Death be not proud || Herbert & Philippe AU
@philippedonadieu
Her recent shift in routines meant that Astraea started spending less and less time on the streets in the morning, but she still takes her increasingly rare moment of early rising to do a healthy jog around the neighbourhood, which always includes a visit to her newfound and favourite bakery and ends with her swinging by her original work place. A modest though popular café in which she was previously employed and known to give the baristas generous tips as a guest.
This morning was no exception, and the weather was far too pleasant that sleeping in would practically be a sin. Finishing her morning route and freshly exiting a small and elegant shop with a small bag of pastries, the goddess of purity traipsed along the bustling streets with a contented and polite grin on her face, eventually making her way to the café a block away from from a metro station which would usually be her passage home.
The café however, was more empty than usual. And instead of the fluttering of customers, something else caught her eye instead. Some other kind of fluttering.
She approached the figure sitting by a single table outside beside a fence, and only chimed in daintily when their gazes connected. “Philippe, is it? We’ve met before,” she smiled, her gaze drifting about as she was evidently distracted by the amount of butterflies that settled themselves on the seated man. Astraea knew he was no mortal, or at least not anymore, but she has yet to figure out the exact identity of the other, and although the butterflies seems to be giving out a direct hint, she can’t help but feel like she’s been led in the wrong direction. “I didn’t expect to see you. I used to work here.” She told him, flashing him another grin. “I hope I didn’t disturb you reading.”
“The butterflies—they are beautiful.” She commented softly under her breath, feeling obligated to address them, given how much they captured her attention.