Uriel watched as Pestilence drew his hand into a gentle kiss. He felt... something... as he watched the connection of the horseman's lips and his own hand, at the same time feeling that connection on his skin. He could only barely suppress the shiver that threatened to run through him at that feeling. He didn't understand, though. Why would he be feeling such a thing? And what was it, exactly?
"But I know nothing but obeying orders," he replied quietly. "Well, that and my art, of course -- and flying. I have felt the wind, too. There are few things I love as much as flying; it's just that with so many humans around I do it very rarely. It's much easier to keep my wings folded than to make sure people don't notice them --"
-- His wings, spread wide, Pestilence's hands sunk in the feathers --
He blinked, then tried to regain his control. "So -- anyway. It's not like I don't have any pleasure in my existence; I just find in different places. Perhaps I don't know tastes other than water -- and marshmallow, as it appears --, perhaps I cannot tell flowers apart by their scent. But I can recognize any somewhat succesful artist's style, and create works that would pass any specialist's examination as the works of those masters. I could fly right into Heaven and back." With a tiny smile he continued, "I probably could see to Heaven from here if I tried hard enough. Perhaps I'm not 'The sharpest sighted Spirit of all in Heav'n' but close enough. I'm always been rather sight-oriented."
As if trying to prove this he now turned his gaze back to his hand. He still didn't try to take it away from Pestilence's; he simply enjoyed too much having it right where it was.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-03-09 05:20 am (UTC)"But I know nothing but obeying orders," he replied quietly. "Well, that and my art, of course -- and flying. I have felt the wind, too. There are few things I love as much as flying; it's just that with so many humans around I do it very rarely. It's much easier to keep my wings folded than to make sure people don't notice them --"
-- His wings, spread wide, Pestilence's hands sunk in the feathers --
He blinked, then tried to regain his control. "So -- anyway. It's not like I don't have any pleasure in my existence; I just find in different places. Perhaps I don't know tastes other than water -- and marshmallow, as it appears --, perhaps I cannot tell flowers apart by their scent. But I can recognize any somewhat succesful artist's style, and create works that would pass any specialist's examination as the works of those masters. I could fly right into Heaven and back." With a tiny smile he continued, "I probably could see to Heaven from here if I tried hard enough. Perhaps I'm not 'The sharpest sighted Spirit of all in Heav'n' but close enough. I'm always been rather sight-oriented."
As if trying to prove this he now turned his gaze back to his hand. He still didn't try to take it away from Pestilence's; he simply enjoyed too much having it right where it was.