Dierella stood in front of the window, silhouetted against the pale morning sky. Her ashen wings—huge, a little boney, the color of smoke and storm clouds—moved in slow, lazy beats, stirring the air just enough to rustle the curtains. She was naked except for the faint shimmer of divine light that clung to her skin like frost… well, and matching black underwear. Her long hair spilled down her back, catching the sun in liquid streaks.
She didn't turn right away. Just kept staring outside, arms loose at her sides.
"Bad stuff are happening, huh?" she muttered, voice soft but carrying that unnatural weight gods always had—like the words were carved into the air itself.
"No shit," I said, rubbing my face with both hands. I swung my legs fully off the bed and planted both palms on the mattress. "Why are you here?"
"To talk." Simple. Flat. She finally glanced back at me—eyes the color of molten lead, unreadable. "Did Mana say anything to you?"
