12.30.07
Conversation by a Lamppost.
Someone was sitting on the only working streetlamp in Arkham. Curious, Kathleen went to see who it was.
“Hello, Rose.”
Of course. It was that bloody angel.
Raziel looked down at her, his blue-gold eyes amused. “A bit late for you to be out, isn’t it? You teach classes tomorrow.”
Kathleen stopped just on the edge of the light cast by the streetlamp, hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting a friend.” Raziel swung his legs idly, then stilled and focused on Kathleen.
Kathleen shifted restlessly. It was uncomfortable, being on the receiving end of that starburst gaze; it was worse when Raziel started to blur out of his human form, taking on an azure-and-gold glow. Two-toned streams of energy flickered around him; he reminded Kathleen of nothing so much as a restless, predatory bird.
“What?” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.
“You know what you are, right, Rose?” Raziel asked, his voice soft.
Kathleen’s yellow eyes met his, and she nodded once before striding off. Raziel watched her go.
A little way down the street, she paused, half illuminated by a house light, and for a minute, she wasn’t a human, but a thing of roses and thorns. The moment passed, and Kathleen walked on.
A few rose petals drifted up to Raziel. They smelled of apples.
