Work Text:
This is how human beings should look to him. Stood as high as he can get on the highest point of the Minster he looks down at (never on, or at least not unless he has had a really bad day) the human race as they scurry (there really is no better word despite or perhaps because of its link to the idea of prey fleeing from its predator) about their business. This is the platonic ideal, he is after all a higher form of creation, they are in his care, and the shepherd should not, cannot become one of the sheep.
This is how she should have looked to him, beautiful, but beautiful as they all are, in need of his care as they all are. She should not have looked particular, she should not have had specific beauty, her well being should not have mattered to him any more than that of any of the other of the billions of them, but that was easy to see from up here. Down there, in among them it had seemed impossible that she could be anything other than particular, his own bright particular star.
And so this second chance. This time he had to remain above them, genuinely fearful that if he forgot the general it might all of it end and her with it.
So it is better if he spends as much time as possible up here, admiring from afar, even if his eyes repeatedly seek for that one person.