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The black feather stared back at him from the bottom of his left wing. He’d noticed his wings had been looking a little darker, but they had still been adjacent to white. This one was black; even darker than the night sky. His fingers reached out and gently brushed over the outcast. Strange that it felt the same as his others.
How peculiar.
He rather liked it, but there was no denying that the feather was a bad omen. While not the most observant angel, he’d still noticed the darkening of others’ feathers as well. Other angels had been whispering about him, but he’d heard other names. Names of those he had been spending time with. It had been easy to think that he hadn’t been as radical as the others, that the impending fight wasn’t going to include him. The shiny black feather told him otherwise.
His side had been chosen, which seemed unfair when he hadn’t felt like he’d cast his lot in with either side. Heaven shouldn’t have sides; they should be working together to better everything.
Aziraphale’s whistling proceeded him, and the angel had just enough time to smooth the black feather under the grey ones. He wouldn’t be able to hide it forever but he could now.
“Hello.” Aziraphale flew in front of him and gave him a beatific smile. He didn’t get any of those elsewhere these days.
“Aziraphale.” He couldn’t help his answering smile. It always made the other angel blush and his eyes dart away in a manner that was alluring to him. As always, it worked as intended.
Aziraphale cleared his throat as he looked back at him. “I wanted to warn you, I heard there is trouble brewing.”
Now it was his turn to shift his eyes and as he did, he saw a single feather on Aziraphale’s right wing that looked a little darker than the others.
This was unacceptable. Was this his fault? He’d never seen Aziraphale with Lucifer or the others, his only contact was through him. It was his fault.
“Listen, don’t worry about me.” He wanted to reach out and touch Aziraphale but worried his touch would sully him further. “I think it’s best if you leave me alone. You can’t rush out here every time you hear a bit of gossip.”
He forced himself to keep his eyes on the hurt look that overtook Aziraphale’s face. “I see.”
“Off you go, I’ve got a nebula to construct.”
In the end it had taken forty days for the rest of his–and the others–feathers to turn black. Once they were fully divided into two sides, the real fighting began.