There is simply not enough fluff for Baruch and Balthamos. I probably the only person who cheered when Balthamos killed Father Gomez, I love them so much. If I keep thinking of stuff to write, or you have suggestions, I'll keep drabbling on and on and on and on.
Disclaimer: I really don't own much of anything, much less two angels and plot lines.
Whatever you may think, it is possible for us angels to feel cold. Countles times we sat together with our wings around one another, whether to conserve heat or for mutual...affection, I don't know. It was a delicate shell of protection, our security blanket. We were quite convinced that no amount of fur or blankets would ever be the same. The rare times we were apart, which we tried our best to forget, the cold numbed us to our core. With our wingtips against our faces, we awoke sneezing many times.
What I would give to wake up with a sneeze.
I wipe away another tear with an extroadinarily lonely wingtip.
"Baruch, my heart's dear companion, I am so cold and it isn't even night yet."
