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They ranged from pale cyan, like the day at noon, to deep indigo, and every shade between, including those with odd bluish tints not unlike chrome or silver.She held back a flood, swallowing and batting her lilac eyes, but gave a weak smile to each of the clergy as she bowed elegantly before them. They returned the bow and she faded back, behind the first angel.Metos was the last of them and looked used – worn and apathetic. He had blond hair that fell in erratic curls around his face and deep blue eyes that wavered, crossed into mocha as his feet settled on the earth. Red and gold wings towered over him like a blazing frame. He gave each of the humans standing before him a tired nod before sinking back behind the first angel.About all of them fell endless shimmering feathers that spiraled in the wind, around their bare feet, across the cracked marble steps, and up to the decayed temple spires. Their wings were becoming bare and raw in spots, bleeding in others.Sophrosyne whispered. As the crowd cheered wildly, he took his helmet off. Kristen gasped as she saw him. She couldn't help but feel funny looking at the athletic black football player. She was instantly turned on by him. She had never gone to school with a black student, and had only met a few black people in her life. He was quite handsome, and Kristen liked his muscular body. Even with his jersey and pads on, Kristen could clearly see his broad chest, and his legs and arms bulged with muscles."Tyrone Black was the leading rusher in the state of Ohio for the past 4 years! Let's give Tyrone a big welcome to Whitehill!" Everyone cheered wildly, but Kristen just stared.In Whitehill tradition, each cheerleader was randomly assigned a starting player on the football team. That cheerleader would wear his number to all games and would "represent" him. Kristen had been paired with Brett last year, which was how they met and started dating. After the announcement of each pairing, the crowd cheered wildly..
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Weinberg wanted to see me."The door swung open. "Mr. Weinberg is in his office." The man pointedto a half-closed door at the other end of the living room of the suite."In there." He walked past the woman and out into the hall. He waiteduntil she had stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Hetook the "Do Not Disturb" sign out of his jacket pocket and slipped itinto the electronic key slot on the door. Then he strolled towards theelevator. Marley and Weinberg were alone in the suite."Hello." Marley walked cautiously across the room. "Mr. Weinberg?"A raspy voice came through the door in front of her. "Miss Weber?" Yes, sir... Marley Weber." Come in, my dear."She moved to the door, pushed it open, and walked through. "H-Hello, Mr.Weinberg."Arnie Weinberg rose from his chair. He was a heavyset man of some sixty-five years. His grey hair was cut very short, barely longer than hisperpetual two-day beard. His face was as fleshy as the rest of him withbeady gray.

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