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

The continued touch is given, Sera as always, is happy to offer whatever she can for Amalia’s comfort, her wellbeing – any demigod, for that matter – but it is Amalia that her focus is on in this moment, that the warmth and protection of the wing around her supplies comfort. She meets dark eyes when she looks down, light flickering along the faces of the two of them, and Sera watches the flowers bloom in the  Archangel’s hair.

Oh, oh, oh, but she doesn’t miss that look. She smiles, something bright and vibrant, soothing Amalia’s worries as she squeezes her hand and slips her other hand back around the other woman. “Here, let’s help get the taste of that ascended off your lips, hm?” It’s a whisper, aimed for Amalia only – but in the crux of wings and feathers and the two of them in a corner by themselves, well, Sera isn’t too careful.

So it’s with that, that the Artificer leans in, soft and gentle at first to ensure it’s what the other woman wants, before she presses her lips to Amalia’s in a gentle, soft kiss, supplanting Amalia with the memory of warm lips and bodies, of just how wrong and mechanical the Ascended were.

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