Vulpes Pilum Mutat, Non Mores

Vulpes pilum mutat, non mores:

Latin, meaning, the fox changes its fur, not its behavior

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ash's head is thick, bile rising in the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to keep from throwing up, but fails, collapsing to the ground. He retches up what little food he's eaten, nails digging into hardwood floors. He feels a hand on his shoulder, another holding his hair back.

Azazel's voice comes faintly through the haze, oddly gentle. "I've never transported a human."

Ash groans, wiping stomach acid from the corner of his mouth. "No s**t Sherlock," he rasps, rising, Azazel's hand at his back.

Ash blinks away the dizziness, swaying on his feet. He tilts his head, taking in his surroundings. "Why are we in a library?" He asks, tilting his head at the towering shelves inquisitively.

Azazel sighs, leading Ash past the sick and into some kind of office. He leaves Ash to lean against the desk there, still foggy. Ash watches as the redhead knocks on a door to the right, and it pulls open with a whoosh.  "Mei carissima," Azazel laughs, opening his arms to the unknown person. Ash's nose wrinkles at the thought of Azazel having a lover, at the knowledge he is not the only one Azazel has given foreign terms of endearment to.

He pushes away from the desk, standing behind the man awkwardly. Ash raises an eyebrow, leaning against Azazel wearily. He sighs, instinctively resting his chin on Azazel's shoulder, eyes closed. Azazel flinches, but Ash pays him no mind.

Azazel looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. "He's…"

Ariel rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she replies flippantly, waving her hand. "The sprites will clean his vomit later."

"I'm so sorry," Ash whispers, breath brushing on Azazel's neck.

"You're fine," Ariel drawls, sitting at her desk. "Bring him to Soph."

Azazel nods, perplexed and worried. "I'll be back, mei carissima."

"I don't doubt it," Ariel sighs, watching as Azazel leads his human past her office and into the main house. She sighs once more, pinching her brow. "Oh Azazel," she whispers, picking up her quill and tapping the tip gently against a piece of parchment.

She writes their contract on that parchment in sweeping strokes, her name a stark contrast against Azazel's, their native language harsh against the parchment, despite her elegant writing.

-

Ash is asleep; at least he was. He can feel hands running through his hair, fingers gentle and hear a woman humming softly. He leans into her hands, groaning, and has a vague remembrance of his mother once doing the same. The humming stops, hands stilling. "You're awake," the voice says, soft and gentle.

Ash opens his eyes, met with light shining through white hair and big brown eyes beaming at him with all the kindness of a mother. "Who are you?" He asks, sitting up. She hums, and smiles softly.

"I am Sophia, the angel of love," she replies, helping Ash lean against the headrest.

"Where's Azazel," he rasps, throat sore. Sophia hands him a cup, and he lifts it to his mouth with shaking hands.

Sophia stands, busying herself with organizing little trinkets on the dresser in the corner of the room. "Azazel isn't used to transporting mortals," Sophia begins, looking over her shoulder with a smile. "It would normally kill them to do so…"

Ash ignores the uneasy feeling in his stomach, at the way Sophia trails off. She hesitates a moment, before spinning around, dress swirling around her ankles. "Enough of that," she beams, pulling Ash out of the bed.

She leaves the room momentarily, and Ash slips out of his clothes, wincing at the deep-set pain in his bones. He looks down, tracing his ribs and the tender bruises there. He glances at the mirror over the dresser, finding the same bruises tracing their way across his body. Ash slides a shirt over his head, quickly changing into a clean pain of pants. He dresses light; he does not have to hide bruises from punches, nor his unsightly slenderness here.

Sophia opens the door when he's done, and Ash does not question how she knew when to open the door. "Come," she whispers excitedly, gripping Ash's hand in her own and pulling him through the bowels of the house. He follows her, not unwillingly, yet reluctantly. Ash rubs sleep from his eyes with his free hand, stumbling slightly.

Sophia keeps him upright, and leads him into a kitchen, far nicer and homely than any kitchen Ash has ever been in. He gapes at the white tiled walls, and the flowers hanging from the ceiling. Sophia snaps a finger, and grins at the boy as they watch a breakfast appear out of thin air.

"Sprites," is all she says, sitting at the table in the middle of the open space.

"Me and Ariel built this home ourselves," Sophia begins, heaping eggs onto Ash's plate. "She got to pick the office and library, much too dark for me," Sophia grins, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and I got this." She waves her arms around, loose sleeves sliding down her forearms to bunch around her elbow. Ash tries not to look at the raised scars on her forearms, the pink stark against her dark skin.

"I also got to make the garden; I have to have the garden, of course." She begins eating delicately, patting at the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin. She takes in the over-whelmed look on Ash's face, and pats his hand. "Oh child, I know this must be a lot for you."

Ash nods blankly, mind reeling. "Eat," Sophia commands gently, stabbing food on her fork and lifting it to Ash's mouth. He eats off her fork, eyes widening. Sophia smiles, pulling back and watching him shovel food into his mouth.

Sophia waits as Ash finishes his food, smiling kindly. When the two are done and dishes whisked away by sprites, Sophia pulls Ash up by the hand, fingers curling around his wrist loosely. She pulls him through the house once more, knowing that if Ash wanted, he could pull away.

In the garden, Sophia sits on the grass, white dress splayed around her. The sunlight hits her hair, forming a false halo, and Ash gapes, struck with all the godliness of this gentle woman.

"There are things I must tell you," Sophia whispers, suddenly gravely serious. "We have time, and I will tell you them when I must, but much is going to happen, little one." Sophia trails off, and Ash raises and eyebrow at the caution in her tone, in the care to not reveal too much.

It does not go unnoticed that Ash has not said a word. He does not want to appear rude, but what can he say when confronted with so much information, so much change? "I'm sorry," Ash whispers, head dropping.

"Oh little one," Sophia chides, "There is nothing to apologize for." She opens her arms, and lets Ash collapse into her, resting his head in her lap. She cards her fingers through his hair, humming softly, lulling Ash into a quiet sleep.

-

Azazel is… exhausted. He has not felt like this since his wings were stripped, since his vis was cut down by two thirds. Ariel leads him through the maze that is her house, Azazel stumbling through the halls and into the guest room. Ariel helps him sit on the bed, removing his sweat drenched suit and throwing it to where Ash's bag rests at the foot of the twin bed.

"Where is he?" Azazel rasps, lifting his arms to let Ariel slide on of Ash's t-shirts.

"With Soph," she replies, throwing Azazel a pair of Ash's pants. "Do the rest yourself," she snaps, green eyes soft despite her harsh tone. Azazel slides the pants on, rubbing a hand down his face with a sigh.

 "I'm so tired, carissima," Azazel whispers, laying down and burrowing into the bedsheets.

"Oh little ignis," Ariel whispers back, pulling the duvet up to Azazel's chin. "You hold up the skies without needing to, why do you persist so?"

"Vulpes pilum mutat, non mores," Azazel sighs, nosing into the pillow. He breathes in Ash's lingering scent, feeling old familiarity and comfort settling into his bones.

"Ever the fox," Ariel teases, ruffling Azazel's hair.

Azazel falls into a deep sleep, dreaming�"actually sleeping�" for the first time in many the millennia since the beginning of his creation. He dreams of his love, of Ash, the two faces blurring together.

Azazel dreams of the future. He will remember none of these dreams when he awakes.