Cressil doesn’t like seeing you cry.

Though it’s not like he had any choice. You were leaving him; returning back to a place he can’t ever fathom to reach and follow. Should he have been born devout and pure, he would have been able to maybe at one point. He’s but a filthy, impure beast. You were an angel, one of God’s children, someone untouchable. But nonetheless, you’re still here, with no way to return back to your home. His greed and selfishness had overtaken his very being, the epitome of that of a demon, which had corrupted the being of light that was you. Cressil had taken your flight and a part of you, could only feel joy at the thought of you chained to the Earths. To his very side. It’s sickeningly sweet, this feeling. He doesn’t remember a time where he’s been this happy.

Cressil’s hands are wet with crimson, running down from his palms and along his forearms, a few snow white feathers, now stained in the very same hue of red, cling onto the sticky liquid. There’s an aching gap of pure agony that stretched all along your spine, flesh desperately stitching itself back but failing. It hurts. So, so much. From the corner of your eye, you swore you could see two stained lumps of what seemed to be your mangled wings. You could’ve looked longer, but he doesn’t let you.

“Forgive me,” he breathes out in delusion, “it must be so painful right now, yes, but I had to do it. It’s all your fault for attempting to abandon me. The wounds will heal in time, you’ll see, and there’ll only be a scar left on your pretty skin.”

His clawed hands cradle you against his chest, pressing his forehead against your head, breathing in at the sight of your beautiful, tear blemished features. You’d come to forgive him in time, Cressil knows you would. Because that’s the type of person you are. You’re forgiving to even the lowliest of sinners, and it just so happens that he’s at the very bottom of that pit.