Snippet #1374313

Vale looked at the angel and immediately, he felt a wave of disgust. He sat up, ramrod straight, his eyes turning to glare at said heavenly being. He clenched his hand into a fist. Bel, sensing his master's distress, turned his attention to the angel as well. His dark eyes flashed dangerously, before Vale unceremoniously put the cat back in his messenger bag.

He looked at Abbadon, his eyes narrowed.

"Valefor Atri," he replied, his voice firm and strong. "Fallen."

He was not afraid of his heritage. He was not ashamed of what he had done to have his wings ripped out and to be thrown from the graces above. Vale could feel the V-shaped scar on his back tingle in the angel's presence. Yet he was not afraid. This much was obvious in his steady gaze. He noticed the wings again on the angel's back.

How classy, Vale thought with just a tad bit more of venom than he expected. Showing off your huge, glorious wings....

Vale knew exactly why he had fallen from the heavens. It was a tale he would recount on a day when he felt like recounting it.

Aloysius felt the angel's disapproving gaze settle on him. The shaman really couldn't care any less. Nonetheless, he let the coin drop, catching it before it hit the table. "Someone's got a stick up their--" Aloysius didn't complete his muttered sentence as the fallen angel across the table shot him a stern look. The shaman laughed it off, before leaning back in his chair.

He didn't want to play the part of the perfect prince anymore.

He was here to learn about the other races.

'Angels. Pricks if I ever knew one,' he thought, making a mental note to add that observation to his notebook.