• A single tear dripped off the face of this angel, his beautiful face contorted with sadness. He managed to catch this crimson tear as it fell towards the face of his fallen love who was laying in her soft bed of pure white blankets, her head rested gently upon a feather pillow. Her flowing dark hair and pale skin were accented by the white of the bed, making her seem more beautiful than before.

    Such grief he felt. He felt it unfair that such a kind soul was punished when she had done no wrong in her mortal life. She was still barely a woman in his eyes, a woman of only twenty-one years. The Fates had been cruel with her life. This could only be the cause of him.

    His wings of soft, white feathers stretched and closed behind him, their colour being tainted by first crimson, and then black, the crimson showing through when hit by light. Yes, he was suffering far more than any man ever had, of that he was sure. Then again, could he be considered man? He was one of the last angels left alive, and now things were changing.

    The pain slowly left his face as the change progressed, pain being replaced with anger. He stood up straight, extending his wings and getting used to the change. He was taller now, his long hair had turned black and was tied in a loose, wide braid starting at the nape of his neck and falling down to just above his knees, a single blue streak of hair hanging in his eyes; he seemed to have lost a bit of his height, but his jaw and shoulders had squared off more and his nails were long and pointed.

    He looked down at his body. "White just isn't my colour any longer," he said softly, snapping his fingers. His white jacket was replaced by a sweater of black and red stripes with a zipper up the front, a pair of long, loose black pants and army boots. There were rings on every other finger on his hands, small silver bands that shone before his eyes, as well as a matching silver hoop in his left ear, a small one at that.

    Would Alyssa have been happy with what she was seeing of him now, he wondered? He chuckled to himself. No, she wouldn't have been, but this change was not voluntary.

    "I took her from the world that caused her such pain to bring her to mine, I believe it is time to view this world with my own eyes," he said softly. He cast one final look at his lost love. She looked to be sleeping. Oh how he wished her eyes would flutter open and she would ask him where he was leaving to. But he knew that was not possible. So with that he turned away quickly, spread his wings and flew through the open French doors that Alyssa had been so fond of, out into the open blue skies.

    A small, black feather was blown back into the room by a gentle breeze after his departure, shimmering in the sunlight as it landed upon Alyssa's chest. The only memory of him left in that world.