Page 120 of Even Angels fall
“Eat first, it should be at a normal temperature now, but after that we’re going in the gardens and you’ll learn how to shift,” he says when he finally talks again, “and tomorrow morning we’re going to start shifting training.”
I’m about to argue, but he stops me.
“They’ve been training without you before you arrived; they’re going to manage if you’re not there a couple hours every day.”
81
Elhyor
Angélique looked frightened when I told her she needed to shift her hand.
Yes, I knew she basically had never shifted before coming here, that the only time she did it so far was in dire circumstances, and that she had to jump from the top of Notre Dame just to do that. Still, I hadn’t realized how much she feared shifting.
I don’t think she’s conscious of it, though.
In her mind, it’s probably just that it’s been forbidden for so long that her own body started to believe it, too.
That’s sad, because flying is the most amazing experience. It feels like the world is untethered, like you make one with the wind and like you’re completely free.
I want her to know that feeling.
The problem is that I self-appointed myself as her teacher, but I have no clue how I’m going to teach her anything.
I have no clue what I’m doing.
And yet I’ve been flying for ages now.
Or maybe…
That’s the only solution I see…
But she’s probably going to hate me for it…
Probably? Who am I kidding… definitely!
But if she can shift on her own after that, it’s all worth it.
I eat my second bun while I study her. She’s antsy and has barely eaten her first bun. It’s not really like her not to eat. She usually eats like most of my warriors and seeing her picking at her food makes me sad.
But maybe it’s better that she doesn’t eat too much for what I have planned, anyway.
“Let’s go,” I tell her when I see that she’s stopped eating completely and has started poking the bun with her index finger. I know that it’s not because it’s not good—and I wouldn’t have been mad if she didn’t like what I make—because she started by eating heartily and her mind seemed to darken the further she got into her meal, which means she slowed down her eating as time passed.
Now it’s like she’s torn. She’s looking at the remaining bun with longing but can’t make herself eat it at all.
With a sigh, she gives up and puts the bun back in the box.
Without letting her sulk some more, I take the box in one hand and her hand in the other and pull her after me up the stairs, through the church and then to the garden at the back.
I drop the box on the ground near the wall of Notre Dame, and then I start stripping.
“What are you doing?” Angélique asks.
“We’re going to shift. You might not destroy your clothes with your size if you manage to shift into your bird form completely, but I will, no matter the form I’ll take,” I answer her.
I drop my shirt and pants next to the box.
I’m about to remove my boxer briefs when Angélique’s question stops me mid-move.
