Read it here at AO3.
Souls were, all in all, a very colorful thing.
Everybody had one, regardless of belief. Everybody needed one, but they pretended they were a big affair.
To Darcy, who had been able to see souls since forever, they were nothing but colored dots floating inside of very cute packages, depending on the person they belonged to.
They were a trinket – if you will – to be observed and admired until otherwise needed, and that usually came after death.
And it was Truth.
So she wasn’t really prepared for the shiny golden aura surrounding Dr Jane Foster, astrophysicist.
It was blinding, overwhelming and beautiful; Darcy kinda wanted it.