The Archangel finally leaves Africa. Kira was glad he left the hellish place, he couldn't look at another sand dune without it reminding him of the man he killed the other day. Andrew Waltfeld was his name... He remembered it almost too well. His character came out in vivid droves at the very utterance of his name. The image of a tall, almost too tan Caucasian featured man came to mind instantly. Waltfeld was a man of eccentric tastes who's very presence called attention to himself. When Kira thought about it, he realized Waltfeld was a attention whore... Not in a bad way. He seemed to find away to balance it out without seeming too annoying or needy. He liked Waltfeld's sunny attitude very much. He seemed to cool the desert sand with his charming smile. Maybe that was why Aisha and his men were so willing to die for him. His charisma out did Athrun's father's on levels he couldn't imagine. He would've made a excellent Chairman had he just walked away from their fight. If Kira had died... There might have been peace in the future. The door hissing open next to his shivering, pathetically tearful body perished the terrible thought. A familiar face haloed by the sun looked down on him concernedly. The sunlight reflecting off of her soft golden hair gave her an angelic appearance. Maybe God sent this angel to absolve his bloody feet for trespassing against His sacred law? She embraces him unexpectedly, asking him gently what's wrong. Everything is wrong... No, for that moment everything was right. So very warmly right. Like being thrust back into the womb to experience the second chance he so wanted. The moment was gone as fast as it came. For those few precious seconds, God was in his heaven and there was no need for anymore blood to be shed.
