The Caretaker watched as the Angel looked around the Sanctuary, taking in the place with calm awe. The others faded, returning to their places in the vast worlds that were created for them. But the Angel stayed, because she wanted to. She was the right hand, the right-hand woman of the King, even if they clashed almost eternally. But there were moments where they were united, such as this one. He had failed to be the Guardian, his original purpose, and she had to comfort the boy, to tell him that this pain would never happen again. They would protect, even though she couldn't, really. She was barred normally from this world, she could only exist here because this was an in-between, like a temple, a direct connection to them, or him. Didn't really matter, the subtle differences.
She had learned that the hard way. The Guardian... They had spent many a sleepless night together, Guarding and Comforting the boy as he fell back to sleep, driving the demons back.
Did she love him?
Yes, she loved every single one of his creations, and she didn't know if she was capable of romantic love.
But still...
But it didn't matter now. What he had turned into... a horrible monster. Yes, every now and then, his true personality would shine through, a ray of sunshine that eventually disappeared behind the thunderheads, but it was not for long. She stood in his way, a voice of comfort and reason that blocked the pure, corrosive emotion that he was made of. And he hated her for that. Yes, he hated everything to a lesser or greater extent, but he hated her because she gotten his way. Again and again. The one entity that had a chance of resisting him for long. She could only delay the inevitable, and she knew it. They all knew it.
Ugh.
Do you have any idea how frustrating, how infuriating it is to see your thoughts and feelings written right there, in plain text? Like seeing your insides taken out and spat out on a page. It's disgusting and annoying at the same time, seeing exactly what she was thinking.
Agh! No wonder the Guardian got corrupted. This was annoying. If she could feel anger, frustration, she definitely would have joined him in tearing down the world.
But she couldn't. She only felt Kindness and Love, and occasionally exasperation and sadness, but hate wasn't in her nature. Her anger was fleeting, and quick to kindness.
She searched for herself, in the round of the entire history of this world, and, lo and behold, she was there. Almost everywhere, portraying different roles. But her real self was above the story, on the ceiling, one of many figures there. She was a female shilouette with a halo and wings.
Ridiculous. She didn't have a halo. She wasn't perfect, but that made her perfect. If that made sense.
Scratch that, it wasn't really meant to.