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[stds-r-4-lovers.livejournal.com]

Date: February 28, 2000
Setting: Outside Uriel's door
Status: Semi-private: Pestilence and Uriel
Summary: The first meeting between Pestilence and Uriel after the Fall 

It had taken Pestilence a few days to get the rats settled in before he had a chance to dwell on Uriel's rejection again. Mr. Sniffles knew somethng was wrong, and tried to encourage the horseman to talk about it.
***
"I don't know, Mr. S. I just thought it... I don't know, I thought it meant something."
Squeak.
"Oh, those. Oh, they're nothing."
Squeak.
"What can I say, I was depressed."
Squeak.
"Don't worry, I won't do it again, especially not when the baby rats come."
Squeak.
"No need to take that tone with me, I stick to my word."
Squeak
"Oh, they're not that good. I couldn't give them to him. I don't think it would help anything. It would probably make things worse, actually."
***
But Mr. S. wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, and before he knew it, Pestilence was wandering down the halls of the manor, searching for Uriel's door.

When he found it, the residual of the angel's presence was thin, as though he hadn't been there for days. For a minute, Pestilence's heart stopped. Surely his actions hadn't pushed the angel to do anything rash? He prayed that Uriel was alright.

Turning over the piece of paper that the poem* was written, he wrote a note on the back. Please, Uriel, just let me know that you're OK. I'll be in the library this afternoon. I hope to see you. Pestilence

Feeling even more dejected and alone that he had before, Pestilence walked towards the library, hoping against hope that Uriel would show.

* Pesti's poem:
Green,
______like the leaves on a jasmine bush,
Your memory haunts me, and I have always been afraid
__________________________________________of ghosts.
How lonely must a horseman be,
before he ceases to be?
My room still echoes your voice,
the air clings to the jasmine of your hair,
how is it that all of my belongings now seem like yours?
_____________________How my body remembers your touch, like a phantom limb after the amputation of a particularily nasty infection.
My mind is black,
the color of your hair,
And I am lost.

Comments

[stds-r-4-lovers.livejournal.com]

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.

"You'll have to hold on."

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel followed Pestilence into the garage. As the horseman finally stopped he noticed that they were apparently going by bike. Well, he wasn't about to protest. Like he had said, it didn't matter to him one way or the other.

He blinked as Pestilence straddled the bike, obviously expecting him to do the same. This was not because of uneasiness at the close contact -- in fact, such a thought didn't even cross his mind -- but because he suddenly realized that it would be awkward at best if he was wearing a robe. It was very comfortable, yes, but not exactly a proper attire for riding a bike.

With a thought he miracled himself into the clothes he had been wearing the day he arrived to the Manor (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/35504.html#cutid1), green trousers and a white shirt with a long white coat over it. He was still not exactly comfortable in such clothes, but while his robe was certainly comfortable, it could be also impractical at times. Ah, well; he could always change back into it later on.

Thus he now settled himself behind Pestilence, wrapping his arms around Pestilence, surprised at how warm the horseman felt. Well, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised -- after all, not only was sporting a fever probably part of job description to the other being, but his own body was also quite cold. That was a result of having practically no bodily functions -- warmth was neither required nor produced. Nevertheless, he found Pestilence's warmth rather comfortable, and instinctively leant closer to it.

[stds-r-4-lovers.livejournal.com]

Aside from the healer, Pestilence didn't have much experience around angels, but it was only partially due to this fact that he was surprised when Uriel was suddenly clad in a stunning outfit rather than his customary robe. The horseman couldn't help but stare at Uriel's slender beauty for a moment, the green trousers and white shirt were... very becoming to say the least. Even though the angel seemed to be less than comfortable in the new attire, Pestilence couldn't help but be grateful for the chance to see the outline of the angel's body a little more easily.

Pestilence's breath became a bit more shallow at the sudden bodily contact between them as Uriel got on the bike behind him. Oh, but it was very nice to feel the angel so near him. He noticed that Uriel's skin radiated a certain chill that Pestilence wasn't entirely used to. It was vaguely similar to the chill that overtook someone after one of his projects had run its course, but there was also another type of feel to it. Clean, almost, as though it was the coolness of an early Springs morning, a light dusting of snow ruptured by the new blossoms of crocuses.

As pleasant as it was to feel the coolness against the horseman's fevered skin, he also couldn't help but wish that the heat of their first night together would return to the angel.

He felt Uriel's cheek press against his back as he started the engine. With a smile that rose from the center of his being, he sped out across the English country-side.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel pressed his cheek against Pestilence's back as the horseman started the engine of the bike. The warmth of the other being seeped through his skin into his body, trying to chase away the almost corpse-like coldness of somebody who has never truly lived as a corporeal being. It was a most pleasant feeling, and Uriel tightened his hold on the horseman's waist a bit to bring himself even closer to that warmth.

They were driving through the peaceful scenery of a place well loved but he didn't notice, his eyes closed, blocking out any sight of his surroundings. Instead he concentrated on what he felt and heard, the wind whirling around them, the heat of Pestilence's body against him, the horseman's heartbeat under his ear. It was very pleasant indeed, in a way he wasn't sure he wholly understood.

So, he stopped thinking and just enjoyed.