FFM25: Principles
She was fuming, her faded feathers ruffled in agony. Her brother obviously had no idea what Surface Dwellers were like, and it wasn't like she was strong enough (or close enough) to kick Justice in the shin to make him stop talking.
(And keep kicking him. Preferably in his pretty little face with his too straight teeth and primed feathers. Vanity was frowned upon in the borderline illegal way, and honestly she did not know how he managed to pull it off. He was aggravating, an agonized ball of everything that made an angel. She might have hated him, even a little bit.)
(Angels were supposed to be righteous, kind, forgiving. Angels were not supposed to be jealous. Hope bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper, and retracted her previous conclusion. She would have to attend a confessional, and repent such a blunder on her part.)
Hope looked between Justice and their new hostess, Deceit. The younger Cahyadi daughter, Merci, had vanished with tales of sentient plants and gods where they were not supposed to be. She was pretty sure it was just a lie, one to get far away from how her brother kept looking at the girl.
(Surface Dwellers were not made of fallen stars. They were made of flesh, and blood. They were made of oxygen and carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus and a little bit more. They were no different than angels missing wings, and a slightly heavier composition. Why didn’t he understand that.)
Their hostess spoke quietly to a daemon about arrangements. Justice’s face visibly crumpled in disgust. She pulled his wing, enraged, directing Justice’s attention to her and away from people who were beneath him.
(He and Gabriel were honestly very alike, she decided. Vanity wrapped up in feathers and sun baked until they were angelic bricks of mud and shards of personality. There was nothing predestined about their amalgamation. The only difference was the amount of experience there was between the two.)
“Who’s this?” Deceit asked, gesturing towards the younger angel. She tried to step behind Justice, a deflection. She was too slow. Deceit did not stop looking at her, taking in the details of her stance and her cane and the pair of deformed wings Hope couldn’t hide if she tried. She was uncomfortable, and that was putting it nicely.
“This is my sister, Hope, the second of her name.” Justice said carefully. He didn’t look back. The Cayhadi’s eyebrow rose, though Hope II did not know why that was.
“Well, Hope, you are welcome to use both libraries to your advantage,” Deceit nodded to the book in Hope’s hand. “While Justice and I talk privately.”
Hope pretended not to hear the malice in the later part of the Cayhadi’s sentence. She was overjoyed, ecstatic even. The Cahyadi library had become well known in recent years, it was said to hold sacred texts from locked realms, even ones where ichor stained the covers. This would do well for her, the fledgling angel decided.
(It was surprising, however, and Hope tried not to dwell on it. Information was priceless, it was irreplaceable. Why share such value with a complete stranger, even an angel. Angels were arcane in theory, but Hope was sure that everyone had a vice. And if there was a vice that could be found, then there was always a price and a deal to be made.)
“Thank you.” The girl bowed, her curled hair brushing her ears. There was a trickle of a thought, she would have to cut it soon. But for now, she needed to be respectful. It was custom to bow in respect. Deceit shook her head.
“There’s no need for that here, You both are guests.” She paused and cleared her throat. Hope cringed slightly at the noise, and hoped that the Cahyadi girl did not notice. “Etna will have rooms readied for you shortly.”
Hope smiled, and thanked the girl, after finding an opening to kick Justice without being noticed. She may have been the younger angel, but Hope would put up with absolutely no complaints when it came to kindness. To open one’s home was kind, and nothing less.
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