Mary
Uriel remained quiet as Owen began to heat up under their skin, grey eyes wide at the emotion in their voice. It was apparent there was *Something* There— a dark secret, a bad experience bubbling to the surface, awoken from its latency. 

"Someone hurt you... In the past." Uriel spoke slowly, running their pale thumb over the back of Owen's hand reassuringly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." 

They had to address the elephant in the room, even if Owen didn't want to talk about it. They had offered the smallest opportunity to talk, and an easy out if Owen wanted to brush the phrase away. 

They hadn't considered how Owen would feel if they isolated themselves, especially in a time of danger like this. In hindsight, it was foolish to assume Owen would sell Uriel out and abandon them in a time of need. 

Owen was kind, and loyal, and everything they admired in a person bundled into one tiny teenager. 

Uriel's thumb traced the ridges of Owen's knuckles, before they tentatively threaded their fingers between his own. *I'm not going anywhere*, the action said. 

"I'll talk about the information I learned, but in the meantime... Do you mind putting on one of those movies you like?" They shift nervously at the request, a bit embarrassed to ask for the familiar comfort of cheap jokes at a time like this.
Wai
"Mmm." 
A sob crept up his throat, and lodged itself in the soft spot beneath his jaw. The heat pushing against his skin was joined by more pressure behind his eyes, salt water blurring his vision. All the soft places, where he was vulnerable, where nerves swirled and tears welled, reacted to Uriel holding his hand. Their fingers were softer than his, which were roughened and strong from the incessant string-plucking and tree-climbing that they engaged in, and he was almost scared to squeeze back. The familiar feeling of grey eyes tracing his expression tickled his cheek, and Owen was content to let it. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice," He murmured, not really making any outstanding moves to get up. "You haven't seen *Life of Brian*." A beat of silence as the sound of the rain spun a strange thread through his brain. 

"It.. It did hurt. It still does. It'll ache for a while longer, I think." No sage words about growth or grief or the end to said ache; just the acceptance of the pit in his stomach, as it was in that moment.

Looking down at their hands, Owen noted that his was doing something strange. No ether had spilled from his palm, but there was a light murmuring beneath it, a faint ember ebbing and flowing with his heartbeat. It was the first time he had thought of his power as *Beautiful*, in this strange, subtle form. The piece of him that didn't think, reaching out to touch what it wanted to hold. He.. Didn't know it could do that. 

Another breath of cool, rain-scented air eased the pressure building behind the floodgates, and he once again trusted his arms to do what he wanted them to. Setting up the movie was a blur, as was the first few minutes of it, but that was fine. Owen's head was still going too fast, and sparks still zipped across his chest and through his face, but the deep amber-flecked eyes didn't drip quite so much with fear. 

"So- uhm, what was it that you saw?"
Mary
As the movie begins to play, Uriel leans into Owen's side and watches intently. Sometimes, the silence is broken by a small laugh, before Uriel once again cocooned themselves into the covers. 

"The first time, I did not get a lot of information— simply the sight of a glowing knife wound, and the deep feeling of disgust." 

They pause. The next dream was more personal, and while Uriel had no sympathy for Oliver, it still felt like a breach of trust.

"The next time, I tried conjuring up what they thought of the angels. Oliver dreamed of a towering, concrete landscape, where the angels girls cooed with blood-covered mouths. A ways down the road, a trail of blood lead to someone's corpse, the inside of their body gutted." 

They shivered upon recalling the memory— the human mind tended to be violent, but it was never a pleasant experience to witness.

"This time... I attempted to dredge up the memory of his first encounter with them. I saw knife being sharpened on a ring of glowing white, and itself beginning to glow. And then, well..."

Uriel fell silent, the unsaid 'what happened next' exceedingly obvious. They coughed awkwardly, and looked back at the screen. 

"I've been thinking of going to the angel's house and paying them a visit, or looking through other people's dreams for information. At least I ended up getting caught at the tail end of my investigation, though. Any ideas or observations on what I discovered? From what you've told me, you've met them more than I have, so perhaps you could make sense of the more puzzling aspects."
Wai
Owen had remained mostly silent while Uriel recounted the dreams, but he noticeably prickled when they suggested actually seeking the angels out themselves. 

"Paying them a visit?? What would we even.." He froze up, staring hard into space to try to conjure up a reason not to other than *"Scary"*. His eyes darted to the screen and back as he shifted a blanket around his shoulders; he didn't need the extra heat, but the pressure was nice. 

"I've seen as much as them as you have, mate- less, actually, now that you've done some dream-snooping." A nervous snort, a half-formed laugh to relieve some of the energy rattling in his insides. 

"It sounds like he's scared of them, or that he's seen them do things to make him scared of them," He started. "That was the point of the dead animals everywhere, wasn't it? They.. They don't trust this place, but they want it to be aware of them, to be scared. But, now, they know that we don't have their sister, so a lot's outdated.. Still. That's a lot of blood."

He had been elbow-deep in the aforementioned corpses, the little mangled bodies draped all over the woods as gruesome warnings. There was a difference, he thought, between gore and suffering- one he could handle, and one he could not. He wondered if the little things torn open on the forest floor suffered much from the 'angels'. 

"They're *Driven*. They're determined, and ruthless. I don't know what their limits are, because something tells me we haven't hit them yet, and it'll hurt if we do." A pause, as he carefully considered the thought that occurred to him. "It almost seems.. Innocent? Childish, maybe? Like they're capable of terrible things, but they don't *Grasp* The terribleness. As though the blood they shed is paint or bug guts on the concrete below the shoe of a toddler who honestly just doesn't know what it means."

Owen scowled. He didn't even notice he was scowling, his face broadcasting the wheels turning in his head. "Does that seem plausible to you?"
Mary
Uriel pauses. They lean their head against Owen's shoulder, sighing softly as the movie progresses. It was late and Owen must've been tired, but Uriel was relieved at the chance to not delve into the now-unfamiliar dream world once again.

"I've never told anyone this, but— my abilities have another perk. If someone is particularly distressed, I can get... Well, snippets of what they're thinking about. Their emotions are so *Loud* That it spills into the general consciousness, and I can pick up on said thoughts." 

Uriel's arm is interlocked with Owen's, entwined hands clutching each other under the blankets. They shift to their side, looking equal parts at the movie and Owen's face. 

"When the younger was wielding a knife, I was struck with a phrase: *A maniac sense of justice.* If that applies to their means, then if we let them do what they please, they might hurt someone when enacting their plans. If me getting to the bottom of whether or not the other angel was kidnapped can prevent them from harming themselves or others, then..."

Uriel hums contentedly, thinking over the various conclusions Owen has drawn. "You're certainly right about that, I think. They're not fully able to gauge the consequences of their actions, and that is dangerous. I'll contact some other kids before I talk to them, at least. But, before that..." 

With their free hand, they drape the blankets even higher on Owen's shoulders, letting out a breathy hum of amusement.

"How are you feeling? About all of this, I mean. Whatever I do will be tied to you, and so I'd like to know what's on your mind."