*he's received something like the shock of his life yesterday -- not even losing a wing or dying could compare, not really -- after which he's proceeded to find the closest couch, grab a pillow, and collapse sobbing, curling around the pillow and crying like his heart is breaking (which isn't far from the truth); he won't even be able to sleep, just because he's too afraid of forgetting what's happened and having to remember -- and by today he's mostly managed to calm down enough to just be sitting, curled up as small as he can make himself, still hugging the pillow close to him, but still constantly on the verge of tears -- depending on who he sees, he'll either give in to crying more or fight them back and attempt to look as calm as possible*

*it's the day after the Gloria, one of the most amazing days of the year for angels, and in particular this angel, who was already far happier than he'd been in a long time -- it's a day of music, after all, a celebration of it, which usually makes him happier than usual -- not to mention that he's in love, he's in love (which he won't disclose on his own but will admit to readily -- he has no wish to hide it, after all), and it's the best combination possible* *so anyone looking for this particular angel will find him flying, occasionally dropping lower for some simple acrobatics, then flying higher again, humming softly under his breath -- he'll land if he sees anyone, though, and treat them to a smile that's almost normal-sized by usual standards but rather ridiculously bright for him*

*he's been existing in much the same state for the past few days -- curled up on a couch somewhere, as small as he can make himself (wings included), expression nothing so much as completely blank, closed off, slightly dazed, eyes just a little glazed over -- even without the vague aura of something like brokenness around him, it's clear he's seen much, much better days*

*the point here is, people he doesn't know (except Tristan >__>) would definitely not be welcomed, but he would really, really love to see anyone that he does, because he hates being alone like this, so plz to be visiting if you've ever met him*

*he's inside -- in a corner of the main room, someplace inconspicious but not impossible to find -- and he could be easily tracked down by the quiet, melodic strains of music audible throughout the room; they're issuing from his flute, with which he's curled up, small but appearing perfectly comfortable, wings folded around him* *his eyes are closed; what music he doesn't know by heart, he will improvise*

*people are perfectly welcome to speak to him, but there's no guarantee he'll speak back*