Finn rolled over on the pavement as he started to feel lightheaded. His eyes shifted restlessly in their sockets, watching as countless pedestrians stepped carelessly past his weakening form. They side-stepped, creeping around his huddled body as if he were vermin. He wanted to spit at them. He wanted to give them all something to really be afraid of.
He could feel his own blood soaking into his white downy wings as the feathers stuck to his skin. This wasn't the first time he had been attacked, but it could well be the last.
His kind weren't exactly accepted in society, but Finn wasn't exactly the type of person who cared. It had been required for of his people to cover their wings in public so as not to cause a disturbance. You could always tell a Numen by his floor-length government issued overcoat - the simultaneous disguise and earmark of an oppressed race. But you could always tell Finn by the towering snowy wings he flaunted, covered in diaphanous gossamer feathers.
Finn had once donned the disguise. He had once held shame. But after the death of his parents at the hands of those fucking bigots... He wasn't going to let himself die hiding what he was. Not like his family.
And now, he thought, it seemed that his boldness had bought him the same fate as his family.
A warmth crept up Finn's body as he continued to spill blood from the jagged twin knife wounds marring the ivory skin of his abdomen. He shuddered as he closed his eyes, an almost undetectable masochistic smile staining his lips.
He felt a hand on his shoulder as he slipped from consciousness.
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Eli crouched on the dark polished hardwood, observing the steady rise and fall of the man's chest in his bed with a watchful eye, as if it would stop at any moment. His drab National Numina Suppression Department linen coat, whose sleeves were still spattered and smeared with blood, pooled on the floor around him. His noble features were clouded with worry as he carefully oversaw the other man's well-being.
Suddenly, Eli saw the boy's sable lashes flutter on his cheeks.
"You're awake!" Eli beamed.
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Eli had found the young man crumpled beaten and bloody on the street. The sight of the boy's beautiful blood-soaked plumage was almost too much for his heart to take. He immediately checked for a pulse, his own heart quickening as he worked, pressing his fingers to the soft skin beneath the boy's jaw. Though faint, he could feel a slow, steady thump of a heart beneath his touch. Eli carefully gathered the battered and neglected fledgling in his arms and laid him gently across the dark leather seats in the rear of his car.
He drove like a madman back to his apartment. He couldn't have taken the boy to a hospital. Only a handful of hospitals and clinics in the entire country would give emergency treatment to a Numen, much less one who so blatantly defied the country's laws regarding their race. The boy would just have to count himself lucky - a fortunate player in some divine game of chance - that the man who happened upon his broken body was one of the very few Numina to have received some medical training.
The boy was hauled up several flights of stairs by Eli. Passersby stared in shock and horror at the sullied wings the inert young man dared to bare in public as they rushed past in a blur. Once inside, Eli laid the unconscious angel back on his kitchen table and began a careful and swift examination and treatment of his wounds. Much to his relief, the lacerations were not very deep and seemed to have avoided all internal organs, but he had lost a lot of blood and was still bleeding. He would have to close the wounds and hope his body was in good enough condition to recuperate fully. Eli's apartment wasn't exactly equipped to give a man a blood transfusion, but stitches - that, he could do.
Eli made a mad dash for his supply closet and fetched his suture kit, gauze, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol large enough to disinfect an entire hospital wing. He snapped on his latex gloves and got to work, gently cleaning the wounds and applying a small number of carefully placed sutures. He deposited a few large pads of gauze on the raw flesh and began to wrap a thick, stretchy bandage around the young man's waist. Eli took a step back to admire his quick handiwork.
The boy still looked rough, but really was a pretty one, even through the cuts and bruises. His soft and delicate features were frozen, nearly lifeless, on his ghostly pale face. His long dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks, as if attempting to hide the raw red road rash where the left side of his face had hit the pavement. His dark hair was of an unusual style, with the back and sides, up to his temples, shorn to less than an inch in length while top remained long enough to almost reach past his ears if he decided to comb it down rather than leave it natural and wild.
Smooth milk-white skin covered every inch of the body that was revealed to Eli, aside from his left arm. The thin limb was scattered with an assortment of colorful tattoos from shoulder to wrist, the largest of which being a sizable human heart wrapped in a banner on his upper arm. Eli leaned closer in an attempt to read the message written across the heart. Maybe something about a guy named Ben? The rest was incomprehensible as Eli failed to recognize the language. Though Eli didn't usually go for the tattooed look, he had to admit the boy's artwork was gorgeous - it suited him to a tee.
His massive white wings, still caked with dirt and blood, stretched the length of Eli's table as his lithe body lay limp. Eli would have to clean those wings. But not tonight. When he wakes up.
'If he wakes up,' Eli mumbled then immediately admonished himself for his brief foray into pessimism.
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"You're awake!" Eli beamed.
He stood from his crouched position, his knees sore from staying static for so long. He stretched his legs and sat carefully on the edge of the bed near the boy's feet.
He was definitely starting to stir. The boy's eyes began to flicker apart before clamping shut again as his wings stretched out, the tips peeking out from beneath Eli's white fluffy duvet. Slowly, his eyes opened wide, revealing one iris to be startlingly icy blue and the other a deep grassy green. Eli admired those eyes as they vaguely stared off into the distance. His soft yet dry lips parted as he inhaled deeply.
The young man groaned at the dull ache he suddenly felt in is stomach as he placed his hand where his bandaged wounds hid beneath the covers. As he looked down toward his stomach, he spotted Eli and his eyes widened even more. "Did I die?" he asked with an almost terrified look about him as he furrowed his brows.
Eli couldn't help but chuckle, "No, of course not," he said in his most comforting voice as he stroked the boy's calf through his blanket. "You almost did, though. And you probably would have, if I hadn't found you," he added. Less comforting this time.
The boy began to look suspicious, "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"
"We're not looking a gift horse in the mouth are we?" Eli said in a voice akin to motherly scorn. The younger man averted his eyes, slightly ashamed of how he had just phrased his questions. Eli just smiled back at him and patted his leg firmly, "I'm just kidding around with you. I saw so many people walk past you while you were hurt without even blinking an eye. I can understand why you would want to know what special interest anyone would have in your safety. I feel the same way sometimes. I'm Eli, by the way. Eli Byrne."
"Finn Mosshart," the boy mumbled, still trying to get his bearings on his situation. He had no idea where he was but he had to know why. That was the one thing that was plaguing his mind. Why would someone try to help him? "I really don't want to sound inconsiderate, because I couldn't tell you how much I appreciate your help, but I feel like I need to know why you decided to help me." Finn looked directly into Eli's eyes as he said this, his piercing gaze shaking him to the core. Eli stood, not saying a word, their eyes still fixed on one another as he removed his long overcoat - which Finn had failed to recognize as an NNSD coat - and white T-shirt. Eli's fingers slowly and steadily went through the routine of unbuckling the straps that wrapped around his chest and waist, setting himself free in his home.
Eli stretched outward, his wings unfurling to their full glory. Though Finn and Eli were both Numina, they were so different from one another. Eli was probably a full head taller than Finn and held a greater degree of musculature, though he still was lean. His olive complexion suggested a hint of Greek or possibly Italian somewhere down the line. He was definitely handsome, with a wild quality that marked his aquiline features and his short brunette shock which seemed to be eternally mussed. And his wings...
"They're beautiful," Finn near-whispered as wonder filled his voice.
The tips of Eli's wings twitched, stretching the width of the room as Finn's gaze wandered across them. His wings were beautiful. They weren't of the same pure white that Finn possessed, but were a warm ivory color that made you want to run your fingers through the softness you knew lay within. But they weren't one solid color, no, that's what truly gave them a striking appearance. Each pinion turned from rich ivory to a deep inky black which lined the edges of both wings.
"You think so? I've always liked them, but I feel like they somehow don't suit me. I mean, they don't even go with my hair," he said, tugging a lock of his chestnut hair and smiling. "Not that I really need to worry about how they look when I wear these damnable things..." Eli kicked at the crumpled coat and black leather straps as he trailed off, his wings drooping slightly as thoughts of his restraint crossed his mind.
