Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
The Angel is looking behind herself as the sea of gourds continues to gain, biting and nipping and making her leap up to keep her heels from becoming prey to the ferocious pumpkins. She doesn't see the other demigoddess until she's almost upon her - and then it is with a squawk of panicked surprise, the girl clutching the pangolins against her chest and closing her eyes as her wings extend behind her. There's a feeling like a summer wind, and both Archangel and pangolins disappear, only to manifest once again on the stranger's other side.
"Mort!" comes a strangled curse as Amalia falls to her side, arms and wings wrapped protectively around the infants she's tried so hard to protect. Somersaulting around and up to her knees, the girl looks up at her unexpected guardian, who has managed to earn the respect (or fear) of the gourds long enough to get them to back up. "Thank you," she gets out between gulps of air. "I - they -" She holds up the pangolins which yawn and flop over, remarkably unphased by this whole misadventure.
"Mort!" comes a strangled curse as Amalia falls to her side, arms and wings wrapped protectively around the infants she's tried so hard to protect. Somersaulting around and up to her knees, the girl looks up at her unexpected guardian, who has managed to earn the respect (or fear) of the gourds long enough to get them to back up. "Thank you," she gets out between gulps of air. "I - they -" She holds up the pangolins which yawn and flop over, remarkably unphased by this whole misadventure.
