Elle was lost in the feeling of feathers and soft skin under her hands until Ghaleon's wing moved on it's own, wrapping around her. She would have panicked if she was not so curious, the sensation of delicate wisps of touch on her face one that she had not felt in many years. She cast a glance at the angel to see what he was playing at, but he seemed not to even notice. Experimentally, Elle stroked his wing slowly the way she did her younger sister's hair when she slept.<br/><br/>If she had been in any other situation, Elle would have grunted and walked away. She felt oddly comfortable near the fire, the only other sounds being the wind moaning outside and the occasional crackling from the blaze. Maybe it was the fact that Ghaleon was an ethreal, or maybe it was that he had not killed her when he had the opportunity. Whatever the case, Elle did not shy away or go for her knife when the wing moved along her face. Instead she allowed the experience to happen and, for the first time in a long time, one could safely assume she was enjoying it.<br/><br/>"Soft," she commented under her breath, letting the feathers tickle her face.