puddingpunter

Exodus

Three months, a week, and four days later. Ma'ai was more than happy to be back among his kin, even though the price meant heavy demon presence everywhere. Finding the secluded rendezvous point was easy enough despite the efforts made to hide it (he was, after all, not human) and after being accosted by guards upon entry, was escorted to those he would be reporting to. The angel's reports were not severe enough to require immediate action but his news needed tending to nonetheless.

"Sir." Ma'ai bowed his head in respect to the demon introduced to him as General al'Talvor Highwind. He may still harbor instinctual abhorrence towards the demon race but Ma'ai wasn't stupid enough to allow any signs of his distress to display. "Ma'ai Thos Narkissos at your service." He raised his head. "May we speak in private?" In truth Ma'ai couldn't care less about who heard their conversation, but he asked anyways for the sake of formalities.

Exodus

✟ ｎａｍｅ： Ma'ai Thos _{(together they're pronounced mæ-ðō-z; variant take on the name Midas)} Lucius Narkissos
✟ ｎｉｃｋｎａｍｅｓ： Ma'ai or Luke
✟ ａｇｅ： 28
✟ ｇｅｎｄｅｒ： Male
✟ ｓｐｅｃｉｅｓ： Angel
✟ ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ： Military Scout & Tracker
✟ ｐｏｗｅｒｓ： Sleep Hypnosis & The Ability To See One's Greatest Desire

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✟ ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ：

Have you ever tried to associate personalities with a color? Ma'ai would be a pastel shade, but not a particularly bland color; perhaps rose gold. He's pretty mellow albeit with a definite underlying layer of 'spice' which finally bubbles to the surface once he gets comfortable. Ma'ai tries his best to avoid standing out so he's a bit of a stickler for the rules and rarely does more than necessary, but the man will surely make it his business if he finds himself witnessing a situation that requires intervention. Aforementioned angel isn't lazy, per se, but he is a prime example of not-my-job-not-my-problem mentality. That being said it's almost ironic that his three most popular traits are punctuality, organization, and dependability.

✟ ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ：

Ma'ai was born into a family with a long history of serving for the military. So naturally, it was expected that he followed the predestined role. The angel had no qualms about this and actually looked forward to the honor; he has been on active duty since he was 19.

✟ ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ：

5'11" tall, molten-gold eyes, grey-purple hair, pale skin, back tattoos. Wings are white and medium in size with plumage structure similar to parrots (a balanced combination of appearance and utility; smooth but rigid enough to be ideal for flight).

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'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

I will destroy everything the word "marriage" ever meant to these two.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

His arms were wrapped protectively around her the second she finally reached out to him. It was the sign he needed. This didn't mean everything would be alright (he wasn't that naïve) but it meant that for now, they were okay. Only for now. "I'm sorry" Mishka choked out. He didn't mean it, hadn't intended to upset her. He just needed the reassurance that there was still that small spark of hope and possibility left remaining between them; asking it was the only way to know. Mishka pulled Amber closer until she was practically in his lap, then rested his face against the top of her head. A few minutes passed without either of them budging; the pair just remained sitting in silence, wrapped in each others' embraces. It was a sort of bittersweet scenario but Mishka wasn't going to complain. At the moment, he was just grateful that the conversation didn't further escalate. He didn't know what he'd do if she had said yes to his question. Mishka finally spoke up again but refused to let go, still holding her securely. "Okay, I won't. I'm so sorry my little kotik."

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

His finger twitched but only for a second; his instincts were telling him to stop, to fix this and comfort her. But he couldn't. Mishka could tell that Amber was crying, despite how she attempted (and failed) to hide it. The fact that she didn't want him to see her like that, however, just made him feel disgusted with himself. What hurt him even more was how she chose to avoid answering the question by tossing it right back at him. That only made him feel that much more worried, but he kept his opinion on that silenced. This argument didn't need anymore antagonizing. He responded, "No." Mishka didn't hesitate at all, didn't even have to stop to think it over. Because that was how he felt. How did the saying go? Bent, but not broken. To him that spoke to the heart in a way he couldn't really describe. A divorce would just end it all right there an then, permanently terminating any chance they had at all to fix this. He knew they were screwing themselves over but... He didn't want to end this. At least not yet.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

His patience was running thin, wearing down and chipping away by every word that came out of Amber's mouth. Spicing things up was something Mishka could understand; although, he was undoubtedly caught off by how frustrated she was from the lack of 'change' in the recent months. What did she expect? It wasn't something previously discussed and Mishka wasn't a mind reader, so he didn't find it fair that she was mad at him for missing this. But, thinking back on it now Mishka realized just how right Amber was. They hadn't done anything fun or special for a very long time now. Vacation, date night, something, anything. But her accusation? Her claim of his obliviousness on their 'dying' marriage struck hard at him and Mishka wasn't so sure what to say to that. It left him feeling defensive and quite wounded, actually. Mishka withdrew his hand from her grip and draped it over the back of the couch. Then he readjusted his position to make himself more comfortable and moved closer to Amber. A few moments passed where he couldn't bring himself to look at her and instead chose focus on the ticking from the pendulum on clock hanging off the far wall.

Mishka cleared his throat and looked back to to meet Amber's gaze. "Do you want a divorce?" No transition, no warning. It was something he would rather much never have to deal with but he needed to get it out. The words were clear and his tone low. Not once did it ever occur to Mishka that he'd be asking such a thing to the very same woman he promised to live the rest of his life alongside. It hurt and his heartbeat suddenly sounded much louder to his ears.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

'Repeated' she answered him. So simple and yet so complicated, being that it was something that could be interpreted in numerous ways. But repeated as in...? He waited patiently for an example -an elaboration of some sort at least- but she gave none. If you took a step back and really thought about it, most of peoples' everyday lives are repeated. We eat, we work, we pay for things like necessities and luxuries. All in all, we live and eventually die. Anything new about that? If it was an existential crisis she was experiencing then Mishka wasn't so sure what he could say to help. Amber reached out for him and he reacted like every other time she did this; a conditioned response. Mishka readily allowed his arm to go limp so Amber could do with it as she pleased. He didn't mind and even returned the favor by turning his hand over so he could curl his fingers around her wrist. "Kotik," Mishka stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand, trying not to let himself get frustrated. "What do you mean by that?" He was nearly pleading with her but not quite, more annoyed than not (although that was not his intention, despite his tone implying otherwise).

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

Do you still love me? Mishka would have never thought, hadn't known, it was possible to ever hear such lethal words uttered without the intention of actual malice.

In one fluid motion, Mishka swept up the remote to turn off the television before doing a ninety-degree turn in his seat to face Amber. She had his attention. "What?" The question, of course, was rhetorical. He has heard her loud an clear and that was exactly what had him so concerned at the moment. "Kotik, what the hell does that even mean?" He wasn't angry, just hurt. Struck dumb and now trying desperately to understand where this was coming from. What could he have possible done, how badly did he fail her, for her to have to ask such a thing? He didn't wait for an answer and continued but this time with a gentler tone. "Of course I do! I'm so sorry, I know I don't always show it in the way you deserve but believe me when I say you are the most important person in my life." They'd been together for years, had known each other for even longer. Their marriage wasn't exactly perfect -Mishka believed there would always be room for improvement- but it wasn't a wreck either, hopeless beyond repair. At least that's how he felt about it. He never forgot her birthday, their anniversary, or days they planned on doing something special together. Her favorite song was still burned into his memory from all those times he played the stupid thing on repeat just to memorize the lyrics for her, and he knew the recipes to her preferred desserts like the back of his hand. Was he a sap? Undeniably so but that wasn't something he was ashamed of.

"Tell me, what's wrong?" Verbal communication wasn't his strong point despite his fluency of multiple languages, but he was willing to try. If she wanted to yell at him for screwing something up, then he'd take it. If she just wanted a hug and to cry, then he'd take it. All he wanted was for her to give him something to work with.

Nᴏᴛ A Dɪsᴀsᴛᴇʀ

Perhaps this meant that Sparhawk was slowly building up an immunity to the ugly dog's germs? Mira wondered what would happen if this failed, and in her mind she pictured a few different outcomes; one being that Big Brother would eventually turn into a frothing werewolf. The little girl scrunched up her nose in disgust and shook her head. Ew. Hopefully that would never happen because she actually liked Sparhawk and the idea of locking him up in a cage and feeding him through bars sounded much to complicated her the little girl to wrap her head around. Thankfully Sparhawk began talking about a different subject altogether and Mira had to pay close attention to absorb what he was saying, quickly forgetting about her imaginary scenarios.

"Saving?" she parroted. Now that was something she categorized as a luxury, being that she couldn't afford to do it nor did she often find herself with enough coins in her possession to even consider the idea. In that case it seemed today was going to be her lucky day. Mira looked down at her share of the pile and pondered. "But where do I keep it?" Little knick-knacks or whatever she collected were one thing, but even at this age she knew that this was much more important and therefore would would require more effort than her usual hiding spots.

An idea popped into her head and Mira pointedly gestured to the little box Sparhawk had just stashed his coins into. "Can I put mine in there too?" Ironically, despite being able to comprehend the importance of currency, she completely missed why this would be a bad idea. Sparhawk was a still total stranger and who knew what he could be up to. And yet, Mira saw no problem with trusting him. "Please?" she added, trying not to forget her manners.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

"Okay." Mishka gave Amber a wan smile before silently heading upstairs. He made straight for the bathroom in the main hallway and turned on the water, allowing it adequate time to warm up while he went to get some clean clothes to wear. Padding into their bedroom Mishka foraged through his drawers for some clean underwear and a pair of sweatpants. By the time he returned to the bathroom, the shower was thankfully already steaming to satisfyingly hot temperatures. Mishka always loved it when the water was hot although it always left him looking like a tomato by the time he was done. The man was in and out within a few minutes, and he made sure to towel himself off very well before getting into his sleepwear. According to the clock, he was well within his allotted time frame which meant he didn't have to worry about rushing. Mishka headed back down and returned to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl and some utensils, then served himself with rather large portions before finally settling on the couch. "Alright, ready whenever you are" he announced as he made himself comfortable on the furniture. Mishka grabbed the remote from the nearby stand and handed it to Amber.