Chapter 4
Emily burst into the hut, immediately pausing upon making eye contact with the now-awake exorcist, sitting up in the bed, hair thoroughly ruffled and chest heaving.
“Hi,” Emily mumbled, mentally smacking herself over how stupid it came out sounding.
“Hi,” Lute parroted hollowly, sounding like her mind wasn’t entirely in the present.
It only took Emily a few steps to cross the room to the bed, eyes running up and down the exorcist, attempting to appraise her current condition. She hesitantly reached out toward the bandage she had just replaced the night before, but Lute, not even thinking, immediately jerked away. Pale golden eyes flicked upwards, almost apologetic, to meet the purple ones staring down at her, slightly widened in surprise.
“Can I take a look?” Emily asked cautiously, then promised sincerely, “I’ll be gentle.”
Lute’s voice cracked with disuse when she attempted to answer with a nonchalant “Yeah, sorry.” She cleared her throat to try again, but the angel was already probing the gauze with light but deliberate fingertips. Lute carefully monitored Emily’s face, hoping to gain any kind of information about how the injury was doing - if it was still bleeding, that couldn’t be good, right? Surprisingly, the face of the angel leaning over her remained perfectly composed, all features neutral while focused on the task at hand.
Lute’s train of thought was promptly disrupted when she suddenly found herself aware of a light, sweet scent - something like jasmine, or maybe orange blossoms? Fuck, was that coming from Emily? She smelled so good-
Stop it, you creep, Lute chided herself, Stop thinking about that and talk to her instead. You know, make conversation, like a normal person.
“So, what are you doing here?” Lute rasped.
“Oh, I’m just on probation!” the angel answered cheerfully, still focused on the bandage.
“...probation?”
“Yeah! If this time is anything like the last few times, Sera should come back for me – or, I guess this time it’s ‘us’– Sera should come back for us in a few decades." Upon noticing the look on the exorcist's face, Emily reassured, "Don't worry, it's never been more than a century.”
Lute wasn’t quite sure what to say. Should she apologize? “Sorry” felt entirely insufficient, and downright lame. Emily was… temporarily banished from Heaven? This clearly wasn’t the first time it happened, either, and she had mentioned something about usually serving her punishment alone.
It felt like Lute had been force-fed cotton, and the back of her throat burned.
Emily noticed the sudden, awkward silence and quickly added, “It’s all right! Sera always says that it’s either probation or I’ll end up just like Lucifer. We can’t have that, can we? By the Archangel himself, I would bring such shame to Heaven if I fell.”
More silence. Damn it, say something! Lute kicked herself mentally.
Emily spoke before Lute had the chance to. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but… well, I found you in the woods. I’d like to take a look at your wings– you know, make sure they aren’t damaged or anything?”
Lute herself had honestly forgotten all about her wings - they’d been the least of her worries since the battle. Fuck, this was going to be so embarrassing, they were probably covered in dozens of those broken post-battle feathers. Wait, shit, was she ever going to be able to preen by herself again? Ugh, would she need to ask Emily to help? Lute tried not to let her face turn red. A Head Seraphim helping an exorcist with her wings? Lute would rather make like Vaggie and leave Heaven to go fraternize with demons. “Here they are,” Lute announced sheepishly as two enormous silver wings unfurled slowly. Fucking shameful. She could feel the loose feathers begging to be removed.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it looks like they, um, haven’t been taken care of in a little while. Would it be alright if I helped you with them?” she offered softly.
Lute gave a single bob of her head, feeling incredibly awkward. The angel didn’t have to sugarcoat it, she knew that her wings looked like shit right now. Emily clapped her hands together in excitement.
“Flip over for me?” she prompted eagerly, and the exorcist obeyed wordlessly.
The angel carefully sat down on the bed by Lute, gingerly reaching out towards the recently-appeared, currently-very-disheveled sizable silver wings. “Let me know if anything I do hurts, or if I should maybe touch them differently, or…” she trailed off as her fingers made contact with the feathers at the tips of the wings.
“It’ll be easier if you start at the base and work your way down, in the direction that the feathers go,” Lute murmured practically into the pillow, then, louder, “That’s really the only part I can’t reach, the rest I can do myself.”
“Nonsense,” Emily sounded surprisingly indignant, probably the most assertive she’d been all day. “Just lay there and relax. I don’t want you lifting a finger, you hear?”
Kinda hot when she talks like that, huh? a sly voice in the back of Lute’s mind teased, almost like she’s demanding your obedience. The exorcist glared at the wall.
The angel took Lute’s instruction, though, and gently made contact with the very base of Lute’s right wing, where the skin and feathers met.
Lute was no stranger to touch. She served as an exorcist, and physical contact, whether sexual or otherwise, was seen as one of the most effective ways of relieving the stress and emotions that the soldiers were constantly subjected to. In fact, after battle, they were all required to either find a partner or join a group to spend the night with. Adam had been the one to come up with the rule, and it was surprisingly effective at both maintaining morale and increasing bonds between soldiers. He had called it “the Debrief,” cackling at how fitting a name he had come up with.
But Emily’s fingers caressing her feathers? This easily felt a thousand times more scandalous than the lewd acts she had engaged in.
Lute suddenly noticed that it was suffocatingly quiet again.
“As, um, exorcists, we use a special formula for our wings. It’s mostly just beeswax, with some herbs and other stuff. Helps us go longer without needing to preen, or whatever,” Lute mumbled.
“Oh, that makes sense! You guys can train more instead of having to sit around and fuss with your feathers!” Emily chirped.
They lapsed into quiet again, Emily taking care to be extra gentle with the feathers. They’re so soft, Emily observed silently, and they’re, like, vast when she spreads them out all the way. I’ve seen her flying so many times when we were in Heaven, but they’re so much bigger up close. I wonder how warm they are? I bet they’re super soft and super warm when they're wrapped around you. They’d probably feel amazing when cuddling. I wish we could cuddle. We barely know each other, though… Maybe if I ask her for a hug– she shook her head just lightly, a feeble attempt to clear her mind. No. Focus.
Finally finished with one wing, Emily realized that, lost in thought, she hadn’t uttered a single word to the exorcist the entire time. She was just about to offer a cheery “halfway done!” when she noticed the steady, even rising and falling of Lute’s back. Emily couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement, and she felt a tiny swell of pride rise in her chest. She didn’t really have a ton of experience with preening others’ wings, and she must have been doing something right if Lute had enjoyed it enough to fall asleep. Humming quietly to herself, Emily started on the left wing.