He must not have noticed his appearance. Pressing close to the brick wall, the simple outline traced by light extended past the windowsill, his nose illuminated by the moonlight, becoming the brightest part of his body. The Angel was tall, but now hunched forward, leaning his body, peering to the other side. A pure and sacred figure had unwittingly assumed the sneaky air of a thief. His two wings flickered dust particles floating in the air, resembling stars hanging from his feathers. His feet stepped on damp stone steps, and seeds growing in the cracks seemed to be sprouting toward his position.
He completely failed to notice, failed to notice the light feathers striking the black-robed Plague Doctor-like figure behind him, nor did he notice my gaze.
