05-04-2011, 03:19 AM
Silas watched as his falcon dove and rose in the air. His mind was always elsewhere. He looked down and his feathers shifted. He noticed a strong feeling coming off a village. He flew down quickly to keep himself hidden and to stay in the dark. He heard yelling what stood out the most to him was when someone yelled “Give me the damn soul!” It was then that he realized he was needed. He pulled his wings through his shirt and jacket and folded them tightly against his back. He felt each feather fold neatly against his spine. Though large in both width and stature he knew how to hide them well. He went into the library feigning being human.
He looked around listening in carefully on the conversation. He, under the cover of his bangs, looked at the soul in the room. It was a drunkard's soul obviously destined for Hell clearly. He heard its silent screeches. He picked up a book and began flipping through pages readying his wings to fly and get the soul in a moments notice. He chuckled silently his shoulders heaving in breath. Silas glanced more carefully at the situation.
One man was requesting the soul while the one who appeared to have retireved it,which was a process even Silas didn't know how to do, was denying it. Clearly the one standing over the one called Chiaro was threanting Chiaro in some form. Silas instinctively stepped back slowly getting closer to the men making it appear as if he was looking for a specific book. He coughed as humans do, took in air as humans do, even sniffled as humans do. The only thing that he couldn't make seem human was the effect he had on humans. He made them get chills. He didn't know how to change it. Some did. He felt that at one time he had known. Perhaps when he had been in heaven and responsible for dealing with bad transfers. But now he couldn't remember.
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