[ He hears the laughter and tries to turn around but isn't fast enough as something catches his wing and-- oh, dear, how had it done that? In a split second, its spectral fingers tear into his celestial personal space and he barely has time to register that a flurry of blood-stained white feathers fall onto the ground.
He manages a thought that those can't be his feathers, that can't be his wing, before the question comes and he realizes he's answering Molly in the form of a very loud and very non-stealthy scream.
He tries to get away at the same time as he commands it with any forcible angelic magic he can currently muster: ]
no subject
He manages a thought that those can't be his feathers, that can't be his wing, before the question comes and he realizes he's answering Molly in the form of a very loud and very non-stealthy scream.
He tries to get away at the same time as he commands it with any forcible angelic magic he can currently muster: ]
STOP!