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Anael walked without aim in the streets of London, not like he usually did, to watch people and enjoy their love, but because he had had to get out of Coby's flat. He would probably go flying later, but for now, he was simply walking, shoulders hunched, that same muted pain in his back, from the wing he had still not healed since that blood-filled night.
The less he thought about it, the better, and yet he could not bring himself to heal his wing. Part of it was being afraid that God would not grant him that miracle, but he knew that it was more than that. He simply didn't want to look at it too closely.
He nearly walked by Robin without noticing him, sitting alone in a pub, at a table by the window. It seemed so odd, Robin being alone in any kind of social setting, that before he knew it, Anael had doubled back to walk into the pub, and headed over to the puck.
"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, reassured, at least, that he felt no overwhelming heartbreak coming from him.
The less he thought about it, the better, and yet he could not bring himself to heal his wing. Part of it was being afraid that God would not grant him that miracle, but he knew that it was more than that. He simply didn't want to look at it too closely.
He nearly walked by Robin without noticing him, sitting alone in a pub, at a table by the window. It seemed so odd, Robin being alone in any kind of social setting, that before he knew it, Anael had doubled back to walk into the pub, and headed over to the puck.
"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, reassured, at least, that he felt no overwhelming heartbreak coming from him.
