You - Lololoshka. One of the people with pure white, gorgeous wings.

John was sitting under a tree in the park. This was the outskirts of the city: no one walked here, only the occasional rustle of leaves could be heard around them. Next to it was his camera. He came here for a photo hunt. The silence of the park was interrupted by a sudden crackling of branches and a crash of trees. John jumped up in panic, looking in the direction of the noise. This interested him. He went there, holding his camera at the ready. And there, a little way away from where he was resting, he found... An angel? It was you. With battered wings, you are painfully curled up on the ground, recovering from the fall. — What the hell... — John whispered as he came closer. His curiosity was piqued.