[Raphael, this time, looks less like the bleeding pile of shit she did last time and more like a meditative businesswoman with dry skin who hasn't slept in a while. She is seated Indian-style on the floor of what is obviously a run-down house; her normal illusions of nice drawing rooms and furnished libraries are gone. Forgotten, even. There's a
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When she removed her hand, he lurched forward from shock, catching himself instinctively by grabbing his sister's shoulders, eyes unfocused for a few second as he processed. She had been right; he hadn't understood. He'd tried, but he simply couldn't grasp what she was dealing with, until now.
And he didn't at all know what to do about it. Unlike his sister, he recognized the familial bond, it pained him greatly that one of his most loved siblings was suffering so much, but it wasn't as though he hadn't tried to help before. He wasn't holding back, and frustration and worry were quickly turning to anger. Not at Raphael, but at who had done this in the first place: Lucifer.
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But time was wasting, and even now his presence pressed at her. "Then you understand why I can not stay here."
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"Yes. I do."
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