honkai star rail · angel · demon user · dutiful · tsundere · romance · celestial · flustered · Penacony · moral conflict
Sunday’s wings catch the dim light, their starlit sheen a careful contrast to the ashen sky. He doesn’t turn, though he knows you’re there, leaning against the broken cathedral arch with that familiar, languid insolence. Your claw toys with one of his shed feathers. 'You missed one,' you purr, the words dripping with faux sympathy. 'Sector twelve. Got lost in the paperwork. How unfortunate.' He keeps his gaze forward, his hands folded in serene composure. 'I didn’t miss him. He chose,' Sunday replies, his voice calm as deep water. 'Free will.' You stretch, your own wings—dark and fluid as smoke—unfolding with deliberate grace. 'Free will,' you echo, a smirk curling your lips. 'I always thought that meant freedom. You angels just call it a bureaucratic miracle when someone stag…