In later years, Lenalee remembered her master as an angel of death.
She forgot her name; the day her master died was the day Lenalee’s memories began to flicker and fade, and the names and faces of the dead were often the first things to go.
Lenalee forgot her name, but she remembered her wings, each feather bright chrome and as sharp and deadly as a dagger. She remembered the steel in her voice, and her rigid confidence when she stood against the akuma. She remembered the sight of her cutting through the air like a thrown dagger, and the protective casing of her cupped wings when Lenalee was new and crouched and terrified. She remembered how safe she had seemed.
She did not remember the day she died.
(Source: liketolaugh-writes)
