Dihalo-Kasdeja House, Noeden | October 4th, 23:22

"I've told you before, I don't go by that name anymore," Warren said, fully tucking his wings firm against his back. He slid on his brown leather coat, concealing them underneath. "Call me Warren. That's my name now."

"As you wish, Ta-" Mikaal stiffly stopped himself, "Warren."

Warren sighed, shaking his head. "You don't have to be so formal."

Mikaal only flicked his gaze away from the other Alengiana. From his place on the couch, Gadrien saw him shift his weight on his feet but otherwise he remained motionless. Or, as motionless as he could be, still wearing Gade's old shirt and jeans.

Warren had his hand on the doorknob when he addressed the three teenagers in the living room: "I won't be long. You know the rules: keep the curtains closed and don't answer the door for anyone."

"Even dad?" Hellena quipped from where she sat on the stairs. Still in her favorite mint green pajamas, she idly passed her phone between her hands.

Warren rolled his eyes. "He can use his key."

As their father left, both the Dihalo siblings exchanged a wide-eyed, thin-lipped look. They waited until they heard the car leave the driveway before saying anything.

"Dad is definitely sleeping on the couch," Hellena shook her head, loose black curls shaking along.

"Yeah, 'he can use his key' while he still has one," Gadrien sat up. His wings flexed upwards slightly from the motion.

"Why would he be doing that," Mikaal asked. It was strange to hear him English speak more, or speak to them at all when Warren wasn't around, a true Lengiki accent was heavier on the consonants than expected. The question was so sudden that both siblings immediately looked at him as if they had expected him to not have a mouth. "Does he not rest up-stairs, in a room like all of yours?"

"Uh, normally our parents- I mean, our kas share a bedroom upstairs," Gadrien explained. While he didn't know much Lengiki he did know that "kas" was the right term for a parent. He really wasn't sure what was Alengiana-normal for sleeping arrangements, but he guessed enough from Mikaal's question that it was usually one per bed at the very least.

Hellena stayed on the stairs and pursed her lips in thought. "Hm," she lightly hummed, "Do kas not share rooms back home?"

But Mikaal did not dignify them with an answer, instead pulling his bright blue siiltuzh over his nose and stalking into the kitchen. He didn't seem to care that the light was off.

"Guess that's a 'no'," Gadrien scratched at his chin. Then, a thought struck him: "Why aren't you in school?"

His sister pouted in an overtly dramatic way, placing a hand to her chest. "I just found out that my biiig bwother has a spinal mass. I am so wracked with worry that I could not possibly go to school." Gadrien rolled his eyes at her as she tore a page right from Eric's playbook. "They just took you out of school with the excuse that you're incredibly sick. People at my school know people at your school, it'd be suspicious if I showed up acting all normal, ya dink."

"Yeah, you seem so worried."

"I've had, like, five of my friends texting me about it." Hellena stood on her step, turning to head upstairs. "Not like you'd know about balancing alien stuff with a social life."

Gadrien huffed. He wanted to say something to his own defense, but inwardly he knew she was right. He didn't really have friends. His wings slumped slightly - though, an idea came to him and they perked up, spreading his feathers vainly. "So your friends talk about me, huh? Must be so tough listening to all your little friends saying how hot I am all the time."

Hellena snorted dismissively and rolled her eyes. "The only thing you are is making me miss the hot substitute teacher in tech lab," she said and left for her room.

⭐⭐⭐

Showering with wings was really, really weird.

Even in the downstairs bathroom, with the standing shower and no tub floor to slip on, Gadrien felt like every movement was too much. He turned one way, his wings knocked bottles off the shelf; he turned the other way, water sprayed off his feathers and onto the ceiling. Water went everywhere but where he needed it to.

Drying off was a whole similar-yet-different ordeal. Was he supposed to floof his feathers and flap his wings to dry them? Carefully dab his wet wings with fifty towels? A mix? Either way, his back remained unpleasantly damp even after he'd soaked three towels and his shirt.

In some loose shorts and a gray tank, rubbing a towel in an attempt to dry his brown curls, he wandered to the kitchen for a snack. He reached for the light switch-

Gadrien jumped, seeing the one-eyed blonde standing in the shadows, stifling a shout. His brown wings, however, flapped several times in shock. "You can't just stand around like that!"

"Why not?" Mikaal cooly asked.

"Because it's creepy?" Gadrien stressed. He forced his wings to tuck up close to his back, where they fluttered in protest. "You already look like some kind of space vampire, but it doesn't mean you have to stalk around like one."

Mikaal's eye narrowed, his black wings perking. "Vampire?"

"A thing that sucks on blood for food," the Nephilim explained.

"That sounds disgusting," Mikaal grimaced, Gadrien thought he almost looked grossed out. But something in his demeanor seemed to change as he thought on the explanation more. "You are comparing me to a parasite - you, a Nephilim?"

Mikaal swiftly stepped around Gadrien, so that he was standing behind him. He firmly grabbed one of Gadrien's wings and pulled it out fully, seemingly admiring the limb.

"It is rare to see things like you. Your wings are new," Mikaal stated knowingly. His tone was even yet edged. "They are small."

Gadrien's feathers ruffled out of reflex and he tried to pull his wing out of Mikaal's grasp. "They're growing," Gadrien snipped.

"It is rarer for things like you to have them." Mikaal's grip on his wing held strong. "But Nephilim are always dull colors. Your wings are the color of shit." He had a heavy, hissing emphasis on the sh sound

At the insult, Gadrien jerked and smacked Mikaal's hand away from his wing.

It was the wrong move to make.

Mikaal reacted by slamming Gadrien in the face with his right bastard wing. He again maneuvered around him, grabbing one of Gadrien's wings in one hand while firmly pressing against Gadrien's back, between his wings. The Arkanghelis shoved the Nephilim into a nearby wall, yanking hard on the wing in his grasp.

Gadrien cried out in pain. It felt like a part of his spine was being pulled.

"You are lucky that you are Samaal's offspring, else I would not stand for the disrespect you, a Nephilim, have continued to show me since my arrival," Mikaal lowly stated.

Beep-click!

Both boys turned their heads to see Hellena standing in the doorway, her phone firmly in her hand.

"What is that," Mikaal sneered at the small device in her dusky hands.

"My phone," Hellena smiled darkly. She descended a few steps, black curls bouncing from the movement. "I just took a picture of you trying to rip my brother's wings off. If you don't let him go, I'm going to send it to both our parents."

"And what stops me from stopping you?"

"Once it's sent, it's sent. You'll never see Samaal."

Mikaal and Hellena locked eyes - icy blue against emerald green - in a silent battle of who would back down first. While Mikaal did not break eye contact, he did release his grip. He did not move, instead letting Gadrien flummox sideways - the Nephilim barely maintaining his balance with small, clumsy flaps of his wings.

Gadrien whirled and flipped him off, which garnered no reaction from the alien. He wanted to say more, but begrudgingly held his tongue. If that was the jerk's reaction to a language mix-up - Gadrien didn't want to know how the former "prince" would react to actually being called something worse.

⭐⭐⭐

They decided the best thing was to stay upstairs until their father came home and they could confront Mikaal without any limbs being dislocated.

Hellena sat on her bed, the old metal frame creaking as she shifted to look at her brother, spread out on the floor. She waved her phone at him.

"I was going to send it to them anyways, but it won't go through," Hellena said in a whisper, as if the person the evidence was against was right outside the door to her room. Which, for all either of them knew, he could have been. She frowned as she looked at the messages app on her phone, the picture she had tried to send displayed a red X next to it. "What do you think Mikaal's deal is?"

"Well, he's an alien and he's an asshole," Gadrien listed as if those were Mikaal's only defining features. "So I'd say his deal is: being an alien asshole."

Hellena rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, I meant why do you think he's so interested in dad?"

Gadrien shrugged. "Dad used to work for the mother queen, or whatever her title is, right? For the Kas Iana? Maybe Mikaal's here to tell him that dad's officially fired."

"I don't think an ark guardian and child of the Kas Iana would willingly become a Defect to tell someone they're fired." Hellena sighed. She rolled onto her back and stared up at her ceiling. "He definitely wasn't expecting to run into half-breeds like us."

Taking note of his sister's heavy sigh, Gadrien wiped his hands down his face. "Well, our parents might not want to talk to us about it," he said, flopping his hands back to his sides on the floor, "But you know who's always down to talk shit about the Old World? Auntie Harper."

Hellena snorted and stifled a snicker. "She'd probably just beat Mikaal herself."

Gadrien did his best, worst impression of their fictive aunt: "'You want to touch my niece and nephew? You're gonna catch these hands, blondie!'"