you can't kill me. i'm not alive.

daikiaomines:

The legend goes like this:

The gods of old bestowed humans one wing; and they go through their lives trying to look for their perfect pair. But here’s the catch - no two wings would ever look alike besides your other half’s. It was always supposed to be the same size, the same number of feathers, the same design, and the same color.

Or well, it was supposed to be.

But what’s a story without a little complication?