Angel Lazarov's Links
Angel crosses his arms, his resting face settling into a frown. "They make Obi very sad," he says first, his tone measured, "but also very happy." His face lights up in a jovial smile, his arms outstretched. "Who am I to say Obi can't be happy?"
Angel laughs ruefully, his brows creased in a pained smile. "I try not to love, you know?" He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair in a way that reeks of anxiety. "Magna very easy to love. Very easy to trust, follow. Not so easy to understand." He sighs deeply, leaning back and looking away. "Not so easy to help," he murmurs.
He's nursing a drink, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass more than he is actually drinking from it. "We like brothers." A faraway look mists over his eyes, giving the impression of reminiscence or rumination. "Were. Once." He throws back the drink. "I hope we can be again."
"Come from Бездна." Angel screws up his face. "Abyss. Hard to understand, sometime, not talk like person." A ghost of a memory flits over his face. "Talk like demon." He shakes himself out of it with a tentative smile. "But is friend, yes? Voidtouched not so bad."
Dominion rolls her eyes, stuffing her face with the last remnants of the doughnut in front of her. "Mortal," she huffs with a mouthful of crumbs. "Nezha makes me spend so much time with mortals. They're all the same to me." Beneath her veneer of apathy, you can almost catch a twinkle of insecurity.