Alexander's loud.

Ok—well not loud, but he talks, a lot. Like he's talking to another person, and not just one, multiple, Hester supposeds it's from not seeing other people for a while, however he didn't know how long Alexander had lived here for, or how he got here to begin with.

The metal prosthetic saying more then he needed to hear, made him think of a few options.

It was common for people with prosthetic for three options.

One: They were born without a certain body part and needed a prosthetic, it was the most common and Hester had seen it a multitude of times. Alexander seemed to be right handed and his prosthetic was on his right, most people get them for counterbalance, or counterweight, which from the way Alexander depended on it seemed out of the question.

Two: Lots of people lose limbs when in the military, it's not uncommon for people to be stab, cut, burned, or blasted and with enough force he could have lost it, like some of the many others before him, maybe from a battle or from it becoming infected, but one way or another he lost it likely from his time in the military.

Three: Which Hester had learnt not too long ago, however the one he thought of. Betrayal, it was common knowledge to anyone who would listen that if you somehow betrayed the monarchy, military, or your kingdom, they will punishment you, the shame and embarrassment was apparently not enough for them, they woukd take something some would say you can't live without—something people have lived with there whole life. Alexander was living in the middle of nowhere, far from any town and even farther from any capital or kingdom border.

The answer seemed obvious.

It made Hester's gut twist into a knot thinking of what he could have done. He must have been exiled after, going far away from his past, leaving everything behind to start anew.

But the past was always so complicated, stories of the past turned to slander the older they get, never seeming to find the line between story and reality.

Hester knows a thing or two about it. He's after all, the Angel of the Death the supposedly best warrior in the land, with Death herself blessing him with the power of inhuman strength and wit to overcome any challenge he may have to face.

And, for a while he was happy playing that role. The bloodthirsty, chaos drivin Angel, he had seen many fall from his hands—anyone foolish enough to not believe the stories—anyone who dared step in his way, would not be the first to die such a unceremonious end and would not be the last.

The stories, the rumers, the title he had been given seemed wasteful not to use. Like a name—he had since birth, no one knowing who Hester was. It was an urged to fill the empty space, to give the people someone to fear.

That was until he didn't want to.

It started off small.

He was reading a book about the stars. As foolish as it sounds, he couldn't even dream of something so unknown to everyone, a whole group of people all trying to figure out what they are and what they do. The idea of meeting people over the same question, then trying to discover the answer was intrinsicating to Hester.

All having nothing in common other then wanting an answer about the stars, planets, and the sky, Hester could touch the sky. The Gods gave him wings to do just that—maybe he could find the answer.

One day he finally went out of his room to ask questions, he was never one to talk or even be seen most of the time, when he started asking he was immediately shut down.

However the nagging feeling in the back of his mind wouldn't go away.

There was more to life then death?

If Hester didn't know what stars were, or
never even stopped to ask a question about them before then what else did he not know? What else was waiting for him to discover it? He felt slightly foolish for not realizing this potential sooner. It seemed like a new world opened up around him, Hester trying to get his hands on anything to do with the stars and planets.

Until he finally saw one.

A glow of flames shinning in the never-ending night sky was what made him rethink on his title.

He knew right then and there, he needed to leave and see the world, even for a day or a week, but he needed to know what was out there to put some sort of closure to this long standing obsession.

So technically, he didn't run away per say he was just exploring, soon to go home back to his family. -totally- Hester lied to himself.

Then he remembered almost being burned alive.

The thought woke him up.

He slowly moved his hand to the unfamiliar sensation of Wilbur's weight not being on top of him. He opened his eyes and saw Wilbur sitting on the ground with pencils and paper littering the floor, Wilbur too preoccupied to acknowledge Hester as he gets up.

Then hearing the all-to-familiar mumbling coming from below them. Hester stretches his arms and wings almost hitting the wall in the process, the mumbling continues he hears the sound of fire cracking and hears some liquid being sloshed around he pokes his head though the hole leading down to the basement.

He sees Alexander, around a disheveled room with books, loose pages, herbs, flowers and the likes scattered like a blizzard swept in. Hester had never seen the things in which Alexander was using before. Metal and wooden equipment that seemed very dangerous and very useful. Hester thought it impossible for Alexander to look so calm before, softly talking to himself as—Hester could only assume—making some sort of potion with the way the liquid bubbles then freezes as Alexander puts it closer to the flame, in an onion shaped oven.

He examined it closely then looking at a book he had open next to him, Hester couldn't read it from being upside down but can guess it's a recipe, for whatever Alexander's making, still muttering seeming bothered with something as he swiftly pours the miscellaneous liquid in a smaller jar then shaking it.

Its colour changes the more he shakes it after, it turning a dark crimson red, he stops and gentle places it in a small box filled with the same potion, the box was nearly full Hester was confused at needing so much of the same item.

"Is staring at people an activity you do often, or only to me?"

Hester flinched slightly then flushed, after everything Alexander's voice was very rough still putting Hester off guard compared to the quiet muttering he was doing before to the normal volume he spoke in, Alexander seemed more on guard once he realized he was being watched, which slightly dampened Hester's confidence to speak with him.

"What do you think you will learn just by watching me?"

Alexander said opening a drawer from the many on the wall, he took out a small dry herb and began to crush it with a mortal and pestle, Hester climbed down trying not to knock anything over with his wings which was easier said then done, he hovered over the two last rungs of the ladder, trying not hit anything.

"Mate, I've only ever learnt by watching." Hester said looking around to see if he could jump the final two rungs instead.

"Would you like to learn a different way?" Alexander asks softly as he dumped the crushed herb in a bottle of boiling water, after submerging it in a bucket of ice water next to the oven, it making a loud hissing noise.

Hester walked over trying not to step on anything that claimed the floor around the two of them. Alexander shifted the book closer to Hester as he looks at it, Alexander says

"It is a basic recipe for a healing potion. I've been making them all morning."

Hester's eyes slid to the book then to his hand—the one that had once been burned before, now perfectly normal and healthy looking, -if only I known how to do this before, it would have saved me so much heartache- He couldn't help but look at Alexander's heavy, uncomfortable looking, metal prosthetic. -I suppose not everything can be healed though-

"I could, but it would be a lot of ingredients I do not have. You needed a different one as well, the normal ones did not work on you.'

"Hmh?"

Hester hummed slightly embarrassed at how easily Alexander could read him. He wasn't trying to be rude.

"You needed an elixir and a strong one at that. The one I gave was a lot harder to make and you could not drink it, that ruins the effects."

Alexander said pointively avoiding the part about him not being able to make something to heal himself, Hester supposeds that was better. He looked at the book reading the recipe.

--The standard healing potion--
By Christopher Black

"Crush two bulbs of dried poppy until finely powdered, place in boiling water mix until well combined. Add oil of vitriol very cautiously, the water should still be at a boil when depositing the poppy powder. After hold next to a source of heat until mixture has somewhat frozen shake lightly until mixture is well combined having the shade of crimson red. After submerge in freezing water until mixture has stopped producing fumes. The final mixture should have the look of blood and feel of thin oil, after a few hours mixture should turn honey yellow."

Hester couldn't understand in the slightest what any of that meant, Alexander notice his confusion and said.

"I will show."

Hester took the book and ridiculously put it up to his face to read it more closely this book could have been made in a different language and Hester wouldn't have known the difference. Hester could do lots of things—this however was not one of them. He grasped the pestle smiling jinxing it asking. "What's the worst that can happen?"



Turns out the 'basic healing potion' was not basic enough for Hester.

Hester eventually after smashing a few bottles in a various multitude of ways, gave up, and sat crisscrossed on top of the table infront of the burning oven Alexander's back to him as he stares inside of it. The heat made the room at a comfortably warm temperature, having the sense of safety, perhaps making Hester a little drowsy as he talked to Alexander having a conversation over random miscellaneous topics.

Until he hit a fascinating topic.

"What's your opinion on curses?"

Hester yawned asking as Alexander flipped the page starting on a different potion he couldn't see what it was but saw Alexander trace the writing with his metal hand, silently mouthing the instructions.

"Depends, having a curse—spell set on me? Or me giving someone a, spell?"

Alexander said seeming slightly uncomfortable at the word almost like a swear with a hint of bitterness as he avoided the word, like it had somehow personal offended him.

"Um, like if you were cursed with. . ." Hester trailed off, Alexander seemed more tensed by the harmless question the atmosphere of fun and cozy quickly draining from the room.

"Sorry mate, let's talk about something different, it's fin—"

Hester said quickly Alexander half turned to him, he couldn't see his face only his silhouette against the burning flames.

What was the expression on his face?

Why did it looked oddly familiar?

«»«»«»«»«»«»

. . .The fire spread having the Angel choke from the fumes as he looks out at the colossal wrack, the field was litterd with Gods knows what, however the distinct smell of blood was pressure as the Angel took a step and looked down at the destroyed earth beneath him.

The stone was cracked and dry from where the cannons were shot leaving a trail of smoke coming from the ground, the world itself seemed like it had died that day.

The Angel looked across the unstable ground, the flames engulfing most of the surroundings the Angel saw a woman.

Lady Death.

The Angel walked to her slowly as his arms and wings were stained with blood—he didn't know if it was his and didn't care all that much either way. He staggered to her the same question ringing though his mind.

. . .I'm dead. . .

. . .Right. . ?

He tripped and stumbled as he walked, he eventually fell, Death looked at him with empathy, as he dragged himself the rest of the way.

Just like the first time they met.

He made it and asked.

"Am I, dead?"

He coughed out, Death looked down at him patiently, she looked up to see the destruction the Angel had caused, the bloodshed, and chaos surrounding the stoic Goddess.

"No."

She said an odd sadness in her voice, echoing, loud from the flames that were silently feasting, the world around the two of them gone, turned to ash.

They both watched it burn.

"Then, why are you here?"

She looked down at him again something akin to pity was painted on her face, one of all-knowing, one of an adult, seeing the mess a child did knowing they couldn't fix it.

"I am here for the others." She said calmly how could anyone be calm standing in the remains of a town? He would never know.

A long agony filled groan cut into the painfully quiet bubble the wreckage seemed to created.

She looked down at him one more time, the flames spreading behind her, he couldn't see her face, she could have been disappointed, pitying him, or had the same stoic expression she always had.

He would never know.

She was just a silhouette.

Then she turned and walked away.

«»«»«»«»«»«»

Hester moved his arm off of his chest.

-what happened?-

He would have kept his eyes closed but the side of his face was on something soft, confused he opens them ever-so-slightly and found himself laying down on a bed, coverd with a thick blanket.

He had no idea where he was.

Until he heard talking, not the muttering Alexander did, however it was his rough tired voice. He was talking normally, Hester cranned his neck to try and hear what he was saying, the floor boards under him making it almost impossible, until.

"Then—then the two Angels continue their journey to find the king that had fled, they found him hiding in a far away village."

Hester took in his surroundings as Alexander continued talking to Wilbur. He was on a wooden bed there was a small circle window—it was snowing outside, he couldn't tell if it was late or if the clouds block out the sun.

"They confront him in the middle of the town telling everyone of his act, how he spread rumors, and fled to escape them. The people were furious at the—Angels."

Hester looked behind him and saw a wall of bookshelfs piled, some shelves had so many books and tomes that the shelve sagged in the middle, around him there were loose pages and open books one laid left open on a plush arm chair in the corner, the book looked brand new.

"The towns people chased them away, however the king after, came to the Angels, he said something like—'I'm very sorry for all the trouble I've given you, I will repay my part of the deal now' Or something of the sort."

After some effort Hester reluctantly dragged himself out of the warm bed, he staggered over to the opposite side of where the trapdoor is and wondered over to the messy book shelf, he looked at the cover of the book that was left open it was the one draped across one of the chair's arms. He picked it up, the cover read.

--The complete collection of the unforgivable curses--
--By Lily Allen--

It was a book on rare curses and how to treat them, Hester flipped though the book not really paying any attention. -why were curses a bother for Alexander if he had an entirel book on them?- Hester lost in his thoughts, until he found one with the page corner turned down, it was marked to easily find again.

He didn't read the small text—no, barely acknowledged it—instead looked at the drawing that took up half of the page, it was of a person standing with corpses around them, and a monster behind them, lurking in the shadows. Hester was stunned to see something so gory in a book about how to treat the curse. -suppose to treat something you have to learn about it first- He slowly walked to the window that gave a small amount of light.

Hester never letting his eyes slip from the person on the book, like it might disappear if he turns away. The person on the page was young, far to young to be a murder—they couldn't have killed all the people on the page, there were too many, then again maybe the curse could make you see things, things that weren't real, (hopefully weren't real) It had the smallest amount of text Hester had ever seen in a book before.

He moved over to read it, it said nothing on how to treat or cure it, not even what causes it.

Hester didn't need to know what it meant, however he was still in denial. -Maybe someone he knows has it?- He lied to himself, seems like he had been doing that a lot today. -Alexander hasn't hurted anything since I've been here- Another lie, he had no proof, Alexander could have been doing anything when he was out.

Until something caught his eye.

'Most dangerous curse alive some say-

That had to be wrong that just wouldn't make any sense, that wasn't even fact they were just trying to scare the people. Gods it had to be wrong, it said the oldest to live with it was ten years, if Alexander did have this curse then he would be a walking enigma, throwing caution to the winds as this curse was one of the rarest and most difficult to control, it seemed.

He shuttered at the thought.

"He safely surrendered to the Angels, then—um, I do not think Hester will be very impressed if I tell you what happens next, but Tallulah makes good on her words."

Alexander chuckled softly. He could hear him—he seem so calm below his feet, he couldn't be cursed, especially with something so strong.

-Maybe he's learning about it. Something to do in his spare time-

Hester though delusionally, desperately, pleading, it couldn't be true, but Hester's mind replayed every interaction he had with Alexander and it all fell into place. Why he live in the middle of nowhere, how he got there, how he knows how to fight so well.

Hester couldn't breath he was in this person's house—with his kid. He slowly walked to the trapdoor placing the book down as he went then opened the trapdoor with one hand and carefully began to descended the ladder.

He could feel Alexander's eyes on his back, as he climbed he put his foot down on solid ground—then the other and turned to look at him—debating what to say.

'You bastard.'

'You cursed?'

'You lied to me!'

Were a few spinning around his head, he walked up to Alexander, Wilbur laying on his leg asleep, Alexander's left hand (the non prosthetic one) rested comfortable on Wilbur's back, as he looked up at him tired but seemingly relaxed at the sight of Hester, he won't be soon. Hester stopped, closed his eyes, and let the words fly.

"Thank you"

He and Alexander both seemed confused at words but Alexander asked quietly as to not disturb Wilbur.

"For what?"

"For, letting me stay here and keeping Wilbur company, giving us food and clothing. When we have nothing to give in return."

Alexander seemed embarrassed but seemingly content at the answer and shifted slightly making enough room for Hester to sit down with them, he did, and gentle picked up Wilbur.

He hummed softly to Wilbur, Alexander moving away and began ascending the rickety ladder he then hears the creak of the trapdoor close. He fully relaxed when he couldn't hear Alexander anymore.

The reason he didn't ask.

Was the same reason for everything he's ever done in his life.

He's a coward.

But at least he knows it.

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Art by @koinko on Tumblr
Yes, I still have not found any character that looks like Wilbur or Alexander, so we're sticking with Hester being on the cover lol I think after a few more chapters I'll wait a little until they add the book feature so I can put the whole thing up
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