((Well these words were lovely, dark and deep,
but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep...
I'll work with it ;-). It's not like I plan these things in advance anyway!))
A bustle of commotion at the door distracted the Angel as Wyerden spoke, and while he stood waiting for a response, Morgana walked back into her kitchen, forgetting him completely. Wyerden sighed, Good to know I make an impression. I almost thought she'd rip me to pieces for stealing her form... this may be worse. He reaches out and picks up the opal, shuddering with the sudden ecstasy. A pain he hadn't realized he felt was instantly relieved completely as he held his own soul in his hand.
That will make this harder... he though as he leaned over the counter looking for an inconspicuous location. A sudden pain assails him as his weight crushes his wing, and the involuntary twitch in response knocked him flat on his face behind the counter, his wings scattering supplies as he fell. He lays sprawled on the floor for a moment, The eternally graceful angels my ***. As the angel still had not heard him, he hastily cleaned up the mess, hid the opal in the strongbox, and fled the scene in panic, vowing to return when the shop was less busy.