The continued race of Micah's heart beat in time with his wings' itching protests, but still he forced himself to lower, the grit crunching beneath him as he sat awkwardly atop it. His tensed shoulders might have welcomed the support of the wall, but his wings were squirming enough without pressing them into ragged stone. He shifted instead to partially face Corinne, squinting to pick more of her shape from the darkness she'd huddled into.

She sighed and turned her face aside. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her rifle resting on them. Her fingers curled more tightly over its handle. "So much for subtlety."

"I can be subtle," he murmured, fumbling for the back of his coat.

"Yours doesn't have a hood."

"Oh." His hand drifted up to the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. "Corinne, I... I'm sorry. About what happened." He swallowed, the prickle of tears returning, their ache creeping down his throat. "It was my fault."

His voice shook. Accepting it as truth was one thing, but admitting it aloud was a whole other feat, and it placed cracks in his resolve. He threw a glance at the house's door flap. It had been more carefully sealed shut since he ventured through it.

Corinne exhaled, but for once it wasn't exasperation that weighted her breath. He jerked back towards her to see her gaze fixed on her knees, her hand dragging over her forehead. "No, it wasn't." Her fingers dug into her hair. It was tangled considerably; he was used to it being far more straight and neat. "I shouldn't have killed him."

"You had no choice." Wavered as the words were, he believed them. If Kasper hadn't died, wouldn't Corinne have been killed in his stead? Claws dug into his heart at the mere thought.

"I did. Not about shooting him, perhaps, but killing him..." Her hand dropped back to her rifle, nails digging into its side. "That was instinct."

Micah might have flinched at the anger in her voice had it not fallen so soft and quiet, vanished within the instant. Guilt. His chest squeezed. His tongue ran over his lips, desperate to grasp any kind of words that might have helped, but he came across nothing.

Witnessing death was bad enough. Causing it carried another, deeper weight he could never imagine.

The thought tumbled into another question, one that tripped out as a whisper before he could stop it. "Why did Kasper want to kill you?"

She met his uncertain stare. Hard and sharp as her gaze was, the fire within it still burned, not enough to chase away its bleakness but still preserving a spark of warmth. Her expression flattened, unreadable. "Why did the angels send you?"

The same question as last night, accompanied by the same twisting thorns. "If I explain," he said, "will you answer me?"

Her chin dipped in a nod.

"Okay." He swallowed, the thorns scratching at his throat. They were sharper this time, armed with the poison of the day's events, the further proof that any faith placed in him was unjustified. His voice came out unsteady. "I lost the Heart. I was playing a game, and I... I took it too far. It slipped through my hands. I was sent to fix my mistake." He rocked his heel back and forth, watching the gravel shift. "But all I've done is make more mistakes."

He pictured Nerezza's doubtful frown, Siofra's pleading gaze. The desperate way Jinx had defended him. They'd all known he couldn't cope with this, that all he'd do was mess things up further. If only he'd tried harder to talk Eike around.

When Corinne didn't fill the silence, he found his tongue wandered onwards. "I'm one of the youngest angels. I don't even remember the times when we used to visit Duine. I guess I... I was never really sure why they needed me." His heels scraped back over the gravel as he drew his knees in, resting his chin on them as he kept his gaze on the ground. "I started causing trouble. I made it my... my thing, you know? My dance with danger, my purpose. But now..." He scrubbed at his eyes, determined to hold back the tears. They only made him more pathetic than he already sounded. "Now I'm just ruining everything. And maybe that's worse than doing nothing at all."

Another beat of quiet. A breath of wind toyed with the rooftops, corners of cloth flapping before the air stilled. He sucked in a hasty breath. Perhaps it was best she didn't respond at all. He wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. "Anyway, there. That's why I'm here. Your turn."

His grin slipped before it could form, too heavy to drag into being, but he turned her way regardless. She was occupied with examining her rifle, so much flickering behind her eyes that it was difficult to tell whether she'd been listening at all. A couple of long seconds ticked by before she lifted her head. That unsettled spark shone in her gaze, that fading hope sliding into uncertainty.

"When we first talked, you asked if I was on Rajan's side," she began. Her tone had become that flat drill again, wavered only by the slightest quiver of hesitancy. "I didn't lie, but I wasn't entirely honest with you, either." Her fingers tapped over her rifle. "I used to work with them."

He stiffened. "You did?"

"Don't worry." Her lips pressed together. "I definitely quit. The fact that they now want me dead might give that away. I think I made Khalida rather angry."

He believed her, but still some part of him squirmed. He tossed a glance at the house. "Do Lilith and Rivo know?"

"They do. They helped me get out of there." Her touch retracted from the rifle as if it burned her. "But anyone who knows my name is aware of exactly what I've done."

Micah almost asked what that was, then bit down on the question. The dark look in her eyes said enough. "Why?" he asked instead.

"Why did I work for them, or why did I leave?"

He chewed at his lip. "Both." They were an equal mystery to him. Every time she spoke the term snake-biters or uttered Rajan's name, stinging venom coated her tongue. How could she have turned from loyalty to such bitter hatred?

And why would someone like Corinne have been loyal in the first place?

She hummed a low note under her breath. "Let's just say I started out young and naive, and then I grew up." Her gaze dropped. "But Khalida's lessons, her morals... they're more difficult to shed. They take control of me sometimes."

In that moment, she truly did look vulnerable. Tangled emotions bleeding into her expression, her eyes a dulled hazel, her knees drawn inwards as she shrank in on herself. She looked so small. So ashamed. A lash of sympathy cut through Micah's chest, deepening into a helpless ache. He nearly reached for her, then withdrew, not confident enough to seize her hand.

"We have this..." He regretted starting the moment he opened his mouth, and snapped it shut, but it was too late. Her head lifted a fraction. Her thread of expectation tugged out the rest. "We have this term for... for certain humans. Demon bloods. The ones with violence in their veins, driven by greed, destined to kill. It's what we used to call the humans that hunted us."

Her sigh cut through the hesitant pause he left, the heels of her palms pressing to her forehead. "Let me guess. You think I'm one of your demon bloods. Just some violent monster." The final word hitched as if caught between her teeth.

"No," he said. It came out quieter than he meant, so he repeated it. "No, I don't. I did at first, but not anymore. Or maybe you are, but..." He sat a little more upright, latching onto the thread of certainty he found, trying to spin it into something that made sense. "But it doesn't work quite the way we thought. You can still change." He grasped to meet her eyes. "You feel guilty about... killing Kasper, right?"

She granted him a flicker of a glance. Her brows drew inward. "I do."

"Then you can't be bad." A warmth spilled through his chest, pulling at his lips in a soft smile. "Maybe we've both made mistakes, but we can change. We can get better. Right?"

He cursed the darkening sky for shadowing Corinne's face. In brighter light, he could have been more sure of the smile he witnessed, tiny and fleeting as it was. At least the pale lantern hung beside Josephine's doorway caught the flecks of light in her eyes. She shifted, smoothing back her hair. "If you say so."

"I do." He leapt to his feet, that comforting heat flooding into his limbs despite the cold nip of the evening air. "Come on. Let's go back inside. That stew might be ready by now."

For a moment, Corinne hesitated, her gaze flicking up and down the street before landing back on him. Then she gave a short nod and rose to her feet, her rifle clipping back onto its strap. She slipped past him without a word, but her head was still bowed, that edge of vulnerability lingering in her slumped shoulders. It was shoved back as she stopped just outside the cloth flap to pull herself straighter, but the sight of it lingered at the forefront of Micah's mind. It might have weighed on him had she not cast him a glance before slipping inside. Twin fires had relit in her gaze. She was strong, and she'd be okay.

And so would he. Summoning a surprisingly easy smile, he followed, hand subconsciously drifting to his chest. Warmth really had bloomed there, more than enough to chase away the shards of ice formerly digging in cracks.

We can get better. He cast his gaze up to the sky, at Elysia so far above those rolling grey clouds. They couldn't see nor hear him now, but he made the promise nonetheless.

He would get better. He'd stop relying on trouble to pull him through. With the humans by his side, he'd find the Heart, and then he could go home with a different goal.

No longer would Micah be a nuisance. When he got home, he'd be someone they could be proud of.

⋄┈┈┈⋄⋄✧♡✧⋄⋄┈┈┈⋄

There's nothing better than a good trauma dump as a bonding exercise :D

And yeah!! Micah's growing!!! I'm so proud of him. Oh and also Corinne has a whole bunch of hidden angst but *sweeps that under the carpet* I'm sure she's fine. Very fine.

Now let's get onto the next chapter so I can finally have my favourite scene--

- Pup