When Angels Fall [GXG]

Chapter 18

The first thing that Sofiel notices upon awakening is the sweet fragrance of blooming wild-flowers and sunshine. 

A familiar scent that she knows intimately by heart at this point. It's soothing. Calming. It wafts over her like a salve over her soul, gently easing away the tension in her body with every inhale and exhale. For a brief moment, she feels like she's drifting through the skies, floating amid the clouds, boneless and light.

It would have been so easy for Sofiel to slip right back into another empty dreamscape, but the ghost of a touch against her skin — the flitter of slender fingers along the curve of her cheek — is proving to be too distracting. So, it's with a quiet sigh that Sofiel finally decides to flutter her eyes open, taking a chance upon her waking reality.

And she isn't the least bit surprised to see clear blue eyes twinkling fondly back her, a soft almost serene smile on full lips.

"You're awake," Abigail breathes, relieved. Resting the length of her palm against the side of Sofiel's face, she cradles her tenderly — as she's done so many times before.

Sofiel watches as sunlight lapses through the slats of the blinds behind Abigail, painting the room in the soft, natural tones of yellow and gold. There's a certain beauty in the way it catches in Abigail's flaxen hair, dapples along the high arch of her cheeks and pools in her eyes, lighting them up to a dazzling sky-blue.

She's beautiful, Sofiel catches herself thinking. A stray thought that has been flittering in and out of her mind lately.

Between that, and the way Abigail is lying right next to her on the crammed bed they've been sharing over the months — their faces merely inches apart from one another, and her hand, warm against Sofiel's cheek — it feels like any ordinary morning to Sofiel.

But she knows better. The memories of the day before had rushed at her like a flood upon awakening.

Her second fall.

The excruciating purification ritual. The titbits of conversations.

Sofiel remembers them all in crystal-clear clarity.

"You're a templar," she rasps, her voice having rusted over from sleep.

It's less of a question and more of a statement. And soon as the words leave Sofiel's mouth, the thumb that has been idly tracing over her cheek stills.

Ever so gingerly, Abigail draws her hand away.

"I am," she admits quietly, her lip worried between her teeth. The expression on her face is one that is crossed between guilt and sheepish embarrassment, and Sofiel wants nothing more than to laugh and cry all at the same time.

But she does none of that. Instead, she lets out a slow, quivering breath. "You lied to me."

Abigail's blue eyes turn unexpectedly round and wide at that. The very picture of innocence.

"I've never lied — "

"Back then, you said you didn't reach out to me because I was an angel," Sofiel points out sardonically and instantly, Abigail's mouth snaps shut. "You lied."

Her soft features are marred with hard lines, her brows pinched, eyes avoidant, and her lips are pursed tight into a deep frown. It's a look of quiet admission, that much Sofiel recognises. And something in her chest twists at the sight of it. She feels oddly winded, like she's been gutted, ploughed into by a truck at full speed, and it knocks the air out of her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

It hurts.

A sad, humourless laugh bubbles past Sofiel's lips, and as her eyes darken rapidly, she can feel the stigma prickling at her flesh like a threat.