had left her lips, he looked at her for a long moment. She wanted to know if he viewed her as a wicked witch. But he wouldn't have returned to her if he did. “No,” he replied as he slowly stepped closer to her. “I consider you to be many things but wicked isn’t one of them,” he admitted, stopping within close proximity to her. He had spent ages studying people, and with his ability to sense their moral compass, one had to be very deceitful to fool him. That said, it still happened on occasion, so he rarely let his guard down. “In the short time I've known you, you've proven to be intelligent, generous and honest,” he continued, knowing that her curious mind probably wondered what things he was referring to. At least, this was the impression she'd given him. “That’s why I think we are going to work well together.”

Well, he was not wrong. Some would even say he’d fallen even deeper seeking help in potentially darker corners such as going to a witch. He had, of course made a right decision in doing so or she suspected that he would still be the desperate war hero craving his next fix. It astounded her actually that he hadn’t been too proud. From those fleeting stories his name had been dropped one would have assumed that. But maybe it in the end was the mouths which told the stories who were to blame for that misinformation. Neither one of them belonged to the Archangel himself, after all, so just how reliable could they be? “I can’t deny you that, but I can’t blame you either,” she said, having raised a saying eyebrow to his sarcastic conclusion. She didn’t feel any nagging embarrassment coming from him, not anything negatively triggering, which was good. His pride might have been grazed but that was about it.

Saga then watched and she noticed the small changes that happened in his face, as she revealed a snippet of her analyse of him. She noted how the stern expression was quick so soften again as it became clear to him, that she was not openly talking badly about him. It was honestly nothing new. Not for her. She was well aware how she came across to people in certain moments.
Huh? Him questioning her why she had chosen to stay had taken her back for a short second and even an answer already on the tongue, she seemed as if she needed to think about it first when her eyes lost their focus from his and wandered to look at nothing. “Why shouldn’t I have? Gaia is not a particularly safe country, but it’s still some place very special. Here are filled with magic. And mysteries. And Michael, I don’t scare easily.” With the reply her eyes turned sharp again, returning him the pleasure of meeting with them. The truth behind her theories about him were mostly based on herself. It was no lie that they were a lot alike. Maybe not in worldly vision but in personalities. He carried similar traits to her. And like him she… didn’t deal or process trauma by fearing the night.

With him stepping closer she didn’t move since she simply didn’t mind. And it might just have been because he had moved so slowly, but she didn’t flinch either. The graceful smile appeared on her lips again, curling up in the corners, already by his initial answer – no – and moved slightly in place, lifting the chin and straightening the back. Her smile then grew just enough for her lips to part in a soundless huff by one of his describing words. Even giving a glimpse of her teeth. “Generous. That’s not one I hear too often,” she admitted, slightly shaking her head at him. “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you here in the future then?” Saga wasn’t the only one showing signs of satisfied attainment by this fact. The white bird on her shoulder showed it as well through a puffing of its soft feathers.

Saga was the only person outside of Lenina and his father who knew about his temporary fall. He had made sure of that. And now that he felt better, it was well in the past as far as he was concerned. He had sinned in much worse ways without a smidge of harm to his reputation. Because in the end, all beings were fallible, and his status and achievements by far triumphed the occasional sin. Most angels wouldn’t blame him for it either, but still, there was no need to tell them about it, to worry them, or distract them from their duties. Because it was something he’d needed to do penance for on his own. Now, of course. If you asked unholy beings about him, you’d get an entirely different picture of who he was. But Saga seemed to be the kind of person to not easily get swayed by other people's opinions.

Michael didn’t imply that she should have stayed away. He was merely curious to know why she’d chosen to settle in Gaia of all places, wondering if there had been any particular reason behind it. But instead, it seemed that she’d felt drawn to its magic and mysteries. He smiled briefly at her last comment. “I've noticed,” he said, looking into her ocean blues as they returned to him. Her physical frame didn't look of much, but he was certain that she was more than capable of fending off any intruders. Barely even flinching at the shocking disturbance. His presence probably didn’t contribute to her feeling much safer than she would have been alone.

His eyes glanced at her lips as she smiled by his comments, quickly returning to her as she revealed that she didn’t get called generous that often. He tilted his head slightly at this as he considered why people wouldn't. In his experience, she had done more than most dealers would. It made her stand out to him. Besides that, she did her job thoroughly well. “Yes,” he replied, moving his gaze from her to the bird on her shoulder who seemed to approve of it as well - the prospect of a working relationship between them.
“Which brings me to another request, and I promise it’ll be my last for a while, but considering that you seem proficient in symbolic magic, I was wondering if you could touch up a tattoo of mine?” he asked as he returned his eyes to her. He assumed that she knew how to perform that type of spell as it was a rather common one. But his tattoo required more magic than what was required for a tattoo not to heal itself. And he’d much prefer her help over the witch he’d went to in Greece. He still remembered laying in that shop for hours, and how every time he’d turned his head from the ceiling with the strange, hanging ornaments, there’d be some doll staring back at him. “It started to fade after an incident earlier this month, and I’d hate for it to have compromised the effect of the magic,” he explained as he turned his body to pay attention to the highest hinge again. He reached his hand up to the hinge, placing two fingers on the metal to bend it back in place. And when it seemed straight again, he grabbed the door handle, opening it halfway to check on its condition. And it seemed to work just fine. So he closed the door to block off the wind from entering the shop and turned to face Saga again. “Of course, I can come back another time if you’re busy tonight,” he added as to not impose on her evening if she had other plans.

It would turn out that ’in the future’ was much closer than one you originally thing. So close, in fact, that Michael hadn’t even left her store before returning to her for another request. Somethings could possibly point towards him having wanted to test her out first – get acquainted with her skills and methods – before he went down his list of things that needed supernatural attention and maybe a magical touch here and there. Saga listened automatically to him talk with definite sparked curiosity. And she must admit that she would have no chance of actually guessing what he’d ask for next. So far the things he’d needed her talents with had been three very different inquiries. “What kind o-…” Her eyes had quietly travelled from his face to around his chest, that being the only commonly known placement of a tattoo of his. It was only for a fleeting second, but still it turned out to be just long enough for her to get caught off guard. She only just noticed him moving out of the corners of her eyes. And then reflexively looking back up she witnessed him not only fixing her door in a spur of the moment but with her own placement by the door, he felt a quite bit closer than before as he reached up.
Remarkably enough, she didn’t step back, although it took her by surprise, so much so that she had stopped talking mid-sentence. Yet she did stare blinking a few times until she collected herself again. Turning her head and looking up at how he bent the metal with such ease functioned as a focus points for her to be back to normal as well. “What kind of tattoo are we talking about?” she finally finished with nothing to hint that she had failed the first time.

“I don’t own or am really trained in the use of inking tools such as an ordinary tattoo gun but I do make a living out of magic attachment. Especially through ink,” she explained a bit further, sending a mental reminder to the paper-attached spell he had securely in his pocket. Written in ink. At last Saga moved away from the door as it got opened and tested, simply so she didn’t stand too much in the way, if the door chose to swing open and this time slam right into her. So she walked a couple of steps farther into the store ending up calmly finding her way back to her trusty counter desk. “Tonight isn’t any more busy than other night so don’t worry about taking up my time like this.” Besides, whoever who had tried so scare Michael off – probably not knowing the angel and thinking it was an easily scared individual – had no business with her. Not when slamming her door.

Moving a hand up to her shoulder the crow didn’t wait to jump onto it so she gracefully could move it over to a desk lamp, where it obediently jumped unto and settled on, leaning a little to see past its witch and over on the angel. Obviously the most interesting thing in its surroundings. Saga herself turned around too, this time leaning casually up again the desk, almost half sitting on it

He noticed her gaze fall to his chest, making him suspect that she'd heard of his tattoo, and of course, there were people who knew of it. He had gotten it about a thousand years ago. The only reason he’d needed the witch's help in Greece was that a demon had burned his tattoo off with the incentive to enter his mind and possess his body. “An anti-possession symbol,” he replied as he worked on the hinge of the door. She still didn’t move, making him think that he might have caught her off guard with his request. Despite him assuming it to be a rather common one at that. It was the only tattoo he had, and had he not been possessed by a demon after his time in Hell, he probably wouldn’t have thought of getting it in the first place. But he wasn’t risking that happening again.

At first, he thought that she wasn’t interested in fixing his tattoo, but perhaps it was more about the fact that she didn’t own the right tools to do it. However, he wasn’t prone to infection so any means of needle and ink would most likely suffice. “The magical attachment is the most important part of it, the rest… I can deal with,” he said as he looked at her again, now seeing her walk back towards the front desk. He sent her a smile as she said that she had time for his appointment because now was a lot more convenient time for him. “Great,” he said as he moved closer to her. His gaze moved to the bird as it jumped onto the lamp before he stopped a meter away from Saga as she was leaning up against the desk. He started to loosen his tie as he moved his gaze back to her, removing it from around his neck before he took off his blazer. He reached his arm by her to place both items on the desk before he started to unbutton his white shirt, untucking it from his slacks. At last, he pulled off his white cotton t-shirt, folding it neatly before he placed it on top of the other garments, revealing a muscular torso without the slightest imperfection except for the faded tattoo on his upper left chest. Michael was rather used to being shirtless around others due to the fact that angels grew their wings from their back, making shirts rather inconvenient for flying.
“Do you think you’ll be able to enhance the magic connected to it?” he asked her with his gaze lowered to the tattoo on his chest, by this giving her the opportunity to give a more fair judgment of it, now that she could see it for herself. He then looked back into her eyes, hoping that she’d deem the tattoo fixable. Because the sooner he could get it improved, the less he’d need to worry about a potential possession anytime soon.

The next unexpected thing that happened should maybe have caught the little witch more off guard than what had succeeded in doing that before. However, Michael stripping his clothes, one piece at a time, in front of her – and also in front of peeping eyes from the empty street – settled with a slight furrow of her brows to match to initiatory confusion. But she did not look away. And when her expression smoothed over, she didn’t make an effort to hide her eyes wandering over his exposed torso. Only thing was; the look in her eyes were mainly analytical. Like she had observed his face on another occasion. This was a new part of him.
No scars. No nothing. Not even a burst vein from the visible muscle build up that this man was blessed with. Saga straightened herself, not slouching against the desk, and she looked to once again look for a non-verbal consent from his, just as he more or less gave it to her in advance. As if he already knew…

This made Saga step towards him, a sense both of close to childish satisfaction and… being on alert grazing her. “Of course,” she replied confidently, her blue eyes already having found their way back down to the tattoo on his chest. Then stopping in easy reach of him she held out a hand and like when she had caressed his jaw, she gently let her fingers touch the tattooed skin. It felt like one would expect. Like skin. Smooth like the rest. Healed to perfection. But she felt the magic in it as well. As well as the fading of it. It was a faint tingle for her. "What exceptional craftsmanship." The overall placing of the tattoo reminded her of her own. Left side of the chest. Near the heart. Just that this was something he’d asked for. A witch’s mark wasn’t so consensual. She subconsciously felt a tug to move the collar of her T-shirt to make sure her mark was concealed, even though the neckline already did so.

She pulled her hand to herself again and immediately looked up at Michael, confirming with him that she had what she needed as of then. “I’ll need to grab something from upstairs for this. You can sit down over there and wait.” As she said that she turned her head and looked over at a corner of the store he already was familiar with. The same stool was still there for him to sit down in. But she kept her eyes in that corner for a bit longer, as she started to ponder. Her eyes then switched to the metal staircase just some steps from them. “No. It might be better to do it somewhere where you can lay down or sit more stable. Follow me,” she decided. She sent him a short peek but then looked past him to the door. And with a lifted hand and a soft gesture the sound of a locking mechanism could be hear.

Saga then didn’t wait for the angel’s agreement, before she walked to the staircase and began to climb it up to the floor above them revealing a living place. Compared to the store this floor was as mundane as it could be. The room the stairs lead up to was an open plan kitchen, dining room and living room all-in-one with the kitchen being placed up against one of the longer walls with ordinary counter and cabinets and a gas burner. Nothing fancy. In the space in front of the kitchen, she had put a dining table. There had been made a bit of attempts to cutting the living room area off from the rest by having a shelve as a third of a room divider and then a TV. And a cozy and comfy couch pushed up against the shorter wall. There was one other door by the opposite wall leading to the bathroom. But honestly, the only thing giving away that this was a witch’s home was the few dried herbs hanging.
“Take place by the table. I’ll be back in a minute.” Arriving at the floor she stepped away from the stair to make room for Michael to do as well. And with him then out of her way she stepped into the stars again to climb them further up as they did continue up to the top floor. Leaving him to himself for a bit if he didn't have any objections.

Even the slightest indication of surprise was quickly turned into professionalism as she looked over his tattoo. She didn’t blush or avert her eyes from his body, which he deemed to be an overall good thing - a sign of her being less inclined to get distracted during the procedure. A pleased smile formed on his lips as she stated that it wouldn’t be a problem to enhance the magic. His gaze stayed with her face as she placed her fingertips against his tattooed skin. It resembled a pentacle, a symbol for warding off evil, and from the circle were flames as a sign of purification. All drawn with meticulous precision. The witch had indeed been an expert in her field, which was why he’d gone to her in the first place. It was just a shame that these types of symbols were relatively easy to tamper with or destroy.

When she was done with her examination, he nodded to her instruction and followed her gaze to the corner of the store. Only for her to change her mind about it. He looked back at her as she said this, seeing that she had turned her eyes to the metal staircase that presumably led up to her living quarters. He couldn't help but think that she made an exception for doing this. At least, he didn’t think that she brought her clients upstairs that often, although he could be wrong. “Sure,” he said, going along with what she deemed best. He remembered how important it had been for him to remain still the last time, so he understood why she’d prefer to work in a place that allowed for better conditions. He stood still for a moment as she walked past him towards the staircase, realizing that she once again didn't intend to discuss her price beforehand.

He grabbed his clothes to bring it with him before he walked up the staircase, and as he reached the apartment, he took a moment to look around it. It reminded him of the apartment he’d had while the bunker underwent renovations. Except his place had felt much emptier, without a television or any form of decoration. It hadn’t seemed necessary for the short time he spent there. But despite his peripatetic job he had finally decided to settle down in Gaia on more permanent terms. He stepped forward as she’d moved away, looking to her as she told him to take place by the table before she climbed up to the next floor. He then walked further into the room, first placing his folded clothes on one of her dining chairs before he hung his suit jacket on the backrest. He then pulled out the adjacent chair to take a seat while he waited for Saga. If they had a closer relation, he might have taken the liberty to look at some of the items or books in her apartment, but he didn’t want to give her the impression that he was trying to pry. So instead he pulled out his phone to scroll through his missed calls and text messages. One of them being an attachment to an article that he then started to read. When he heard her return with what she had gone to fetch, he looked over at her to see if she'd need any help, but it didn't seem that way. “How long have you lived here?” he asked, returning his eyes to his phone to send the person a text before he put it back and turned his attention to Saga.

He was indeed correct. Saga wouldn’t be needing an extra set of hands as she climbed down the stairs more than the promised minute later. The thing she had acquired from the top floor wasn’t even close to being big enough for her to fight with the balance and the manoeuvre. Besides, she probably knew her stairs better than anyone after having went up and down them for so many years. The thing was an object; another wooden box, this one with a worn glossy surface and with a size of that of a small sewing chest. One on the thinner side, like something to keep jewellery in. She was particular about keeping the box horizontal and steady, not wanting to flip or turn it around and let the content jumble around inside. If the craft and state of the box hadn’t made it clear already, this wasn’t anything new. Or anything from a cheap Chinese eBay seller either, that’s for sure.
Stepping down from the last step on the floor she looked up and focused on the angel by her table. Half-naked and polite minding his own with a phone glued to his face. Glued with harmless gorilla glue because he was quick to put it away. She joined him by the table, placing the box on it together with a glass bottle, small enough to have been hiding in the grip she had had on the box. Small reddish-purple leaves. “Well past one and a half century by now. I passed my seventeenth decade earlier in march this year,” she replied, then turning a few degrees to take a better look around the place. “It has of course changed quite a lot over all those years, but this place has been mine since I settled back in 1857.” Her voiced carried some pride with it.
There was absolutely nothing to worry about when exposing to obvious clues to her supernatural roots and centuries old age. Michael was without any doubt from a much, much earlier time than her. She was but a fetus compared to him.

With a chair occupied by folded up clothes and another occupied by the archangel himself, Saga chose to walk past Michael and after pulling a chair around from the other side of the table she sat down at the end of the table nearest to him, angling herself so she could look more straight at him without having to turn her head to trap his eyes with her own.
The wooden box got pulled to her with the usual soft signalling with a hand. Just like how she channelled her magic best through blood or symbols, her telekinesis was best controlled by hand movements. The box glided over the table top and stopped as her hand was there to block it from continuing over the edge. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that enhancing the magic in it will also make it slightly more vulnerable to siphonering. I wouldn’t let one touch it if you want it to last.” She held his gaze for an extra-long second to make sure that he understood the importance of it. Which she was sure he already did so it was just to be on the safer side of things. She then looked down at the box, opened it and started picking instruments out. There among a hollowed needled with a kind of tiny disk at the non-pointy end, a size bigger than that thin sewing needled he has used to prick herself in the finger with at their first meeting. A shallow dish and a vial of black ink.

"How are you with pain?"

He leaned back in his seat as she replied to his question. He didn’t know how old he’d expected her to be, but for some reason, perhaps her relatively young appearance, he’d assumed her to be less than a century old. But the more he thought about it, the more it started to make sense from what he’d seen of her so far. And for all he knew, she could be centuries older than that. Michael himself had spent the late 1850's traveling on horseback in the American frontier, only staying in one town for a short while before he moved on the next. It wasn’t until the world wars began that he spent more of his time in Europe again. “I think that’s longer than I’ve ever stayed in one place, at least if you only count Earth,” he said, following her gaze around the room. Of course, they lived very different lives, so it wasn’t all that surprising. “And your family? Do they live nearby?” he asked as he returned his eyes to her.

“Then it’s good that I don’t plan to be intimate with someone possessing such powers,” he said with a spark in his green eyes. He never intended for anyone with the ability to absorb magic or powers to touch him regardless of her doing this. The mere thought of anyone getting their hands on his powers was frankly terrifying. So, yes. He was aware of it. However, he did appreciate her explaining things for him just like she would any other client. Because when it came to the details of magical components or effects of spells, then he was far from an expert. And it was always better to be on the safe side of things.

He straightened himself in his seat as she opened the box, getting a glimpse of its content before his eyes stayed with the needle in her hand. Her question caught him a bit off guard, making him look into her eyes for a moment. Mostly because he wondered how well she thought that he dealt with pain. Although, he understood why she'd asked - to know whether he'd need sedation or something to numb the pain. “Very well,” he replied calmly. In other words, there wasn’t any amount of pain that she could give him that he hadn’t already felt. And odds were that he’d felt it in a much worse way. So, she needn't worry about him jeopardizing her work because of the pain. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Curious are we, huh.” The little witch probably shouldn’t be the one to talk, being pretty much just as curious as Michael had started to show. She wasn’t sure if this was a sign of him feeling more comfortable around her or not, since she knew herself well enough that her own curiosity wasn’t entirely fuelled by such things as familiarity or bond. She didn’t expect him to actually give her comment back, obviously, because not too long after she have him an honest answer to his question, not feeling any need to keep them from him. He had asked. And most of the time, that was enough for her. She shook her head gently. “No. Of course they don’t live as far away as I can imagine a place like Heaven must be but Circe and I the only ones in Gaia,” she told with a softness in her voice that only really came through when she spoke of her family. And Circe, her familiar, was just as much part of her family as her parents. “You see, I’m originally from Germany. A small town called Randersacker.”
Saga hadn’t really had any distinct accent, when she spoke English. It was neither British like the people who grew up and lived in Gaia nor was it American. There wasn’t even a slight German feel. It was almost completely free of any finger-pointing characteristics. But the moment she spoke the German name of her home town there could be no doubt about where she was from. And the transition was so smooth. Even when she returned to English and the non-distinct accent.

Already before she caught the spark in his eyes his comedic comment on the ordeal added something challenging to her own intense blue gaze. Her eyes squinting just a tiny bit and her chin lifted up discreetly before she naturally lowered her eyes and head. “I see. So you only strip when planning to be intimate with someone. And yet you were quick to do so in front of me.” Again. No smile to shine a bright light on her playful comment, and still for an observant eye, like Michael had proven before to own, then the air around her made it pretty transparent how she was making fun of her. Continuing the innocent banter.

Saga then took a deep breath and looked up again just in time to witness the short bafflement of her question. It had seemed like an expected question to her. Just not to him, apparently. In a way, she wouldn’t even have needed a verbal answer from him since his reaction had given hints to his pain threshold being rather large. In that case; there wouldn’t be any need for the lenio leaves.
“Lay down on the table then,” she instructed him, while at the same time standing from her chair and pushed the materials on the table to the side for make proper room for him to lay down. He – and also herself – was lucky that the table was a 8-seater so he shouldn’t be too uncomfortable. “Are you always this obedient, Michael?”

It was no secret that he was curious to learn more about her and that he had a genuine interest in developing their relationship. Because so far he liked the prospect of seeing her again. However, he did understand why she might be reluctant to answer his question. Even if he had only asked whether they lived nearby. He automatically moved his gaze to the staircase at the mention of her familiar, as if expecting Circe to appear any moment to join them in the apartment. She then explained that she originally came from a small town in Germany. Something he wouldn’t have guessed from her accent alone. In fact, it wasn’t often he met anyone who had an accent as neutral as his own.  “I see,” he said still with his gaze at the staircase as he thought back on his memories in Germany. But all he saw was brief flashes from the war, so he quickly turned his eyes back to her to change his focus of mind.

He chuckled briefly at her comeback, not expecting it to be that blunt or underlying flirtatious. “I think it's your dreams telling you that,” he responded with the same teasing spark in his eyes. He only took it as a good sign that she found it easy to joke with him this assertively. It changed the atmosphere surrounding the situation a bit. But as soon as his gaze fell to the needle in her hand, he was once again reminded of the pain that he was going to be in shortly.
He stood up from his seat and pushed the chair back under the table before he kicked off his leather brown shoes. He then laid down on his back on top of the table, feeling the cold surface underneath him. He turned his head to face her at her sassy remark before he let out a quiet scoff and turned his eyes back to a point in the ceiling. He knew that she only teased him with this because he was a man of authority. But naturally, he was going to be cooperative when a situation called for it. “I wouldn't say that. But it's only in my interest to make this easier for you,” he replied. In reality, it was just as in much in his interest, as it was to the rest of Gaia's, to get the tattoo fixed. So, it was probably a good thing that he'd decided to ask her about it today rather than a later time.

Her dreams telling her so? No. Definitely not. She had not been privileged with such dreams through her already very poor sleeping routine for a few weeks now. Rather than shirtless men stripping down in front of her, a black raven had appeared in every single one of the dreams that she had. The dreams never revolved around the bird but it was always there in some way. From time to time its terrifying croak would jolt her awake. And while she never remembered any other part of her dreams, she was always certain of the raven.
Of course, Michael hadn’t been literal about his comment but it had reminded her. “Aha,” was all she said back, her brows raised and her voice carrying a tone of light-hearted disbelief. With her eyes locked into his, it wasn’t hard to detect the swift he did towards the needle and she could only wonder and guess as to where his thoughts wandered to. Was he apprehensive of the procedure after all? Her face softened as she watched him, tried to pull the answers from his expressions alone, since it for some reason didn’t occur to her to ask. He had shown confidence in his pain tolerance so what she could so now was to work from the spoken words.

The moment he stood up from his chair – and even were polite enough to push it in even if none of the chair were or had been in perfect showroom formation before hand – Saga stood up as well and leaned a bit on the back of her chair while she more or less overlooked him climbing up on the table and laid down as she had briefed him but as soon as he was up and away from the sides of the table, she grab the back on her chair and dragged it with her around to the left side of the table where she sat down again by first placing a ben leg on the chair following her behind resulting in her sitting partly cross-legged. She found this kind of position much more comfortable and her slightly above average flexibility had it an easy task. Besides this wouldn’t just be over in a minute or two. She needed to be comfortable..
“Some people coming here could learn quite a lot from you in that regard. You may be surprised to know the amount of people expecting a servant when stepping inside.” At the same time that she talked she had reached for the little dish which she carefully poured in the black ink from the box. It looked like any other quality ink. Deep, deep black in colour and a tiny thickness to it. The ink itself didn’t carry any magic and the dish it was in was really only there for easier access; no magical object.

The white crow had not appeared the time Michael had expected it to. But when the little witch leaned forward and in and over the archangel’s torso, running a hand over the faded tattoo to smooth over his skin and chest hair, the sound of wings sounded from the stair, just as Circe finally had decided that it was too lonesome to stay back on the floor below. Especially since it was sure that the two of them did something much more interesting than what the closed off store could present. Saga didn’t look up as it flew to her and not even when the crow dissolved into a swirl of glittering and pure white when he had been centimetres away from her. The swirl blew like a breeze the rest of the way and the moment it wrapped around her neck it took back a recognisable form of a ferret, now laying comfortably on her like a collar, looking at Michael with its golden curious eyes.

Then then time had come. Saga took a hold on the needled, holding around it with her thumb and middle fingertips while her index finger rested on the flat surface in the non-sharp end of it. She held the finger lifted as she stuck the point into the dish with ink and then closing the vacuum before taking it out of the ink again. She shuffled in her seat so it became possible for her to essentially rest herself on his chest. She quickly looked up at his face. “Take a deep breath.” Basically brace yourself. And she pressed the needle into his skin.
She hadn’t been prepared for him to heal to quickly so she didn’t poke deep enough through the skin to actually reach the area where the ink would stay. But after a few attempts she figured out the right depth, which in case for Michael sadly didn’t mean any less pain. She refilled the needle and continued pressing it into his skin again and again, slowly releasing the ink with mostly invisble movements of the index finger.

He kept his gaze at the ceiling as she sat down beside him, telling him that people often came to her expecting a servant. And it wasn’t that hard to imagine. The world was filled with selfish people. It happened on occasion that people asked him for the pettiest of things, not able to see past the end of their own nose, and each time he'd refused them. “Still, it must feel good to help people,” he said, shining a light on the more meaningful part of her work. At least in his opinion. Even if that wasn’t the primary reason she did this for a living. Michael knew that if she was much like other witches, she did this to collect valuable objects and ingredients to overall improve her proficiency in magic. Perhaps even develop new spells or potions. “If you could obtain any one thing in the world, then what would it be?” he asked after a few moments of silence. Michael did have a tendency to ask people what they desired, finding it interesting for various reasons. But in this case, he’d mainly asked to get a hint to what objects she’d want in return for doing this. And no matter how she chose to answer him, it would still give him a better idea of who she was as a person.

He turned his head to look at her as she leaned in and placed a hand on his chest, smoothing over the tattoo. At the same time hearing wings flapping from the staircase. He watched as the bird transformed into a ferret, a soft smile appearing at the remarkable sight of how it had perfectly wrapped itself around Saga’s neck from its flying state. He then lowered his gaze to where she dipped the needle in ink, knowing that it meant she was about to begin, so he turned his head back to a straight position. He was already considerably relaxed about the situation. His heart was beating steadily in his chest and his arms rested loosely by his sides. But as she told him to take a deep breath, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Imagining himself laying in the soft grass of an idyllic field, looking up at the blue sky and feeling serene. A feeling he'd only truly experienced when he was in Heaven. And even there, he could never disconnect and take time off from his duties. The only other exception being how he'd felt with Lenina. He then opened his eyes as she pressed the needle into his skin, exhaling slowly while he focused on a point in the ceiling. Saga would quickly discover that he healed immediately, so she needed to deeper into his skin for it to work. He didn’t react much other than clenching his jaw at the worst stings of pain. It wasn’t any different from the last time he’d needed to do this, and he felt surprisingly comfortable near the witch. “Do you have any tattoos of your own?” he asked, hoping that she didn't mind a bit of conversation while she worked. But it would help the time go faster for him as well as make it easier to focus on something else than every small movement she made with the sharp needle.