Re: [Arborlon: Misha/Newt]
"Everyone feels different," Misha replied, though he knew he wasn't explaining it in a way that would make sense to folks who weren't like him. "My momma, her kind were created to be assigned folks, to help them, and so we can find them folks anywhere, and we can travel 'long their lifelines, to wherever we can make a difference," he explained. He knew he could find a lot more folks than regular malakhim, but that wasn't required for this explaining. He nodded 'bout the diverging, since that seemed a fair way to say it. Truth was, he didn't know 'bout timelines. He just knew 'bout folks and their lifelines. He didn't see divergence, so much as he saw where he was meant to follow.
He wasn't real sure what 'matter' was, but he reckoned the answer 'bout the clothes was still an answer. He hadn't never tried to change a thing, and he momentarily wondered if he could, but it was thinking for 'nother time. 'Stead of asking, he nodded some when Newt said life could get bleak looking. Misha, he knew all 'bout becoming maudlin over things. It was something he was plenty good at. "You're right, and least no one's dead," he said, which didn't sound real hopeful, but that was something he only realized once the words were past his lips, and he offered an apologetic smile.
Now, he just reached out for Newt's hand and, if allowed, he took it. It wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary, but most folks did it this way, and he obliged. "I'll make sure you ain't seen. I done it 'fore, and I'll stop time for you. Don't you fret. Just say my name, and I'll come on back once you're ready for me," he promised, and, giving Newt's hand a squeeze, he enveloped the man in warmth and crisp cool air, and he dropped down smack dab in the center of Adrian's room, the sound of wings chasing after him as he let go Newt's hand and disappeared.