Another hot day set upon the city of Mamlak. Despite windows being opened to allow a breeze to come through the shop, Cheza could still feel the uncomfortable humidity surrounding her body. Blue gaze shot up to look at the men and women who walked passed her open door of the shop she had worked hard to earn. Short red hair was pulled back at the sides to keep out of her way while working. Despite her small stature, Cheza had strong arms and form to handle her business. On that day she wore a sleeveless black shirt that exposed the muscles gained through toil over the years. A tattoo was on her upper right bicep.

Meat cleaver came thrashing down to cut a tough piece of meat in two. A small smile crossed her lips as she was pleased with the cut. Slamming the cleaver down into her holding wood, Cheza collected already cut meat to put on display. Counters made of cold stone were sectioned off according to the meat available that day. She was grateful to her past self for having thought ahead of time for such an install. On such days as it was then, she did not have to worry about her profits spoiling.

After laying out her product hands were wiped on the apron that was tied about her waist. It was a slow day since few wanted to be out in the heat. Lately there was a higher rate of plant life dying that few could figure out. Rumors were spreading that it was connected with the goddess Angela or even the goddess of death. Cheza always ignored rumors since there was little use putting foundation in them.

She glanced out the large window pane that advertised her butcher shop to see the sign she had put up weeks ago for needing an assistant. There had been inquiries, but little came of it once they saw the owner was a woman. They had been lucky that she had not thrown her dagger at their heads when such insults were given to her gender. Freckled face sneered before turning back to her work station to prepare some chickens that had recently been brought in. There were some local taverns that had found her work to be of high quality. Work was steady, but it was mounting without any help.

Hands worked diligently to cut the chicken down to usable portions. A few small pieces were tossed off to a dark corner were a black cat sat ready for his spoils. "Don't gorge too much," she huffed at her only companion. The cat's tongue licked at its lips before tending to his sleek black paws. Cheza had found that the cat was one of the only existing entities that she could tolerate.

He looked a state.

Now to this world the above statement wouldn’t mean much – as a fairly new resident to Revaliir no one knew the Angel so no one could really comment, but to those who knew Sammael as the Angel of Death (former he would like to add) or as DCI Sam Anderson the above wasn’t anything overly unusual, or at least it hadn’t been in his latter persona. As Sam Anderson he had always been somewhat unkempt – his once golden hair had been allowed to grow shaggy and looked dank and somewhat unwashed, his once clean shaven features sported stubble that threatened to grow into a full on beard at any moment and his once bright blue eyes (that had glowed once upon a time) were washed out and perpetually tired – which was something amusing in itself as Angels did not require sleep and therefore didn’t really get tired.
However the state in which Sammael could be found now was not that of the unkempt yet still handsome DCI Anderson with his worn and crinkled suits, it was of a man in torn and burnt clothes, his exposed skin covered in burns, cuts and bruises. The exhaustion on his face was palpable and those who looked at him either avoided him entirely or looked at him with pained, pitiful expressions. His wings lay limply against his back; his once beautiful white feathers had been charred black and broken… how he was alive was anyone’s guess.

He was out of smokes, he was out of drink, he had no place to go and no money to spend not to mention the fact that he was in a world he did not know. Sammael had barely noticed the heat in the city; after the icy water he had entered this world in he was almost glad of the heat. He had barely noticed the dying plant life; so consumed by his own grief and the current hopelessness of his situation he hadn’t given it much thought – he didn’t know the world well enough to know whether or not this was the norm or not.

”How she thinks she’ll find someone that will work for her I do not know.” One man laughed off to one side.
”I know. Bloody woman running a butcher’s shop? What self respecting man would work for her?” Another answered with a laugh.
Something about their tone had caught Sam’s attention not to mention the content of their conversation. Looking up at them he spotted the shop in question and scowled at the window where there was an advert for an assistant. Cocking his head to one side (a trait that seemed to run in the family not that any of them would have admitted to it) he considered it for a moment and decided to take the plunge – what had he got to lose at this point?
Pushing past the two men he pointedly opened the door, took the sign out of the door, shot the pair a glance and turned to the counter, placing the ad down upon it before nodding to the woman. ”I’d like to take the job if you’ll have me?”

She couldn’t believe the amount of restraint it took on a daily basis to not respond to those who taunted her the way she truly wished. Cheza had worked hard to work her way into the well-known city of Mamlak. It had been a dream to own her very own shop within the protective walls. Many had disparaged the butcher from her dreams, but Cheza would have none of it. When the money had finally been put together a trip was made to find the perfect shop for her to make her home in. Nothing felt better to her heart then when she had signed the paperwork to own the now current butcher shop as well as the home above. There was more space then she could ever need, but if she did get anyone that wished to work for her they would be able to have lodgings if necessary.

Why did she not retaliate against those that spoke such rude comments in regards to her chosen profession and her gender? They were prospective clients. Cheza knew that it would take time for them to come around to seeing the superiority of her products. Once someone found her meat selections they would never leave her store for another. Despite her abrasive personality, the butcher could hold her tongue from time to time if it came to her profits.

Plucked and butchered chickens were piled neatly within a pristine wooden crate to later be packed for delivery. The work was tedious as time went on, and it only proved how much she truly needed an assistant to help with that work. There were other orders that needed to be tended, but there were not the hands to handle the orders. She had been excited when a couple of the nearby taverns decided to use her as their main meat supplier. It was a good source of revenue; the only down turn was the amount of work was becoming more than she could do on her own.

Teeth ground together as Cheza could clearly hear the words of the men outside. She was used to it, but never did she stop being pissed off by their comments. Head was lowered to focus on her work instead of looking at the man that entered her shop. ”Fresh product was put out just moments ago if you are looking for something to pick up. What can I interest you in?” Her tone was pleasant and smooth like any merchant attempting to flatter patrons to hand over their coin. Brown eyes lifted to see a rather haggard man with wings standing in front of her counter with her sign in tow.

Both brows lifted in disbelief that such a man was standing in her shop, and Cheza was sure there was a smell coming off of him that she could not quite place what it was. ”A job? Here? For me?” The woman put her fileting blade down along with the chicken she had just finished cutting up. Hands pressed on her butcher’s block to look the man up and down. He looked like he could be handsome, but the damaged wings along with the rest of his unkempt appearance made it difficult to tell. Cheza clicked her tongue with a shake of her head. ”I’m not sure if you are trying to play a joke on me or somethin’. I don’t need people here who are trying to disrupt my shop in order to heckle me more than I already am. You cannot be serious about wanting to work here while looking like….well like you do right now.”

Cheza moved from around her working table to stand on the same side as him. He was a bit taller than her (though most were). She looked up at him from her 5 foot stature while wiping her hands clean on the edges of her apron. ”If you are real about this inquiry, you understand that you would be working under my ownership. There is no man behind the curtain to work for. I own this building. Yes, I said building. I own this shop and the home upstairs. I also own my own farm that supplies the animals for the shop. Do you have a problem with this?” Arms crossed over her chest that showed that she was more muscled than would have been originally thought. Cheza could feel herself getting excited about an assistant, but did not want to allow herself to get her hopes up. Not again.

Sam watched the woman carefully; allowing her variety of emotions to flow as she looked at him – he was aware of the state he was in and could not blame her for hesitating or believing that he was taking the piss. “I arrived recently in a ball of flames; I have no money to pay for new clothes or pay for a room in order to clean myself up. I’m afraid it’s a take me as you see me kind of situation until I find myself some kind of employ.” Sam replied with a small sigh, his tone almost monotonous as he replied to her. ”I mean no offense, I’m not here to joke, I am literally looking for somewhere to work in order to earn some money so that I can get some new clothes and have a wash.”

Looking down at her he listened carefully and raised an eyebrow. ”Why would I care if this shop is owned by you, a man or a pig? I only want work. What kind of backwards world have I landed on where women can’t run a butcher’s shop or own a building?” He asked, genuinely perplexed by this statement from her; there might not have been many butcher’s shops run by women on Earth he had to admit but he had no qualms about who the owner was so long as they were willing to take him on!

”Look my name is Sammael though I prefer to go by Sam. I’ve never been a butcher but I have some skills with a blade that will easily transfer to butchering. I don’t eat and I don’t sleep because my kind have no need for either so I can work round the clock if you wanted. All I ask is enough money to rent a room somewhere so I can have a wash, to buy some new clothes and to supply me with enough cigarettes and whiskey to kill a small country. Sound reasonable?” He asked.

There was a slow blink of disbelief in regards to his reason for looking so mangled. Index finger rubbed her bottom lip repeatedly as Cheza attempted to digest his response. Was this man for real? ”So you have been going around like this,” she said while gesturing to his entire form with a flourish of her hands. ”For how long now? Ugh, okay, never mind…none of my business.” Why could those with a decent background come in for employment? It would have been helpful if a clean cut handsome man would come in. She would have used that in order to attract the local housewives to her shop. Looking at Sam she could see the potential if he didn’t look so ragged.

Cheza couldn’t hold back the laugh as he asked about the absolute need for a man to run the shop. Her tongue pressed the inside of her cheek while trying to not laugh even harder. ”So you didn’t hear those jack wagons out there mocking me?” There was a flicked finger in the direction of the ‘gentlemen’ that had were now long gone. They didn’t know what they were missing. Her product was the best in the entire city. ”I don’t know why anyone would care, but it seems to be an issue. Apparently, if you are a female then your work is not up to par for certain people. My animals are the best, and the skill here is the highest quality. Women can own their business….but needs to be in the correct category. I have not chosen a female aligned career. It is assumed that my reproductive organs effect my ability to wield a blade.” She scratched the back of her neck while looking up at Sam. His attitude was one that could be appreciated. Again, if he was bathed then it was potentially a better face to have around the shop to attract those housewives.

A quick click of her tongue and tilt of her head was her response. Turning on her heel, Cheza waved at him to follow her. ”Look, we can work something out. Follow me. Cat…watch the store.” The black cat in the corner didn’t merely was licking its paws to clean itself as the woman went up the stairs with Sam following. ”I have room and board to let you use while you work here. Use the bathing room…for the love of all the deities.” Again she indicated towards a room that was generous in size. A tub was available that was surrounding by high-quality wood; much more lavish than would be expected. ”There is a room also you can stay in while you work here. Get your own fresh clothes. DO NOT wear those while in the shop since I can’t have you looking like a slob to represent the store.”

Her progress stopped quickly in order to turn around to look up at Sam. ”You need money, and I need workers. This will entail butchering and slaughtering of animals. I do it as humanely as possible. The animals will also need to be transported from the farm to the shop. Depending on the animal they are slaughtered there or here. Sound too difficult to do for you?”

He stood for a moment and cocked his head slightly to one side. "Not sure; I don't sleep so time just sort of molds into one after a while." He replied; that and his watch had smashed on impact so that was a fat lot of good to him in terms of keeping track of time and the passage of days… All he needed was a bath, some whiskey, a cigarette and some clean clothes and he could at least look semi-decent, though no amount of any of that would remove the perpetual look of exhaustion and grief from his eyes… not now… not now that Morta had been taken from him just as their daughter had been. For a brief, flickering moment Sam had begun to glow - his hair had cast away the dank look of needing a wash to reveal the golden locks beneath, he had looked radiant as his washed out blue eyes shone brightly like the clearest sapphires a jeweller might crave… though for the first time the transformation did not reach his wings - no longer did they shine or transform back into the magnificent white wings of old… no they remained charred regardless of the sudden shift of emotions within him. It was gone within a breath and the ragged man remained before Cheza, hoping she would say yes to his offer. 

"I did; it was why I came in. Personally I don't get it; where I'm from it wouldn't have mattered in the slightest but it was their attitudes that drove me inside. I might not look the part at the minute but I can and will do if you take me on - then you can shove it down their throats even more if you like." He added with a shrug. He snorted and for a moment a brief, lopsided smile flickered across his face. "I know some women that would like you very much. They chose 'male aligned careers' themselves; though no one would dare question their ability either I might point out."

Nodding he glanced at the 'cat' in question and made a mental note of it's name… not that that was hard. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Ellie's mocking tones 'Look Sam! Someone else with the same imaginative naming capacity as you!'. As quick as the thoughts of his partner arrived were they dismissed; forced from his mind as the image of her face and that of his dead lover's came back to the forefront of his mind once more… he did not need to remember that, they were gone now and with him out of Earth Ellie would be safe… though he doubted she would be happy - he knew his tenacious partner all too well; she wouldn't rest until she knew what had happened to him… "Gladly." He replied at the instruction to bathe, glad of the distraction from his memories. He watched her carefully as she turned to look at him. "Not even slightly. I don't have much in the way of a reference given I'm not local but where I'm from I'm the former Angel of Death, so let's just say I'm handy with a blade and leave it at that shall we? Oh and I know how to kill quickly and as painlessly as possible so your animals shouldn't feel it.. or at least I can fill them with euphoria before hand so that they feel nothing other than satisfaction anyway." He said with a shrug. "Now if you'll grace me with a little coin ahead of my first working day I'll buy some new clothes; once I've washed and made myself presentable I'll get straight to it if you like?"

She sighed deeply before shaking her head. ”There are free rivers, you know? Could have jump in one to clear off that smell. But hey. Your choices.” Cheza put up her hands as if she were finally giving up on the topic…at least for the moment. The store owner had no options. Literally, she had no other options but to take the man up on his offer to work for her. Her orders were getting too much for one person to take on alone. With limited options, she had limited choices. For a split moment he looked even more distressed than what he had come in as. And for that split moment she felt pity for him. Slightly bad for the way she was speaking, but it went away just as quickly as his expression. Cheza had learned long ago that pity got you nowhere. All it would get you was someone finding a way to screw you out of something you owned.

A quick forced laugh was given in response to his words. At least he was slightly on her side from the sound of it. ”Alright, I get it. You are a justice warrior of sorts. Social justice at least.” Cheza had to admit that he was an interesting personality. There were a few new ones in the city that helped keep her head on straight. She only wondered if it was going to be a more permanent stay or just a passing through type of situation. The woman always made sure not to get attached to anyone or anything. It only ever led to heartache later on.

Cat flicked his tail with a soft meow as if he understood the ‘hand off.’ His eyes watched the pair go up the stairs where Cheza gave a much modified tour. She lifted her hands while standing in the hallway to face him as an answer was given. They were placed on either side of her neck while looking up at him. What did he look like when not covered in all that gunk? Her eyes blinked dramatically as she tried to process his words. ”Woah…you are one of those,” she commented with a heavy distraught sigh. ”Look buddy, don’t bring any of your ‘euphoria’ near my animals. I may be raising them for slaughter, but they are happy beasts. I don’t need some weirdo euphoricing them, if you catch my drift.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as if making her statement more clear. ”If you were an Angel of Death, as you say, then we will keep you more to the butchering half. If you can keep your hands properly to yourself maybe the slaughter. The farm is outside of town.” The red-head left Sam in the hallway by himself while going into her room that was next to his designated one. Returning, she dropped a small pouch full of coin in his hand that she had grabbed and opened. ”Coin to get you presentable in my shop. Take a bath first. Oh! And your wings. Do you have a way to keep them out of the way? They should be cleaned and tended to as well. I know a healer that could possibly help.” She cupped her chin while thinking out loud. ”I think she has an angel friend as well, so could help with your wing healing. I don’t know.”

”Do I look like some sort of tramp?” Sam asked before holding up both hands and sighing deeply. ”You know what… don’t answer that.” He muttered, sighing heavily as he realised that currently he did look like a tramp…
Sam snorted, the edges of his mouth twitching into a smile at the mention of being a ‘social justice warrior’, God help him Ellie would have had a field day if she’d heard someone call him that given everything that had been kicking off back home. But home was a long way away now and he needed to make a new one for himself.

One eyebrow raised and he looked at Cheza in abject horror. ”Not like that!” He exclaimed, waving his hands swiftly in a negative motion as though he could swipe away the words she had just spoken. ”What I meant was I could make it so they didn’t feel any pain! Like being numbed first. By my Father’s name do I really look like the type of person to go poking pigs in private places?!” He asked before groaning inwardly again. ”You know what never mind. Just bring me the animals, I’ll cut their throats clean and swift and cut them into itty bitty pieces to your specifications.” He sighed, rubbing his dirty face with his hands. Today was going to be a long ass day.

”I’ll make myself presentable, don’t you worry.” He sighed. ”Don’t worry about the wings, I’ll deal with them. I’m going to buy some clothes then I’ll get a bath and change, I’ll see you downstairs once I’m done.”
Leaving the shop Sam found himself a clothing store and bought some appropriate outfits despite the looks of disgust on the faces of those within – he honestly could have cared less. Once done he returned to the shop and back to his room where he closed and locked the door. Stripping his clothes and discarding them to one side he found a mirror and stood in front of it, a knife held in one hand as he looked at himself.
He barely recognised himself anymore; the man that looked back at him wasn’t the man he remembered himself being… not anymore. There was no hesitation as he lifted the knife and held it against the joint of his wing, the blade pressed against it as he used his other hand to get hold of his wing, keeping it taut as he moved his hand in one swift motion, gritting his teeth as he began to saw through flesh and bone, blood pouring over his hand and back, making everything warm and wet as he cut his wing from his back.

When he was finally through all of the flesh and bone he tossed the now redundant limb on top of his clothes as his knees gave way beneath him, clinging to the sink in front of him for support though his hands slipped somewhat due to the blood now covering them. Tears flowed down his face and Sam began to laugh sadly. ”What do you think of that old man? Second time I’ve cut these wretched things off to defy you, but I’m not at home now so good luck shoving them back on.” He snarled, the glow returning as his emotions began to flare at the thought of his Father.
After taking a short break he began work on the second wing – it was easier the second time round, his body was numb at this point. It was only as he got into the hot water of the bath that the pain registered once more but he gritted his teeth together and rode it out – he had to. He cleaned off the muck and dust and blood and even took the time to trim his beard into something far more manageable and neat before he left the bath, dried off and wrapped a bandage around his torso to stem the blood from his new wounds.

Throwing on his new clothes he ran his fingers through his hair and snorted; he scrubbed up pretty well he supposed, he wondered if his new employer would be pleased. He bundled his wings and clothes under the bed and made a mental note to dispose of them when Cheza was asleep – she didn’t need to see them, she didn’t need to know. Leaving his room he took one last glance inside to ensure there was no blood left anywhere and he shut the door and went downstairs.

Opening up his arms he did a small spin. ”Acceptable?” He asked.

The butcher wouldn’t allow herself to outwardly smile in reaction to Sam’s light laugh. She wouldn’t admit that it pleased her slightly to know that he still had some joy in him despite what was his exterior. It was clear that he was physically battered, but from the way he talked…it could be told how emotionally he was battered. There was a deep exhaustion to his voice that was not just from the burns across his features. In that split moment of realization Cheza felt pity for him. That quickly went away when he spoke about ‘euphoria’ for her animals before they died. Weirdo. She knew that he didn’t mean it that way, but he was definitely fun to play with. Day in and day out she was bored working on her own. Sam could provide some entertainment in her life that she had been wanting.

Lips were pressed tightly together in attempt to hold back the laughter at his reaction. He appeared genuinely disturbed by her insinuation. This man was far too easy…and that made it even better. Cheza let another heavy sigh before shaking her head at him. ”Whatever you say, Sammy boy. I will be keeping an eye on you. If you are as proficient with a blade as you declare, then you will be useful.” Again, Cheza worked to keep her humor to herself as Sam was more and more mortified at the direction of their conversation. It was when he rubbed his face, she cracked a smile that showed the joy she was feeling.

That smile turned to a frown when he mentioned dealing with his wings. There was concern for what he was planning to do, but she could only hope that it would be some sort of healing. Cheza was familiar with angels since Michael was a regular at the shop for Lady Teu when supplies were needed. His wings were quite impressive, and she always admired them when he came to visit. Attention was brought back to Sam as he turned to leave. She watched his back where the broken wings were mounted in his shoulders. Cheza pushed away the worry before following down the stairs to get back to tending her store front.

Time passed and a few customers had come and gone during Sam’s preening time. Her eyes followed him as he went back up the stairs to take his bath. There was what her imagination put together for what he would look like when all cleaned up. Cheza enjoyed those little images; nothing prepared her though for when the angel came down the stairs. She stopped mid-cut of the steak that was being portioned out as he spun around awaiting approval. No words seemed to want to come out that would be her usual biting self. It wasn’t often that Cheza found herself speechless.

Gaze narrowed at the sight of his empty back. ”What the frak did you do with your wings?” This helped bring words back to her mouth, since she was gob smacked with his new image. ”Did you…are they gone?” There was concern filled in her words. Did he really do that?

Sam eyed the tiny woman out of the corner of his eye; she was going to be bloody trouble, he could see that. In a way she reminded him a little of Ellie, Morta and Lilim all rolled into one, he just couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing… She'd probably be the death of him… through embarrassment at least. 

Goodness only knew if his 'makeover' would meet with his new employers standards… not that he could do much more to make himself presentable - Sam had never exactly been one with any fashion sense, he could cobble together a suit and look half decent but it hadn't exactly been a priority for him. There was a split second of amusement followed by immense satisfaction as Sam realised that he had rendered the feisty woman speechless. Ha! Point one Sammy! He was behind with her so far but he would take this small victory and cling to it for dear sodding life if he had to. 

Ah. That question. Yes. He had hoped to avoid the awkward talk but never mind. "Gone. Not for the first time but hopefully for the last. I'll dispose of them once the shop is closed; I don't want to traumatise anyone with that vision," he replied without emotion. He felt no attachment to his wings (no pun intended), not since the first time he had cut them off, they had been a burden, his Father's way of keeping a hold of His children, but not anymore, he was free of God and all of his ridiculous orders and that was that. "I won't lie to you, just so you know. I don't see the point in starting this relationship based on half-truth's or lies. It hurts, it'll heal," he said with a shrug. 

"So. Will I do as an assistant now?"