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Isabella has read the guestbook. Stella began her work slowly because others in her world had magic and could have used it against her. Shell Bell began her work abruptly and openly because she had a government to depose.

The angel Isabella has neither problem. No one will oppose her. She herself does not oppose the Archangel Linus, who is doing a perfectly serviceable job. And anything she does will be taken as Jovah's own miracles until and unless she announces herself. She is willing that credit for her thought and design and for Micaiah's tithe in pain go to Jovah, who permits them to wield this power, who ought to be shown that she can control the magic, that she's not in it for glory.
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And Micaiah just wants fun, harmless, interesting magic powers and the chance to turn something as delightful as pain into more magic for his angel to work with. Credit doesn't come into it any which way.

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It seems that no matter how she sings, Isabella can't provoke the Kiss into pressing a star out of Micaiah. So the first thing she has to do is get over her squeamishness and either duplicate the agony beam as listed in the Belltower book, or live with the knowledge that her lover is self-mutilating somewhere, sometimes, and emerging whole only through magic.

"I can probably do without stars," she says before deciding to accept either thing.
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"...Really?" he says, halfway disappointed. "I want to try making some, can I anyway?"

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"...I mean, I could use them. Shell Bell told me how. But you don't have to and - and it's one thing when it's your Kiss responding to my voice but. But."

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"Awwww," he says in understanding, and gives her a hug and a kiss.

And has an idea.

A pentagon goes. "Sing me something nice," he suggests, bouncing a little.
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She produces a long melisma segment from a mass other than Micaiah's favorite, blinking at him.

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Pentagon, pentagon, hex hex star.

He hugs himself and leans into her, beaming.
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"-hosanna," she concludes. "What did you do?"

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"I changed how I feel when it kisses me," he says, stroking his Kiss. "So I can make it more, if I want stars."

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"Oh," she murmurs. "...Do you like them as much as you thought you would?"

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He grins.

"I like them more."
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She hugs him tight. "I love you," she murmurs in his ear. "I love you and you're amazing."

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"I love you tooooo," he says happily. "You're my favourite angel."

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Kisses kisses.

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Lovey snuggly kisses.

Very lovey. Very snuggly. Very physical.
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...Some time later, Angela comes out of the water room, and goes and looks at the little calendar that lives near her clock.

She peers at it for a few moments and then says in a faraway voice, "I think I'm pregnant."
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Micaiah jumps up and hugs her.
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She hugs him back, smiling. "I didn't expect it so soon," she laughs. "And I could be wrong and I could still miscarry - but I think I am!"

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"We could wish that you not miscarry," he says. "If you are. If you want."

Then he kisses her.
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"Oh, that's a good idea, I'm not used to just wishing for things yet," and she wishes on a pentagon.

And then she says - "I wonder if it's an angel or a mortal. I wonder if it's right to wish about that, too."
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"Whatever it is, it probably already is it," says Micaiah. "So we might as well wait and see."

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"Do you think?" she asks. "That it's already something and that it matters that it go on being that?"

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"If it is already something, and it doesn't go on being that, I think it'll be a different person than it would've," he says. "But I don't know. I've never had a kid before."

And he hugs her again.
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"If I had been going to be a mortal, I'd be grateful if someone had angeled me instead. I don't think a mortal me - who still grew up here, not a mortal me like the ones we've met now - would feel the opposite way."

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"I wouldn't want to have been angeled before I was born," says Micaiah. "Even if it would've meant growing up in an angel hold. I like the me I am."

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