Amalia
the archangel
She feels him too: how could she not, the deluge of his emotions a familiar chord in her mental space, even this long absent from the song? Here is a man, tending to a fire, a large man, a strong man - and yet beneath the flat colors of the visual, another story is told. He feels like fragments, her behemoth, her rock: tattered and weather-worn, pieces strewn in the wind.
Or maybe, as always, she is feeling herself, projected into him.
It doesn't matter. The moment is broken, and she is again herself, reaching for his outstretched hand, pulling into a hug, tucking herself against him as she so often had before. "I brought Phoebe to see Hotaru," the Angel murmurs into the embrace, happy to hide in it as long as he'll allow, to find brief and selfish respite in the rhythm of his heart. "And I... I wanted to see you. If that's okay."
She pulls back at the last sentence, realizing at last that where she is finding comfort he might see cruelty. Dark, earnest eyes gaze up at him as they have a thousand times before, anxious and ardent, mournful and hopeful, sincere as they glisten with apology and, yes, love.
Or maybe, as always, she is feeling herself, projected into him.
It doesn't matter. The moment is broken, and she is again herself, reaching for his outstretched hand, pulling into a hug, tucking herself against him as she so often had before. "I brought Phoebe to see Hotaru," the Angel murmurs into the embrace, happy to hide in it as long as he'll allow, to find brief and selfish respite in the rhythm of his heart. "And I... I wanted to see you. If that's okay."
She pulls back at the last sentence, realizing at last that where she is finding comfort he might see cruelty. Dark, earnest eyes gaze up at him as they have a thousand times before, anxious and ardent, mournful and hopeful, sincere as they glisten with apology and, yes, love.
become more committed to your dreams
than you are to your comfort zone
than you are to your comfort zone
