Re: The Icarus/The Fallen [Blood]
“Is that because you don’t think you’re suited?” Nathaniel asked, biting down on the meat of his bottom lip so that it faded white under the pressure. It wasn’t from the pain, but rather the release of weight packed tight in his chest, the feeling that his sins were bleeding out into the lines of his palm and spreading in spiderwebs. “Or because you think you’re undeserving? I used to be a creature of faith.”
Nathaniel had been faithful by nature of requirement. After all, there was no such thing as an agnostic angel, was there? He’d been born, as it were, to be blessed. And now it seemed that he was destined to be damned. His fall was only his own fault. Failure to meet he standards held for a beast of feathered wing and cherubic pout. God had been found in his molecular makeup and now he’d consider himself lucky if he saw the bright and beaming at the end of his mortal life.
“Does that mean you’re reluctant to like yourself? Are we birds of a feather?” He quirked and eyebrow even as he winced, flinching and half-drawing his hand away from Enlil’s grasp, but not quite managing to withdraw completely. The swipe of the man’s thumb was stinging, but it also made him feel alive. He licked over his lip and nearly flinched from the grasp of Enlil’s thumb, but instead found himself leaning into the sticky touch against his jaw.