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 content to be like this, to be honest. Wrapped up in warm wings – such a strange thing to think of, but she’d never once complain. Amalia is soft and gentle, deerlike in her wariness and quiet fear. The Artificer doesn’t mind, willing to let herself get wrapped up in the demigod without a problem. And when the ‘ahem’ arrives, Sera isn’t at all awkward like Amalia is. She lets the demigod disengage, though the Artificer’s hand still remains on Amalia’s hip when she withdraws and casts a fluttering look to the bartender. “Oh, how lovely, thank you.” She says, turning just enough to peer past him to the gentlemen that had bright the glasses, flashing them a playful smile of thanks.

When she turns back to Amalia, casted in a brilliant light, Sera’s practically beaming when she reaches up to brush Amalia’s hair back from her face. “Oh, I didn’t do anything. It’s what  you did.” She whispers back, withdrawing a fraction from Amalia, to pull up her bag, fishing inside it for a small mirror – because of course Sera keeps a mirror on her. “You’re glowing, you know.” She comments with a soft gaze that rises, pulling out the mirror to angle it toward Amalia and the halo that blossoms above her head, offering light in their dark shadowed corner of the bar.

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