The doors were broken, theyβd been broken for a few years now. The distinct scent of mildew filled the air, vines and moss having over taken the interior of the chapel. Recent storms had left behind puddles from the leaks in the ceiling, the sound of water tapping against the broken tiles breaking the silence. He didnβt know how long he had been here. How long his pristinely white wings had wrapped around his body to keep him warm. Knives just knew it was safe here. After falling from the pedestal he had been placed upon, abandoned chapels and churches became respites. His blonde hair kept his eyes hidden.
He could only sit there, letting the stale air suffocate him where he sat in the corner, tucked behind a pew. He felt empty, he felt angry, resentful, cast aside. Why was it him who had to fall from the heavens? He could only sit in the corner, hosting a pity party for one. He shouldβve been respected, he shouldβve been kept in heaven like a prize, rather than cast aside like an old toy. His eyes were narrowed on the rotting doors. The wooden door and pews had began to rot, yet he couldnβt bring himself to actually care about it all. Knives could still feel the bruises the fall had created, his once perfect, unblemished skin bloomed with black and blue bruises.
The sound of the rusted hinges of the doors squealing broke him from his self pity, his sharp blue eyes focusing on the silhouette. The sound of rain pattering against the grime covered windows paired with the sound of footsteps had him staying deathly still. Likely someone who wanted to escape the rain, but it felt as if his sacred space had been invaded by this new presence. He could kill this pathetic human for intruding. As far as Knives was concerned, they certainly deserved it. However he didnβt want to stray further than he already had, not wanting these filthy beings to turn his beautiful white wings to a charcoal black for simply killing them.
Slowly he stood to his feet, his heavy wings folding up behind his back, scowling at them.