At the offer of my hand and the thin smile that plays of my lips, a bolt of joy rockets through her being.
The girls heart is an unusual one at best, filled with dreams of dancing and dining long into the dark expanse of twilight, decked in fancy clothing and surrounded by figures who sharp teeth glint under the slowly dying light of the moon. It is a dream long formulated in the back of her mind, crystal clear and gleaming with passion. Her dream envisions herself older, perhaps by ten years or so, dancing in a sparkling red dress that floats around her like blood spilling into water as she waltzes her way across the marble flooring of what must be a palace. Alarmingly, it is not another angel she dances with, or even an elf. The person who she is dancing with... I almost take an involuntary step back. Its me.
Just who on earth is this angel?
