It turns out that 'some place warm' happens to be Abigail's home.

And she doesn't stop with her fussing until Sofiel is settled down beside the warm buzz of the radiator with a thick fleece blanket hanging off her shoulders and a cup of hot chocolate cradled between her palms.

Not that Sofiel needs any of it.

If anything, Abigail is probably the one who needs it more than herself – going by the chatter of her teeth and her trembling hands, held out towards the radiator.

Her cheeks are still a shade of wind-stung pink, her gold-spun hair dusted in flakes of melting snow that had clung on stubbornly despite her good shake down at the entryway.

Overall, she looks nothing short of a dishevelled mess.

All because she had risked heading out in a storm for Sofiel ­– who would have pulled through the ordeal unscathed regardless. Though of course, Abigail doesn't know that. But it still doesn't change the fact that she'd done all that for a stranger off the streets.

As if sensing Sofiel's gaze on her, she turns to look over at her, sending her a good-natured smile – one that crinkles the corner of her eyes into soft crescents.

And something in Sofiel warms at the sight.

"You're lucky that I found you when I did, or you would have most likely frozen to death in that snowstorm." Abigail says, then pauses for a beat, staring thoughtfully at the spot in front of her when she suddenly whips her head up, glancing up at Sofiel with a slightly perturbed expression on her face. "Wait, can angels freeze?"

Sofiel starts with an imperceptible breath.

"You know," she murmurs quietly – pensively.

She fiddles with the steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, hanging her head low. With the weight of Abigail's stare bearing down on her, watching her intently; suddenly, she feels awfully self-conscious of herself – of her shabby state of dress and the apparent lack in poise and grace on her part.

She wonders what Abigail thinks when she looks at her. A deadbeat angel who had fallen from heaven, perhaps?

A failure of her Father's creation.

"Well, you glow." Abigail says, simply, cutting through Sofiel's self-deprecating thoughts like an arrow.

She glances up slowly at the mortal, confused and abashed. But just like always, she's there, smiling back at Sofiel with those kind blue eyes, albeit this time, there's something soft in her gaze.

"Even now, you still have that sheen to you," she says, shifting, looking almost sheepish, "and it's sometimes distracting and hard to look away from."

For split of a moment, it almost seems as if she's blushing faintly under the light, not that Sofiel can tell. It fades soon after when Abigail coughs, wiggling her warming fingers by the radiator. "As far as I'm aware, only divine beings have that."

Sofiel makes a quiet pensive hum at that. "I see."

So not only is she blessed, she's clear-sighted too.

How rare. Considering it's usually one or the other when it comes to the mortals. Way to hit the jackpot in the celestial pool.

Abigail Hope...

Sofiel regards her silently, eyes tracing after the straight arch of her nose, her soft feminine features that would suggest for a conventionally pretty face by mortal standards, and those piercing blue eyes. All in all, trying to find something in her that would set her apart from the rest.

But she's nothing remarkable, really. Just another mortal. And Sofiel would have easily passed her over like everyone else if it weren't for the subtle gleam of divinity twinkling in her silhouette.

Because, for whatever reasons, the heavens have singled her out and deemed her special amongst mortals.

But why?

Sofiel doesn't understand it – doesn't understand her.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" She asks, a broken rasp of a whisper.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Abigail asks her back softly in turn, and it gives Sofiel pause for one short moment.

Ever so tentatively, she raises her head, levelling the mortal with a genuinely curious look, searching out her sparkling blue depths in her weak strive for answers.

Abigail laughs.

"Don't worry, I didn't reach out to you just because you're an angel. I would have done the same for anyone else." She says, smiling good-naturedly.

But for the first time, in the few days Sofiel has come to know her, her smile wanes, turning wistful. There is a faraway look in her eyes then. A hint of melancholy that colours the hue in her eyes a sombre shade of grey.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but the world is harsh. It's cold, and sometimes cruel too."

Sofiel frowns. Oh, she's noticed. Her grip over the ceramic mug between in her palms tightens so. She's noticed it, alright.

"But if we keep paying cruelty with more cruelty, there will be no end to this cycle. If no one's going to reach out and help, then who would?"

Abigail sighs quietly – a defeated breath that leaves her deflated. And so very weary. But even so, she still manages to muster on a small smile in Sofiel's direction. She shrugs, rolling at her shoulders. "It's the sad truth, but I suppose we have to start somewhere, you know?"

Sofiel nods, "Yeah," she murmurs pensively. "You're right."

And as she watches the mortal a second longer, she thinks she might have understood her then.