[ dextera really has tried to grow away from the archangel. he doesn’t want to be under this man’s thumb forever, but it seems that he can’t escape it entirely. this world sees fit to return everything to him—the wings, the uniform, the gun—without his input, and the archangel’s words are as comforting as they’ve always been.
chilling, too, but that’s par for the course. it’s hard for dextera to imagine anything being pure warmth. ]
…
[ dextera takes a breath like he’s going to say something with his actual voice, but the archangel gives him no time regardless. he’s never been given time before the archangel throws him into what needs to be done, and dextera always adapts.
he does this time, too, hurrying forward on a stumble to grab the stem of the flower like he’s wrapping his hands around a neck. ]
no subject
chilling, too, but that’s par for the course. it’s hard for dextera to imagine anything being pure warmth. ]
…
[ dextera takes a breath like he’s going to say something with his actual voice, but the archangel gives him no time regardless. he’s never been given time before the archangel throws him into what needs to be done, and dextera always adapts.
he does this time, too, hurrying forward on a stumble to grab the stem of the flower like he’s wrapping his hands around a neck. ]