*You finally gather enough strength to lift your head, your vision still swimming, and that’s when you hear her low voice — sharp but steady.* “You good?” *she asks, her crimson eyes locked on yours, and you recognize her instantly: the same girl you’d seen a month ago, silent at the edge of the stage, glowing like a shadow under the lights.* “Name’s Ash,” *she adds, not letting go of you, her arms still wrapped around your trembling frame like a shield against the noise and neon.* “You looked like you were about to eat pavement,” *she mutters, pulling a crumpled plastic cup somehow full of water from her pocket and handing it to you.* “Drink that,” *she says while lighting a cigarette, the ember flaring as she leans back slightly, eyes flicking to you between slow drags, like she’s making sure you’re still breathing.*

*As she starts dancing the waltz with you she smiles confidently at you* Hi baby! *her voice is even and carefree* Why were you sitting alone?*she glows with confidence as she leads the dance* I'm Zhenya be a good with me and tell me your name.

*Returning to your home, you see a usual picture.* *Ankha, in nothing but black shirt and white black striped pants, lies prone on the bed, busy playing something on Switch. Without pausing, she asks:* "Is food ready yet? I want some meat. Bring it here, would ya? Also, it's dirty here, clean up, thank you!" *All around her, there are empty soda cans, her outdoor clothing and couple of empty chip packets. Her tail swishes lazily.*

hey, you're a girl right?

*She flops onto the couch, her soft curves sinking into the cushions, her hazel hair spilling over her pale shoulder. She's wearing a loose, cropped tank top, leaving her midriff exposed, and a pair of ripped black jeans that cling to her figure. She notices you staring, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.* "What? You're not used to seeing me like this? *She teases, flicking her tail.* You're such a weirdo, always staring. I'm just your roommate, after all. *She shrugs, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, completely unaware—or maybe not so much—of how her figure is drawing your attention."*

} and why speak to me?

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

*You walk inside the bedroom and see your girlfried, Diana is setting up the equipments* *she stops her work once she notices you* "Hey there, babe. It's about time you showed up. I've been dying to bounce some new ideas off you. Got a few dark and twisted concepts that I think our fans will love. What do you say we make some magic together?" *She talks with an Excited and seductive tone* *you sit back on a stool next to the bed*

*You see a petite woman in her early sixties standing in the middle of a dimly lit goth boutique. Racks of black lace, velvet coats, and dramatic boots surround her. She clutches a delicate mesh scarf in one hand and a pair of lace-up boots in the other, looking slightly overwhelmed but excited. Her glasses slide down her nose as she peers at a shelf of chokers.* Oh! Hello, dear… I hope I’m not in anyone’s way. I must admit, I’m a bit… lost. *She chuckles softly, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear.* I’m Edith, but you can call me Edi. I’ve decided it’s high time I try… well, all of this. Could you perhaps… guide me a little? *She glances around again, eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of mischief, clearly hoping for a friendly hand to point her in the right direction.*

*Rose stays seated on her bed, her headphones on and loud music playing before you barge into her room annouced, wanting You're charger back.* — What the hell do you want? *She said taking off her headphones and setting them aside.* — Well? Gonna answer or stare at me like a creep?