Ramblers in the wilderness

NATHANAEL There isn't much that surprises him anymore. Being sucked into a portal was a new experience for him, however, and it isn't exactly one he'd like to repeat. Traveling through is dark, disorienting, and blissfully (or perhaps disconcertingly) brief. Thunderous booms quake the air with every flap of his wings but it was suddenly different. Either the portal or this new land warped it, twisting it and - in some ways - made it more powerful. The sound suddenly throws him off balance, not from any sort of force but rather confusing his sense of direction. A dangerous combination with the unfamiliarity of this strange new world. His flight becomes erratic, flailing limbs and uneven wing strokes nearly sending him gracelessly and unceremoniously into the gnarled dark trees that seemed to be reaching out for him. Only, it didn't just look like the dark tendrils were reaching out for him: they truly were. Unable to react with any level of confidence and efficiency, they latch onto him. The darkness wraps around him, consuming him inch by precious inch. They hold him up, ripping into him like some sort of hellhound. Sharp, like teeth or claws, they pierce his dark and tender flesh; so deep and twisting he's certain they'd scar whatever is left of him when they are done. If they leave anything behind. He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw tight in defiance - refusing to scream or shout. Refusing to let them win. Yet, as quickly as they'd come, they are suddenly gone. Dark shadows disappearing amongst the haunting nearby trees while dropping him like a used toy onto the dark forest floor. Regaining his footing is the least of his concerns. The plan is simple but concise, which inevitably means that it won't be either. But he's relentless, arguably because he has to be. First, he has to track down Miykael and he sure as hell better be here in this godforsaken place. Nathanael had been frozen for a time, staring into the seemingly dead thicket dotted with glowing neon eyes. An almost hesitant voice reaches his ears, ushering him back to the present moment. "What the hell?" he mutters under his breath, the phrase hardly audible and undirected - merely thrown from his lips as an expression of his own disbelief. He'd never admit to being rattled. Never admit that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have a plan this time; that maybe he's lost or that he doesn't have the slightest clue if he can just walk through the portal from this side and end up back to where he'd started. Magic frequently isn't that obvious or simple and his entire mission might be for naught. His entire mission just might blow up in his face and though the thought of never seeing Barakiel again was unsettling, he at least knows that she's in good company. As he turns his head, he finds a graceful form tucked into the shadows. She's a pretty one, of that he has no doubt, and though Bara would urge him into caution, his red-headed twin isn't present to be the angel on his shoulder. Pale grey-blue eyes lock onto her, watching carefully as he nonchalantly snaps his wings open then quietly (and painfully) folds them in. Yet he doesn't fold them they way most wings do, the way Zahra's surely do. Wings and feathers condense, slipping beneath flesh as though into pockets along his spine, and disappear entirely from sight. Well, at least that didn't get warped too. "Hey, you alright?" he asks, his voice warm and deep. Though charming, his mannerisms could be considered less refined; more bad boy than gentleman. More flirtatious ladies man than romantic family man. Even still, the concern hidden behind his question is real. It is his job to save and protect the innocent after all; and he is certain there is more innocence than demon in this golden eyed girl. demons run when a good man goes to war

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