The next morning begins with him having a near heart attack, despite the odds of that ever happening were close to nil. The soft cry of despair coming from far down the hallway reaches his ears like a thunder storm, creating the same effect that a real thunderstorm would produce on a young child or a very paranoid astraphobic adult. He still can't shake his old habits or skills rather. His body reacts even before his eyes fully open, rolling out of bed to land in a runner's starting position on his knees. The blood's pumping through his veins like horses on a racetrack. The doors feels like a sheet of paper, barely blocking his way as he barrels through it and down the hallway. Robes flapping wildly, hair completely disheveled and a deep purple hue beginning to creep up onto his skin, he looked like a madman racing down the hallways. Thank the moon that very little were awake at this hour, most of them reluctant to leave their warm beds after a late night. They'd rather turn their heads and bury themselves in their woolen blankets than investigate the soft whoosh whispering past their doors in the early morning. And as he counts the many closed doors that he races by and the heartbeats behind those doors, his lungs and heart nearly collapse in on themselves when he reaches the eleventh door and finds it wide open and abysmally empty. He was going to kill the man. He was going to push his spinal cord so far up his body until it snapped and protruded out from his neck should the man have touched a single hair on Javier's head! He was going to break every single bone and pluck out each feather one by one from his wings if he found a trace of his aura clinging to the boy! He was going to- "He's gone, Father! He left without saying goodbye!!" A tearful Javier runs up to him just as he skids to a stop by the open door. Burying his head against his midriff and sobbing softly. The bedroom stinks of an angelic presence, but it's only residual and the boy is unscathed, at least physically so. Catching his breath, he kneels down to wrap his arms around the boy and picked him up. It had been a while since he had carried any of the younger ones, most having outgrown the age where they should be coddled. Javier was still as light as a feather though and didn't seem to protest his embarrassment like he usually did. Clinging to him in the midst of his sniffling. Gently, he brushed away those tears and tried to soothe him. "Now, you know he couldn't stay forever, Puer. He probably had something important to rush to." "Like what? I wanted him to tell us more stories...and teach me how to be strong like him and you..." The boy sniffled. Bouncing him gently in his arms, he started on the path back to the boy's room, "Don't you enjoy my stories already? There, there, don't be upset. There's nothing to be crying over. C'mon, go get cleaned up for breakfast and afterwards I'll tell you a new story alright? An extra long one, but only if you stop crying. We don't want the others to see tears pouring from your eyes now do we?" The boy nodded sorrowfully and for his sake, he blocked Javier's view of the heads and tiny eyes peering out from behind their doors. They disappear once he glances over his shoulder, after gently ushering the boy in. As much as Javier was sad and as glum and solemn the other children were, even the older ones, for the entirety of the day, after having not seen their guest at the breakfast table and hearing from a red eyed Javier, he couldn't help but feel like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. -------------- And as the days rolled by and their memory of their guest slowly faded with the intake of more guests and the daily grind of chores, Xephos felt like things had returned to normality. The urges inside of him having subsided and the corners of his mind having dulled once more; thoughts coming slower, no tactical plans...memories...Just the peaceful concentration on what really mattered. And the pantry was stocked and the fireplace was given a good cleaning after the stove was fixed though the heavy scent of stew still lingered for many nights after and he considered having a stew made every week or so just for variety's sake. Blessings were given and the rare sermon conducted to those who would listen, stories were told on the regular and he hadn't felt this refreshed in a while. Perhaps the angel's brief stay had been a blessing in disguise, certainly, it had reminded him to get his priorities back in order. What mattered most were the children, their safety and well being, not whatever sentimental temptations still lingered. Yeah...it hadn't been such a bad thing. On Monday, he carved out another cross from a slab of wood, whittling down behind his locked door. What it symbolized didn't matter to him, but the fact that he had made it...meant something. On Tuesday, he replaced the rosary beads around his neck. On Wednesday, he trimmed down his claws until they couldn't be called claws. On Thursday, he had to pen down a lengthy order for new mechanical parts to improve the church since they had come into a small profit of trade from a gratuitous trader who had spent the night and left some of his goods behind when he left. It was ways a shame when such people had to leave, the children had just started to take a liking to him as well. On Friday, he got a chill and wondered if it was possible for his immune system to actually break down. Saturday and Sunday seemed to go by in a blur. ---------------- Monday rolled by and he'd let the children out to play since it looked like a nice day. Their laughter brightened his morning, distracting him partially whilst he cleaned up the podium, whistling a toneless tune. (Oil stains always seemed to appear in the strangest of places.) And then the laughter stopped momentarily and though that should not have worried him greatly, he suddenly felt anxious. Maybe he'd just check quickly, to make sure that they weren't getting into any trouble. Their laughter had resumed by the time he stepped out the door and relief flooded into him. How silly he was to worry about nothing. His gaze softened as he watched the children stop and wave to him, eyes bright, wide smiled and all...And then they'd pointed towards the man and he froze for a moment. Unconsciously, his feet led him in slow strides towards the man and a smile stitched itself onto his face despite the slight reddish tint that colored his eyes. "Good morning, my son. I did not expect you here on this day." He said softly, stopping inches in front of the man. The sarcasm and questioning tone of his voice only evident to the man, "Perhaps it will do you well, to rest after what I'm sure is your weary travel back here. Children, do not tire our guest, he needs his rest." He wondered if he could sneer and have it go unnoticed, but turned his back before he could consider it and strode slowly back towards the church.