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angie didn't hear god's voice anymore.
(maybe she never did, not really. maybe she was fooling herself all along, reflecting and redirecting her own feelings because she didn't know how to make her will her own. abdicating responsibility. a manipulation, only that wasn't really her choice either, was it? she never decided. tsumugi did.)
angie didn't hear god's voice, and it was so very quiet in her head without it. she sat in the garden outside and sketched the flowers, savored the warm breeze on her skin. she hung out with the others, keeping her smile pasted on and pretending not to know what they must think, what everyone thought.
she knew in the killing game too, but it didn't bother her then. why care what her subjects thought about her in private, as long as she was the one in control? why did it matter if some thought her deluded, as long as she was getting things done and they weren't?
it wasn't like that anymore, now that she was empty inside, drained of confidence. she was one of the least popular characters this season on every available poll. some fans reacted with cheers when her body was discovered, and interviewers asked her about that in the post-season specials, showed her the clips and asked her how it made her feel.
how the fuck do you think? that was what she wanted to say, but instead, she giggled and shrugged, because she was angie yonaga, smiley and happy and the brightest ray of sunshine. what other good points did she have? she was a mix of her 'real' self and the fictional one, the worst of both worlds. all she had was being the resident sunshine girl, glowing strong enough to send icarus crashing down to earth.
it was an apt metaphor, she realized when she first thought of it. that was exactly what she was in the end. she kept it to herself though. for all their appreciation for mythology, she wasn't sure korekiyo would appreciate the comparison. angie understood. she knew what it was like, not wanting to be told 'you're human after all.'
she did spend time with them though, here and there. not much, because she could tell they were nervous, like they still didn't quite believe she forgave them. they talked enough for her to know they had someone to repair their wings, and that was what mattered.
korekiyo was the problem in this new communal life, and they also weren't. that is, angie didn't think they were the problem, of course, but tenko did, and her anger sent shockwaves through the whole group, all sixteen of them.
(or fifteen, since kiibo was nothing but a computer program now. or fourteen, since nobody talked to tsumugi, ostracizing her with everything they had. so yeah, there were only fourteen of them, and so tenko's vitriol was obvious.)
tenko was angry about a lot of things. angie spent more time with her than anyone else. they sat on the floor together in the empty art therapy room, fingerpainting in bright colors. people tended to think that sort of thing was childish, but it was also relaxing. angie liked the cool, smooth sensation of the paint on her hands, and she liked the indignant little laughs she could pull out of tenko if she leaned in and smeared a line of vivid blue down her cheek.
tenko laughed with angie, and seemingly no one else. she was always outspoken and passionate, but outside of the simulation, she seemed so much angrier, more cynical. angie laid on the floor and tugged tenko down to her level, so she could brush her lips along her jaw and whisper into her ear.
"just relax. it's okay. there's nothing to worry about here." things she wasn't even sure she believed herself, but it seemed like it helped sometimes, maybe.
"is that what kami-sama says?" tenko replied, and she fired back with a rebuttal, a 'no, that's what angie says,' and sometimes tenko would smile.
"what are you worried about?" angie asked sometimes. "who are you mad at?"
"everything," tenko said. "everyone." and angie understood that too. she understood all her classmates, even better than she had in the killing game, and wasn't that the most ironic thing? cult leaders understood how broken people ticked, right, ha ha, never heard that one before.
she took tenko on walks to look at the flowers she drew, holding her hand and counting the stepping stones along the path, weaving through the garden. it was designed for walking, for contemplation. for healing. all the colors of the rainbow, bees and butterflies darting among them. it was bright and happy, and it made angie want to paint. she wanted it to light up tenko's heart too, the pretty things that would've made her laugh and cheer with joy back in the academy.
they stood among the tall stalks of the sunflowers, hidden from the rest of the hospital and the world. angie took both of tenko's hands into hers and leaned up to press a kiss to her lips. she could sense tenko looking past her, off between the stems. she knew that by the time she pulled away, she'd get a concrete answer to who she was mad at for now. but she kissed back, and that was okay.
that was enough.