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By the time the elevator had pulled up to Raphael's floor, Fatima Mu'awiya was far gone to Slumberland. Her fists slightly clutched at the hem of Raphael's shirt. Her bag hung loosely from her shoulder, in danger of falling. The only thing keeping her upright was Fatima leaning heavily against the young man. She mumbled something about carrots and spaceships, her breathing light.
~~~ Meanwhile, taking place on a different plane of existence, Samael Sataniel perused documents at an antiquated mahogany desk. A Shed wandered in the front door, wringing its elongated hands with some measure of hesitation. It did not seem to want to approach the Lord of the Abyss. Without looking up from "his" papers, Samael waved the Shed to a chair, scrawling across the document with a black quill. His words were a signature in Hebrew, written in the color of blood (although it was not clear as to whether it was actually blood or not). "Come, come, if you have something to report to me, I haven't got all day." Samael paused, letting the shadow of a smile pass across his rosy lips. "Well, actually, I have. I've got the greater part of forever. Now, what is it?" The Shed, bewildered, swallowed and spoke. But gingerly. "There is still no sign of Raphael Cherubiel." "It does not come as a surprise," Samael admitted with a sigh. "Keep at it, though. I am certain a trace of him will come up eventually." The Shed rose from its chair, bowing awkwardly, and fled from the room. It's relief was evident. Samael paused, resting his chin on a pale, delicate hand. His hair shimmered like gold, tumbling in long cascades of curls down the sides of his face, shoulders, and back. His brow creased ever so slightly. Still no sign of the Seraph. How slow time moved... |
Raphael chuckled a little and gently slid her bag from her shoulder. He slid it onto his own, furthest away from Fatima so that he could help her with a bit more ease. One arm under her arm, he bent down, the other arm carefully against the back of her knees as he lifted her into his arms.
The Elevator door opened slowly and he stepped into a small hallway, fumbling around his pocket while still trying to keep Fatima steady in his arms proved to be an ordeal. But He managed to dig out his house keys and unlock the door. He pushed the door open with his foot. The condo was immaculately clean, with small geometrically pattered rugs laying on the hard wood floors. A brown over stuffed suede couch and matching recliner sat in front of a Television in the center of the living room. He carried Fatima over to the couch and gently laid her there on the almost pillow like furniture. |
Fatima fell into the couch easily, instictively turning onto her side and curling her knees up to her stomach. She lay in the fetal position, clutching her bag to her stomach with a sigh. Tendrils of her dark hair fel in wisps across her face and the nape of her neck. Though she would never say or think so, Fatima was actually very pretty. She looked wonderfully serene in sleep. Her dream continued on as before.
She was the princess, Raphael the prince. There were flowers and butterflies. Laughing, the tinkering of music. But the dream became darker and more obscure. Strange shadows twisted around the edges of the perfect scene. The sky darkened. Flowers shriveled up. A stream of crimson channeled between the beds of dead flowers. She reached for Raphael in horror, but he had disappeared. 'Why not take me as your beloved instead?' a cold voice offered. A new man stood there, dressed in a flowing white cloak. He looked even princelier than Raphael had. His hair was long, blonder, and very curly. Flawless and without tangle. It shimmered like the sunlight. His eyes sparkled with the most vivid blue had ever seen. His complexion was perfect--clear, bright, pale... But as he extended his hand towards her, she felt an intense repulsion in her gut. |
Walking across the room Raphael picked up a small fleece blanket from the back of the recliner. He draped the blanket across Fatima, he reached out gently pushing a curl from her face.
This poor sweet girl did not deserve the night events, by no standard did she deserve it. He sighed softly seeing the faintly troubled look on her face, he figured she might be dreaming of what had happened. Shaking his head he stood up slowly and walked towards his kitchen, which was hidden behind a counter on the other side of the room. He stood beside the counter as he filled a cup with water and dumped it in the coffee pot, repeating the process till the machine was full. |
The night continued on, and soon enough sprays of sunlight were spilling through the curtains, falling across Fatima's sleeping face. Eventually the light was too dazzling, so she groaned and turned over against the back against the couch, trying to avoid it. No use, she couldn't get back to sleep. She sat upright, her hair had come out of the bun and was loose on her shoulders. She had to mentally remind herself where she was and what had happened the night before, because she did not recognize her surroundings.
The condo was neat and surprisingly nicely-decorated for a "bachelor pad". She was lying on some comfortable sofa in the middle of what appeared to be a living space. The television was in one spot, some more seating... Hardwood floors and some modern, artsy rugs. She saw no sign of Raphael, however. "Raphael?" she called out, running a hand back through he hair with a yawn. |
((Sorry I was gone so long I had to go to an Aunts house))
The brunette groaned a little from his bed down the hall, he'd pulled the thick red curtains shut on his windows to allow himself another hour or so of sleep. But it seemed that his guest had not had the same luxury. Sitting up in his bed he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He glanced over at the White and red digital clock and sighed. The red numbers quietly blinked 9:29. "Yeah!" He called to answer Fatima, to at least let her know he was there. He slid out of the bed slowly starring at his legs a little. He tended to sleep in just his boxers, it was just easier than pulling something on. Though on the rare cold night he did have a set of Pajamas. He rubbed his face a little and tried to wake himself up before pulling on a pair of pants and shuffling towards the door. Raphael stepped into the hallway yawning, half naked and his hair a complete mess. He walked to the living room area still looking rather sleepy, "Mornin" He yawned. |
The first thought that came to Fatima’s mind was “Oh my gawd, he’s not wearing a shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt.” She attempted to focus and speak to Raphael, but the whole time she heard this phrase being repeated endlessly in her head.
His torso was extremely well-toned and exquisite… He must’ve spent countless hours at the gym. At the same time, he was not overtly muscular…Just fit. Slender, but very fit… In fact, he reminded her of one of those classic marble statues in ancient Greece and Rome…Particularly a statue of an angel in armor… Hahah! Here she was comparing him to an angel again! How creepy of her… “Oh, I’m sorry,” Fatima murmured with a badly-disguised blush. “Did I wake you? You can go back to sleep, if you want…” She was suddenly conscious of her own mussed hair and sleepy countenance. She must’ve not looked particularly attractive at this moment. Not that she ever was. But still… “I can try to go back to sleep,” she continued. “I only woke up because of the sun…” She laid herself back down on the sofa, averting her gaze from his bare skin. Anything to keep from thinking about his body… |
He shook his head as he drifted into the Kitchen "mmmnh Its fine...its not a bad time to be getting up" He muttered as he poured water into the coffee Machine.
Raphael licked his lips a little frowning as he poured himself a glass of water, his mouth was so dry, he must have slept with it open again. He downed the glass quickly and a look of relief crossed his face for a moment. "You want anything to eat?" He asked softly as he started to pull open cabinets going over what little food he had stored there. He was only one person and generally ate out to begin with, but he did keep a few things laying around for those rare times when he might have a guest or be trapped at home. |
Fatima generally did not feel well enough in the mornings to eat breakfast. She was more of a night person than a morning one, so she tended to stay up late at home watching a movie, reading, or doing homework. In the daytime her energy levels diminished. She often wondered if she might be anemic, but, since she hadn't gone to a doctor to test this theory, she had no way of knowing. The lethargy didn't bother her enough to get bloodwork to confirm its existence.
"I'm not all that hungry," she admitted, relieved that he'd moved into the kitchen mostly out of sight. She was having a hard time not staring at his chest and abs, so... But Fatima considered breakfast nonetheless. She hadn't really eaten anything last night. In fact, she had been meaning to, but despite her hunger she'd passed out before anything could be done about it. She figured she should have some form of nourishment, to keep her strength up. "Actually", Fatima said, sitting back up, "Do you have some sort of fruit? An apple or an orange? That would be okay, I guess." |
Raphael yanked open the fridge and grimaced at how bare it was. He really needed to at least pick up some lunch meat or something. He shut it and looked up on top of the fridge and pulled down a bag of oranges.
"I've just got oranges it seems, I thought I had some pears or something but I think I went through them already" He said reaching in and grabbing two oranges sticking them in a bowl and carrying them out to her. The Timer on his coffee pot was starting to go off now, he frowned and picked up the remote on the coffee table and cut on the TV. It generally stayed on the same channel, the news channel. |
Fatima groaned inwardly at the TV. She hated watching the news. It was always so horrifically depressing. And after last night's events, she hardly wanted to watch a piece about grisly murders, car crashes, terrorist bombings, and the like.
Not to mention, everyone was always giving the Middle East crap. It was like all Middle-Eastern people had grenades and bombs strapped to their waists. And her religion, Islam, was not violent at heart, but no one understood that. It was those radical groups that warped the real meaning behind Muslim sacred religious texts and teachings... "Do you mind if I change the channel?" Fatima asked as Raphael disappeared into the kitchen again. She grasped the remote, but did not change the channel until he responded. Meanwhile, she dipped her hand into the bowl and started peeling one of the oranges. She loved the taste and texture of citrus fruit, but removing the skin was the most annoying and time-consuming part of the affair. |
"You can if you want" He called "I usually just like to catch up on whatever has been happening, Its hard to find a non biased news report though" The brunette sighed.
He walked back in the living area with a mug of coffee and a piece of bread "I try to get what I can from it". The brunette tore off a crust from his bread and soaked it in the warm drink before popping it in his mouth. He repeated this process until the bread was gone and then downed his coffee. Occasionally glancing up at what Fatima had changed it to. Then Raphael stood up licking his fingers a little "Okay...now...we call the police and try to contact any relatives?" He ventured a worried look on his face. |
"If you need to watch something unbiased and still get a sense of what's happening, why don't you watch the Daily Show or the Colbert Report?" Fatima asked with a smile. "Most young people get their news that way because the comedians make fun of everyone equally. It's funny, as opposed to depressing. The regular news can be quite sensationalist, you know."
She popped a slice of orange into her mouth. It was extremely juicy and sweet, and a bit of the juice dribbled down her chin. She felt embarrassed so she dabbed at it with her sleeve before Raphael could see. Fatima returned her gaze to the television, which she had switched to the SyFy channel. They were passing reruns of Destination Truth. "Before we call the police we should call relatives," she replied, though her heart wasn't entirely in it. She did not want confirmation that her parents were missing. She preferred to be in dark about it so she could assume they were all right. But in case they weren't, she supposed it was good to know. "I don't remember all of their numbers, but, the main ones." She glanced back at Raphael. "And if we need to, we can ask the ones I do remember for more numbers." |
He was going to mention something about only really wanting local news but decided to abstain. Raphael only really watched it for traffic and weather reports, maybe the occasional story about events around town.
When she'd mentioned the phone numbers he walked over to one of the walls and lifted a white cordless phone from its wall mounted dock. He then returned to the couch and handed it to her "Here don't worry about long distance or anything alright, since its a situation like this I don't mind, you'll just have to make sure you dial nineteen before every long distance call or they won't go through. So it'd be like dialing one, nine and then one and the area code then the number....." Raphael stretched a bit and sighed "I'm going to take a shower and change alright? Your free to use the extra bathroom if you need to" |
Now that he mentioned it, Fatima thought it might be a good idea to take a shower and change into her other clothes before she started making phonecalls to various relatives. She did not know when she would get another opportunity to do so. She looked around the floor for her things, finding her bag on the surface of a lamp table beside the sofa. She dug through it, removing the shirt dress and a change of socks. She hadn't even stayed conscious logn enough to change into pajamas, she thought with embarrassment.
"Where is the extra bathroom," Fatima asked, sorely wishing that Raphael would put a shirt on already. His half-naked body was making her crazy. It looked too good. Were she a more confident girl, she might have even made a move on him by now. She formulated a scenario in her head: Fatima: *runs hand down Raphael's chest* Mind if join you in that shower? Raphael: Uhhhhh....What? She shook her head, trying to snap out of it. It would never work anyway. Raphael had been far too nice to her, and certainly would have acted by now had he anything but pure intentions towards Fatima. He had not even flirted with her this entire time. She should just accept he was not interested in her like that. |
Raphael walked towards the hall and waved for her to follow. The Hallway only had three doors down the side, one was propped open a little revealing Raphael's bed room and its dark red curtains.
He stopped outside the center door and pulled it open, "This is the extra bathroom...its only got a shower though I hope that's fine" It was a quaint little bathroom, a small photo of the ocean hung on one wall and seashells sat in a basket on the back of the toilet. There was a small push container of hand soap sitting on the side of the sink. Raphael scratched his stomach a little and yawned wandering to his bedroom a little "Mmmh make your self at home" he said softly. |
After Raphael had shown her the bathroom, Fatima closed the door and prepared her shower. She turned the faucet to 'hot', stripping away her clothing. When the water was nice and steamy, she climbed in and started washing herself with the soap. The hot water did wonders on her nerves; it helped her to relax and forget her troubles. When he mind would wander back to her parents, she would focus instead on lathering her hair with the shampoo... Rinsing it out... She hummed to herself. She could enjoy this for a while.
But after she finished with the conditioner and turned the water off, she dried herself off with the towel and was reminded of the phonecalls she would have to make once she left the bathroom. She towel-dried her hair and unfolded the shirt dress she'd brought with her. "Ugggh, this isn't very pretty," she sighed. "I won't look very impressive to Raphael today without any make-up or in this plain dress." She slipped it on over her undergarments. It was gray, with a hood. Not very interesting... "Why can't I be worrying about normal things," Fatima groaned, massaging her temples with her fingers. "Why do I have to have this familial crisis? Why can't I focus on trying to be attractive to guys or hanging out with my friends again! I don't even know if they are okay, either..." |
Raphael shut his door and walked into his room. He pulled of the Pajama bottoms and walked towards his master bathroom. It didn't take him very long to wash up, he sighed and leaned back against the wall though, letting the water run over his body for a little bit.
He ran his fingers through his wet hair and sighed, "God I hope they aren't targeting her because of me..." He groaned, "I'd never be able to forgive myself if they were..." Attempting to shake these thoughts off, Raphael cut off the water and climbed out. With his towel wrapped around his waist he wandered into his bed room and picked out the clothes for today. A tight black T-shirt with faded looking gray designs across the front and right side, and a simple pair of blue jeans. When he was dressed he walked back out into the hall way and plopped down on the couch, his hair was still wet but he didn't seem to really notice or even care. He was waiting for Fatima. Waiting for her to come and make her phone calls, maybe find her a safe place to stay where those demons wouldn't find her. "Pretty little thing like her" He muttered thinking aloud, "She doesn't deserve any of this...She doesn't seem like she would harm a fly...let alone warrant that sort of attention.." |
Fatima took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. She had her used clothing slung over one arm and the towel over the other. She noticed Raphael sitting there evidently finished with his shower and waiting for her. Fatima flushed a little, lifting up the arm with the towel on it. "Where should I put this? Back on the rack? I didn't know if you wanted to wash it since I used it or something."
Got my dirty female cooties all over it, she thought wryly. She was going over who to call in her head. She had two aunts and uncles that lived in town. Her grandparents on her mother's side lived in Michigan. Her father's mother was in Houston. Her uncle Ismael also lived in Michigan. The rest if her family was back in Lebanon. She had three cousins in town, all very young. Just children, actually. "I may have to make an international call," she rambled, noticing his hair was still wet. It looked hot on him. Well, Raphael didn't exactly have to try to look hot. He was always hot, no matter what he wore or if his hair was wet or dry. "I don't have that many relatives in the U.S. If they don't know anything, I have to call Lebanon. I'll pay you back for the calls, if that happens. It can be expensive, depending how long my relatives talk. Aunt Aisha can be overwhelming at times..." |
Raphael looked up at her for a moment when she asked about the towel, he just shrugged "You can hang it back up or put it on the washing machine, what ever suits you" He said softly. He reached up and toyed with his semi-damp hair a bit, shaking it a little to help it dry.
He picked up a Magazine from a table beside his couch, one of those travel magazines. The dark haired man started flipping through the pages occasionally reaching up idly and messing with his hair. "Go on and call who ever yo need...and you really don't need to pay me back...its fine" He said softly as his eyes skimmed over pages. "I have a decent international plan so its no big deal.." |
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