It was a gift, and a curse, that they should have been born mortals. Mortals were given the power to feel as angels and spirits were not. They hurt and they suffered and they loved. Gabriel did not feel her storm as she did, but the waves wracked against his soul none the less. Pale hands gripped her tightly, her rock, her raft, and he lessened only when her body began to settle against his own. The rain continued on and it washed them clean. Gabriel never loved the rain as much as he did that night.
“I love you, Alaine,” he whispered, holding her to his chest. A heart burnt to the core beat there, a phoenix-thing that had carried him as the sun. Gabriel was a lion; he was a child of fire. To suffer was to live. A death was not the end of days, oh heaven no, but he would not take her grief from her. Not as he had with Tayui, who had come to him looking for a dead man. Not to someone with whom he felt bound to.
.mel-crosstxt-box {background-image:url(http://imgur.com/D0dTU.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:178px; height:237px; float:right; margin:3px; }
.mel-crosstxt {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;}
.mel-crosstxt .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;}
.mel-crosstxt .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.mel-crosstxt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;}
.mel-crosstxt b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;}
</style>
[/html]