Angel Reaper

An angel descended from Heaven to Earth to explore when he stumbled upon a figure in the grass.

It was a rather cloudy day when an angel had decided to visit the mortal world. He was cast down to a random area where he'd recognized as the plains. Taking his time, he sauntered along taking in everything there was to see, which wasn't much at all. He then spotted a dark figure in the fields. Crouching down slightly poking above the swaying grass, nothing but black was shown. It remained like a solid stone against the light breeze. The angel crept upon the dark figure extending his arm to touch the shadow. A light tap creased the dark surface and it faded to flowing dust in the air to the clouds. The short lived contact proved the figure to be more numbing, and bitter than ice. It resembled a mortal, though too dead to be real. The angel's vision began to blur and double before watching the scene bend sideways stretching out, and then black overthrew all light.

Awakening in the same spot he fell, the grass surrounding him had faded to monochrome. His skin had become ashy grey and pale white. The robe he was wearing was cut with imprecise incisions across each opening. His skin clinging to his bones revealed through the openings in his robe proved him to be malnourished. The muscle he'd had before had almost been stripped completely from his body leaving nothing behind. Ribs revealing the cage of a body and hips curving to poke outwards: a revolting scene. His face still seemed half full of life, but nothing less to describe the rest of him. A walking skeleton. His legs remain as scraggly twigs with the extensions of his feet. He looked like the mortal composition of death itself.

The dull light helped his eyes adjust quickly to allow an easier wake. Scanning the open plain of grass, he attempted to stand to face an eerie horizon. With clouds built up in the sky, a downpour was inevitable. Gloomy wind set the sky to cry with flashing cracks peering through the blackness above. His body remaining inert, watching the rain in a downpour with ajar eyes. A wave of endless droplets of icy water being blown by the new facing winds. This was a new scene, but he couldn't connect anything with what he felt. The frozen felt drops on his skin created full body goosebumps with rapid shaking. A body not fit to be in this weather was standing in the middle of it all with no way to escape. With a gentle turn of his head, bare feet would track through the soddy ground to a distant, but visible, town. Expressionless and empty-minded, he'd set off for half a day's journey towards the busy town of Tynevic.

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A desert of open fields lit with bright green grass swaying knee length in the carefree wind. The sun cascading over the rolling hills gave life to the vast emptiness surrounding the town. Trees would dot the miles of hairy grass throughout the town as well like pimples on a person's face. Patches of dry, empty dirt were scattered across the few flat parts of the area ahead. The small patches gave way to a sculpted path a few yards away.

The town was average in most ways, though, somewhat smaller. Houses were set up like a picture frame: even and square. Even the fences were exact. Straight lines that went several acres away to house cattle inside. A glance back to the town: throughout, deep grooves pathed the ground from wagons for travel. They seemed to be rarely used as most people were on foot here. Not many owned wagons of their own. These paths littered the town from building to building and expired elsewhere.

Escaping to the entrance again, the story will begin.

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Upon approaching a barbed fence encasing cattle and sheep, he took a slow scan of the town. A few acres away, the land supported several buildings with which the humans lived. The ground beneath him would wilt as he traced the perimeter of the fenced region. A narrow pathway led into town where he was seen by several. Their eyes dilated with pure terror, shaking, and all while being covered in goosebumps as they each fled to the nearest house. Doors slammed and audibly locked with closed windows. Ignoring the people of the town that had fled, he continued to walk to a center building at the end of his current path. With his bare feet he climbed the warm stone into the small building that he now recognized as a bar- more specifically a drive bar.

A group of people were gathered in a circle chanting something he couldn't understand. He began to walk towards the crowd before being stopped by a bartender.

"Sir, you have to have shoes to enter this establishment."

Scanning the language of the bartender for confirmation that it wasn't a threat, he stepped out to sit on the stone steps. Cheering could still be heard from inside, but another noise captured his attention. Hard footsteps grew louder before an odd person burst through the doors with a bright smile on their face.

"Hey Dex! You son of a-" an anonymous voice boomed from inside.

Laughing cut his attention to the stranger now hovering above him. A quick observation showed that he shouldn't get involved with this person, but he was intrigued. With messy clothes, a light blush, and the smell of alcohol proved them to be drunk. He gave a blank stare with a slight brow furrow.

'Who is this?' He'd question.

The cheering from inside had diminished to several small groups of conversations. Random bursts of laughter could also be heard from several of the men inside.

A rather tall person standing at least six feet. Silky black hair with highlights of almost a blue tint shaded their amber colored eyes. A rather thin, yet muscular structure they spoke with a soothing, deep tone.

"What's with this?" they questioned.

The stranger had spoken to him while suddenly reaching to grab his tattered robe.

"Don't-"

His throat was dry causing him to burst into a coughing fit. Air wouldn't reach his lungs forcing him to double over to the dirt. The stranger reacted astute and swiftly, nonetheless.

"Hey! Drink this!" they exclaimed.

A glass was shoved to his lips immediately making its way down his throat. He scrunched his nose at the taste continuing to drink. Regardless of what the substance was, he knew it'd benefit him either way. All he could focus on was trying to breathe again.

"Better?" They would ask in a lighter tone filled with mild concern.

A small nod for indication signaled he was okay before moving back to the steps. The back of his hand was then used to wipe the trail of liquid on his chin. A new sensation he'd never felt before. 

"Thought you were going to die on me there." They'd let out a laugh of relief. Sitting beside him, the taller person then asked a new question."So, what's your name?"

Author's Note

Dex is non-binary (If there was a pronoun placed please note it)
This is only Chapter 1 (1181 words)