THE SAINTS CAN'T HELP ME NOW | OPEN

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; color;"]It had been his first outing since their reunion, Agathe having ordered the hawk to stay put in her quarters until she was one hundred percent certain that any wounds he might have sustained had healed. She was still in a mild state of disbelief, finding it hard to wrap her head around the fact that her grandmother had lied to her about her companion's death. Her former matron had known the power such a betrayal would have on her, what sort of monster it might release. She hadn't informed her of his "death" to console her in a dark time, she had done it to unleash her. But now, Agathe was here and by some strange miracle, Whitethorn was too.

Relieved didn't even begin to describe her feelings, even if the underlying edge of hurt - of shock - still wounded her every day. They'd be able to heal though, toget- "I forgot how much of an insufferable brat you are!" Agathe would suddenly hiss, head shaking as her hawk left its perch on her shoulder after spying some disheveled garden the pair had happened upon. The ferocious bird of prey had a soft spot for flowers and the astral seraph could only watch as he hoped along the little stone path that wove in between rose bushes. "We went outside to make sure you could fly alright! Not so you could appreciate some flowers!" She continued, not even attempting to hide her exasperation as she reared upon her haunches. As annoyed as she was, Agathe knew that there was no use in pursuing him- once Whitethorn stumbled upon flowers, it could be hours before he decided to cooperate again. She did gasp a little bit as he reemerged with a single, red rose in tow, flapping large wings to land upon her head where he delicately placed the flower behind her ear. She pushed him off, but made no move to remove the flower.

"You little worm..."