Angels Would Fall
Angels Would Fall
A single feather floated down in the dark stillness of the deserted bar. It took it's time as it fell chasing the dust motes in patches of sun that had found there way in through the darkened blinds and shades covering the windows. It skimmed along the back of a chair until finally coming to rest on the dark, plank wood floor. It made not a sound nor stirred the air as it landed. The feather did not disturb the sleeping man it landed next to. It was not until the man shifted that it made it's a presence known. The man woke and rubbed a white feather off his face as he stretched." What am I doing sleeping on the goddamn floor" he thought. Rubbing his sleep worn eyes as he tried to survey his surroundings. The bar was dim, deserted, and quiet. Where was he? Why was he here? Another feather descended from above. He watched its descent, transfixed by the simple beauty of it. He walked over to where the it came to rest on one of the wooden tables scattered throughout the bar. The table was old, battered by years of abuse from bottles and drinks. The whiteness of the feather was practily gleaming against the stark expanse of it. As he reached out to pick it up he felt a jolt, a flash of memory so powerful he dropped the feather and took a step back. Again he watched the feather float down from the tips of his fingers to the scarred table top. His hand stretched cautiously out for the feather, waiting for whatever was to come. The feather lay still against his palm, just an ordianary feather. As he held it in his hand he took notice of the hand itself. Long sculpted fingers painted with black nail polish. His arms were covered in sleeves of tattooed colors. A black tee shirt covered his arms cutting off the wonderful scenes still waiting to be revealed. He ran his fingers through hair that was a black as his nails, its wavy length tangling around his fingers. "I don't even know what I look like" He thought. "I don't know what I look like, where I am, or why I'm here." The man moved to stand in front of the mirror at the bar. His murky reflection shown through lines of bottles across the mirror. Brown met brown as he looked into the mirror at his own eyes. His gaze wondered down to a lithe body clothed in black. The jeans he wore were form fitting black, the material worn soft over hard muscle and the tee shirt was not plain black as he first suspected but had a subtle design of black filigree seamlessly worked into the fabric. It too was tight enough to be form fitting but, worn enough to still be comfortable. Wavy black hair framed a face of pure seduction. The brown eyes that stared back at him seemed plain enough until he tilted his head so that that scant light fell full upon them. He smirked at his reflection as if to say "I knew I would be this gorgeous". He raised one eyebrow at his mirror self to see if it agreed with him, it did. He brushed a stray lock of ebony out of his eyes to study the way the light fellow against the hollow of his cheekbones, the fullness of his sensual lips, the angles of face. His lip held a silver piercing in the corner and he took the time to run his tongue along the outlines of it, familiarizing himself with slight metallic taste." Are you going to stand there and admire yourself all day or are you going to tell me what the hell is going on" He turned to see a girl standing about twenty feet away from him on a level up form the sunken bar where the mirror was .She had her arms folded defensively across her chest. Her long red hair was swinging slightly at her hips.
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