#seraphin

Lucifer is a Seraphin. So he probably sat alongside Sera on the council.

The council likely stayed with Lucifer's seat vacant for millenia.

The angels did not know how to deal with this - they couldn't just give someone Luci's spot - he literally fell and became the Devil.

So they waited.

Industrial society began on Earth... so just like Hell opened up as a realm when humans started living in settled, hiearchal societies (and things like slavery and genital mutilation began), thus introducing 'evil' strongly into the world, the Seraphin likely decided it was time to create a replacement for the angel of light.

That was the angel of Joy: Emily.

[ image description: a digital drawing of a light-skinned woman sitting naked on a cloud. She has blue eyes and long brown hair that covers her breasts, as well as large white angel wings that cover her lower torso and upper legs. She is holding a peach rose and has several others intertwined around her body ]

prints ✨ commissions

The hatchling was a sturdy little thing. Seraphin easily could see the promise of future strength and fleetness in his small but well shaped legs. The little bird’s eyes shone exceptionally bright and keen as they turned again and again toward the boy whose hands rested so gently on his sides. Seraphin could readily read the promise of future strength in those hands too, and all the rest of his younger brother’s rangy rawboned frame. What he could not quite see was just what Silvaineaux was doing.

He leaned over the door of the stall, peering in over his folded arms for a moment until Silvaineaux looked up from his place on the straw. “Look at him, Seraphin, isn’t he a clever one?”

Seraphin leaned a bit closer. “What am I looking at?” He asked indulgently. “What are you doing?”

“I’m training him.” Silvaineaux said, in a tone that suggested anyone ought to have known it.

“Don’t you think he’s just a trifle young for riding yet?” 

There was something that was not quite scorn in the mismatched eyes that turned on him. “Obviously. But he’s not too young to learn how to steer.”

Seraphin laughed. “He’s too small for a bridle.”

“The other kind.” Silvaineaux said. “Watch.”

“I can’t see much from here.”

“So come in.”

Thus given permission, Seraphin slipped into the stall and seated himself on the straw in the corner. “Alright, show me your wonders.”

“Watch him.”

Seraphin watched. Not just the little bird, but the rapidly growing youth who hovered over him, crawling about in the straw like a groom rather than a Baron’s son. Or rather, a Baron’s little brother. That thought was still fresh enough to wound, but he pushed it down. And watched instead the small shift of the hands on the little bird's sides, a little press of a forefinger and gamely the little creature shifted his direction, glancing upward with a small chirp. 

“Good, Joyeux.” Silvaineaux said. 

“Can you get him to do it again?” Seraphin asked, leaning forward.

“Of course.” Sure enough one small shift of a forefinger behind the little wing and Joyeux turned the other way. The little chirp that followed sounded a touch more certain. “Yes, Joyeux. That’s the way.” Silvaineaux said.