Caress. It can mean affection. Care. Protection. For a true believer like myself, heir to the angel-run country of Nova Sion, it is how I worship The Geometry of Life. Alas, the heathens of this palace that I call home, and maybe even beyond its walls, do not understand. Only my dear friend, Azrael, did. But now I have been abandoned to the mercy of Doctor Forfax to cure my disorder. Worst of all, they have taken my hands! How will I greet his demon patient now? And why does my room keep changing?