Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
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On the eve of Grey's thirteenth birthday, her soul had left her body.
Suspended in time and abandoned by gravity, she had stopped squinting her eyes and noticed the shards of glass slicing through the car seats, through her skin, and through her parents. Her body and all of its resistance succumbed to the will of the vehicle. She was weightless, and the momentum rendered the unbreakable laws of physics powerless.
Darkness swaddled her in a cocoon as a sort of escape after she crashed into the back of the front passenger seat. Mercy, she supposed, gifted to her unconscious body to spare her from having to see the gruesome aftermath. However, it did not come quickly enough to make her forget that lurch-- a summoning of the body so far forward that made it's victims breathless, useless, and worthless until reality snapped their existence back into place like a crash dummy.
As Vanity's declaration sank in, that is what Grey felt; a shove towards a collision in which she was not in control of where she would land.
The human girl slowly looked to Seokjin who still reached for her. His hands pressed against her arms, the ice in them jolting her awake it seemed. He was saying something, lips moving to form words and expressions and whatever else she did not care to process in that moment. All she recognized was the unforgiving cold of his skin. An attribute meant to distinguish the difference between him and her. The difference between all of them.
She understood no more about this parallel world than she understood about her place within it.
Of all voices, Vanity's commandeered her attention most. She ignored Seokjin to find the immortal woman's eyes.
She smiled and said, "You poor thing. I'm so sorry it had to come from me."
Grey blinked, a tear sliding down her cheek. Jin's hands fell away and so did his shadow in her peripheral. He may have been tugged or moved on his own accord, she did not know.
Vanity came closer to Grey. Close enough to take her hands and hold them up supportively.
"Grey, do not listen!" It was the mysterious silver-haired man behind her. Nico.
Vanity glared daggers at the man behind Grey's head. "Another word from you and my claws go into her chest. She and I are bonding."
Grey swallowed, her resolve weakening. "Please, leave me alone."
"Wait, dear. You'll want to hear this part." Her thumb caressed the back of Grey's hand. She shot a golden glance at Anaphiel. "I would think they'd tell you the truth in all of their self-proclaimed righteousness, but if they're trying to get back home this way doesn't it make you curious as to why they're still here if all they have to obtain is one confession? That would suggest that you aren't the first. There were probably many before you. Don't you want to know what happened to them?"
"I don't want to know," Grey shook her head, not bothering to wipe the second tear that rolled down to her chin.
"You need to know." Vanity wiped her face with a knuckle. "Those women are dead, Grey. Every last one of them. There's something about pure heart holders that give them this insatiable desire to save others and not defend themselves. Girls like you are just too easy to find and too easy to kill, and to my irkans, they're absolutely delicious."
