Fortunately, it isn't the last time that Sofiel gets to see her. The mortal girl that goes by the name of Abigail, for whatever reasons that Sofiel cannot fathom, keeps returning to her. Over and over again. Usually in the mornings, sometimes during the evenings, but always with that same radiant smile on her face.

She comes bearing Sofiel gifts. Mostly foodstuffs that she doesn't have much care for. Though, it's really the gesture behind the gifts that Sofiel is actually starved for.

Kindness in this realm, as Sofiel has come to learn through time, is especially hard to come by, after all, and she'll take what she can get.

Abigail offers her a pair of shoes, along with a hearty meatball sub, one odd evening.

It's out of the blue, and completely unwarranted. But when she's gazing down at Sofiel, with eyes so round and expectant, and her smile ever so sweet and warm, Sofiel finds that she can't find it in herself to say no.

"I couldn't figure out your size, so I had to guess," Abigail says, gently urging the shoes into Sofiel hands – as per her usual routine now. "I hope it fits."

It does.

Granted, it's a tad tight around her toes, but it fits. And judging from its pristine-white appearance, Sofiel is surprised to find that it's brand new. She knows, from the brief glimpses at the display of shops along the streets, that shoes don't exactly come cheap, and she wonders just how much Abigail had spent on her.

And why.

She has seen the dirty looks the mortals throw at the occasional scroungers off the streets – homeless good-for-nothings, they call them, albeit under their breaths. It's been awhile since Sofiel's coming to the lower realm, but she's always been bewildered by the mortals and their tendencies to hold others of their same kind in disdain for lacking in material possessions. It's a strange and puzzling thing that Sofiel can't wrap her head around.

Mortals and their idiosyncrasies – and their undue cruelty to one another.

It's repulsive.

Why would her Father ever hold these miserable creatures in such high regard is honestly beyond Sofiel.

But this girl.

Abigail.

She is different – blessed by divinity aside. She is unlike the rest of her brood.

She doesn't look at Sofiel with scorn in her eyes despite her ragtag scruffy appearance. She doesn't flinch away when their fingers brush – even when Sofiel's are caked with dirt and grime.

She's by far a little more polished around the edges than the others, Sofiel supposes.

She's softer. Kinder.

Genuine.

Though, who is to say that she is simply just another fool, bumbling through this dog-eat-dog world with a pair of rose-tinted glasses and a martyr complex.

Or maybe she does indeed has too big of a heart to give.

Either way, she has certainly piqued Sofiel's interest.