A bonding experience

The empty-gazed angel, Dezechiel. That’s what he was called back in the day. As an inhabitant of Eden, he would frequently wander God’s gardens. Despite all of their beauty and the iridescent colors flashy enough to kill an epileptic child at sunset, none of these breathtaking scenes moved him in any way, shape or form.

He was simply a tool to fulfill a task. Never thinking about why he was doing the things he should be doing. The concept of simply carrying out his duties was so deeply woven into him he was taken aback when the human pair, Adam and Eve, were exiled from the garden for their disobedience.

Suddenly, he was asking himself ‘why’ about something he shouldn’t think about. Why were both of them led astray? Was that green noodle called Satan really such an influence?

Or was there perhaps another motive?

That was when a Voice from the Sky spoke to him.

“Dezechiel, my child, your thoughts are tainted like the Tree of Knowledge.”

An overwhelming sense of terror overcame him. He fell to his knees, repenting his ways. But the Voice from the Sky sounded relieved. This was the first time this lamb showed interest in anything, after all.

“Dezechiel, what you are seeking is called love. For your sin in thought, here’s how you’ll repent: I will cut your wings, cast you to the ground. Grovel with the mortals, eating and suffering as they do. Only once you find what you’re looking for shall your wings grow back and your sin be forgiven. Until then, you are hereby exiled.”

A harsh punishment. The angel hung his head, accepting the tribunal. His gaze was no longer empty, for now, he had something to seek.

\\

Dezechiel wakes up on the bed. “Ah, I can go back to Heaven!” he rejoices, ready to fly back and rejoin with his peers. The moment he tries to get up though, the chain bound to his hand reminds him of the harsh reality.

“Eeeeeh?!?”

Fantastasia ignores his nasty cry and keeps sipping her porridge. It tastes like shit, but it keeps her waistline the way she wants it.

Naturally, after the Love Potion incident, there was a need to keep the two apart. To her, chaining both of them to the bed was a logical conclusion.

Some legal experts may argue that restricting the freedom of movement of unconsenting individuals is a criminal act, but all law is obsolete until the crime is observed.

With a skewed worldview like that, we begin to understand why Dezechiel quickly dropped most of his attempts to reach Fantastasia’s heart. The few that remained were simply left in place because maybe, some part of him desires to be locked up in the girl’s basement.

What an unangelic thought to have.

Between her ice cold porridge and the angel’s loud protests, she starts hating her situation more and more by the second. After a bit, she snaps, finally storming the room of her tied up friend.

“Fantastasia! What’s the meaning of this??” he questions her actions, sanity, or perhaps both.

“What’s what? I’m simply having you chained to prevent you from assaulting that poor girl,” she casually explains, then takes another spoonful of her meal. With a disgusted expression, she decides it was the last spoonful.

“What are you on about? Assault? We’re engaged!” Deze argues like a child whose parents refuse to let them stay awake past nine.

“Right, what was that she said before the weird pie guy tossed a mind-altering flask at her? ‘No chance in hell I'd ever have any actual interest in you!’ or something?” Just like that, the angel’s argument was shattered and the main antagonist dismissed as some unorthodox baker.

“Aaah, did she say that? My memory must be failing me, haha.” Deze moves from anger straight to denial.

Fantastasia carries a very uncharacteristic frown on her face. “Anyways, are you hungry? I guess you can’t really eat like this.”

Indeed, each of the angel’s limbs is bound to the bed with a thick metal chain. Now that he thinks about it, isn’t that far more than necessary? What’s with this freaky setting?!

Well, regardless, any chance to get fed by Fan-Fan is not to be passed up. Deze nods and the demon girl moves in with the meal.

“Say aaah,” she commands him with a slight blush.

Eh, are we doing it? Right here? Right now? The spoon closes distance faster than a pitbull when it spots a child and becomes unavoidable. Imminent.

Deze parts his lips and Fan-Fan slides the meal inside.

“Zhis iz fukking cold!!” he shouts with a stuffed mouth.

Indeed, the meal was cool enough to warrant a frostbite-driven amputation.

“You know I can’t help it! It just happens naturally!”

“Seriously, can’t you do something about controlling that frost magic of yours?!”

“Can’t you do something about FUCK YOU, that’s what,” Fantastasia snaps. “Aaah, you just need to eat, so this is alright? RIGHT?”

The girl proceeds to pour the rest of the porridge down his throat, holding his head in place with the other hand. The whole scene is oddly reminiscent of a medieval torture method.

Unfortunately for the demon girl, her awareness of human anatomy is rather poor. As someone who mostly reads novels about girls with obscenely large busts and guys so tall and slim you’d need to put a flickering red light on them so planes can spot them at night, she forgot to account for the fact that humans choke if they’re force fed while lying down.

And so, in addition to choking his relationship with his pink-haired friend, Deze also begins choking on oatmeal.

“Hmm? What’s that? Hey, stop doing that,” the girl subtly nudges him with her foot. The spasming angel is far too busy suffocating to appreciate the sentiment though.

“Eh? Ah? Huh? He? Ehe? Ahm?” Fantastasia cluelessly observes her chained up buddy dying before her very eyes, not quite sure how to go about solving the situation. Surely, this is just his way to have her hit him or something. But what if it’s not? What if he’s actually choking? To begin with, isn’t he nearly immortal? Right, but he might not be immortal to choking. But it would be weird to be specifically weak against choking, right? She’s not crazy for thinking like that, is she?

While Fan-Fan ponders the possibilities, Dezechiel has his hands full trying not to die. The girl finally comes to when his attempts begin growing weaker and weaker.

“Ahhh, whatever!” she shouts, jumping on the angel’s chest with all of her weight.
It needs to be said Fantastasia doesn’t weigh too much. Not like she’d admit it even if she did. But any bigger force suddenly impacting someone’s chest would probably do the same.
And so, an unpleasant snapping sound reaches her ears. At the same time, Deze coughs out a couple of oatmeals, a few droplets of blood and all of his remaining desires to be locked up by his pink-haired partner.

While cracking a few ribs to save someone’s life is pretty commonplace, especially with stuff like CPR, the moment we start thinking about how this entire predicament is her fault,

Fantastasia’s fantastastic life-saving improvised Heimlich maneuver suddenly changes to a potential murder attempt and a bodily harm caused by recklessness charge.

With a heavy heart and status of a Schroedinger’s criminal, Fan-Fan decides to leave the task of taking care of Deze to someone slightly more qualified.

\\

Contrary to Fantastasia, Lysterinn does an immaculate job when it comes to taking care of Dezechiel. She cleans up all of the previous mess, prepares a whole new bowl of porridge and does a good job of spoon feeding it. Way to go, wifey!

Though why is it only porridge? Has Fan-Fan gone mad or is this another way of getting back at him?

Deze rolls his eyes. Aaah, it probably has to do with that Leckerkuchen guy. After all, she did end up devouring improper amounts of cake because of him. Maybe he’s the sort of person to defeat his opponents with high cholesterol?

Regardless, this porridge is still a blessing compared to the previous dose. For one, it’s not ice cold!! And it has the most important ingredient any meal can contain!

Love.

Rin-Rin smiles at the tied up angel. Although this is the perfect moment, she doesn’t act one bit lovey-dovey. Sure, she’s as cute as ever, but none of what she has showcased before.

“Ah, you have a bit on your lip,” she points out, then leans in. For some inexplicable reason though, she stops midway and simply wipes the oatmeal piece away.

That’s right. THAT love potion struck Rin-Rin has opted out of the clichéd ‘Ah! You have a bit on your lip!’ comment followed by an unexpected kiss. What could have caused this?

Actually, the reason isn’t all that ‘inexplicable’. A fancy spear with a few colorful keychains hanging from it rests against the girl’s back. The moment she started leaning in, only a slight press of the weapon against her behind was enough to remind her she’s in no position to be lovey-dovey.

Arguably, Fan-Fan’s ice cold gaze piercing her might be an even better indicator. While the spear may only slay the body, that pink-haired psycho is a demon. You know she’ll have a few bones to pick with your soul even AFTER you’ve died.

And so, the whole procedure is rather uneventful. After all is done, Fantastasia makes sure to tie Lysterinn back up before getting ready to go about her day.

“Hey, what about me?!” Deze shouts after her while she’s applying her meticulous skin care routine in the bathroom.

“You stay and guard the apartment,” she retorts without any hesitation.

“How am I supposed to guard the apartment if I’m chained to the fucking bed?!”

“You’ll find a way.”

The truth is Fan-Fan hasn’t thought this thing through one bit. They’ve got a third wheel in the party and she refuses to admit it’s her, so she’s trying to think of a way to get rid of Rin-Rin. 

Legally, if possible, but just in case, she bought a pack of 120 liter trash bags. You never know.

But maybe she just lacks dedication. If she recalls correctly, she read that you’re the one responsible for everything in your life. If Lysterinn has this mindset, maybe it would hold up in a court of law.

On her way to an excavation equipment store, she overhears something interesting.

“National Tournament of Rendentalia, sign up now!” an old granny keeps announcing, handing the people around her pamphlets.

Pff. As if she had time for this. She’s an esteemed traveler, there’s no way…

“30,000 gold coins for the winner!”

Just like that, the sense of pride the girl had just a moment ago has vanished like a father on his way to buy milk.

\\

“Eh?? We’re gonna fight in a tournament?” Dezechiel panics.

“Relax, I’m unchaining you, right? You should take some time to enjoy that,” Fan-Fan smirks, pulling on one of the still attached chains to get back at the angel.

“Alright, fine. But what kind of tournament? Surely, it’s not battling to death…”

“As if,” the pink-haired demon girl chuckles, “Rendentalia isn’t a city-state so barbaric to do that…”

\\

“And so, let us commence this wonderful series of battles to death!” the announcer officially launches the tournament.

Dezechiel and Fantastasia look at each other. “Eeeeh?”