A/N: Requested; I'm not exactly happy with this story, but I am fresh out of ideas and overall creativity.
Word Count: 1058
(s/t): skin tone
(h/c): hair color
As the members of Oración Seis stroll down the path of a small town, keeping an eye out for any Fairy Tail mages as they decide which restaurant to enter, Angel absentmindedly stares at the cobblestone beneath her feet. Wondering about the future once she and the rest of the Oración Seis members once they intercept Magic Bomber: Christina, Angel prepares to insert herself into the ongoing conversation between Racer and Hoteye, only to be stopped by a small piece of stale bread rolling into her feathered boots. She scowls in disgust, ready to walk around the rancid food when a young boy runs up to her and gazes timidly at her feet.
"Um, excuse me, ma'am," he inquires shyly, "may I have that bread? It fell out of my pocket while I was running."
Brown eyes widen as they take in the sight of the young boy, his age indiscernible thanks to his soiled state. Dust and dirt coat his (s/t) skin, as well as smudges of grease. (H/c) locks clump together thanks to all the oil, sweat, and dirt clinging to each strand. Beneath the tattered rags the boy wears as clothing, Angel notices that his skin is clinging to his bones, conjuring the question of when was the last time he had a decent meal.
"Why," Angel murmurs.
"Eh...Why, what, ma'am?"
"Why would you eat that disgusting bread? There are many ways for you to obtain fresh food. Many vendors have freshly baked goods laid out on carts. All you have to do is grab one when they aren't looking."
"Because, ma'am," the young boy reasons, "it's not right. I cannot do them such a wrong when they have done nothing to reciprocate such. The vendors are just trying to get by, like me."
For the longest time, Angel has harbored a deep hatred for the world, deeming it as a filthy place for conflict. She never once considered changing her mind, but now, as this small boy stands before her with his pure morals and unwavering values, the female mage is willing to make an acception.
"He is undefiled by the disgusting world around him," Angel mutters to herself while placing a gloved hand on top of the boy's head, indifferent to the grime sticking to the fabric.
"Angel!" Klodoa's voice screeches as the remaining Oración Seis members trail after him. "I see you have found the traitor!"
The panicked gasp and hitching of the boy's breath catches Angel's attention. Oblivious to the accusations of the levitating staff, Angel narrows her eyes and wraps a protective arm around her new friend.
"What are you babbling on about, stick?"
"Hmf, I have a name, you know...Anyway, hand over the fiend. He will be punished for his crimes!"
"And what exactly did he do to be considered as an enemy of the Oración Seis?"
"That bratty kid was working for us as a messenger. He would relay information to us, but one day, he didn't show up and we ended up becoming victims of an assault from Fairy Tail!"
Looking down at the boy nestled against her bosom, Angel scrutinizes his eyes, which are glossy with tears threatening to spill over.
"I wasn't trying to be bad," he cries, "A bunch of scary people and a flying cat were trying to chase me! I didn't know what to do, so I hid in the forest until they went away. I d-"
"Excuses, excuses!"
Klodoa hovers over the young boy with bolts of lightning cackling around him, ready to strike, when Angel interjects with a bold proposition. The wide-eyed gaze of the shocked mages of Oración Seis remains unwavering as Angel argues with Klodoa, defending with strong rebuttals each time the staff attempts to prevent the fruition of Angel's suggestion.
"Tch. Will you guys just shut up," growls Erik, a scowl on his face. "Just admit that you think Angel's idea isn't half bad so we move on. I'm sick of your voices in my head."
"Wha- I...No!"
Despite his readiness to tell off the poison dragon slayer, Klodoa refrains from speaking his mind and does his best to bury the thoughts deep beneath ones that will not aggravate the already agitated man.
"Fineeee," the staff says reluctantly. "You may keep the stupid, little, traitorous human."
---
In the calm silence of the forest, Angel washes the boy's matted hair with bare fingers, paying attention to each of the parted sections she created previously until the locks radiate with a healthy shine. Small hands clasp onto the feathery hem of the young woman's dress, toying with the stray fibers. The boy silently sits in the pond as his new guardian bathes him, numerous questions flooding his mind.
"So, what's your name," Angel inquires, her face unreadable as she continuously scrubs the grime off the child's back.
"(Y/n), ma'am."
"No need to be so formal with me. Though, I must say, you are quite polite for a little boy."
"Do you not like it, miss?" (Y/n) switches to a less formal honorific, yet he still retains his manners. "I'm sorry if I offended you."
"You did nothing of the sort. It's just that...'ma'am' makes me feel so old."
"Oh...Okay!"
Angel pauses to stare at (Y/n) with a concentration expression. "How old are you? My instincts tell me you're at lease past the age of ten, based on your mannerisms that are quite advanced for a child, but you look no older than six." With her hands placed on either side of the boy's cheeks, Angel turns him left and right, examining each and every detail on (Y/n)'s face.
"Six," replies (Y/n). Four bony fingers raise up to visually demonstrate his age, but when (Y/n) looks carefully, he realizes that he is not holding up enough fingers. A cute frown tugs at the child's lips as he struggles to determine the correct number of digits that will equal to his age.
"Hmf," Angel huffs. "There is much for you to learn...I will teach you. Slow learners irritate me, so you better learn fast."