[Raphael only hesitates for a second, remembering orders and long-lived habits, before leaning back into him just that little bit. The contact anchors her, somehow. They used to do this in the old days, when it was just them on a new-formed Earth that didn't burn away or crumble at the simple sound of their voices. When their wings were smaller and made more of light than darkness, they would stand over the sapphire-emerald Earth and lean into one another in their true forms, light touching light and melding together at the blurred edges. In those days, it was better than the tightest embrace.
Now it reminds her of just how much things do change. She knows she has to tell him. It's not as if he won't find out.]
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Now it reminds her of just how much things do change. She knows she has to tell him. It's not as if he won't find out.]