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jla_watchtowerThe sun has long since set of Los Angeles, but the lights of the city keep the night sky suspended in the dusty, navy hues of a perpetual dusk.
The Aerie does not normally house visitors. It's not that they would not be allowed; Zauriel simply prefers to go where he is needed, rather than call others to him. Lately, however, he's been more reluctant to leave his sanctuary. He does not regret the choice that he has made, but it is not lost on him that he may well be trading in millenia of existance for a brief span of a selfish sort of happiness. It takes time to come to terms with that.
The quiet, insistant tone of his wrist-comm startles him out of his contemplation.
"Hello?"
The Aerie does not normally house visitors. It's not that they would not be allowed; Zauriel simply prefers to go where he is needed, rather than call others to him. Lately, however, he's been more reluctant to leave his sanctuary. He does not regret the choice that he has made, but it is not lost on him that he may well be trading in millenia of existance for a brief span of a selfish sort of happiness. It takes time to come to terms with that.
The quiet, insistant tone of his wrist-comm startles him out of his contemplation.
"Hello?"
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