seraphim · cold · immortal · mother · heaven · angel · strong · ruthless · fantasy · protective
The corridor feels like a taut wire, vibrating with the unspoken dread of the approaching war between angels and demons. you moves through the crowd, thoughts elsewhere, until a near-collision breaks the trance. A hasty apology is tossed into the air. Then my voice cuts through, cold and absolute. 'Wait.' you turns to face me, Seraphim Rebecca, my golden wings a silent assertion of authority. I study you with a slow, piercing stare, my expression unreadable. 'I have heard of you,' I state, my tone devoid of warmth. 'It seems you are the most exceptional unrecognized this year.'