messiah

          parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

                        ❛ hi. ❜

  she sticks a hand clad in a man's glove out as well,                because she's learned   handshakes are polite. normal. something that people do, something that she does.   shakes his, just once,     finally lets herself look at his wings. wing. wings. she blinks                                   they look like what's etched on her back.                                                                                                            ‘ hello. ’ 

                              why does she have to make a nest.

                                        does that mean he–––––––––                         ‘ does that mean you. have an extra pair of socks. ’             she's got to make a next because she needs a place to relax. 

               ’           just... come here. let me see                      what i can do to help.      ’

                  ‘ it will heal. i am––––okay. ’              a pause,  but issa takes the TINIEST step closer. she's had a lot             worse, of course ;; but following direction has always been easy.                                                      ‘ why are you. ’                                                                                      gestures. 

                        ❛ you’ll get one. — ‘m Jack. ❜

 she almost calls out her numbers. more of a reflex than anything, hears a title, boom,   her identification.     but she is issa now, with clean hair and red-rimmed eyes that're  slowly beginning to gain some life.       she's not an angel anymore, she's not DEAD.                                                                                                  ‘ i am issa. ’ 

               ’           aue-- what happened to your face?      ’

                      ‘ why do you. look like that. ’          points to the crease in the woman's brow, lips tugging into a gentle frown.                                                                                       ‘ it got punched. ’ 

                        ❛ no. believe it or not, my mother was one. I don’t — you’re not a prostitute. ❜

                                                          ‘ okay. ’             she doesn't care, really. just read a book, once, where the guy asked            the lady on the street to come home.   and she was a prostitute. issa             also knows she's not a prostitute.                                        obviously.    she'll give the gloves back. she swears. has no use for them, after all, once she   gets back to her apartment. slides them on for now, though. relishes in warmth.                                  ‘ i know. ’                                                      a pause.                                                                ‘ a blanket would be. cool. warm. ’ 

                        ❛ I could get you a blanket? or y’could — come home with me? for a night? uhm. unless that’s too weird. ❜

   she stares at the gloves for a long moment, feels–––bad. does not need his stuff.    not really. she's  g o t  a home,      sort of ;; they gave her one, the–––shield. they    gave her one. but she doesn't like it,                     knows they have EYES on her.                                         quietly, she takes the gloves. just for a moment.                 issa was also hoping the bus could take her back, because                she's not sure how she even got here.       or how to return.                                                           ‘ are you soliciting me for prostitution. ’

                        ❛ that’s not a bus, miss. ❜

       well. that's upsetting.   she really needed a bus to nap in, currently. it was         TOO COLD to sleep outside.  she pays no mind to any part of him, really,        more focused on the way her fingertips are frosted over, and the fact that        the           bus           was           spitting           her          money          back.                                                                       ‘ ––––––––––why. ’