#fracturedembodiment

                         The mere utterance of the name was enough to send a quiver through the baby Archangel’s gut; the lower of cupid lips trembled, his sharp features contorting in the efforts to maintain his composure; he could not. Instead, he permitted his body to recede until it met the corner of the walls where his legs buckled beneath him. There he sat with knees pressed to his chest, shoulders shuddering with the sheer force of his repressed cries. His hands cupped his face, into which he allowed himself to weep. He’d have been lying if he’d said that even so much as uttering the name frightened him.