The Angels are bigger than expected.

Lorelei did not mean to get quite this close to the sleeping machines.

Their fingers are as long and as thick as one of Lorelei's legs, their eyes alone twice the size of her head.

It made sense, she guesses, given that they are man-powered for the first few years of their lives, until they learn enough to function on their own.

The Angels are bigger than expected, and so much louder, even in sleep.

They're not graceful, either, but Lorelei has already known that, from experience, and observation.

Still, it's one thing to know that angels are nothing like in the Old stories; it's another thing entirely to see it with her own two eyes.

(Well, one eye, really, seeing as the other one is not technically her own.)

The Angels are not anything like Lorelei expected, but maybe they're what she hoped for.

The heavy metal groans with their breaths, and the whir of a thousand cogs creates the sort of mechanical buzz in the background that's impossible not to hear.

Every movement creaks, faintly, and Lorelei wonders if that hurts, if someone should help them oil their gears.

It's a treacherous thought, and Lorelei stumbles a bit under the weight of it.

Angels are Angels, and they're nothing like humans; they're supposed to be the silent guardians in the background, never noticed, never seen.

Heavens and Hell, they even got their sentience just because no one wanted to bother with them.

Or at least that's the official story.

Lorelei isn't so sure about that.

Not at least because the official story about her says that she's been six feet under for the past five months.

(And yet, she's still there, of course.)

In the distance, the clocktower rings, a reverberating clang that Lorelei feels in her bones.

And the Angels wake up.

The background buzz becomes a background screeching, and Lorelei is glad that she thought to bring her earmuffs along with the goggles, though for different reasons. The earmuffs are just practical, right now. The goggles — well, hopefully she'll manage to stay not-six-feet-under for another few months, maybe even years.

It may seem a humble goal, but with the world seems so close to ending these days it may just be an unrealistically optimistic one.

The clocktower rings, and the Angels wake up, screeching and groaning and cogs-whirring and all.

They're even bigger when they sit up, and bigger than that when they stand.

Lorelei realizes for the first time just why people think they have more of a chance against the Hellhounds than humans. It may take them a while to lose the clumsiness of recently-gained sentience, but gods, they seem indestructible. And so much less vulnerable than a squishy human.

And yet, that's not why Lorelei is here.

Or maybe it's exactly why she's here.

Yes, Angels have a fighting chance — but they should be able to choose that chance, and not be forced to fight for their life (or rather, that of hundreds of humans hiding behind the city walls) on a daily basis, just because they were literally created for this purpose.

Lorelei knows how that feels, and she's not a fan.

She won't let other people (or machines) endure the same fate, and now that she's escaped, she'll make sure others get the chance to do so.

Starting with the Angels, even if they're so much bigger and louder than expected.

Lorelei will just have to make herself heard.

(She's good at that.)