Altair tossed and turned in restless sleep as he fought with the beginnings of a nightmare. The dream started out so promising, sitting under the large oak tree in the courtyard, admiring the night sky. The silent twinkling of the stars greeted the dark-haired angel. A gentle warmth stirred beside him. Mumbling quietly, the blond angel Tristain stirred as he had fallen asleep against Altair. The soft breaths dusted Altairs bare arm, causing him to gently raise his large hand to caress the blondes cheek with the back of his knuckles. The contrast between their skin made him smile fondly at the sleeping beauty. His tan against the fair pale skin of the male beside him. Tristain was so fair skinned, the color was similar to the smoothest marble. Altair found himself leaning closer to the other male, cupping his chin gently to tilt the other males face up towards him, his chest fluttered as he delicately pressed his lips to the blonde's forehead, closing his eyes. When he opened his eyes Tristain had turned into a colorless grey. Altair gaped at Tristain and nearly screamed when the other angel collapsed into a pile of lifeless ash. In his panic, he searched for any reason or rhyme for the reason Tristain disintegrated. His bright emerald eyes searched the sky for an unspoken answer. The sky had changed from the bright star filled night to an angry crimson. Fire streamed from one end of the sky to the other like flaming shooting stars. Ashes began to rain from the sky though Altair was unsure if the fire caused the ashes or something entirely different altogether.

Altair blinked and at that moment he realized his sanctuary had become a battlefield. He looked at his hands and found them covered in blood, the nearly silent dripping of the blood on his wings echoing in his heart. The blood drenched his large hands from wrist to fingertips. As Altair looked up he saw the bodies of angels, demons and humans alike littering the ground. The idle question crossed his mind 'a memory?' before it was disrupted by the maniacal laughter of a dark figure who stood across the battlefield from him. He squinted to try and see the shrouded figure but in what felt like the blink of an eye the figure had moved to be inches away from his face. Altair jumped back in surprise, gasping loudly before the shrouded figure kicked Altairs' leg, causing him to fall to his knees with a loud thud. Without hesitation the shrouded being thrust its' hand through Altairs chest, ripping his angelic grace out in one fluid movement. Altair screamed as he was jolted from sleep drenched in sweat and gasping desperately for air. The largely built male leaned forward, cupping his head in his hands as he attempted to calm his heart; bile filling his throat. "What...kind of dream...was that?" Altair gasped while trying to swallow the bile that threatened to fill his mouth. Slowly he rose from his bed, stripped down and walked into the small bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. Altair attempted to scrub all of the remaining fear from the nightmare, though it still stayed in the back of his mind.

Once Altair was finished showering, he grabbed a white fluffy towel and wrapped it around his hips. He wiped the fog covered mirror and studied his reflection. One of his large hands trailed along his chiseled chest, tracing the faint scars that littered his flesh. Each one had a painful memory from the angelic war, one of which was courtesy of none other than Lucifer himself. For a moment he missed his brother but fathers' word was law and he mustn't break his laws. His emerald eyes followed the scars up his chest to his square jaw and finally to his emerald eyes. One thing he always wondered was why each angel was different. We all look different, just like the humans. Even our wings are different colors, why? His dark brows furrowed as he contemplated. Am I considered attractive? His hand absently raised up to his chin as he gently stroked the light dusting of dark stubble. He turned his face and examined his cheekbones, his brows, his straight nose, and his full lips. He shook his head quickly snapping himself from such thoughts. Vanity is a sin, I cannot think of myself as anything than an angel of the lord. He admonished himself. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed a towel and began scrubbing it against his damp black hair, leaving the bathroom.

Altair quickly dressed and left his quarters. The sun greeted him, almost painfully so, and he found himself reminded of Tristain's' golden hair. He wondered for a moment if he would see the recluse. Truth be told he seldom saw Tristain over the last few centuries. He had only seen him a handful of times while doing his rounds during the day. He only ever saw Tristain in the library. Altair tried closing his eyes and clearing his mind. He took a deep relaxing breath and was graced with the sweet smell of springtime and the silent promise of rain on the horizon. Altair always loved the rain, even though his wings were heavy and uncomfortable when wet. The sound of a high pitched calling of his name snapped him from his momentary peace. Cassiel was running over, greeting him excitedly.

"Altair! There you are! Michael was looking for you. He asked me to go find you." The small-framed, pixie-like angel grinned, "Ohhhh you're in trouble!" The female angel smiled mischievously before patting Altair on the back. Her short chestnut brown hair curled up in an odd but flattering pixie style that framed her heart shaped face. Her brown eyes were alight with amusement as she looked up at him.

The six-foot-four angel sighed "You know that's not funny. You just make me worry if you say stuff like that. I very well could be in trouble and you wouldn't let me know." He grumbled and crossed his arms before muttering "little miss know-it-all" with a wry smirk.

"Hey! I don't know it all! I just know a lot. It's my job to watch and know things. Intel is my forte." Cassiel pouted playfully. Altair uncrossed his arms and mussed Cassiels' hair fondly. "Yeah yeah, I know. Well, I'll see you later." he chuckled.

"Wait! I wasn't finished!" Cassiel squeaked and smacked the back of Altairs' head.

Altair rubbed the back of his head and groaned, "What now? You know how Michael gets if you keep him waiting too long."

Cassiel smiled, rose a brow and crossed her arms with a smug look. "Oh please. Don't get your panties in a twist you big lug. I had another person asking about you. I thought you might like to know."

Altair rose a brow and smirked. "Alright. I'm listening. Who else was asking about me?"

Cassiel uncrossed her arms and relaxed. "Michael comes first and foremost, but Tristain was also asking about your whereabouts."

Altair felt his heart skip a beat, his body warm and a lump form in his throat. With as much composure as he could muster, he cleared his throat and responded flatly "Is that so?" He smiled "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for telling me. Did he say what he wanted from me?"

Cassiel shrug, "No he merely asked me to tell you he was looking for you and would be in the library." The warm caramel-skinned female smiled before continuing, "Alright now, off you go."

Altair beamed a smile at his best friend, "Thanks again, Cass. I'll see you later. Wish me luck." Cassiel laughed, "Like you will need it" she scoffed as she watched his retreating form.

Altair stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked into the main building where the archangels resided. Intricate filigree decorated the stone walls. It always amazed him with how accurately the humans managed to mimic their idea of heaven with the reality of it all. A few mischievous cherubs flew past his head, giggling about some prank they were planning for Phanuel. A chuckle escaped him as he entered the main hall lined with offices for the archangels. It truly exhausted him to think about how much work the archangels had to deal with on a daily basis. Between paperwork and making sure the other angels and lesser cherubs were in line, the thought made his head spin.

As Altair approached a large mahogany door he straightened his white and black suit adorned with a silver tie, as well as his posture. "Here we go..." he muttered as he rose his hand and knocked on the door. A deep silken voice with an uncanny warmth to it, "enter." Without a moment's hesitation, Altair opened the door and stepped into the room. The office was elegantly decorated. The walls were lined with book shelves made with red mahogany to match the door, each shelf filled to capacity with files. A large fireplace flickered quietly behind the large leather office chair that faced away from Altair. The floor was a flawless pale wood paneling, the desk before him was made from the same red mahogany. The desk had a large pile of files on the left side and a leather file on the right side. The silken voice, deep yet somehow gentle caressed his senses. "Welcome Altair, please take a seat."

Altair did as he was told and sat on one of the black leather armchairs nearest him. Michael turned his seat to slowly face Altair. The much older angel had long smooth jet black hair, looking akin to silk that draped behind him in a long ponytail that rested at the nape of his neck. His skin was a deep tan, much darker than Altairs, and his eyes were a bright gold that seemed almost able to see through your very soul. As Michael met Altairs stare, his golden eyes almost lit up with a gentle admiration. Little did Altair know Michael considered him to be his star pupil. "Altair, thank-you for coming on such short notice."

"Never a problem Michael," Altair grinned proudly.

"I have a task for you." The golden-eyed angel smiled back in response. His large black angel wings shined a dazzling gold behind him. Altair always found the arch angels fascinating. Their wings were always naturally two-toned and they always had two or more sets, unlike the regular angels who only had a single set.

Altair cleared his throat before speaking, "How can I help?"

Michaels plump lips stretched into a friendly smile. "There is a young angel who needs guidance, merely a few centuries old. He works under Cassiel. He seems a bit of a recluse and needs help coming out of his shell. As I am sure you are aware most angels fall into place naturally, finding what they are good at within the first century or so." Michael chuckled as he stood from his seat, moving with calculated elegance. He patted his large hand on Altairs shoulder, "You are one of the angels most admired and known by everyone so I need you to do this for me Altair."

Altair chuckled, feeling a moment of earned pride swell in his chest. "Of course. Who is the young angel?" he asked with a grin.

Michaels brilliant white smile widened fondly at his prized pupil, "The angel's name is Tristain. He works under Cassiel in the intel division."

Altair felt his blood run cold as the nightmare gripped him once more. He looked at Michael, trying to keep a straight face without giving away his fears. "Ah. I am familiar with him. Definitely a shy one." he chuckled softly, though the laugh seemed flat.

"As to be expected." Michaels smile faded into a soft smirk, "Train him and guide him as necessary. Your dorm may be changed to accommodate your task. You are dismissed." With that Michael released Altair and returned to his seat, beginning to scan through some of the leather-bound intake files.

Altair bowed and left before taking a deep calming breath. His pulse began to race as a sickening nervousness began to suffocate him. It's just a mission, don't get ahead of yourself. All angels are assigned a guardian if they have not found their calling yet. Altair groaned under his breath before he left the offices and headed to the library.