and look for the stars as the sun goes down
each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
And so he comes, the angel of mercy with his tarnished halo and broken wings, carried on a dangerous sea-slick breeze. He stands above her on the bluffs and Amalia is reminded of an image an Outlander brought from his world: Justice as an angel, hooded and blinded, holding scale and sword.
Remi is not an angel, and neither is the Shield. They are each of them a little more than human, a little less than gods, becoming people they do not recognize as the world continues to turn.
His voice is a blade cutting through her reverie. "Neither do I," she calls back flatly, not knowing if her voice will carry but knowing he will know. Her arms wrap tight around her chest, a mirror of his stance, and she stares with face uplifted toward him, waiting for his descent.
Remi is not an angel, and neither is the Shield. They are each of them a little more than human, a little less than gods, becoming people they do not recognize as the world continues to turn.
His voice is a blade cutting through her reverie. "Neither do I," she calls back flatly, not knowing if her voice will carry but knowing he will know. Her arms wrap tight around her chest, a mirror of his stance, and she stares with face uplifted toward him, waiting for his descent.
Amalia
