Pestilence felt very light headed as Uriel simply allowed the horseman's familiarity. The angel didn't seem nearly as agitated now, and Pestilence couldn't help but wonder at the sudden change. One minute he had been walking on eggshells around the angel, afraid that any of his words or actions would push Uriel away from him- irreversibly lose the beautiful being again. Now, in spite of his fear and apprehension, he was pushing his luck.
Then, when Uriel smiled at him, Pestilence's fears twitched a little- it was vaguely the same feeling in his stomanch, a sort of food poisoning feel, but instead of making him want to recede, the new twinge made him feel bolder. Giving Uriel's had a squeeze, he smiled back, a twinkle in his eye. He knew very well which of the two vehicles he would rather take.
The motorcycle was invented around 1885, and it hadn't taken the horsepeople long to abandon their former modes of transport for the loud roar of a V-4 engine. Pestilence, in spite of his retirement, had firmly refused to give up the legacy of the Hell's Angels and had continued to take pride in each and every one of his bikes.
Underneath a tarp in the Manor's rather extensive garages was Pestilence's current bike, a pale grey Honda Shadow Spirit. He had, until recently, had a Harley, (it had such an adverse effect on both human hearing and breathing) but had traded in when even he couldn't stan the noise anymore. It was more comfortable, and with a 1100cc engine, it still got him wherever he wanted to go.
Pestilence lead Uriel down corridors and stairs, his nerves tightenting with each step towards his bike. Not only was he going to see Uriel fly, but he was going to have said angel pressed very close to him- wrapping his pale arms around the horseman's waist- cheek resting against Pestilence's back...
He was startled to find them both standing beside his bike. Shaking himself a little, and hoping that Uriel hadn't noticed his lack of concentration, he pulled the tarp off, and straddled it.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-03-10 09:24 am (UTC)Then, when Uriel smiled at him, Pestilence's fears twitched a little- it was vaguely the same feeling in his stomanch, a sort of food poisoning feel, but instead of making him want to recede, the new twinge made him feel bolder. Giving Uriel's had a squeeze, he smiled back, a twinkle in his eye. He knew very well which of the two vehicles he would rather take.
The motorcycle was invented around 1885, and it hadn't taken the horsepeople long to abandon their former modes of transport for the loud roar of a V-4 engine. Pestilence, in spite of his retirement, had firmly refused to give up the legacy of the Hell's Angels and had continued to take pride in each and every one of his bikes.
Underneath a tarp in the Manor's rather extensive garages was Pestilence's current bike, a pale grey Honda Shadow Spirit. He had, until recently, had a Harley, (it had such an adverse effect on both human hearing and breathing) but had traded in when even he couldn't stan the noise anymore. It was more comfortable, and with a 1100cc engine, it still got him wherever he wanted to go.
Pestilence lead Uriel down corridors and stairs, his nerves tightenting with each step towards his bike. Not only was he going to see Uriel fly, but he was going to have said angel pressed very close to him- wrapping his pale arms around the horseman's waist- cheek resting against Pestilence's back...
He was startled to find them both standing beside his bike. Shaking himself a little, and hoping that Uriel hadn't noticed his lack of concentration, he pulled the tarp off, and straddled it.
"You'll have to hold on."