(Open)
There are more than several bottles of hard liquor at the bottom of the tree. Up in the tree, cradled in one of the branches is a drunken half angel. He's staring out into space waving the bottle of vodka around not quite able to get it to his mouth. While he isn't looking at anything, in his mind's eye he can see the aliens as they fell under his sword. The fear in their eyes.
The thrill he got as the they died and the ship went crashing down.
He didn't see them. He saw only the aliens from his time. They were attacking him, therefore they had to be destroyed.
They had to be killed.
But when he finished and smelt the scorch of blood on his skin and in his feathers, he felt sick. He wanted to forget it all.
Not having a telepath at hand, he did the next best thing, get completely and utterly drunk.
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