Through the many weeks of co-habitation, they have somehow managed to settle into an unlikely routine. Sofiel cooks. She cleans and tidies around the apartment, and does the laundry when Abigail is out, sloughing the day away at a job behind a desk as what the mortals call a 'journalist'.

When she returns home, they'd have dinner together – yes, together – then laze around in front of the TV for a couple hours before heading off to bed. Again, together. No thanks to Abigail and her silver tongue convincing her otherwise.

But either way, life is simple – easy even – for the both of them. And in no time at all, Sofiel begins to feel better. She eventually loses that limp in her gait. But even so, it still doesn't stop Abigail from coddling her like she's made out of spun glass.

Sofiel doesn't mind it at all, at first. The way she'd help out by reaching over the top shelves for things that are slightly out of her grasp. The swiping of the laundry basket out of her hands when she thinks that the week's load is heavier than usual. Not that it actually matters to Sofiel, what with her divine strength at play. She can barely feel any strain. Not even with loads that are twice over her own weight. But then again, her debilitated body did take quite a bit out of her, and she isn't about to go tempting fate.

Though, that's beside the point.

Over time, Abigail's constant hovering almost begins to feel... stifling. And no amount of her trademark glowing smiles can distract Sofiel from the otherwise giant elephant in the room that she can no longer ignore.

They're lying in bed on a particularly warm summery night when Sofiel finally decides to broach the topic at hand.

"You do know that I'm a celestial right?"

The words she has worn on her lips for days have finally been breathed into life, suspended in the balmy air between them.

Outside, the cicadas trill in its discordant cacophony of white noise, filling in for the silence that usually comes with the night. All as Sofiel awaits patiently for Abigail's answer.

She traces after the familiar outline of Abigail's back in the darkness, illuminated dimly by the faint glow of the moonlight spilling over her in pale gentle seams. And just when Sofiel thinks that she might have well succumbed to sleep's embrace, she catches the tell-tale murmur of a whisper.

"I know," Abigail says quietly, and then, she sighs, heavy and deep. "The eating and the sleeping, I know you don't need it."

She shifts, rustling the sheets as she turns over onto her side to face Sofiel in the darkness. She remains silent for a moment, still and unspeaking. As if mulling over her words, choosing them carefully.

"Yes, they are essential to life for us, mortals. But they're a form of comfort too. And I just..."

For the first time since knowing Abigail, she actually wavers. Granted, Sofiel might not be able to see her all that well in the dark, but she can still evidently hear her fidget, jostling at the sheets. When suddenly, there's a sudden stillness in the air when Abigail takes in a breath.

And it's almost as if everything is held flimsily together by a string, pulled taut and ready to snap.

And then it does – in the second when Sofiel feels soft fingers brushing against her face, a warm palm cradling against her cheek.

"You look so sad all the time, I just... I just want you to be happy for once," Abigail finishes quietly, after a prolonged beat. Her thumb gently circles over the apple of her cheek, and it's a soothing, soothing thing. "Are you? Um, happy, I mean."

Sofiel peers up at her, struggling to see through the veil of darkness, only barely making out the faint profile of her features under the dim lighting. She tries to picture her eyes, the sparkling hue of the blue skies like the heavens on a good day, and the slight curl of her lips in that ever so endearing smile of hers. The way Sofiel envisions her in all of the mental snapshots she has taken throughout the time they've spent together.

It fills her with this unbridling warmth and affection.

Happiness, she thinks. She tries to hold onto the feeling as long as she can.

"I am," Sofiel whispers, gently folding a hand atop her swelling chest. And once more, albeit ardently. "I am."