Angel? Demon? Mutant? We reserve judgement.
To be honest, we’re not really certain what gender we are looking at. We believe this to be a female, a female what is still one of those great unanswereds, like “Why does god allow Paris Hilton?” and “How will we overcome ADHD this week?”
About the wing. It seems…well, of dubious utility in any sort of controlled descent situation. More like a blue croissant than a wing, really, or a strange flipper molded from cement.
We thought perhaps she was flying against a fiery sky, but she may only be swimming nonchalantly through a sea of blood, doing a sort of backstroke. Wings that were absolutely useless for flying might be quite helpful in paddling merrily through a sea of blood, even the tiny, useless vestigial arm might be helpful in, say, steering, or digging for bloodclams.
None of which changes the fact that she seems to be made of concrete. So much so that a few birds seem to have mistaken her for a lovely mutant angeldemon statue, and spattered her chest with a fine appreciation of sculpture. She was somehow able to keep her hair clean, and good for her, but this does explain her little “oh, fiddlesticks” expression, the downward turn of her lip.
Wait, that’s not her lip, that’s the glare from the shelf. I forgot, mutant angeldemons don’t have lips. It’s been so long since I took that course, I lost track.
Savers on South Lamar, Austin