She smiled innocently, her smile small, but gentle-like, her expression mirroring her smile in the same manner. The tender aura that surrounded her caused chills down the demon, but he couldn't sense why. Her small wings, about 2 feet in wingspan fluttered, folding itself on the inside and flapping the wings out, letting a rush of air rush through him. His jet inky hair swayed with the air from the forceful maneuver of the feathered wings, brushing out of his face and eyes, giving him a clearer view of the being before his form. In front of him, a small brush of milky-white soft like texture brushed over his nose and fell in front of him. His attention followed the object, the white small feather plummeting towards the ground slowly.

His inky pits examined the feather at distance, before looking back at the angel in a questioning way. Her constant, fair smile remained on her face in her kneeled position in front of him. Her small, fine hand cupped one of his cheeks, heat emitting from the contact, a heat and pleasantness he wasn't familiar with rushed through his entire form. He jerked harshly away from the new found surge of sensation, but when she had displayed no form of hostilities towards him, he stilled for a moment, hesitating and deciding what decision he would not regrettably make before gradually tilting his head so his cheek can lie in the angel's palm.

The same, comforting tsunami of warmth made him want to melt, it made him want to enter in a dream-like state. Demons didn't dream when they slept, but he was sure that he was dreaming as of right now, because this felt make-belief. An angel appearing in the ninth level of hell? Impossible, but he was here... he could see, touch, hear the angel that kneeled before him. Could it really be?

His heated body shivered. He no longer shivered when his body became cold or became starved, he had grown accustomed to those uncomfortability, but this... this was new. He hadn't felt this for what seemed his entire afterlife, his body no longer felt cold. His mind recalled the words they had a few minutes prior.

"Save... me?" he spoke in a low emotionless tone. He sat up straighter to examine the angel's face to see for any foolishness and lack of sincerity on her face. He wasn't aware that angels could lie... angels could lie in the afterlife without punishment? Her face still remained the same, gentle-like with a hidden concern and pity clouded in her e/c pits. No, she wasn't lying... Why wasn't she speaking unhonestly? Had she been genuine in trying to save him? What could she save him from?

To save someone? He didn't know much of it. He knew that was what he tried to do, which was what he committed his sin for. However, the Carvings were a set of writings the first ancient civilization wrote that was a piece of text that judged on who could pass in the afterlife as a demon or angel. Taking someone's life, stealing, lying, those were all forms of sins that if you did during your time as a human you would be punished for. There was no grey line to indicate what was an exception, they had no exceptions. That was why he was here, his sin wasn't an exception despite the reason to.

But what could he do? He couldn't have let those children die because of a despicable, crazed human. And even if he had to sin, he had children along with him. It would be on his fault to be blamed for unable to protect them as their teacher. He successfully ridden the threat that endangered his students, fully aware that he had ruined his chance of gaining a happy, and relaxful afterlife as an angel.

What was it like to be saved? Was it to be freed? Only lunatic sinners spoke of that, those that have broken down from the simple, but overwhelming walls of society. They weren't weighed by the heavy chains of words that guided how their way of life should be. They were dangerous individuals, but he understood their desire and curiosity. He too, wanted to be freed from the weights of society. Society was so bland, there wasn't life or contentness to anything anymore, living as a demon was no different from living as a human. The laws had sucked out joy from anything, because insulting or critiquing people were also considered a sin. Because the majority of humanity was afraid of committing sins, neither of them varied, they were like empty husks, or nonliving beings.

"Yes... save you..." she spoke with such a tender and soft tone... if he was asked how to describe soft, he wouldn't know how to, but if he was asked to give an example... he was sure her voice was the best example. It was a mixture of light... soothing... comforting... a mingle of feelings he himself as a cursed and wretched demon shouldn't have the ability of experiencing since their existence, but... was this what they described of heavenly? He was sure of it. Yet he couldn't help but wonder...

"Why...?"

"Because," her e/c eyes met him. Her wings suddenly expanded outward from her back, and wrapped around the body of the demon. He could feel the hollow and thin bones from his own wings poke the feathery material that outshone his wrecked and eroding skin flaps connected to the joints. His red tissue that hung loosely from the charcoal wing bones had holes and dirt over them, symbolizing just how broken of a demon he was.

He was gaining so much warmth from her. A warmth he didn't know existed, and yet, she fed him more than generous amounts. For what reasons, he couldn't dare to know why, but he swore that his soul was returning bit by bit to him. How was that possible? This was the effects that came with the power of angels was it? Is that so?

Her arms wrapped around his torso, and he didn't react to it, as he was still comprehending the effects of what the warmth was making him feel like, and he became aware of how his heart responded to it. It was beating quicker and quicker than it ever had before in his afterlife, about twenty or thirty heart beats per minute he assumed. He enjoyed the feeling that bubbled inside his chest, knowing it was an emotion he hadn't yet been able to find out what it was. All he knew was that it just felt... good... was it the word? Was that how you described feelings and emotions and sensations? He would never know.

But that was how he felt.

"Demons need to be saved too."

She obtained the feather in one of her hands, and raised one of them to his face. He stared in wonderment at what she planned on doing, one finger brushing the hair that shadowed his eyes away from his face. With the hand grasping the feather, he felt the plumed texture brushed against his cheek and ear, before the texture disappeared. She leaned back and seemed to have smiled from whatever action she's done.

His fingers wondered where the finger was last felt, feeling it in his hair, its downy feel grazing against his fingertips. His attention was still kept on the angel.

"What did you do?"

"I put the feather in your hair!" she voiced, far too cheerfully then what he was accustomed to as he mentally cringed.

"What for?"

"I thought you'd look cute for a demon to have a symbol of innocence and purity on them so visibly seen. I was right."

"Do... do you enjoy doing that action?"

"Yes!"

He stayed silent, contemplating his next words.

"You're allowed to do so more in the future Little One."

Short, but didn't know what else to do. I hope you like it uwu.