Crash! - The Herald's Arrival - O.F.R: 4

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Crash!

The brother glances at the onward traffic. Halving the peripheral to the crash at hand he swivels his head back and forth. Formulating a plan to get out of this here predicament they found themselves in.

 He was a cognitive young one. He thoroughly analyzed the situation attempting to reduce it to lies—good ones too. The difficult part was that they could never make it known who they were or where they came from. Those would be the questions first asked. Play the part of a child. I mean, that's what they were. That isn't much of a lie. They were lost, again, the truth. Maybe he was the blacksmith's apprentice after all. He could plead that it was some other force of nature that scared the horses. An enormous bird, bigger than a man flew by and is now gone.

Worrying for the piece of property more than his own hind right now was not a good idea, but the boy couldn't help but feel some remorse as it was, logically, only the children who could've initiated any provocation from well-trained horses like they were. He must lie anyhow.

A man flew out of the opening of the camper. His angelic wings flapping out into the sky. The man was identical to the story about the bird he was making up in his head. The kid redacted plan A for plan B. He never thought he would have to list them out in any sort of order of chronology, but here his concerns lie in the plan: C, D, and E. contingencies without knowing what the word 'contingent' was. His muse would seem to find him in his time of need. Either that or a lucky rat—most likely the latter.

The angel wore a cloak and hooded himself as the children did. Made from the finest silks of blue, a form of midnight is the primary color of the outfit. This sandy tan coloration stripped the wavy bottom in a design of alchemic scripture. Formative structures and unfamiliar small symbols in cursive are lined around the skirt. There was this spherical insignia positioned atop the heart with a chunk taken out of it. The coloring opposite to the primary formed a red apple. He saw the children first, then spun 360 degrees surveying the surrounding area. He flew to the children upright, quickly questioning them as he got closer. "Stop right there you three."

No time was spared to think of a plan. It was to be improvised, "Yes?" The oldest said he was speaking for them all. Yesterday, it was discussed if anything like this were to occur to let him do the talking. The other two knew the memo.

"I have a question to ask you all. If that's okay." He landed in the mud. Only the rain could be heard showering. He interrogated them with his eyes. The boy was unsure if he was doing this out of curiosity or suspicion.

"How could he have truly known?" The boy thought amidst the man's first impression. The psychology behind the liar was outstanding. He believed no matter what he was faced with, even now, he could get off scot-free. Call it cocky, call it foolish, underestimating opposition or maybe all of the above. Call it what you will. He simply weighed out the options and proposed creative, unlikely, but highly possible outcomes that he was confident could get them out of trouble. A sense of fright caused friction within the boy. A fiery turmoil built inside the stomach. It lit a fire underneath the boy's brain, promoting critical thinking and forcibly acting when it might not be appropriate to do so. It came from the stomach hot. He almost puked it up right there.

The man moved his head as he pleased. The children stared directly at the ground. He espied their fright. "Take off your hoods."

The man sounded serious and there was an urgency to him. Either he was serious, or he was a bit energetic. Saying things quickly and easily. The kid couldn't tell. Curiosity or suspicious urgency? He spoke a little too damn fast maybe he didn't say enough. Did he indeed suspect them? Was this a ruse? The words fluttering in his head were intrusive, yes, but he was right to think so.

He was unable to discern the angel's intentions during the initial interaction.

The kid shadowed his heavy swallows and his excessive breathing under the same garments that hid his identity. He couldn't take the hood off—not now, not ever. The boy answered after some deliberation. "We can't. The rain... We've been walking for a while, and we don't want to get sick. A little bit of rain on my sisters' heads, and they'll be ill. You see, one of them is suffering from a severely."

Another angel jumped out of the entrapment and yelling out for the man, "'Diacheristis!' We can't lose you, come back!"

The cloaked man looked over his shoulder, yelling out, "I'm not staying in there!" He brought his attention back and said: "I do not believe there is a threat. This was an accident. Do not lie to me. Take off your hoods."

The eagerness to push for an unveiling coupled with what had just been said, gave rise to the curiosity theory, not the serious one it was first thought to be. Still, they could not take off their covers.

The brother responded with, "It ain't a lie."

"Is it not?" The man was both in correction and in question. He took note of this response, and so forth.

The kid cleared his throat. "Yeah, we ain't lyin'. We're headed in the same direction." He pointed north in the direction in which the carriages left.

Obviously: the man said. He murmured an irritated assortment of words that couldn't be made out, he said it to himself looking at the carriages as they turned the corner. The trees and the decline of the path obscured the incident for only those who were there.

The rest of the men left one by one outside, lining up in a configuration of four stacked fours, with two men facing the formation and counting heads. There were twenty-three people in total, including the injured driver of the carriage that no one bothered to care for and the Diarchangel questioning the three.

A soldier inquired in the background: Is this protocol or something? We all know who's here; we came together!

Those idiots: the man said, shaking his head in frustration. It gave breaks in the conversation. He went to turn back saying, "Now take off those."

The little one took off her hood and said, "Please don't hurt us mister." She was innocent—too much for their own good. The jig was up so easily. The middle slapped her face inside her hood and the brother did the same.

The man in shock took a step back. "You two, take off your hoods." 

 He was speaking in a much lower voice than before, albeit spooked. He was closer to a whisper than his octaves once were. He was much calmer and there was no sense of urgency. The kids obeyed. All of them had black hair, brown eyes, darkened skin, and tiny bright red horns poked from above their heads.

"Demons? How… How did you manage to get here? We're in the middle of Ellenstein? Random bunch in such a small place." He got on one knee, setting that expensive satin-weaved piece on the ground without a care. Hands stretched towards the children's faces, they closed their eyes and when they opened them back up, their hoods were concealing their identities once more. He said: I'll have questions for you later. Until then, do not speak a word. Promise me.

 The children made a singular gesture for assurance agreeing to the man simple yet illogical demands. "Thank you," he said. Taking off his hood revealed his identity. He explained: "Did you know that Elysium is endless? We have measured trillions of light years and studied only a fraction of it, yet we know it still goes on for trillions more." He cleared his throat before saying, "I am sure you three aren't supposed to be here."