Samandriel wished the boy whose body this was still remained just so he too could feel the gentle comfort of someone's fingers through his hair and the warmth of Heaven helping instead of hurting.
The little seraph was never one to turn down physical contact. He'd always been more tactile than he knew was right or normal for one of their kind. He could relax safe there in Duma's lap. Maybe not many others'...
The space around his head was the most tender, the most damaged. He stayed still. He could be good. As long as no one else was coming, he could be good.
"We have other brothers here..." He'd felt them, briefly, but shut himself off too quickly to check in detail. Which ones. He needed to know which ones.