Chapter Text
Chamomile- Patience in advisory
Edelweiss- Courage, devotion.
The language of flowers was one spoken as commonly as English, in a world where your soulmate is predetermined by a certain flower. You are born with your flower, but as you come of age, your flower changes into the flower of your soulmate. Angela’s mother’s flower was chamomile, it had been replaced by an edelweiss, which was very appropriately Swiss, until she met Angela’s father.When the two got married, both flowers appeared on both of their right arms, tied together with a red ribbon. The red string of fate, or so Angela had been told. Maybe the soulmate system worked, it was hard to say. But Angela’s parents did love each other very much, and, at least to Angela's young mind, that meant it worked without fail. Angela remembers how happy they were, their small family. Both her parents were skilled doctors, who saw their fair share of horrors, but were always able to remain cheerful for their young daughter. For the first years of her life, Angela wasn't aware of her mother's tears when she failed to save a life, she didn't know about her father's stress and aching bones- They didn't let themselves show those sides to her, she didn't need the added stress while growing up during the omnic crisis.
And even though she grew up during the crisis and was a very smart child, Angela still remembers the good times far better than any of the panic. There was always dinner on the table, warm laughter, she remembers being chased by her father through a grassy field, she remembers her mother reading medical papers when Angela would stubbornly refuse to sleep. She remembers the joy she felt opening presents during the holidays, she remembers catching sweet moments between her parents, she remembers the smell of physical books that she would press her nose into while lying on the patch of rug in her parents office that got the most sun. She remembers the taste of her mother’s cooking and she remembers that her father was actually the better cook, but was often too tired and in too much physical pain. She remembers the smell of her mother’s perfume, the lilt of her father’s laugh, the way their arms felt around her. She remembers the safe feeling she had when they hugged her, like nothing could hurt her.
And, she remembers that day. That dreadful day. It was cloudy, a hazy morning when her father kissed her on the forehead and reminded her to go to the basement in case of air raids, and that he loved her very much, that he would see her later. Her mother had said...Something, Angela struggles to recall what her mother said that day. But the memory evades her, even years after she watched her parents leave that morning. They were volunteering at a local hospital in what was supposed to be the aftermath of the crisis. Angela went about her day as she usually did- She read, made herself some tea, studied her parents medical notes, ate lunch alone. At some point, there was actually an air raid, and Angela was quick to abscond to the basement, per her parent’s instruction. The raid didn’t hit her home, they never got close enough, the young girl always counted herself lucky for that. However, it seemed that her parent’s luck had run its course. While waiting for their return, Angela answered the door, revealing a police officer. He informed her that the air-raid a few hours ago had struck the hospital nearby. He informed her that while a few people survived, most who were in the building were killed. He informed her that her parents' bodies were recovered about an hour ago. Her mother had been killed by the initial explosion, and her father had been crushed by falling debris. The officer told her that there was enough evidence to support that her father would have survived, as he had been with a few people in a lower level, but he wanted to find her mother. And he did manage to find her, as his body was next to hers, he had shielded what remained of her from the falling debris at the cost of his own life.
Angela remembers being so overcome with grief that she fell to the ground in front of the officer, covering her face as the weight of the realization struck her. She was alone in the world. She had no aunts or uncles, no grandparents, no siblings, and now...No parents. She had no one to rely on, not anymore. She was ten. The funeral came rather quickly, and Angela remembers standing in front of her parent’s graves, a bouquet of chamomile and edelweiss in her shaking hands. The weight was overwhelming, the people who told her that the pain would eventually pass meant well, but they didn’t really help her. For weeks she lived in limbo, not sure where she was going- The police told her they were going to try and get in contact with someone to take care of her, but Angela didn’t know who that would even be. Until they came to the temporary home she had been put in. She was so jarred when she saw them that it was a wonder she ever forgot them in the first place. Torbjorn Lindholm and his wife Ingrid had come as soon as they were able. Torbjorn was an Overwatch operative, so he was very busy, Ingrid was busy as well, but because she had to take care of their children. Angela’s mother had done an emergency birth for the couple when they all got stuck on a train somewhere in Germany. They were so grateful that they asked if they could do anything in return- Angela’s mother told them that her daughter’s godparents had died unexpectedly, and even though it was a lot to ask- She requested that if anything happened to her and her husband, that the Lindholms would take care of Angela. Much to her surprise, they accepted on the spot. The Zieglers would sometimes go to Sweden to meet with them, they all exchanged holiday cards, and the Lindholms always remembered to send Angela something on her birthday. And now, in her time of need, they were there.
“Come on, lass.” Angela remembers Torbjorn taking her hand and leading her to the car. “Let’s get you home.”