˜”*°•. Fruitless, vain, trivial, and foolish, the whole family had crossed limits upon limits, wreaking havoc on everything and everyone nonsensically, destroying worlds, tearing each other apart. Harmony, order, sublimity, and beauty all burning for the sake of egotism, of pride and stubbornness -- as if this family hadn’t suffered enough --. Archangels, the children of her brother, ceasing to exist -- and how long had it been since the very last time she’d talked to any of them? --.
Family relationships were complicated, though: interference, second thoughts, help and advice. All combining into an awful need -- loss, deprivation, forfeiture, and waste, her words always ignored, always unheard, always answered back --. And the need for the archangel’s cooperation? simply undeniable. For if ONE solution was to be found, for if peace was to be established, for if something of this wreck of a family could be saved, it’d be inane to step back, abandon it.
But how can one fight stubbornness with stubbornness? Willfulness with willfulness? Arrogance with haughtiness? And yet, despite all this, the words kept ringing in her ears like the tolling of a bell: it was either the archangel, or the world falling apart -- her brother as well --.
❝ This is really not the place, I was expecting to find you. ❞ Words of surprise escaped the female’s lips. Words of disapproval, or maybe curiosity, nervousness.
𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔵 @sanctuhs
