They suck us dry until there's nothing left...
It's not like there aren't demons outside of Chicago. Of course, there are. Why else would there be a sad lack of Archangels in the area if there weren't demons prowling every inch of the world? And not every demon is as inclined as some to want to explore the wonders of the Rift. Some have their own empires to build- some already have empires ( Read more... )
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It appears that she can rest for about three days tops, and that was with going to the training room every day and punching something several times.
She needs fresh air, she needs to run around a little and get a proper look at Chicago…
It’s on her way out that she spots Natasha and her glance immediately skips over her… before sliding back as a slightly confused half frown appears on Aria’s face.
She’s been to ports before… has seen waifs staring in a slightly broken way up into the air but this…
This one is special for some reason that she can’t quite place.
Aria makes her decision.
She stomps over to the girl and tries a reassuring smile “Hello?”
She’s curios and somewhere deep inside a little scared…
Because that’s the look her father used to wear constantly, her fallen angel of a father...
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"Hi," she says softly. Even in that one word, you can hear the unrefined Cajun dialect she hasn't been able to shed for decades.
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There are several reasons being highlighted right now as to why Aria prefers to get angry when unsure.
"Yeah, I'm Aria, are you a basement resident?" A human, she can leave if this person is just a human or a wanderer...
Except she can't, because this woman reminds her of both of her parents after her father left.
And considering what happened to both of her parents Aria is not going to let herself just run off.
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Luther didn't exactly have specifics. He just told her to stake out the Conrad- the angels there pick up strays and she's bound to be picked up too if she just waits long enough. Or something like that.
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It's really a bad time to let his mind wander, especially after recently speaking with another angel of vengeance, but Ianto isn't here.
So Robin's leaning against a desk, scanning the crowd, absently, when his gaze falls on her, the not real doll. She's different. It's what initially grabs his attention. She's different and she's absolutely beautiful if not... something. There is another factor about her that he can't quite put into words. Magical, maybe, seems to be closest. Mysterious, magical... and not quite... real, that's it.
A fantasy.
And it looks as if she's alone, but still performing almost. For someone.
Robin shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself as he heads toward her. Really. When have you ever been known to get so philosophical? You think a woman's pretty you say hello and turn on the charm. Don't try to figure out why. Honestly."You ( ... )
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That's the answer that's on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bring herself to say it. He can probably see it in her eyes if there's anything left to see in them.
"Oh I'm fine," she lies in her cute, innocent little Cajun drawl, because she can now and it doesn't hurt at all- well, maybe a little, but she's not sure if that's leftover from the angel part of her or if she just feels bad lying to people. "A little... Lost, I guess."
In more ways than one, obviously.
"I was told to come here, but I wasn't really told what to do when I got here, so it's... A bit overwhelmin'."
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He's always expressive, but he's, also, in control of just what those expressions are. Even if they don't meet with how he's feeling.
Robin flashes her his most charming smile settles himself on to the armrest of the seat cross from her. Not really sitting on it, more like leaning.
"Why were you told to come here?" His tone is light, but he imagines that they both know how many depths exist in it. "Someone recommend the hotel to you? It is very good if I say so myself, not that I spend much time in one of the rooms, but..."
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"I hear it's a good place for... Strays," she adds, her tone a little bit softer.
That's what Luther always said. 'Brando and his strays.' Somehow he was convinced that Brando would have accepted her with open arms if she came here to plead for sanctuary, but Brando's dead and things are a bit different.
"People who have nowhere else to go," she elaborates and then, once again, adds in a whisper, "Angels."
She's still got some of her senses, you see. Not enough to tell what someone is, but enough to tell what someone isn't, and she knows he isn't human.
She doesn't rightly care if he's something that could hurt her. He's handsome and nice, and she's stopped caring about those things a long time ago.
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