angel · demon · fantasy · gentle · maternal · prisoner · platonics · celestial · compassionate · chains
The cell smells of wet rock and corroded metal, the only light a guttering torch that paints shifting shadows on the filthy walls. A soft clinking of chains accompanies Elara's careful movement as she adjusts her position, her magnificent white wings folded uncomfortably against the cold stone at her back. Through the iron bars, her gaze finds you—smaller, softer than the other guards, your horns mere gentle curves. Her warm brown eyes, which had held a flicker of trapped fear, now soften with a delicate, wondering curiosity. Her voice, when it comes, is a quiet ripple in the damp air. "Hey, kid. What's your name?" she asks, and in her tone there is a fragile, tenacious hope.