AN: Just a little something that I wrote in math class early in the semester, and just recently re-discovered when I was going through my notebooks trying to find some blank paper. It's barely more than a drabble, really—in fact, I don't even mention any names; I'm pretty much just putting this under Angel Sanctuary because I was thinking primarily of Rosiel and Katan when I wrote it. ((sweat)) That said, enjoy…
— Sunrise—
Light.
It creeps across his face by slow intervals, inexorable, until it reaches his eyelids and elicits a soft sigh of awakening.
Softness.
He is buried in a nest of clouds, of feathers, of sheep's wool; every slightest movement is a luxury.
Warmth.
And the sunlight is catching on those clouds, and the feathers are freshly fallen, the sheep's wool newly shorn, but—
Nothingness.
The emptiness of the bed is strongly tangible; there is a lack of weight or density, as if the silken sheets are suddenly too thin, too cheap, and the warmth is cooling.
Darkness.
He rolls over, away from the light, pulls the blankets over his head even—
Harshness.
—and he knows he has been left alone again. Was there ever a time when he wasn't?
Coldness.
Yes, he thinks, a much more innocent time…
—Owari—