She gasped back to life, coughing away the dirt and dust and mud. Her wings were disheveled, and so was her torn clothing.
An angel canβt die as long as her halo is still whole, not really, not forever. Right now, with how much pain she feels, she thinks it both a blessing and a curse.
She sits up slowly, patting away the grime at her clothes. Her body has regenerated enough seemingly, at least as expected, but her Purpose, her halo and wings, has accumulated more scratches and dents. Bodily harm can be fixed, these are.. Harder to repair, scars of past abuse.
Thinking about these scars and what caused them, what was the latest? She thinks while she attempts to center herself again under the light of the streetlamp, as the tears start accumulating in her eyes and falling to the floor below.
She remembers now, she couldnβt save them, but she also didnβt have anyone to save. Lured by screaming and suffering, that turned out to be the callings of those who only wished to nurture themselves from her divine energy.
And she did, time and time again, providing and providing it, attempting her best to save them, again and again, for that is her purpose, thatβs why she lives, thatβs the one thing she canβt avoid.
For it, she was hurt, used and discarded, and now she sits in a pile of mud, murdered but only briefly, as she wonders what to even do next. Her wings will need some repair, more than bandages and glue can do, her halo has amassed new dents sheβll never forget. But we all know the truth.
Sheβll repeat the same behavior, for thereβs nothing else to do, it is what she is, an unwilling helper and savior, without it sheβs nothing. Itβs a cycle, one sheβll be used for again and again by those she thought were most loving. Thereβs only moving forwards, until your halo breaks.
Right now, she wishes she didnβt have this stupid halo.
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jolene but robot (100% beeps)
the keilar