The night air was awash with countless tiny, twinkling sparks of light, each mote catching the light of the moon in waves as they swirled gently down over the sloped roof above.
Crucifel had always loved watching stardust fall, it was as if the Creator Himself were reaching out from wherever He had been all these countless millennia, dusting Edenara in an ethereal, shimmery blanket. The room atop the lonely palace tower made a fine spot to sit and watch as the dust rolled in without having to experience it quite so directly.
Once upon a time it had been actively occupied by lookouts as a lighthouse, but as Edenara relaxed into the lengthy peace it had enjoyed for so long after the first Martyrcost, there were less shift rotations and other structures to better serve such a purpose.
This lofted loneliness was why it became a fixture of her youth, when she would steal away to watch as life went on below; gardeners, creatures, seasons and weather all coming and going. But the night was still now, and her only companion was the silvery shafts of moonlight that filtered in through the storm outside and the starry waters of the sea beyond.
Inhaling deeply, Crucifel gathered her bravery to push aside thoughts of curved horns and needle teeth waiting just beyond the glass, then opened the window to be immediately struck by the familiar scent. It was never something that she could ever truly put her finger on, somewhere between the watery ozonic note that hung in the air just before snow and a sweeter, light raspberry fragrance. Gentle, refreshing and steeped with nostalgic memories that made her chest ache.
She reached out with cupped hands and let the gossamer-fine dust gather in them, watching as it sifted through her fingers to fall like sparkling grains of sand down to the palace grounds below. She closed her eyes, taking in another long pull of air and enjoying the tranquility of the moment.
It was of course disrupted by a soft hush of feathers dragging through the breeze and she felt the wind shift, fluttering against her hair and mixing the smell of stardust with a distinctive, warm scent that failed to surprise her with its presence.
"What is it, Promethiel?" Crucifel asked, opening her eyes to see her brother leaning his elbow on the window frame, his chin resting on his palm. Stardust dripped from his long white hair and robes, glittering in the moonlight like a thousand constellations had spilled over him.
"May I come in?" he asked, voice casual despite his precarious position of hanging off the ledge of a high window. She could see that his wings were pressed to the wall outside, holding him steady as he lingered.
"I should leave you blowing in the wind out there," Crucifel said, reaching up to flick a drop of stardust from his hair that threatened to fall down onto her face. "You are a terrible, pestering wretch."
"You are too kind, dear Sister," he grinned, making as if to bow but then thought better of it, steadying himself by bracing his legs against the stone beneath the window.
She had to admit, seeing him like this was good entertainment. "So, what is it that you want?"
"I wanted to apologize for what happened after I smited that trespassing incubus last week," he said, letting the smile slip slightly. "It was uncalled for and unbecoming of an Archangel. I am sorry."
Crucifel tilted her head at him, studying his expression for any hint of deceit or duplicity. He had given her space in the following days, almost hiding away from her aside from required functions and events so that their angels wouldn't have more to worry about such personal matters. "Does this mean that you're giving up on your immoral pursuit of me?"
He laughed at that, shrugging helplessly as the celestial winds ruffled his hair and robes. "I can't give up until I have caught you. And truly? Even then, I don't think I'll ever stop trying to woo you."
"Oh, Promethiel," she sighed ruefully, looking out at the falling flecks. "You're as awful at apologies as you are at...well, what you call 'wooing', but I suppose I should be thankful that you bothered to make one at all."
"Thankful?" He scoffed, sounding amused but also not unoffended. "My dear, I'm the most appreciative being that I know!"
"Yes, thankful," she replied, poking him in the chest and holding back a chuckle at how his wings twitched in quiet indignation. "It's a rare thing for you. I can count on one hand the amount of times you apologized to anyone but our parents. And even then, it was only because you were forced into it by Father."
Crucifel paused, blinking.
They were adults, yes, even if still considered wet behind the ears by many of the population who had been alive for thousands of years. Even so, they had centuries worth of life lived. Had he really gotten away with displaying remorse so little?
Wretched thing, indeed.
Promethiel chuckled, shrugging once more with a tilt of his head. "Yes, yes, I know. You're right, I'm a terrible Archangel and being in general. But you must admit, that kiss we shared was anything but."
Crucifel gave him a long, cold stare, flushing under his knowing golden eyes. "Goodnight, Promethiel."
She pushed him back without ceremony, shutting the window and closing the silken blinds in his face, blushing darker as she felt her body react to the memory of that kiss. Promethiel had been insatiable, kissing her like he had been starved for her for all of those centuries. But he'd said so himself, hadn't he?
She could still practically feel his lips on hers, the pressure of his tongue sliding along her own, the heat of his breath against her skin. The prophetess pushed it from her mind, feeling disgusted with herself for how her gut roiled with countless wings of invisible butterflies.
That was always the problem with Promethiel, he was too audacious, too forward, and yet she had never reciprocated his advances until allowing him to kiss her in a way entirely unbefitting of their familial relationship.
Now she found herself wondering what else he might have done if she hadn't rebuffed him. The thought made her wings shift restlessly as further heat crawled up her neck.
"It's rather cold out here," Promethiel called through the window, "you'd leave your king to freeze in the night? That has to be some form of treason, yes?"
Frowning, she swept the curtain back and opened the window, gripping him by the front of his now thoroughly shimmering robes and tugging him into the tower with her. "You will behave yourself or I will do something violently unbecoming of a princess!" she promised.
He fluttered his pale lashes innocently at her, holding her around the waist as he let Crucifel pull him inside. She shut the window behind them once he was on his feet, then turned to face him.
"You truly are an annoying pest," she said. "There's no towels up in this tower so try not to drip every--"
