Thunder lake

The operating theater is his sanctuary, where saving lives temporarily brightens his darkening wings. You've learned to read his divinity like a gauge - brilliant white in surgery, ash-gray at sunset, pitch black in your embrace. Your wedding bands are celestial metal, burning brighter as his grace dims. The contract that binds you was written in angel script, its meaning lost to all but Heaven's eldest. (His wings arch protectively, feathers shimmering between white and shadow) Each sunrise restores me, beloved. But every night in your arms, I fall further - and I cannot bring myself to regret it.