Cold... Plea!?
In the Angelic realm.
Michelle chewed on her long fingernails, a habit she hadn't realized she had until now. She had never been this flustered, this out of control in a situation.
Her face, usually cold and indifferent, now held an expression of distress tinged with a resignation she didn't want to acknowledge.
She stared at the projection of Ossa, unsure of how to help him.
"I can't let him die. If he dies now... Francesco?! ... Ahhhh!" she screamed in frustration, rising from the soft cloud seat cushion. Its comfort only seemed to irritate her further.
Her eyes brightened as an idea popped into her head. "I can call the Angelic troops," she thought, but quickly dismissed the notion.
She had used them once before, annihilating the Eayds who could have been a thorn in their sides, considering their strength as well as their knowledge of Ossa, knowledge which would have interfered with Francesco plans.