Nearly A Year

Nearly a year.

It had been nearly a year since Dove discovered the truth about cherubuns from Melangel's records. Nearly a year since Altair decided to leave the heavenly meadow in search of...well, that was a question still up for debate. Altair remembered the cries of his friends and family when he announced he would depart to Burrowgatory. Confused and upset, they were forced to watch Altair fall.

The Heavenly Embassy took them in with nothing more than kindness and warmth. It would be a few months before even feel safe enough to talk to a succubun. Matentines had him spooked - never had he seen such a brazen display of lust, and as publically as it was. Not to mention how enforced the idea of purity was, only to be met with a group of buns who hardly lacked the same shame.

But the month came and went with little jubilation on his end, and slowly he would make the move further and further from home to meet the succubuns who visited the heavenly embassy. Interact with them more, and try to understand their lives as he settled into his.

Nearly a year.

Back then, he could not have imagined Burrowgatory would herald in a new holiday to celebrate with their new cherubun friends. Back then, he couldn't have imagined the idea of being friends with anyone who lived in sin. Nor imagine the idea of trying to break through Melangel's ideals. It was so easy to generalize when the fear was instilled from a young age.

Yet, here he stood. In his apartment in the embassy. Sharing wine with the friends he had gained by breaking through the stigma that had him in utter fear mere months before. Decorations adorned in golds and whites. Both succubuns tried their hand at making their own unique garland to hang on the window sill, while Altair had brandished them both with an authentic Cherubmus wreath.

Dimity was his first real friend. A lust bun by nature, Dimity was always silent and soft-spoken. Her intense gaze had shocked him at first, as if she bore right through to his heavenly soul. But he grew to understand that her expression was flat and hardened, and her voice was simultaniously soft and gentle. The bun had to find her own courage to speak with him, and together had bonded over a mutual love of fashion and fabric crafting.

The thought of seeing her eyes shimmering with excitement when she opened up her gift made him giddy, not unlike a baby bun when praised. He'd put in hard work to make a plush doll which reflected her own bun form. Inside was stuffed with dried flower petals from one of the flowers she liked from the greenhouses. A small gift made with love.

Second was Flint. Flint alone was sort of his own anomoly. Their meeting had been less of a conversation, and more them crashing into one another. Flint, like Altair, was enamoured with stars. Perhaps it was a side-effect of his own star motes, but Flint was quite adored them.

Truthfully, Altair had romantic feelings for him locked deep away. Even now he could hear Melangel's sharp tone and the sting of a ruler across his knuckles as they preached of the sin of romance and lust without the intention of procreation. Perhaps one day he could freely express his feelings to Flint, but even then there was no guarentee of reciprocation. The fear of losing his chance to another also became a quick worry. But religious terror gripped his heart tighter than the sinners hands could nurture it.

Regardless, Altair used scraps in order to make a...questionable-looking quilt. Altair hadn't ever worked on something so large, nor on something for so long. While he had hoped to make something beautiful for him, adorned with little star much like Flint's golden star motes, the final results left a lot to be desired.

Hopefully he would like it anyway. Although the truth was that Flint wouldn't say anything to his face even if he didn't like it.

The pair of buns came, toting wine and foods. While Altair was still hesitant on partaking in alcohol, the religious symbolism that came with wine was not lost on him. The drink was poison to cherubuns, but was given cranberry juice to toast alongside Dimity and Flint. Neither made him feel pressured to try a sip or take a drink, and he was forever grateful for it.

The air so heavy with joy and mirth, Altair had long forgotten why they had left the heavenly meadow.

Nearly a year.

As they settled into the night, opening up gifts with joy in their eyes and thankfulness in their hearts, his life felt a little bit warmer for it. Cherubmus, these past few months, they'd been dedicated to bridging a gap between the buns seperated by Melangel. Maybe one day, him and other cherubuns would be able to better speak for their time in hell.

"Merry Cherubmus," Flint with lull softly as he found a spot next to Altair, pulling him into a side hug and out of the thoughts that had been consuming his head since the announcement of the holiday. "You seem to be in a good mood. Hopefully you're thinking about how great we've made this."

Altair smiled, while Dimity rolled her eyes at the comment.

"No, I'm just thinking about how next year will be even better."