Arme watching his other selves have fun and contemplating his fate and getting all jealous and angsty and then feeling massive guilt for letting himself feel this way afterwards?
He hadn’t known screams could be happy until he watched Mochi and Apos play in the snow.
They were lobbing balls of packed snow at each other, diving behind “forts” that were really just mounds of more snow. Both of them wre covered in snow. It was cold and wet and miserable, and Mochi and Apos looked like they were enjoying every minute of it.
It was foolish, really, Arme thought, crossing his arms and burying his nose further into the warm scarf that Elsword had looped around his neck. With their human bodies, they would catch cold and be out of commission for days. This…. play… was just dumb.
And yet, looking at them, Arme felt a strange longing. He almost wanted to be with them, diving behind snow forts and letting go of his mission for just long enough to enjoy the weather. He almost wanted… Almost…
No, what was he thinking? He couldn’t abandon Ishmael, had he just seriously contemplated it? Arme felt physically sick, like the thought had tainted him, dredged up the corruption he thought had been purified.
Mochi looked across at him, startled, when Arme stood.
“Is everything okay?”
Nothing was okay, Arme was a terrible angel. Mochi and Apos had excuses. They weren’t really Celestials of the Goddess anymore, not really, Mochi was too human and Apos was too corrupted. But Arme should know better. Arme shouldn’t be thinking these foolish things.
“No,” he managed, and walked away without another word.