londoncallingrpg

Coby wasn't home, and hadn't left a note for him, so Anael was walking through the streets of London to get to Alcuin's home, enjoying the chill in the air, the way his breath fogged on the way out, the ebb and flow of love in the hearts around him. Hands in his jacket pockets, he paid no mind to the odd looks he occasionally received for wearing nothing but a denim jacket over a t-shirt in this weather.

It began as an itch in his back, a barely there scratch where his wings would be. He did not think much of it, only shifting his shoulders the way he normally did when the urge to let them out came over him. But then the itch burrowed deeper, and increasingly hotter, until it was more of a burn than anything else, and his lungs were alive with it.

He'd hurried into a side street with little foot traffic and leaned against a wall there, his breathing short and heavy. He tried to cloak himself, but he couldn't keep a hold on the miracle through the pain he was so unused to, and he collapsed to his knees as he heard words in a rough language that scraped against every fiber of his being, a language of Hell. His wings wouldn't come out and he folded to his side on the wet ground, seeing shadows on the other side of the street. They were all saying the words, out loud and right into his mind, and one of them came forward, a pair of boots stopping right in front of him. They pulled his t-shirt collar down and drew a symbol between his collarbones, their fingers red with - blood? The symbol felt like it was searing into his flesh. Anael cried out, physically as much as spiritually, praying out to God with all of his being.

The words ceased suddenly, pain abating slightly, and the dark figures dispersed as someone ran over to him.

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"You're in London, mate, there's a church somewhere nearby, I'd bet on it," he said, trying to keep his tone a bit light while he helped the guy up. Gavril was strong; he didn't even notice the guy leaning on him.

"Whatever mojo they worked on you, it must have hit you hard," he added. "How are you feeling?" His money was on 'bad,' but whatever information he could give, it might help out, well, whoever they were going to go to.

"I don't know," Anael answered, trying to focus past the pain of the brand. "Something's wrong. A church," he repeated, wishing for once that he wasn't so bad at orienting himself in cities. He might know in which direction to step.

"On it," he said, helping the man to his feet and walking alongside him to steady him. He took him to the sidewalk, and cast a look about, spotting an Anglican church nearby.

"Not sure what your preference is," Gavril began, moving in that direction while supporting the man. "But it's looking Anglican, if you want the closest," he said.

"Also, since we're, ah, this close. Name's Gavril Blackburn. But let's get you settled in the church first before small-talk, eh?"

"Anglican's fine," Anael managed, his face a mask of effort and concentration as he willed himself to take one more step, and then one more, most of his weight still on Gavril. Small talk would wait. First, he needed to get to some holy water, and wash that brand off.

Gavril helped haul him to the door of the church, and pushed it open himself, taking the man he was half-carrying past the vestibule, past some people who were gawking. Gavril didn't give a shit, he was helping a man in distress. Let them look.

He pushed into the, well, Gavril didn't know the word for it. Wherever they went to all pray and the like. Mass hall, whatever. Important part was, they were in the church proper. The guy could tell him where to go from there.

"The font," Anael gestured at a nearby receptacle of holy water. He was feeling slightly better already, and was not leaning on Gavril as much anymore.

Without hesitation, Gavril helped him over to the font, surprised that he wasn't leaning on him so hard. "Sure thing, mate," Gavril said, taking him over to the font of holy water.

"Sure hope for your sake this fixes you up," he added, once they stopped at the font.

Anael dipped his fingers into the holy water and let its power wash through him. Then he tugged his t-shirt collar down and washed the blood off with the water, drawing a cross over the remaining glyph, a dark mark over pale skin. As he worked, he murmured a litany under his breath, in a language not of this earth.

When he was done, he still looked pale, but steadier, at least. And he knew what they had done to him.

"Better?" Gavril asked, curiously. Whatever the guy had done with the water, it had obviously improved his condition considerably, in Gavril's mind. He wasn't reading as weakened prey anymore.

"Better," Anael confirmed, if not restored. If not right. Nothing was right about what they had done. "Thank you for your help, Gavril. I'm Anael."

"That's got a real... particular ring to it," Gavril said, wondering who, or what, he'd just helped out. Obviously, it was something that didn't react poorly to holy water. Quite the opposite.

Nothing Gavril knew was like that. "Mind telling me what's going on, exactly?" If this Anael guy knew, that was.

"I wish that I knew," Anael told him. "I am not... from here. But what they have done to me - it binds me here. If you hadn't interrupted them, I don't know what they might have done next."

"Well," Gavril said, taking that in. Binding him here could have meant plenty of things. But given the name, and what he knew...

Anael was either from upstairs, or downstairs. Which made Gavril wonder why he was jumping to that conclusion. He didn't believe in much of anything. He didn't even really believe in Skadi. But if there were greater beings, he doubt they really gave a damn if he believed.

"So what's the next step?" he asked. "If there's a way to reverse it, I might be able to help. I could... try to track some of those guys down."

"You're not like any of the wolves I've met before," Anael told him with a curious frown, then shook his head. "Don't go after them. They might be ready for you, next time. I have... somewhere to go. People to call on for help. You've done more than enough."

"And you're like nothing I've ever met before, so color me intrigued. Along with stubborn," Gavril said, his tone making it clear that he wanted to help, but he wasn't going to back down.

"I don't plan on going after them without you. I'd like to meet these people who can help. Besides, if I have backup..." He shrugged, letting the statement hang.

"No," Anael answered, and shook his head. "If there were going to be an easy fix, this would already be resolved. I need some time to... adjust." He was barely hanging on as it was, and there was a strain in his voice on that last word.

Gavril held his gaze for a moment, resisting the urge to grab the guy by the shoulders.

"Alright. But look. You and yours need a place to meet, or if you want me involved, you can find me at the Wolf's Head, okay?" he said. "I got you this far, and they did see me. Who knows what kinda trouble they might try to make for me, eh?"

Anael frowned at that, and nodded. "I will come by and check on you." He would hate for Gavril to find himself in trouble over this. But right now, he only wanted to get to Coby.

"I guess I'll just have to settle for that," he said. Damn, he hadn't realized how careless he'd been. Changing like that, it frightened people, sure, but whoever had access to this kind of mojo?

"Look, if I hear or see anything about this kind of thing, you got a way to contact you?" he asked. "Trackin' you down might prove unreliable."

Usually, Anael would have told Gavril to pray to him. Now, though, he was not certain that it would work. Prayers all went to Heaven, and he was cut off. "I..." He shook his head. He did not even know Coby's number. "I'll stop by and give you a number."

OTA

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