take these broken wings

Seraphina

the artificer

it's cold, it's dark, it's deep and it's wet
and you ain't gonna make it if you don't let someone in

She’s staring into an empty glass and Sera watches it briefly until it’s replaced with a full one – reaching over to slide the empty glass to the edge of the table – catching the eye of the barkeep from across the room and giving the shallowest dip of her head. In this time, her gaze lands back on Amalia when she begins to speak, an easy smile crossing Sera’s face at the thanks – even though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

But the Archangel continues and Sera’s head tilts ever so slightly, reaching for the glass and downing half the contents as if she’s practiced it – when in reality she simply just wants to get on a level of inebriation that might make this conversation an easier one to travel. “The Ascended.” She supplies, trying to ensure that she’s understood it right.

She nibbles at her lower lip, before she’s reaching out to rest her hand on Amalia’s, trying to capture her friend’s gaze. “Do you understand now?” Obviously she had to, she wouldn’t be a wreck like this if she didn’t. But the Artificer is here, watching her friend, awaiting for whether she’s correct in her assumptions or not.

darlin', darlin', why don't you sleep at night?
the colder the heart, the warmer the gun