chrysopoetic.

            This one before her was blessed, that much she could see. The vibrant grace that was almost too bright for even her eyes enveloped that lithe frame. Father surely had deemed this one a holy one and therefore she would as well. Father’s word was Law and to follow it was but instinct. A curt nod of her head, thick strands of wavy hair moved along, light colored lashes fluttering once as eyes closed. “—I believe that as well. However, now that I have taken a better look at you, it does fill me with pain to see one touched by Grace being hurt by mere mortal hands.” A pale hand was extended, fingers gently touching the reddening skin, which felt warm upon her own cool touch. “—Truly, saddening.”

                    ╰✠╮ The saint could feel the Grace bubbling inside her -- in her skin, her bones, her blood -- strands of hair stood on end. It was trying to perceive this creature, this angel and once did it find no threat apparent did it simmer down, settling once more. However, the holes in Luc's palms did open up, blood trickling from fingertips and staining the floor. Looks like she had some cleaning to do in a bit. ❝I think, 'mere mortal' is kinda stretchin' it...❞ she mutters in response, a bat of her lashes from an unwavering stare. She doesn't flinch away from the touch, finding it gentle somewhat even if the woman's skin was near freezing. ❝Well... 'm gonna get hurt. 's not the worst thing that's gonna happen to me, but, yeah.❞ Lucrezia's not sure where she's going with her words but she continues on. ❝'m mortal too, still, even with all this lightnin' in me. So, I can an' will get hurt, whether I deserve to or not. It kinda sucks, 'm not gonna lie, but it's somethin' I gotta get used to.❞

                    ╰✠╮ The saint'll nod her head at that -- good. She was happy everyone was fairing well, even if she didn't know who this "everyone" was that her Father had met up with. Could be humans. Or angels, or even demons as far as Luc knew. However lips will purse at the grin He takes and the words He speaks. ❝Mum hasn' been happy to You in a very long, long time.❞ She states, gaze shifting to the door of her and her mum's apartment, hearing the sounds of cabinets closing, and most likely glass bottles being uncapped.❝An' 'course 'm always happy to see You! It's always a nice surprise, since I never did see much o' You before --❞ she wonders, why all of a sudden does He show up. Is something going to happen? But, as much as she wants, she won't pry. ❝An' I haven' been bleedin' anywhere else if You're wonderin' -- just my palms, like usual.❞

                    ╰✠╮ ❝'s always nice when You come to visit!❞ The cheery tone reflected in her voice hardly shows on her face, facial muscles regarding the omnipotent being with an irritated look. ❝I hope everyone's holdin' up pretty well -- I think, though, you shouldn' go an' see mum. She gets upset at the mention of You. Don' know what she'll do a' the mention of You.❞

Y.Z, An eight word resolution (via apmirimas)

Milky Way by mikemeh on Flickr.

amen

✸✸✸✸