i used to be quite resilient, gain no strength from counting the beads on a rosary

[afallenstar]

It's so easy to run, when it comes down to it. A day here, a week there; the stops barely feel like a blip on Anna's radar. The stops don't compare to a millenia, and at any rate it's pretty easy to avoid boredom when you've got Heavenly hound dogs on your tail.

There's no need to rent the motel, but she does it all the same. Small acts that almost pass for human, they're what keep her going now. Eating at a diner, walking home, making a phone call, they're all small little echoes of the life that she once had, and though they're unnecessary it's the little gestures and nods to the lost humanity that keep her from giving up. After all, she Fell for a reason, she tore out her Grace that day not because of a hatred for the Host, not because of the absent Father or the disdain for the pearly white gates, but because of everything surrounding her. Perhaps not quite dank smells and itchy blankets, but the sentiment remains the same.

That doesn't mean it surprises her though, when the sparks suddenly erupt to the left of her. On the contrary, it's almost expected. One doesn't simply escape Heaven, she knows this, which is why she doesn't immediately run again. Instead she stands, turns to her side to look into the eyes of the angel who just earned themselves a promotion - and the wry smile instantly dies on her lips.

This isn't what she's expecting, at all.

Comments

[socius]

To be fair. She was aiming a little ... not here. And certainly not within her own self's presence. That was a bit more than a bit of a cock up on her part.

But she's tired. So tired, torn and battered and still so dad-damned determined. Blinded by that determination, really. So when she lands in a crack electricity, wings fanning out in an attempt to steady herself, eyes drawing up to the immediate presence of another Seraph-- you can't blame her for being a little underwhelmed. It's not someone to worry about (in the scheme of things), at least.

"Crap. Not far enough." There's a table there, a closet door or maybe a counter. Something she can lean a hand against to steady herself. To keep herself upright. She doesn't remember this. Or she does- but they're fresh memories. Angels know their Time Travel. How off limits it is.