I wouldn't have felt sick if your filthy demon wings weren't out in the first place...!

( Shealtiel steps back a little, and the spear on the floor disappears in a small fade of prismatic light. Within the moment, it's back in his hand, and he's holding it up threateningly like before.

But he's also a little hunched, wiping his mouth and trying not to be sick again. )

I may be the only angel here, and you may not be my assignment, but that won't stop me from putting a stop to your tantrum!