Tall grass was uprooted in tufts, then pitched to the like blades. His entire life was he compared to his brother. His nostrils flared before he threw his head bordering the resistant bark. He wanted his name to be known, to have worth. It was why the virtue trekked through bushes, in lieu of the precious path sprawling for years.
"Silas!" Ezekiel called from overhead.
The blond rolled his hazel eyes, forthwith up and treading heavily elsewhere.
"What were you thinking?" Extensive feathered wings secured after a quave.
"Go away!"
Each place he hied, each person he had spoken to, each passion he possessed-his brother had already wooed them.
"Why did you have to say that to Zadkiel? You know what it does to him!"
"Yeah!" Silas stomped round. "That's why I said it! Did you not hear what he said to me?"
"He was holding you accountable!"
The boy groaned deeply. "Why can't you just be on my side for once in your life!"
"On your side?" He snorted. "When have I never been on your side!"
"You don't ever leave me alone! You just- always have to swoop in! Even with Zadkiel, I can handle myself!"
"Are you serious?" Ezekiel scoffed as his eyebrows quirked. "You don't know what he would have done to you, if I didn't restrain him."
"Like I said, I can freaking handle it!" He assayed to storm off, but the cherub seized his suited arm.
"I don't wish to fight with you right now, not when you need to prepare life as a human."
His orbs fluoresced an orange before he prised his arm out. "There you go again!"
"Silas, just stop. You're my brother, everything I do is to protect you."
"If you really wanna' protect me, just get out of my damn life!"
Ezekiel lifted his hands in a defensive stance. "Look, I know you're mad. I don't blame you for anything that happened-"
"Oh, shut up! I know you blame me for Luka dying!"
"What? No, that's not-"
"You all do! I can freaking feel it!" The blond tramped nearer to his face, irises weeping venom. "You know...I wish you died instead of Luka."
A nippy blast slashed betwixt them, and the nuts of his jaw unthreaded. Mangled were broods of grass as Silas plodded on to the far-flung rock face. It felt like his core was caught under.
Silas grumbled in a low voice, body thrashing about furiously whilst he touched down on the crag. He wedged the sorrow, the nice memories he had with his older brother, the laughter. His shoulders relaxed when he perceived the statue, beaming at the virtue like he was foreseen. Luka, without fail, knew what to say in every situation. His advice, his opinion, it never sourced from a river of malice or shame.
He considered the few letters piled on his lap before a rough voice called out. "You should apologise for what you said."
Silas groaned, spindling to glare. "Why is everyone in my business today!"
"When you're yelling your business, it's kinda' hard." The raven-haired clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Your brother cares enough to get you outta' trouble, and that's how you repay him?"
"Just go away, Mammon!"
He chuckled. "You're damn selfish, you know that? Always trying to act stronger than you are."
"What do you want? You're trying to get back at me, aren't you? You blame me for him dying-"
Mammon laid hold of his black suit collar sharply, snarling. "Of course I blame you! Luka had him, he was going to kill him! But then you- you just...had to come in to save the damn day!"
The blond's lips trembled, but he snapped his jaw shut and empowered his eyes to counter.
Gentle, he shoved him back. "You think Luka would be happy hearin' what you said?"
"It isn't my fault," Silas blurted. "You're the one who let Lucifer in control."
The raven-haired roared with laughter. "You think your words have any effect on me?"
He bent down to meet his face. "Here's the thing about Earth, no one has powers. Everyone's weak. Anyone can die. You say the wrong thing to the wrong person...and you're rat food."
The virtue curled his lip as his arm went to punch, howbeit, Mammon blocked it. "You should apologise to Ezekiel, since you clearly don' have much time left."
"I'm not apologising."
The raven-haired rested on the bench, musing the almost spectral statue. "You friends with Mikkel?"
"Yeah-"
"How do you think he'd feel if he found out you wan'ed your brother dead? Don't you think he'd do anythin' to get his brother back?"
Silas hadn't even thought about that.
"Did you even visit him?"
The blond turned his head from side to side loath.
"You're selfish," Mammon intoned, blowing out air in a way that seemed as though he was smoking. He bid him to sit by tendering a pat. "I was too."
Silas sidled to the marble form, twigging him like he was a fraught insect.
"You came here 'cause Luka knew how to comfort you, right?"
"Yeah."
"He never looked at you like a monster..." The raven-haired thieved a glimpse at the virtue, fidgeting with his fingers. He could practically hear the emotions broiling and frothing in his head. In an odd way, it was like talking to his younger self. Sparing words with stingers. Emotions lidded in a heating pot. But he knew Silas was better than he was. "I used to be like you, always startin' things with people that cared about me. I ran from my problems, I blamed others. You're still young, you can change."
"What if I can't?"
"Luka wouldn' have saved you if you weren't worth saving. He believed you could do somethin' good for the world." He got on his feet. "Mikkel's coming over for dinner tomorrow. You should come too."
The virtue looked at him strangely, but nodded his head as a whoosh carried Mammon away. Could he really change? Could he really do something good for the world? His brother had established the Bellatores, and his mother had founded Societas Sororum-which Silas always thought was awesome. What if he could do the same? What if he could shed his black fur, and grow golden?