Angel, Stay Tonight

Chuck’s eyes snapped open. He looked around wildly, but not a single soul could be seen.

He was in his bedroom. The curtains were drawn. His blanket was on him. He could not see a single soul nearby. But near his balcony, he could hear whistles; whistles of the wind, passing through his windowsill. Chuck sat up with his fuzzy head; something was wrong and he couldn’t quite place it.

No, not whistles in the wind. Something was passing through the air, and it was fast.

Chuck woke up. He threw off his blanket and rushed to the balcony in his nightgown. He looked down and saw a person twirling in the garden, a rolling kaleidoscope of colours too fast for his eyes to follow. Was he/she an assassin, a fairy, a superhero? Chuck had no idea, only that the person had trespassed onto his grounds and was using it for an impromptu dance show, and that she had particularly long braids.

Wait. Long braids. Long, black braids, trailing from well tied hair between two… ram’s horns?

“Xing’er, is that you?”

The whirling colours slowed. Chuck could now make out her form- she was dressed in a form-fitting chainmail armour, and the tassels in her regalia fluttered merrily around her and her… giant skinning knife on a stick. In the middle of it all, Xing’er lifted her gaze to the balcony and smiled.

Chuck only stared wide-eyed at the weapon in her hand.

It’d been more than eight months since she’d saved him from his car. Since then, Chuck had seen Xing’er fight giant slug monsters and lift a guillotine blade off his neck with her bare hands. But it was at times like  this, when Xing’er whirled a giant halberd like a plastic toy, that Chuck realized just how amazing Xing’er could be.

In Xing’er’s hands, the beautiful crescent polearm seemed to meld into the night, a sheen of silver just fast enough to elude his eyes. Like the moonlight, it skimmed and fluttered past every feature in his garden, passed between branches and crevices with equal grace and dexterity, and whirled effortlessly around her arms, waist, neck and hip. Not once in the blade’s furious movement did it touch or sever anything.

But it was not the Green Dragon Blade that caught Chuck’s attention.

Xing’er’s supple back glistened and shone, a milky surface that glistened like porcelain under the moonlight. Her lean back muscles danced under her skin, and her body flowed liquidly from stance to stance.

As he looked at the dancing dragon below him, Chuck found himself at a loss for words. No, Chuck told himself. His mind was clear- painfully clear- with what he wanted to say, but now that Xing’er was so close to him, he did not want to say it.

One day, Xing’er had changed right behind his sofa, and Chuck- against the best of his judgement and willpower- did something that all men in their prime would do.

He peeked. And he stopped, dead.

Now, Chuck froze on the balcony in the same manner. Xing’er leapt gracefully onto the balcony and twirled to a stop before him, and suddenly Chuck’s speech function began to collapse.

He was nervous.

Xing’er waited, as her face turned ever so slightly toward him.

No, Chuck was captivated.

The smooth sheen of her braided mane, the glitter of mirth in her crystal eyes. The liquid flexibility of her body as she danced, and the elegant pose that she held now...

Chuck was awestruck by the astounding beauty of the girl before him.