Can you do a snippit where an angel has just lost their wings
The angel tried to stand - once, twice, three times. Each time they tipped off balance.
How did humans bear it? They felt off balance, like some vital part had been ripped away, overcompensating for something that simply wasn’t there anymore. It had been ripped away, burned away, gone.
Their shoulders hurt. Their spine hurt. Everything hurt.
In the end they simply knelt upon the grass, fingers digging into the earth still wet from recent rain. The angel’s breath came quick and raw and too shallow.
“I’m sorry,” they whispered, head bowed. “Father, I’m sorry. Please.”
They fumbled a hand along their shoulder as if that would somehow magically bring their wings back, soft and fierce and theirs. Perhaps the lack of wings should have made them feel light, insubstantial, but they felt more weighed down than ever before. Graceless in all senses of the word.
A shadow fell over their crumpled form.
The angel looked up, vision blurred with tears.
“Are you alright?” the human asked. Their brow was pinched with concern, eyes uncertain, mouth twisting down. “I - crap-” The human shrugged off their jacket, gaze darting over them. “Put this on, yeah? God.”
“My wings,” the angel said, numbly.
The human’s expression turned more wary but they shrugged the coat over the angel either way.
It took them a moment to realize they were otherwise bare.
The angel swallowed, heart pounding.The angel swallowed, heart pounding. God, they could feel it pounding. Everything about the human form felt intense. Skin seemed a pitifully weak layer of armour. Featherless, they felt exposed. They tugged the jacket tighter around themselves. “…thank you.”
“Can you stand?” the human pressed.
The angel shook their head. Their vision fogged, swelled, doubled.
The human offered them a hand all the same, pulling them up. “Whoa.” Nervously, they caught the angel’s forearms as they stumbled, bracing the angel’s weight. “Easy there.”
“My wings,” the angel said hoarsely. “My wings are gone.”
The human’s wariness was only growing, something odd on their face. They started to pull their hands aback only for the angel to promptly wobble.
Right. Humans. Stop talking about wings.
“Come on,” the human muttered. “We’ve got to get you inside - the demons will make a right meal ticket out of you.”
A cry rose up in the distance.
“Shit.” The human tensed. “Move.”
The angel reached for a grace that didn’t want to come.
They still felt the presence as it stopped at the end of the park.
The human said it first - shit.
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