Angels are we?

Current Mood: ??

CARMEN! What the fuck did you do??

Current Mood: shocked

Carmen had spent the night that followed Raphael's near death experience, attached to him. They actually bothered to move their unconscious mother into her own bed, but neither of them thought more of it after that. The twins slept entangled, Carmen curling into Raphael's arms and he resting his chin on her dark hair. But Raphael had trouble sleeping, even if Carmen was there. He couldn't help but feel the after effects of the fact that he'd had a bullet in his stomach. For all his smart-arseary and bravado, he had actually been petrified. He'd never been shot before, never been anywhere close to dying. He liked to think of himself as immortal. He heard that said to be a teenage thing, but Raphael and Carmen were just a little more immortal than those jerks and they knew it.

The next day the two of them skipped school, still joined together as much as possible, and they hunted for the blonde thing that had shot him. He took his sister back to the place, but of course no one was there. Why would they stick around when there had been a winged person last night that they shot? Not even a complete idiot would stay to see if they came back.

Sitting on the roof of the house he watched the neighbourhood, unexciting to the max. But he wasn't really paying attention to it. That was just his excuse to sit and do nothing but think about being shot, an excuse to sit and rub his fingers over the mark that was left. (He'd drained energy from a few more people throughout the day and now the bullethole was fully healed as though it was years old, just a dark pink scar now.)

"Stupid city," Raphael muttered.

Current Mood: angry

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Current Mood: enthralled