The serrated mountain loomed in the distance so powerful and seem to be teaming with far black blobs flying in the sky around it. The heaven-touching apex of the mountain was drenched in brilliant red and orange lights. Spikes of thin light impaled the red snow in a bristling, moving a line. But this was not a mountain, no the angel had witnessed something as familiar as this one but it was teaming with raging red squalls and lakes. This one didn't seem like it was going to end the world, yet. The beach he walked on was moon glow-gold under the stars that now started to slowly peak across the heaven. The sea looked cozy as it rested in the glow growing so far behind him now. The morning stars peeped down at him like silver asters, glinting and shimmering as they looked happy in their solar-silver isolation. Sighing heavily as he took each step carefully, the golden angel looked his vacant expression up towards the lone volcano. He had missed the forest and the white snow tipped mountains of his homelands. He had missed the sultry aroma of the summer seasons when the flowers were in bloom.  The simpering wind carried a fragrance with it. It was spirit refreshing to smell the mulch mix of the forest’s perfume. Oh, how he had missed it.

That how out on the lake, flopping trout were slapping the surface. They were hoping to catch one of the squadrons of flies that buzzed about. The heaven-leaking light added a golden tint to the face of the lake and it was paradise. The paradise that was once his home before the calamity that befell it all. Braided tail dangle over from his electric blue hips as his duel eyes cast down at the rocky shores he stood upon. All his anchor even beneath his large stocky build rippled beneath the mass of skin and hair. He remembers the saccharine sweet smell of that grass. To remember that the water tasted like the nectar of the gods he was devoted once too. Most of all,  remembering how it felt to be young amongst the jungle and its many factors of sources to its creatures and its wilds.

But if he had to recall it all, it had to be the Poppy fields in which he had fallen in love with for so many seasons. The fields were red with glade-green razors. The sound of chirping chicks filled the air. The moon was like a phantom-silver orb in the vast open fielded skies. A pageant of smells floated in the spring airs and a horde of poppies littered the meadow. Staffs of slim light spilled from the sky and it would cause ruptured chills to claim the body. The scene was spirit-refreshing and pastoral. The meadow smelled floral fresh. And when the seasons had changed to rainy and cold, in the stone verges, Rafael-red valerian sprouted from between coral-black cracks. He had missed the flowers so much. But what mostly was dearly missed was the way the sky seemed to open up just for him. The sounds of cracking rock emitted from his side caused him to stir from his past. A frown now claimed his features before huffing loudly. ' No paradise here...  he thought to himself. But perhaps this would be his true moment of weakness when it came to his past - his immorality. The wrinkled brow was hidden now beneath the wings that swarm his cranium as double ears twitch and pull with the sounds of distant pops, crackles and raging anger from the volcano. The stars gave him solace though as he scrutinizes back up at them - a small illuminated dart rockets across the deep cerulean blue heavens.

This monochrome and enthusiastic hell that he had found himself on were not something he had planned to do so. Earlier in the morning from when the birds squalled and the mammals rose from their bunks - something had stirred him from his deep casting slumber from the oak vines. He couldn't say what caused him to stimulate nor if it were a sound or a smell or perhaps his body being done with the rest he had well so often deserved.  Mournful eyes scorn the heavens momentarily as he huffs, long plait tassel delicately trails behind him as he makes more leading measure into the forestial scene. Such hell that raged before him, such fury and madness. Oh but if you had looked at this marvel from afar perhaps one would have thought they were dreaming, his large golden statue standing amongst the monochrome and blaze of the mountain ridge foreboding so far in the yonder - he seemed to be in the wrong place with his appearance. And he believed it so too as well. This was not a place for an angel to reside.

Eight wings that started from his hammer that trail down his neck to his withers was all of the different sizings, they were speckled with glowing arrays of miniature star like dots that fade or illuminate due to his emotions - masked face turns as the angels himself to steer north-east from the volcano and its array of anger. He could feel the heat on his face even from this distance as if it was something right before him, it was so surreal, and it was truly in that moment he was glad he lost his eternity and spot in heaven for - his Yahweh would have truly spat him for being so near Hade's ruling. Ah but as he stands to face away it seems that the god he once loved and devoted his all too - gave him a bit of solace as the smell of petrichor took hold under his nostrils and the soft glint of rain from the west was weaving its way closer to him. Perhaps the flames will be put out for the night and allow the grounds some peace from its fire. But only the gods knew what was planned for this hellish place on earth. Snout flexes and flares to intake more oxygen as he twists his traits, attention now drew tightly across his marble canvas as he scans the skyline and borderline to the eastern forests edge. Someone was out there, nearing, closing in.  It had been nearly seven transient years since the golden stallion had even conceded himself to be seen by others unless it was for his duty to protect others or scatter his knowledge, but even then it had been many years since anyone had witnessed or recalled him in self. The worry now claims his thorax as it tightens against his will and the feeling of his breathing slowly changing. Who was out there? Friend? Foe? The fallen angel had not one bit of an idea other than wishing he had a place to hide in.  

His mind had played a sick joke on him for far too long, he couldn't shake the feeling of his memories from his existence, and often more than not it caused explicit danger for him! His lamps widen as he stares out looking for the stranger as his mind leaks the images from his past and current present like a misty fog across his orb. His own inclination was out to kill him! He struggles momentarily against himself as he shakes his head and tries to look further into the distance. "W-wha?" his mind hissed in rebellion. Heavens sickness seemed to plague him even now, but why? How many years had it been since he had felt this fathom upon his back and inside his throat, closing off all air for him to breathe in. He clings his gear against the fleshy morsel of his lips before dribbles of blood leaks from under the pressure given by each ivory set.

"He talks like this!" & "Thinks like this!"


"And into thy arms!"