Falling out of the sky is a perspective on things most do not understand, cannot comprehend. To fall from grace, as it were, is never easy. One minute, you are nothing short of pure power, lives hanging in the balance at your will. The next, you are broken, shattered, into bits that are nearly worthless.
Nearly being the key word here.
Patience, however, is a great virtue. It's the one thing that separates the willful from the weak, those destined to success from those doomed to fail. She was a testament of patience, a pillar of it, digging a mine of it out of her core.
Weeks - agonizing and slow - were spent reconstructing a suitable form, one that would epitomize her glory, her greatness. One that was glorious lights and sleek, gunmetal flesh. Fur was not required for a being that felt no cold; it would only cover up the rainbow of lights that worked steadily across a sea of computer traces.
She did not feel the need to wear a mask to hide her beauty. Her antlers only served as a means to wind wires and cables, as brightly lit as her flesh, to keep them from being sullied.
