"A few years?" Mars wondered. "Huh, it really has been..."

As her fellow shinigami talked, she continued to stir her spiced cup of cocoa until the candy cane was thin enough to snap. When it did, she let the top half sink into the water and lifted the mug to her mouth for a minty sip.

"Well...You do know you better than the rest of us," she admitted with a weak laugh. Death date chatter unsettled her. Mars had little knowledge of the experience―she had little knowledge of anything concerning shinigami at large. After all these years she still couldn't get a straight answer from Lady Nerva or anyone close to Her for more information. Her thirst for knowledge fueled her loyalty and desire for kinship. The secrecy she received in return was a source of tension in her relationship with her partner and her roommates, who each seemed to know so much more about the big picture. When her family refused to reciprocate her trust, it sowed dread and doubt in her mind.

"If anyone has a say in that kind of thing, though, it's Lady Nerva. And she looks after us," she insisted aloud, as much to herself as to her guests. She curled up with her warm mug and took another sip. She resisted the weight of sleep that leaned on her head and eyelids. "You have to keep reminding yourself that whatever happens is gonna be okay in the end."


Silas looked back at his companion at the sound of trouble. He frowned, seeing that the attempt at re-sealing Arael's wings may have worsened the injury. "Hold still," he said as he hurried over to his ally's side and lowered to his knees to get a closer look. "Gah." It occurred to him that he hadn't brought a first aid kit, nor had he trusted his GPS enough to bring it along.

He scanned the surroundings for a sense of direction. The shape of the sandy barrier to the ocean was odd and only beach-like on the side of the river where Silas knelt with his companion. On the other side of the river the terrain was rocky and rose sharply into cliffs of the mountain from which the river unwound, as if something powerful crumbled the stone away...

Silas looked away from the rough terrain and gazed across the stretch of soft sand. It bled into the grass which gave way to a thin forest. They probably weren't far from a human establishment... Silas frowned. While the two of them stood a chance if they walked to a mortal city, it was death or worse if they ran into another angel at this point. And Silas didn't exactly want to fly around unarmed over shinigami territory. Was it better to not seek help and risk Arael's health, or was it better to try anyway and risk their lives in the process? Was it better if Silas hid from sight once they reached the city, or maybe should they break in and steal...? And wasn't this Arael's choice to make?

"We can rest here―and there's fresh water from the mouth of the river, but..." Silas blanked as a sense of doom crept up his spine. "I-I'm not sure..." Was there perhaps something clever they could do with the magic from the artifact of time?

"Don't move," a low voice demanded from behind. Silas blinked in shock as the sand visibly shuddered and a small gale pulsed with the sound of the voice. Was it some kind of sonar magic? He slowly turned to face the source. As he turned, he could make out its shape: a masked figure, wading across the water. The silhouette's rear-sheathed weapon glinted unmistakably of the metal that composed shinigami scythes, but for some reason the blade looked much like a sword and nothing like a scythe... Silas's heart sank as he noticed a second robed figure hop down from the rocks farther back. He couldn't discern its weapon in the shaded light, but as he looked toward a flash of motion atop the cliffs he saw a third masked figure poised with glowing shinigami metal―

"I SAID DON'T MOVE," the voice boomed. "Unless you want to lose those damned wings." Silas froze completely, ever surprised by voice's ability to move between element-bending roar and humanoid speech. As the bearer of the sword stepped out of the river and into the light―and uncomfortably close―Silas could make out the cuts in their armor from prior battle. He was too panicked, and too afraid of the threat, to check whether the other figures were closing in too. He had no idea if there were any more beyond the first three.

"This land is sacred, and it does not welcome the kin of dictators. State your cause."

(Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/914862411593337 )