(Untitled)

[one_of_heaven]

Hmmmmmmm. When you tou~ch them, the little things bleed.

...oops.

private unto Brocklehurst, Joshua :: warded :: cursed

It bore no fruit. It bore no number. And the blood's gone wrong, all wrong. Sticky, sti~cky, just like tur~pen~tine.

You took your time to paint them gone ~ ♥ ~ can't we have kept them...?

[ooc: in which too much failed

Comments

[browning_baby]

Then you're touching them too hard.

[one_of_heaven]

The Lady disapproves...?

[browning_baby]

Just an observation, angel boy.

[one_of_heaven]

Angel Lord --

[one_of_heaven]

-- Rosiel.

[browning_baby]

Lord Rosiel.

[one_of_heaven]

Pretty lips, prettier words ~

~ lis~te~ning.

[ooc: flattery always works. ._.v!]

[browning_baby]

Why thank you, Lord Rosiel. Such high praise.

[one_of_heaven]

Oh, bless.

You've bid attention. Whatever for...?

[browning_baby]

I was just commenting, Lord Rosiel. The little fuzzballs aren't that bad, really.

Perhaps a favor, thought? Just to satisfy my curiosity...

[one_of_heaven]

...by all means and whims, then.

Let it never be said that God's chosen do not listen.

[browning_baby]

One time, I'd love to see your wings. Or even touch them. I've met a lot in my life, but never an angel.

[one_of_heaven]

You know not what you ask.

There are others, here, Atziluth born. Some, bred. Most, brought upon by war.

They'll have things for your touch - and fairer.

[browning_baby]

Why send me elsewhere? Fairer isn't really my thing.

[one_of_heaven]

I've my reasons, woman.

Angelic wings require the aura of he to summon them, this you understand - surely. Mine are presently undone. Draw your own conclusions.

[browning_baby]

Fair enough.