Impure

Hey Folks! Ossia Here. Please note that all Characters and ideas of this story and MINE! If you want to borrow or use ANY of them...email me at foreverslave@hotmail.com...or Satan will eat your soul! *shakes fist*

This story will have Lemons in it in the future, but for now...no lemony-goodness ^^ Sorry.

Please R&R I love to hear what people have to say

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He awoke with a start, gasping for air into his deprived lung. It heart thundered in his chest to an uneven rhythm that drummed against his ribs. Sweat clung to his brown and cooled his temples in the light breeze that fluttered in from the open window of his apartment. Tendrils of cool air kissed his cheeks and brought him back to reality. He took a deep breath and held it as if waiting for something horrid to jump from the shadows and take him away into the night, but there was nothing. Only the whisper of a breeze swirling outside. The breath came out in a rush and he relaxed, the tense muscles in his shoulders easing as he hunched over slightly. His eyes seemed weary as he looked down upon the thin linen that cupped his thighs, giving mild coverage from the night, cocooning in the warmth.
“A dream.” He murmured. “Just a damn dream.” He raised his hand and raked it though the snow kissed strands that spooled down his back in a wave of white. His crystalline eyes closing as he composed himself, making sense of the dream. It seemed so real, just moments before. She’d been there, looking at him again with those soulless eyes with so many promises of his future. Promises of power, strength, and wealth…none of those things he wanted or needed, but yet she had still beckoned him with that false call of love.
“Shit!” He dashed the pillow off his bed from behind him with a swift strike of his hand and then groaned his frustration. He’d been having the same dream for two months straight, with no knowledge of who this woman was! The way she acted, the way she called him, it was as if she knew him. The thought was disturbing, when to most it should have seemed comforting? He shuddered in a cold sweat and worried his lower lip with his teeth. He had to take his mind of this. It was still early in the morning; the sun hadn’t even crested its rays across the skyline of modern steel high rises. Snatching up his jeans he pulled them on, the muscles in his back flexing making the tattoo printed on his flesh dance with an ebbing life. Thin lines trailed along his sun-kissed flesh, taking on such intricate detail fanning out down the column of his spine and down further to follow through past the rim of his jeans. The markings finished just above the dip of his knees. The whole motif depicted a set of majestic wings that folded down his shoulder blades. The shading make it seem so real, like you could reach out a finger and feel the feathered down tickling your fingers. Yet, it was only a tattoo, only when he took his human form at least. He patted down the assorted pockets of his jeans until he located a lone cigarette and placed it lifelessly between his needy lips. He didn’t have a lighter, so it simply dangled there, a form of comfort. Pacing himself from the room he met the hallway then followed its dimply lit line into the kitchen and flicked on a light. The artificial light flickered then snapped on, bathing the room in a fake morning glow. He needed something to occupy his mind a moment, just a few hours until Christian was awake. Then he could take solace in his company. But, for now, he’d settle for a sandwich. Tugging the fridge open he was greeted by the cat-like thrum of sound that purred from the cool depth of the machine, soon cut off as he closed the door after retrieving the butter and some mayonnaise. Locating in turn the bread and some other assorted things he patched them all together in something resembling a sandwich and sat down. He opened his mouth to take a bite when something disturbed the process.
“You really should not eat that you know…that lettuce looks a bit brown.”
He jumped, an indicator of just how frazzled his nerves were and spun about, Mayo dripping down his hand.
“Fate! Crap!” He cursed when he realized he’d dropped his sandwich.
“Hello to you too.” The woman didn’t seem too pleased with his less than polite response to her sudden presence.
“No…Sorry…You startled me is all.” He attempted to explain while sucking mayonnaise from his fingertips before it made a god-awful mess. Fate was one of his closest friends, or had been before she had become Fate. He’d long forgotten her real name, and wasn’t sure if he had on his own, or something bigger had done that for him. Once she’d been an angel like himself, before she’d been picked for the task of taking the old Oracles place. Now she wasn’t angel, demon or human. If anything she was all three. She wasn’t good or evil, she was both. Fate took sides when she saw the need in order to keep the ‘cosmic balance’ of things churning. She never fought for either side though, she only provided information. Yet he had to be the only person she simply popped in to just talk to. He guessed it was because they had been friends for so long, that she couldn’t simply ignore it no matter hat she was meant to be. It was hard to describe Fate’s though, physically she was beautiful, but hard to explain how she was. To him, she was as she had always been, pale, kind and soft on the eyes. Golden hair and emerald eyes that seemed to strike you with warmth even in the darkest of times. Yet, he knew she appeared differently to others. Hence why she was so hard to describe…because you didn’t know if they would see the same thing as you or something totally different.
“What are you doing here anyway?” He peeked up at her after finishing off the sticky mess on one hand and working on the other. A veil of white brushing his cheeks giving him a look of innocence that was unintended.
“I figured you would be awake, so decided to see how you were?”
He dried his hands on his jean and smirked.
“In other words you saw me in some vision with a problem and decided to poke your nose into it?”
“More or less.” She returned his smirk with an impish one of her own. Shaking his head he sighed, a soft gesture that passed his lips in a breath.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it…I’m fine.”
One sleek golden brow arched up into a skeptical poise, accessorized with a delicate hand resting softly upon her hip. It was the sort of look a child would expect from a mother when a lecture was about to ensue.
“Sereph. You always were the worst liar I have ever met.” The tone complimented the look she was giving, something harsh and unconvinced. He countered it with a mild, mindless shrug. His bare shoulders shifting the strands of milky white back down his back.
“Oh well, I tried.” Then slipped from his chair and made his way back towards the fridge to attempt another sandwich. He was blatantly determined not to brood in the subject of his sleeping patterns. Fate was one who would read into it and set him more on edge than he already was…not to mention even if she did know the meaning behind them, she’d never tell him. That in itself would make him grind his teeth down to the roots. He poked his head into the cool recesses of the fridge and went on an endeavor to discover new ingredients for his sandwich.
“Sereph, I know it is worrying you….”
“…Yes and talking to you about it will make it worse.” He finished off, not even bothering to dally from his task.
“What is that meant to mean?” Fate bristled at the idea of her meddling doing anything but some good. If anything, her personality had generally never changed.
“I mean…” He retreated from the cold confines of the large icebox, a large sum of things balanced in one hand and a bag of bread in the other. “…That telling you wall only make matters worse by making me dwell on it when you can’t really help with it.” He plopped his load on the bench. Her bristles prickled higher and he was sure she was grinding her teeth a moment before he heard a slow calming sigh expelled from behind him. She replied in a much calmer tone that what he may have expected.
“Alright, you win…but, Sereph, just be careful okay?”
“Careful?” He frowned; his brows winging together, that sentence seemed to carry more than a friendly warning. “What do you mean by…?” He turned about but was only greeted by the empty silence of the room. He swore. He hated it when she did that.

Sereph slumped into his chair and sighed combing his fingers through his ruffled hair frustrated.
“You sure seem bristled about something?”
He blinked and turned to spot Christian leaning in the doorway wrapped in a robe. His hand cupping a mug of warm coffee as he sipped it calmly peeking over the rim at him with those dark brown eyes, curiously. He was lean and fit; his hair was a dark brown like his eyes and always seemed disheveled no matter now much brushing it received. Christian always had an air of quiet calm about him. He was usually quite a quiet person and fiercely protective.
“Just tired.” He lied; well it was only a half lie. He was tired.
Christian pushed himself away from the doorframe with a delicate grace uncommon among humans. But he wasn’t human; Christian was like Sereph, angel born.
“Dream again?” He asked, like one would ask about the shopping.
Sereph groaned and sunk deeper into his big armchair and thumped his head on the cushioned back in defeat.
“Does everyone know about these damn dreams!?”
A warm chuckle bubbled in the dark-haired mans throat.
“Well at least everyone Fate has been talking to and that sleeps in the same bed as you and is constantly woken up by your swearing?”
He winced.
“Sorry Christian, I didn’t think I woke you?”
“Its fine…but I sure would like to know where an angel like you learnt some of those words. I’m pretty sure you were blurting something out in Latin the other day?”
Sereph was about to apologize again when he looked up only to find Christian grinning like an idiot and scowled at him.
“Yes it was the dream again, and no I don’t want to talk about it.” He warned, trying to avert the topic. Christian gave a shrug of his shoulders then slipped himself into the couch across from his armchair.
“I can wait.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time.”
“I’m immortal…plenty of time.” He teased with a wink and Sereph was forced to smirk.
“Don’t make me smother you in your sleep then.”
Christian held up his free hand as if to ward him off, the coffee cup in the other.
“Easy there tiger, I thought we agreed no bondage in bed.”
A cushion flew through the air and caught Christian in the face. The man gave an ‘Mreph’ of surprise and spilt some of the hot coffee into his lap. He yelped, jumping up and sloshing the dark liquid in the mug. Setting it down quickly he tried to wipe off some of the hot stuff from the front of his robe while Sereph grinned innocently watching the interesting scene then chuckled under his breath.
“Christian do you ever wear boxers beneath that thing?”
He seemed a little occupied with patting the coffee from his robe to catch the teasing hint to Sereph’s tone.
“Not usually…” He grumbled then seemed to click to what he had just asked. “Why?” he turned to him with a suspicious eye. Sereph gave him the most innocent look he could muster, his lips pursed lightly in a thoughtful, boyish pout.
“No Reason.” His eyes pointing to the thin part in his robe.
Christian yelped again and turned a furious shade of pink tugging the thing closed tightly about his waist.
“Damn it!”
He roared with laughter and then quickly stifled it at the man’s furiously embarrassed glare. Yet the impish grin on his face could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried.
“What? You started it with your bondage talk.” He coyly indicated as Christian fell defeated into the couches hold and took his coffee cup back into his hand and sipped it determined. “Not like I’ve never seen it before anyway.” He said off handedly and Christian nearly spat coffee over the carpet. He went silent for a moment and looked at Sereph still pink then opened his mouth and said something he really did not want to hear.
“Council called the other day.”
Sereph groaned and lost his light humor instantly.
“Oh, great? What did the mighty band of feather heads say?”
“Sereph, seriously…”
“…I know I know…bad Sereph, do not call the high angelic council feather heads…” He tsked mockingly. “…When ‘idiots’ is easier to say.”
Christian gave him an exasperated look.
“Anyway…they want to talk to you.”
“When don’t they want to talk to me?” He asked, placing his head in his palm in a cloudy mood. “If they ask me one more time to stop smoking…” He emphasized his point by tapping one from his packet into his hand and waving it at Christian. “I’ll shove a packet up their ass.” Then set the cigarette between his lips loosely and lit it up.
“You should still see them.”
Sereph leant back in his chair and sighed.
“Fine.” He said, sounding like a defeated child, expelling a thin coil of smoke from his lips. “Any idea what it is about?”
Christian seemed to relax into his seat and gave a light shrug of his warm shoulders.
“Nope.”
Sereph gave a rueful half smile and let his cigarette hang limply from his lips. He seemed thoughtful for a moment as Christian watched him sipping his coffee with a curious eye. Finally he pushed himself from his armchair his hair spilling down his back in a soft wave of white.
“Well…wish me luck then…best get it over with.” He sighed then flickered out of sight. A lone feather kissed with a soft cream colour drifted to the ground as a small ball of light hovered in the air the shot out the open window swiftly. Christian chuckled then finished his coffee.
“Hmm…wonder what they are going to say about him turning up in his jeans?”