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WESSEX. 8TH CENTURY AD.
“I want a new ring,” the archangel said, looking down at his fingers, which were sadly bare, except for one single ring on his right middle finger, a snake biting its own tail.
“Why?” asked Zira, who was walking around the market by his side.
“Because I like rings, but I only have this one,” Raphael pointed it at the demon, “I’d like to have more.”
Zira nodded, then looked around, looking for something. Raphael was about to ask what when Zira said, “I think they’re selling rings over there.” He pointed to a bunch of stands in front of them. “Come on.”
Raphael followed him, as they kept strolling mindlessly, looking here and there.
“Looking for something specific?” the demon asked.
“Something meaningful,” Raphael nodded, decisively. “Like this one.” He moved his finger meaningfully.
“What does that mean to you?” Zira sounded genuinely interested, like every time they had met each other and talked about anything. Raphael couldn’t help but feel flattered. He really enjoyed the demon’s company, and he was glad the feeling was mutual.
“Ouroboros, the cyclic nature of the universe: creation and destruction. It’s fascinating. And it’s... ineffable, you could say?” he added, smiling, repeating the words Zira had said to him centuries before. The demon mirrored his expression. Then the archangel touched the pin on his chest instinctively. His Caduceus. “Also, I guess you could say I like snakes, I don’t know why, they’ve always fascinated me.”
“So you have two snake jewels, do you want a third one?”
“Oh no, I was thinking something different,” he said, looking through all the rings displayed on the tables around them.
“Like what?” Zira started looking around as well.
“Mh, I don’t know, something simple, maybe.”
“Simple but meaningful, then,” he said, like someone who’s taking note on what to search for.
“Exactly.” Raphael smiled at him. Then he was distracted by something behind him. “Oh! Look at these!”
He moved closer to the stand, which was filled with iron rings with colorful stones, varying from pink to yellow to purple and more.
“Sapphire, sir,” the seller informed him, from behind the table.
“They’re beautiful,” the archangel said, brushing his fingers on the stones, careful not to ruin them.
“Each color represents something,” the man added. Raphael looked at him, beaming, probably looking like an excited little kid.
“Oh,” he glanced at Zira, who was looking at him, then back at the merchant. “What about the blue one?”
“Heavenly blue, sir,” he explained, “celestial hope and faith.”
Raphael heard Zira trying to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Oh, really?” the archangel smiled, trying not to cackle as well.
“Yes, sir. It brings protection, good fortune, and spiritual insight. It’s a symbol of power and strength, as well as kindness and wise judgement.”
“Sounds fitting,” the demon stated, “what do you think? Meaningful enough?”
“Definitely.”
“Then we’re buying it.” Zira started talking about the price with the seller and handed him a few coins. Raphael could feel himself blush. Then he noticed something, right as Zira moved his hand to pay the man and his sleeve lifted a bit, enough for Raphael to catch a glimpse of a black feather. He was about to ask about it, but Zira looked down at his bare wrist, and immediately covered it again with his shirt. Raphael decided against inquiring. Maybe another time.
“May I?” the demon asked, interrupting the archangel’s train of thought, holding out his hand.
“Oh, please,” Raphael smiled, and held out his left hand. Zira put the ring on his index.
The gesture was so tender that the archangel felt like he could melt on the spot. They resumed their walk.
“Why the blue one?” Zira asked.
“You heard what the seller said-”
“No, I mean, why did you ask about the blue one in the first place?”
“Uh,” Raphael blushed again, he was sure he was blushing again, “it’s silly,” he shook his head, looking away.
“Oh, come on,” the demon insisted, now probably more curious given the archangel’s reaction.
“Well, I simply remembered how you told me blue is your favourite color, and…” he trailed off, recalling the conversation happened the previous year, and looked at the demon, who was smiling a bit too smugly. “It’s a pretty colour, is what I’m saying.”
“Mhmh,” the demon teased, but before Raphael could protest he added, “well, it suits you.”
Raphael smiled. “You think?”
“Definitely.”