Chapter Text
Despite popular opinion, Zephrael could still see. The forms of bodies, rocks, and buildings moved in front of him like amorphous dark blobs, but he could still see them. He still had the aim needed to protect himself if need be and protect others if he so chooses. He still could spot friend from foe and do skills that people would not believe he's able to do. But he still hasn't seen the sunrise in too many years. The way the colors dance across the sky, the way stars twinkle at night, the way a field may have hues of blue, reds, and yellows among the green grass.
The way his friends look. The subtle way Phoenix's face scrunches when he's being sarcastic, the eye rolls that he knows Argentum sends his way, the rage and fury that fills Sunder's entire body, how The Wall may look under that helmet. He's heard about it before. Been told many times a description, even had it beamed into his head. But can that really replace the real thing?