Sometime, a few hours before dawn, Raphael rustled in bed and grabbed his battered Composition Book and pen beneath his pillow. For a moment, he just watched his older brother sleep and thought about the many times he had healed him when he was bloodied and beaten to within an inch of his life. Michael would often insist he did not need help and Raphael remembered that deep longing to help. To heal...
He let out a sigh. I'm just as stubborn, if not worse...
Am I really still an angel?
He let his beautiful wings curl around him as he began to write, one hand still gently stroking the blonde curls on the pillow beside him.
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This'll be Raphy's last post in this thread unless you want to continue it :3
Date: Friday, 3 September 2010 21:51 (UTC)He let out a sigh. I'm just as stubborn, if not worse...
Am I really still an angel?
He let his beautiful wings curl around him as he began to write, one hand still gently stroking the blonde curls on the pillow beside him.