When Angels Fall [GXG]

Chapter 21

It's some time after midday when Sofiel hears a knock on the front door, followed by the violent jangle of the doorknob.

The first time it happened when Abigail was out and Sofiel was still mostly bedridden, it had sent her into quite the panic thinking that it was a break-in. What with her being immobile and close to helpless, Sofiel knew there was little to nothing that she could do to fend off a potential intruder. And she had feared the repercussions.

But now, she can barely even spare a blink in the direction of the rattling door.

"You're up and about. That's good," Leah says, in lieu of a greeting, as she shuffles into Abigail's apartment, hefting at her medical kit.

"I heal fast." Sofiel sends her a small, wry smile in turn.

It's the third time this week Leah has dropped by, and Sofiel is more or less familiar with the drill by now.

Sitting herself upright from her languid sprawl across the lounge, Sofiel begins the dreary process of peeling off her jumper while Leah sets herself up a little ways behind her. If she had known to expect Leah today, she would have chosen to wear something like a button-down shirt for easy access. But she supposes it's too late for that, and she'll just have to make do to be careful to not jostle the right side of her body too much.

With her jumper and bra now neatly folded aside, and her top half exposed, bared out to space of Abigail's apartment, Sofiel feels oddly naked.

Vulnerable.

It's strange. Unsettling even.

She has never had a problem with nudity before. After all, modesty is all but a very mortal concept. But with the brand of the stigma and the mutilated stumps of her sin laid out in the open like this — albeit, under the layers of bandages and dressing — she wishes nothing more than to cover herself up with a throw or a pillow.

Shame, is what Sofiel would come to recognise as this ugly hollowness in her chest later. But for now, she's simply grateful that it doesn't take long for Leah to snap on her gloves to begin her routine examination.

Fastidious hands fan across her shoulder blades, working at unfurling the bandages that have been meticulously wrapped over her dressed wounds. Unlike Abigail, Leah's touch is distinctly impersonal — cold and clinical. A testimony to her experience as the Order's medic. It's clear within the first couple seconds of her patching Sofiel up the first time around that she has done this many times before.

Even so, it still doesn't stop Sofiel from wanting to fidget. Anything to get away from the rubbery — foreign — sensation of latex against her flesh.

"What've you been up to today?" Leah inquires in her attempt at small talk.

It's not her strongest suit by far, but at least she's trying. Sofiel will give her that. And she will honestly take anything over the burgeoning silence that is starting to border on awkward.

"Reading." Sofiel gestures to the piles of books littered across the coffee table in tiny hills and mountains.

It's literally all she's been doing all day. Drawing in on the wealth of knowledge from the books, which Abigail has shelved away in a dusty corner of her lounge room, put up solely for the purpose of display and nothing else. She had figured that since she is to be trapped in the lower realm indefinitely with no return, she should might as well start educating herself on the mortal's culture while she can.

And what better way to get herself informed than hitting the books?

No doubt, they have been nothing short of a great source of information to Sofiel. Each one different from the next. She finds herself getting sucked in fairly easily. Transported away to unfamiliar lands, spanning across the various time periods of the mortal realm. She scans through each and every layer of text with much care and attention, ruminating in the thoughts of the writer — the mortal — behind the pages.