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She looked upon the burning wings. Her knees buckled underneath her, sending her softly into the snow. How the flames flickered and fluttered off the tips of the feathers. "He's gone," she whispered; her pale pink fingertips smoothing out the wrinkles and smothering the flames.

Fallen angels. Dressed as a lamb, but heed my warning. That which appears to be the light, will leave you in the dark. Favourite Quote

"It hurts. It hurts to cry, to feel. To love. I had hated the truth, hated that it seemed like a lie. Now all is cleared. All the stories are true."-Nikki Lynn