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“And this is the Hall of History. And that silver haired pretty boy, though I use the term boy lightly, mind you, is Ouroboros!”
Medici was tasked with showing the newest Angel of their Lord around, making sure to introduce him to everyone, including Ouroboros unfortunately.
“And why do you use boy lightly?” Leodero looked up at the silver haired man sitting on a perch, painting.
“Because even after serving the Lord together for so long, I'm still not sure the he is actually a he, you know? Especially with ‘his’ refusal to wear proper pants.”
Ouroboros let out a sigh, clearly hearing everything. Putting down his paintbrush, he elegantly jumped off and landed softly on the floor.
“Look, even the way he got off that ledge is feminine!”
Not even sparing a glance at Medici, doing his best to ignore him, just like our Lord told me to. “I am our Lord's Angel of Fate, Ouroboros. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He observed the new Angel, a burly man with thick hair and beard that looks like blue sea weed. “When the time comes, I will be adding your portrait to the murals here.”
“Wind Angel, Leodero. So…” Leodero gave a quick but obvious glance to Medici next to him.
Letting out a sigh, Ouroboros said in an exasperation tinged voice. “Yes, I am a man, and I have always been a man. I even start new life cycles by hatching from an egg to ensure I stay a man.”
“But you could be reborn as a woman right?” Medici chipped in.
The Fate Angel wanted to bash his head open against the wall… or a pillar… or a, no not a mural, he's put too much work into those. “Though it is possible to change genders, that usually happens during uncontrolled reincarnation. Something, I would like to reiterate, I do not do. I am a man.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I'm sure you got a dick between the legs too, right? Come on Windy, we've got more places to be.”
After they left the hall, he went back to the makeshift perch to continue painting.
I am a man- before his thoughts could continue, he heard something break. While stuck in his thoughts, he accidentally snapped the handle of his favourite paintbrush in two. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he reversed the fate of the brush, making it good as new.
~~
“My Lord, I apologize for coming to you about this, but Medici… He has taken to teasing me which is not the problem. The problem is he's making comments regarding my gender, making others question whether I really am a man or not.”
Grisha looked at his third Angel, the one who started following him after Medici. “Ignoring him and not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you bothered by the comments should dissuade him from continuing. Truth be told, I believe he's projecting his own insecurities onto you.”
“Projecting my Lord?” Ouroboros looked up at the Sun god in curiosity.
“Surely you've noticed that Medici can be called rather beautiful in a feminine sense?”
The Angel did not understand what his Lord was trying to say, but he endeavoured to follow His advice and ignore Medici’s comments.
~~
Ouroboros had just returned from fulfilling an assignment his Lord had given him. His only plan now was to curl up on his bed and rest.
He opened his room only to see pink. Somehow every inch of his room was pink, and all of it was the same shade.
“I hope you don't mind, I did a bit of redecorating while you were away. Though you would like the colour.”
Ouroboros took a deep breath, he needed to calm himself down before he ended up destroying the entire wing of the building and angering his Lord. “At least explain why it's all the same shade of pink.”
“Same shade? I don't know what you mean. It's not like I'm girly like you, oh sorry, I meant artistic.” With that last comment, Medici decided to walk away. He could feel the anger bubbling in the Silver Angel, so he considered his prank a win.
Just take a deep breath, in, out, in, out. Remember what the Lord said, Medici is only projecting. Feeling himself calm down a bit, he reversed the fate of the room, getting rid of all the pink.
~~
“And this here is Ouroboros, he likes wearing skirts like a woman.”
~~
“If you ever manage to find out what's between the snakes legs, let me know will ya?”
~~
“You've got soft cheeks like a woman. If you really are a man, why don't you have a more chiseled face like one?”
~~
“I'm back from the human city, and brought gifts! Here you go you snake, I got you some dresses. Apparently the women there love wearing them.”
~~
Ouroboros was on his way to his room to fetch some more art supplies he needed for the new mural when Medici casually strutted by. And Medici, just as he passed Ouroboros fake coughed into his hand, saying “Dickless”.
Ouroboros has had enough. Over the years Medici has continuously questioned his gender, his masculinity, and he has had enough. If he wants proof that I am a man, I'll give him proof.
Striking out with the accuracy of a hunting snake, enhanced by luck, Ouroboros grabbed Medici by his long red hair.
“OW! OW! OW! Let go of my hair you bloody snake!”
Ouroboros ignored him, and continued his walk, dragging Medici along.
“OW! I said let-” before Medici could continue, he was shoved hard into the wall and had a hand wrapped around his throat. Ouroboros has a swiftness to him that Medici did not know about.
“I am not going to let you go. At least not until you understand just how much of a man I am.” With that he continued to drag Medici to his room this time by his collar.
“Hey, wait now! No need for that, Ouroboros! I was just jo-”
The door to the Snake of Mercury’s room slammed shut, and remained closed for quite some time.
~~
Sometime later Sasrir was walking around, looking everywhere for Medici when he saw Ouroboros heading to the garden.
“Ouroboros, do you perhaps know where Medici is?”
Looking at Heaven’s Deputy, he was deciding how to answer. “He's in my bedroom.”
“Okay, thank you.” Just as he turned around, the words ‘my bedroom’ caught up with him. “Wait, why is Medici in your bedroom?”
Ouroboros smirked at Sasrir, quite satisfied with himself. “ I decided to finally prove a point to him, two in fact.” He continued on his walk to the gardens, leaving the Dark Angel to his turbulent thoughts.
Somewhere in a hidden corner, a little crow watched this play out. Quite shocked himself. “ I actually lost the bet?”
~~
Ouroboros was silently watching as Medici scribbled in the sand with his sword, waiting for his men to arrive.
Is that supposed to be us?
The moment the soldiers started arriving, Medici quickly covered the stick-people drawing with his foot. Soon all the soldiers lined up and Ouroboros could finally give them a good luck blessing. He had things to do.
~~
Medici was finally back in his room. He had just returned from his latest hunt and had made sure his army was getting the rest and medical attention they needed, luckily no one was lost. He wanted to take a bath, sharpen his weapons, sleep and see his snake, not necessarily all in that order.
Just as he was going to put his equipment down, he saw a new portrait hanging over his bed. It was him, in all his naked glory, lying on a bed of flowers, pink flowers. In the portrait he was looking up at a man leaning over him, it was Ouroboros. He was also naked, his broad shoulders and thin hips he keeps hidden under his clothes on full display. Ouroboros was beautifully toned, not an ounce of body fat to be seen, but his lower body was covered by black silk, hiding the twin peaks Medici has become oh-so familiar with.
Seeing Medici admiring his latest portrait, Ouroboros snuck behind him and gently placed his hands on the War Angel’s hips, and brought his mouth to his ear placing a phantom of a kiss. “Beautiful isn't it? My rendition of your little doodle in the sand?” He allowed his snake tongue to flicker out, tickling Medici’s cheek like a stray hair.
“Very, too bad I'm not artistic. I wouldn't have hidden you under black silk.”
“Just because our art forms are different -” “What art form? I'm a soldier, a warrior…” Letting out a sigh, Ouroboros hugged Medici from behind.
“The battlefield is your canvas, your sword, your brush and the blood of your enemies, your paint. You are like a conductor, bringing about songs of death through your enemies screams, crafting a beautiful symphony of War. Our art forms are different, but you are no less an artist than I, and I love watching each time you bring a new masterpiece to life.”