Ravenna ran the last of the stitches through the trousers she had made for Michael. The angel had fallen asleep on the sofa in the parlor as she worked, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreamt. The healer smiled as she watched him; the way he slept so peacefully gave him an innocent and boyish charm.
The trousers completed, Ravenna stood and stretched. She had worked tirelessly to get a new outfit made for Michael, one that would not look out of place if they were to go into Canden together. She wished she could have simply purchased clothes for him, but with his height, everything would have been far too short.
She made her way across the parlor to the sleeping angel, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. "Michael?"
He frowned in his sleep, showing no signs of waking. "Not now, Uriel. I don't care about what He wants. I'm sleeping."
"You don't have to care about what the Ruler wants, we're just going to bed. You've been sleeping in the parlor." Amusement tinged her voice as she tried to rouse Michael from his slumber. She grasped his shoulder again, giving him a small jostle. "Come to bed, you're going to have such a sore back if you stay here."
Michael slowly opened one of his ice-blue eyes, peering up sleepily at the small woman. "You aren't Uriel."
Ravenna giggled. "Well done. Shall we go to bed for the night?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Stepping from her bath, Ravenna wrapped herself in a large towel. She felt a little anxious about her upcoming trip into Canden; she worried that Michael wouldn't like the village, or that he would slip up in his facade. –Or worse, what if he regrets coming to this realm altogether, and wishes he never saved me and lost his wings, his status?– She shoved the thought to the back of her mind. Michael had never once expressed any form of regret, even as he looked at his reflection.
She dried her hair and skin, pulling on the deep emerald dress that she had purchased from Rosie. The stern, motherly seamstress revisited her thoughts. – Michael had mentioned a marriage at Grandmother's grave. I wonder if he truly meant it. Rosie would be delighted if the "messenger" that saved me ended up being the one to marry me. I can almost hear it in her voice.– But marriage was a long way from her plans- she still had her own healing and recovery after the damage Peter had caused. Talking with Teresa helped, but it was her own feelings of violation that she needed to overcome, and only Michael and time would cure her.
"Ravenna?"
A smooth, velvety voice caressed the air. Hearing permission to enter, Michael made his way into the bathing room, placing a kiss on Ravenna's forehead before his slender fingers worked the ribbons across her back, tying her dress.
"Thank you, Michael. Did you sleep well?"
"I did. It was strange though, I don't recall going to our bedchamber, but that's where I woke up."
–Our bedchamber.– The words felt so right.
"You fell asleep while I finished your new clothes. Are you still interested, I mean, did you still want to try to go to the village today? Are you feeling strong enough? We don't have to go if you aren't ready." Ravenna didn't want to pressure the Seraphim, but her curiosity still got the better of her.
Michael stood up straighter, trying to make himself look as large and strong as possible. "A small trip? I can handle that."
Ravenna breathed out a silent breath of relief. She had made the trip to Canden a few times alone, but she knew she would enjoy the village and the people much more with his company. "Alright. Let's get you cleaned up and bandaged, and get you ready for your big debut."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Teresa struggled with her wares and her children, trying to get to her market stall. She looked over, hopeful, for Samuel to come over and give her a hand as he had many times before. But the young man was not going to be there to help, and he was never going to be there to help out again. The pang of loss for her friend struck Teresa, and she blinked away her tears as she worked on.
Alfred Sorrel, the butcher, noticed the young mother struggling through his large shop window. Leaving the store, he crossed the village center to give her a hand. He took two of the bags from her overburdened arms, and placed them on the market stall. He returned to Teresa and took another bag as she thanked him profusely. Alfred gave a polite grunt, and went back to his shop, the small door bell tinkling as he went back to work.
Teresa placed the last of the bags on her stall, and leaned forward to catch her breath. Thomas hopped up on his milk crate behind the stall, a small wooden horse in his hands. He played quietly as his mother began to set up her shop for the day, the wooden horse's hooves clattering a delicate pattern on the stall.
"Mama! Look! It's 'Venna! She's coming to visit! And a big man! It's not Mistah Samuel, he went to sleep like Anne, but it's a big man!" Thomas' excited voice caught Teresa's attention, and his toy horse laid on the table forgotten.
"You may go see her, Thomas, go ahead." Permission given, Thomas's little legs took him as fast as they could to go to Ravenna, who had just appeared on the horizon.
" 'Venna!"
In his eagerness to see Ravenna, Thomas tripped over his feet, tumbling to the ground. He landed hard, one of his knees scraping open as he fell. Tears sprang to his eyes as the pain registered. Ravenna quickly scooped up the tearful toddler, attempting to soothe. Pity crossed Michael's face, and a thought came to his mind.
Ravenna carried Thomas back to his mother, and Michael silently followed, trying to figure out how to help the child without drawing attention to himself. By some luck, Teresa gave him the opportunity without knowing what he wanted.
Squatting down in front of her son, she brushed the tears from his eyes. "Thomas, why don't you forget about your little scrape and go show Michael the fountain and your horse? He's new here, I don't know if you remember him from Ravenna's house a few days ago, but it's an important job to show new people the fountain, are you sure you can do it?"
Determination and pride crossed the small child's face as he stood tall and puffed out his chest. "I can do it, Mama!"
Teresa ruffled his blonde curls. "I believe in you!"
Thomas marched over to Michael, and looked at him mid-thigh. He took a step back, attempting to see Michael's face. Ravenna quickly made a gesture to Michael, trying to get him to make himself smaller. Understanding, Michael knelt.
"I'm Thomas! What's your name?"
"Hello, Thomas. I'm Michael."
Thomas frowned. "That's your growed-up name. Mama says I'm not supposed-ta call growed-ups by their growed-up name. Except Anne and 'Venna and Mistah Samuel. But Mistah Samuel and Anne went to sleep together. Now I don't get to see them anymore."
Michael's eyes widened. He was not prepared for a human child to be so bold. He quickly looked over to Ravenna for help, but found both women suppressing smiles and laughter.
"He doesn't have a grown-up name like Mr Quill or Mr Sorrel do, Thomas. You can call him Michael, that's allowed." Ravenna tried to explain to Thomas, but the child still frowned.
"Why don't you have a growed-up name? Aren't you a growed-up?"
Panic set in to Michael's chest, and worry made his mind race. –The child knows! If a little human can tell, the adults will certainly know I'm not one of their kind! This was a mistake!–
"I am! I just...I just don't have one." Michael gave a simple answer, and Thomas shrugged.
"Okay. Want to see the fountain?"
Michael nearly collapsed from the relief. He could not believe such a plain answer was accepted. "Please, Thomas, that would be lovely."
Thomas skipped away from Michael, his little steps taking him to the Canden fountain. The angel followed the young boy, his heart still pounding in his chest. The child hopped up on the edge of the fountain, sitting on the stone ledge, watching the water. Michael sat next to him, his eyes on the wound on Thomas' knee. Raphael's words hung in his mind; –Seraphim blood can heal wounds of humans…–
Michael casually ran his hand along the stone edge of the fountain, nicking his finger on a sharp rock. He glanced at his fingers, and turned to the toddler. "Can I see your knee, Thomas?"
"No, it's okay. 'Venna will take care of it."
"She has been teaching me, will you let me take a look?" Michael gave his best convincing smile, and the toddler conceded.
"Hmm...okay."
Michael took a quick glance around, before running his bleeding finger across the child's cut knee. Both Thomas and Michael watched as the skin deftly knit itself back together, showing no trace of the wound.
"...MAMA?!" Thomas began to shout, confusion and shock in his voice.
"Wait! I didn't know it would do that!" Michael lied. "I just wanted to look. I've never seen that!"
"But you said 'Venna taught you!" The child scrambled from the fountain ledge, no longer trusting the man in front of him.
"She has! She hasn't seen that either!" –At least that part is true, I'm not really lying that much...–
"I'm showing my mama!" Thomas ran away from the fountain, leaving Michael alone at the fountain edge, wondering if he made a mistake.