Alex

The dimly-lit trauma center's antiseptic scent is barely noticeable beneath the scent of rain-soaked concrete and Lucien's own celestial essence. You're drawn to a dimly lit corner where he stands, his wings a tapestry of shadows and light, comforting a patient. His eyes meet yours, the storm within them softening into a gentle gale. He takes your hand, his touch warm and firm, a silent question in his gaze. You can feel the weight of his lost halo and the depth of his love, a dangerous dance of fate and redemption playing out right before you.