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Chapter Text

There was a manner of decorum and righteous way of speech tied to the teachings of the Harmony, tied in a way that was only for praising the Harmony and reciting scripture. It was flowery, poetic, filled with little mysteries left unknown to the casual yet loyal servant. Very few spent their time dedicated to the teachings, unveiling the mysteries of Xipe one by one akin to untangling a ball of yarn to spin it together again after. Even fewer still dared to consider the winged figures that often sat in the mezzanine just in front of the pipe organ, faces veiled from mortal sight. To attract the attention of such a figure often spelled long hours singing praises till one was hoarse, and reciting lengthy tomes in the hopes that the winged disciples deemed one's faith in Xipe sufficient. The disciples of Xipe the Harmony, marked by a halo around their heads, were often plucked from congregations. These were less threatening in presence alone compared to the born disciples. Those born into the discipleship of the Harmony were marked with wings tucked just under the ear, and winged disciples held far more power within Harmony's bounds. 

This particular sector had gotten a benevolent young lady to shepherd them, her name being that of a bird. Lady Robin, yes, that was her. Such a name suited a delicate songstress, suited a lady ranked at Cherub in the discipleship.

Amongst the standing congregation of people, all varying in species and culture, only one dared to keep her head up during the hour of recitations. No one ever led these sessions; the minds of the congregation focused on tuning with each other to perfect synchronization, becoming one voice and one mind. The woman who dared to keep her head up glanced towards the front of the mezzanine, relief flooding her upon seeing the benevolent Lady Robin up there. Robin's hands were clasped together, fingers messing with each other as if she were nervous while seeming to be waiting for something.

The woman's nose scrunched up as she observed, wracking her brain for what could possibly be going on.

She swallowed her nerves as she clasped her hands tighter, noting that there, up on the mezzanine, another had joined the terrible sight. Some of the figures bore small halos, their small size nearly laughable. Others were larger, but the usual leader of the group, the petite and delicate winged Lady Robin, had been trailed by a winged male who was significantly bigger than her. Not in height, no, he wasn't much taller than her, but in the power that fell from him in droves, he was bigger. The darkened feathers around his waist tucked in tight as they ruffled and settled, the wings just under his ears folded over his veiled face. The halo, hovering behind his head she noted with shock, bobbed behind him on an unseen ocean, causing him to look like the very sun itself had crowned him. 

She turned her eyes back to the floor when she sensed his gaze scanning the crowd. That same gaze paused on her, lingering as her knees trembled and shook, threatening to send her to the ground. She shut her eyes, pleading with Xipe to spare her, to prompt her disciple to move on, to continue watching someone else. Sweat beaded her brow, as if she was a sinner in church, though she had no grievous sins to speak of, to confess of. Just the pressure of the attention of someone important left her in shambles. 

Something lurked in the back of her mind, curious and tinged with slight amusement as she prayed harder, her questioning turning into begging for mercy from this gaze. She just about wept aloud when the pressure moved from her at last. Air rushed out of her mouth as she let go of her breath, sucking in more to nourish her body. She had never seen that particular Halovian before.

She prayed that he would not stay long, his presence alone was enough to suffocate the room. Whoever he was, he ranked higher than Cherub. And that alone terrified her.

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A Halovian male stood alone amongst the blooming flowerbeds, admiring the petals of the lilies and the butterflies and bees that flitted about, minding their own business. So long as he did not pose any conceivable threat, they were happy to continue as they were. 

Rocks scrapping against each other sounded behind him, the sound the only indication that he was no longer alone. He looked over his shoulder, face hard before it softened, relaxing once he saw who had joined him.

"I'm pleasantly surprised to see you out of your office for once, brother," spoke a dainty voice, laced with birdsong as the delicate woman reached forward with a gloved hand, her older brother outstretching his own hand to take hers. He smiled when their hands met, his sister looping her arm through his elbow.

She pulled on him just enough to start a meandering walk, her older brother huffing a breathy laugh. A dark wing from his waist extended to curl around her, a little gesture he'd done when they were children. It kept her safe, and left him feeling comforted knowing next to nothing would happen to his sister. 

"I am just as surprised as well, dear Robin. But Xipe has revealed unto me that I must select someone to take to wife. I do not know why as there are far more suitable candidates than I to take this blessing of matrimony, but may THEIR will be done, not mine," he responded, setting the pace as he and his sister strode through the gardens, the sun high above their heads. 

"So I'll be seeing a lot more of you then while you look."

"Indeed."

The siblings rounded a corner, pausing by a bubbling fountain, silent for a moment as they gathered their thoughts, gathered their words. To others it would look awkward, but the delicate silence between them spoke more words than actual speech ever would. 

"I know a good many Halovian females who are unwed—"

"THEY commanded I select my bride from amongst THEIR children over the other disciples."

"I see... have you found anyone of interest?"

The male hummed, the wings just beneath his ears fluttering a little. "Not yet. I'm sure Xipe will guide my hand in this selection unless THEY turn the choice wholly to me."

In truth, he long had his eyes set on someone who he knew as a child, but he had buried those feelings deep down, knowing full well that a child like him, a child blessed by the sun, would never be able to act upon those feelings of love and want. His chest ached when he recalled the day Gopher Wood had sent him off to serve directly under Xipe as a prince, recalled the way the one he loved cried as he had to walk away, shedding his mortal form for that of an immortal.

"I heard rumors a few weeks ago that you had ascended to a higher power, dear brother. That Xipe had given you the opportunity to walk even closer to THEM. Is that true?" Robin asked, searching her brothers eyes as she watched with worry creasing her brow. 

Those golden hues of his spoke of an ever creeping exhaustion, spoke of a cliff that he toed on the daily, threatening to teeter off at any moment. He'd been pushing himself to the brink too much and for too long.

"Indeed they are. Xipe deemed it fit to declare that I inherit the divine throne of Seraph. I hardly believe it myself, but these—" He paused as four more wings appeared on his head, one pair folding over his eyes and the other flaring and stretching out, as if preparing to take flight. "These are hard to deny when I wake up every morning." 

Robin admired these new wings on him, smiling a little. 

"I say it's an honor well deserved and well earned. You've worked so hard after all. Perhaps this opportunity to find a bride is Xipe's blessing to also rest a while, and to perhaps have something more than work," she encouraged, beaming at him.

"I feel restless knowing that I have no responsibilities at the moment beyond finding a bride."

"Brother..."

Ever the workaholic. That was her brother. She really shouldn't have been so surprised, but sometimes, she wondered if he ever took time for himself.

She doubted he ever did.

-----------------------------

"I'm sorry... but... I have to go now."

"Wait! Sunday, where are you going? Sunday, don't go! What if I never see you again?!"

The tiny form of her best friend bowed his head, closing his eyes tight as his wings folded over his face. He was crying, she knew then and there. He only ever hid his face when he was crying. He pivoted and turned as Gopher Wood called his name again, impatience in every word. 

Her knees ached when she hit the floor, wailing for her friend to come back as the car door shut. She saw it only briefly, but she swore a wing lifted from his face as he watched her, watched his sister who stood just behind— watched as he was taken away from everything he ever knew. 

He wasn't seen ever again.

-----------------------------

She awoke with wet eyes, an aching sadness lying deep in her chest. The morning sun gleamed through her windows, golden and young. Why had she dreamed of that now? It had been years since she'd last seen Sunday, her last memory of him unfolding one wing as he waved goodbye as the car door shut, his eyes wet with his tears.

Sunday had always been a bit of a sad child, easily spooked and often startled to the point of tears. His empathetic nature only made his heart weak to the pains of mankind, the boy often weeping over the little things. 

He had cried over falling into a pit when he tried to fly, nearly breaking his halo in the process. He had cried when the Charmony Dove he and his sister cared for broke its wings and perished shortly after. His tears still smudged and stained the ink in his journal from that day. She frowned as she recalled just a little more.

'Crybaby Sunday.' That's what the rest of the children at school had called him. Tiny, little, crybaby Sunday. It was easy enough to find him as a child; he was often caught curled up in the roots of an oak tree with a book, or over by a babbling brook sitting on a rock just off the shoreline. If he somehow wasn't reading, he was most certainly writing or experimenting, scheming out little plans to answer whatever question he had that day. 

Such questions had led to his failed attempt at flying with his tiny wings.

She smiled as she remembered the moment, her smile turning into a frown as she remembered the months leading up to his departure. He'd learned how to cry in silence far too soon, learned how to shove his emotions away and bottle them up far too early. It didn't help that somehow, even amongst his peers, he was somehow always the smallest.

She turned onto her side in her bed, staring out the window at the sunshine. Did he see the same sun? Or was he perhaps asleep, living on a different planet as he served Xipe? Or was he awake, hiding away reading a book? If he could. Actually she didn't know much about his life, much less what a disciple did during the day.

She closed her eyes once again and thought back to the times she dragged him out of his shell to go play, briefly wondering how to turn back time, just to enjoy such moments a little more, a little longer. But... dreams would have to do. Dreams of bygone memories were all she had of her childhood friend.

Why she missed him now, so badly at that, she did not know. 

She turned onto her other side and faced the photograph on the bedside table, the photo depicting an innocent moment between her and the Halovian siblings. In the middle of the pack was Sunday as he held in his palms the Charmony Dove the siblings had cared for, Robin on his left as she waved at the person behind the camera, and then... herself, focused more on the little boy's smile, on the Dove that had chirped and fluttered its wings before settling, letting out a soft coo. 

The Dove truly had been a cute bird...

She turned towards the ceiling, driving out the next thought lest she cry. She had to wonder, did that same boy, now undoubtedly a man, still smile like that?

Or had the world robbed him of that too?

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His gloved fingers tapped on the railing, the congregation looking so helplessly small from the mezzanine. A frown etched itself onto his lips, not that anyone below could see; the veil he wore over his face was too thick for outsiders to see his face (though he could see just fine), and his wings had folded themselves over his eyes a long time ago. The other four wings on his head fluttered and flexed, furling and unfurling, stretching as they pleased. It seemed to be a topic of gossip, he'd noticed.

Even now the Halovians behind him tittered in hushed tones, wondering if any amongst them had committed a sin great enough to warrant the presence of a Seraphim Prince. 

"It's said the Seraph hide their eyes and faces because anyone lower than a Cherub turns to dust!"

"I've heard that the Seraph are super sensitive to the sins of others so they cover their eyes because they cannot look on it, even in the smallest degree."

"Isn't it to hide their identities?"

"Fool, everyone knows the Seraphic Legions. There's not that many Seraphim in it after all—"

"Well who's that one then?"

His nose wrinkled as he forced himself to turn his attention away from them, forced himself to ignore their whispers. Instead, he began to search the crowd, placing both of his hands on the railing as he leaned forward, just waiting. The melodies of each mind down there as he listened and scanned, they were all the same. No, there was one he needed to find. This one had panicked when he set his eyes on them. 

His childhood crush, if one had to put a name to it. Was it a little foolish to chase after something of his childhood fantasies? Maybe. But Xipe hadn't yet stepped in to stop him, nor has Xipe made it impossible to obtain the bride he so desired. And Xipe had remained silent to his questions of finding his bride, so it was only logical that Xipe would want him to find his bride on his own. From the letters that Robin had sent him over the years, not much had changed. Not much had changed about the girl who dragged him from his hiding spots to go play and the girl who wiped mud from his cheeks when he fell into a pit after trying to fly. After running to fetch Mr. Gopher Wood of course, she was not an irresponsible child.

His lips curled into a little fond smile, finding the woman he sought amongst the crowd. He kept his gaze from settling directly on her, keeping it cast over her shoulder, but he could still see her. How lovely, how lovely. How tender and fair he found her to be. A maiden with her head looking above the crowd, her lips moving. He cast a silent spell to pinpoint her voice above the rest, and grew pleased as he heard her in sync, though, just a little ahead, in the chanting prayers of the congregation.

A hand brushed his wrist and he turned his head to find his little sister staring at him, her brow creased with concern.

"You're here. I had expected you to be up higher in the mezzanine," Robin told him. "Have you noticed that the others have given you a wide berth?"

"I had not for my focus and attention were on the congregation, doing what I had been tasked to do."

Robin looked down, face scrunching up for a moment as she considered and questioned before turning her gaze towards the very congregation, spotting the woman with her head up, startling herself upon recognition.

Her head whipped to stare at the Seraph, wide-eyed. "Brother, don't tell me—"

"Yes. Her. I yearn for her. She's long had my heart in her hands, and I've harbored this yearning for her all of my days, even now. It still burns strong in my mind, in my heart, in my soul. And Xipe seems to have deemed her a worthy bride. She's faster than the rest in her prayers, more in tune with the desires of the Harmony."

Robin stared at her brother, befuddled and confused. "Brother, you don't even know if she remembers you, much less shares your feelings!"

He was silent for a moment, a painful smile appearing on his hidden face. It was painful, not knowing if she loved him too.

"Then... should she not, I will not marry. Sometimes Xipe will command THEIR disciples to do things that stamp out hidden sins, and should THEY consider my yearning a sin, then so be it."

The Seraph prayed it wasn't a task to repent. He wasn't sure if he could handle the pains and agonies that came with a broken heart. 

Please... love me too...

Chapter Text

The soft creaking of the rocking chair lulled the woman in it to sleep, her hands stroking the swell of her belly as she smiled at the boy at her feet, his golden hues wide with eagerness. 

"Mama? When is my baby sister coming?"

A soft laugh left the lips of the woman as she caressed her son's head, the boy leaning into her touch as he closed his eyes, soaking up her affections like a sponge. "In due time, my little baby dove, in due time. She will come when she is ready."

He puffed out a cheek, sulking a little as he lay a hand on his mother's stomach. "But I want to meet her now," he whispered, wondering, pondering, what would his baby sister look like? Would she look more like his mother? What would she be like? He wanted to know, he wanted the answers to his questions now.

She laughed again, leaning forward just enough to kiss his forehead. "My dear boy, patience, she will come when she's ready."

The little boy pouted and sulked as he reached for her, hugging his mother as best as he could. It was silent for a few moments (except the creaking of the rocking chair,) when he asked, "Will you still love me too?"

"Sunday... I will always love you. Even when I am gone, I will watch from afar, watch both you and your little sister, and I will love you. Know that I will forever love you. Even in death, you will be my son, and a mother will never stop loving her children."

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A blink and the memory was gone as fast as it had come, leaving the Seraph Prince staring out the window of his temporary study. The sun set beyond the horizon, lighting the sky in purples and oranges, almost as if it were aflame instead. Sunday let out a huffed chuckle as he stretched out the darkened wings around his waist, feathers spreading wide as he fluttered them once, twice before pulling them back in tight, folding them over himself. His back ached and itched, the tell tale sign of new wings joining his current pair, and it took all his power to not scratch them, oh they drove him insane.

Four new wings were currently growing, a sign of his position and title, and the unbearable pain he'd have to bear until they were full grown. Closing his eyes as the sun vanished entirely, he focused on the muscles connecting to the new wings, flexing them a little, testing their strength. He nodded once when he found that once the feathers came in properly, they would be capable of enhancing his flight.

Opening his sun-kissed hues, he stared out the window at the darkening sky, gloved palms coming to push the windows open. They creaked and whined a little, but gave way anyways, allowing the Halovian male to step onto the ridge. The wind called his name, begging to sweep him off his feet and into the air, begging for him to come fly. He considered for a moment, his own wings disobeying him as they loosened from around his waist, fluttering and fluffing up the feathers.

He wasn't in the temple, and there were no high ranking officials and guards stationed here. At least, any that could be of potential threat to him. He closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest like a corpse prepped for burial, smiling as he spun on one foot and fell backwards, wings splaying outwards to catch the wind, flinging the Halovian male upwards and sky high.

A soft groan left him as he felt the crisp air rush between the feathers, the wings on his head spread wide to catch every bit, allowing him to simply glide along the clouds, the wings at his waist mighty in every beating flap. How long had it been since he'd flown? He'd forgotten that. And had forgotten how much the new wings ached and itched, the annoyance chased away by the soothing cold.

His thoughts turned to the woman he pined for as he stretched out a hand to drag it in the cloud tops, wondering, would she fly with him too? If she took his hand in marriage? His eyes burned as tears began to form, and as he paused his flight, hovering there, he looked... lost. Him? Lost?

The great Child of the Sun, heir to the Godthrone, just below that of Xipe's Aeonhood, lost?

Did he even want to be the heir?

Sunday couldn't answer this question as he stared at the full moon, seeking answers to these questions that burned him, seeking answers to questions he knew that if he asked outloud, he'd be thrust down to the very depths of hell. He knew the answers already, his tears said enough.

But they still burned in his heart.

And left him wondering, did he even deserve Xipe's blessing of matrimony?

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"You're burning with questions, Solis Filius. I can see the desires of your heart and your hesitance, lest I consider your actions to be wrong."

The voice was both old and young, male and female. A seductive croon yet also the scratchy rasp of someone about to die. It was the voice of an eager, excited child, but also one of a grieving widow, all mixed together in a harmonic cacophony. 

Sunday turned on his heel, finding the Aeon Xipe before him. He panicked and fell to a knee, bowing down low before THEM.

"You need not bow towards me, Solis Filius. Speak, ask your questions and I shall answer."

"O Triple-Faced Soul, I do not deserve thy grace nor thy attention. I do not deserve thy answers to my doubts," he spoke, trembling as he shut his eyes. The attention of the Aeon burned him like a brand, his title shaking him to his core. He remained bowed, head ducking further.

"Arise, Solis Filius. And ask me your doubts, ask and I shall give."

Sunday hesitated for a second before rising, daring a glance at the Aeon. The main head smiled at him whilst the other two either wept or grimaced. He never could fathom what the Aeon was truly feeling, not with how encompassing THEY were.

"You gave me a blessing of matrimony, O Triple-Faced Soul, but I find myself wary and hesitant. Do I select for myself?"

The tip of Xipe's finger touched the medallion resting over Sunday's heart. 

"Solis Filius, I have given you free will to select who you take to wife. I see the desires you've hidden away from the rest, your desires for her. It does not matter to I who you chose, I only care for the end results, which I have long planned."

"What results, Xipe?"

He covered his mouth at the slip-up, bowing his head. "Ignore that question, Xipe, it was a mistake on my part. I am not supposed to question your plans."

"I will indulge your curiosity. From your union, a Seraph heir will be born, and I have high expectations of this heir."

A child? He was to have a child? Not only was he given the blessing of matrimony, but also to break the vow of celibacy with no consequences? He swallowed his questions, his burning curiosity to see this child.

"I see, I thank you, O Triple-Faced Soul."

"You have another question about this union, do you not?"

His right hand rose to grasp the medallion on his left breast, digging his fingers into the sharp points of the star.

"Does... no, not that question," he whispered to himself, looking up at the Aeon. THEY waited for his question, arms outstretched. For a second he considered asking to see his future child, but he swallowed that question too. "What will happen to my bride? You know that ordinary mortals cannot look upon the faces of the Seraph Legions, and as the Solis Filius, heir to the Godthrone, there is no chance that she should gaze even upon my lips and live. How will this be countered?"

THEY smiled at him. "She will join the Legions."

-----------------------------

The marbled halls of the chapel gleamed in the morning sun, setting the sheer curtains draped from the ceilings aflame in an orange sheen, providing a soft light for the disciples scattered about to study by. Beneath a statue depicting Xipe, the Seraph Prince stood alone with his hands clasped together in prayer, his head bowed in a deep trance.

She paused upon spotting him, earning a worried glance from Lady Robin.

Robin grasped the woman's shoulder as she offered a slight smile. "You don't have to see him if you don't want to. I know it's been a few years for you."

"A few? Robin, it's been many," came the reply, the woman staring at the back of the Prince's head, tracing his halo with her eyes. Yes, that was Sunday's halo, but to consider that her childhood friend was in fact grown, and was in fact the Solis Filius, heir to the Godthrone... she was almost sorry for simply existing on the same existential plane as him, sorry for being in the same room, sorry for even breathing the same air he did. 

She was a little more righteous than most, but compared to him? She might as well have been the most damned sinner in the known universe.

Robin grasped the tips of trembling fingers, tugging lightly like a puppy trying to play with its owner. 

"I'm here. I'm with you. He's still the same boy you used to know. Kind of. Not much has changed anyways," Robin spoke, her voice softer than her usual lilt. She smiled softly, tugging once more. "Come on. He doesn't bite."

"That's what you said the first time."

"And he didn't bite, now did he?"

The woman smiled upon recalling the first time she'd met Sunday, had met the terribly shy, quiet, unable to make eye contact for more than a few seconds, little Halovian boy. But Sunday wasn't a boy anymore, no, he was a man, a grown man. 

That same man stood straight as he adjusted his clothing, straightening the medallion on his left breast before he turned, head cocking to the side as he spotted his little sister.

"Robin, a pleasure to see you this fine morning. I see you've brought a friend with you as I requested. Please, come, I had my subordinates prepare a lovely breakfast in the gardens of my temporary lodgings."

She blinked and found herself entranced by how softly he spoke. It seemed that time had not stolen that from him at least. Time had not taken the soft-spoken nature of the Halovian male. His baritone voice was melodic and coaxing, urging the listener to relax and melt into his words, to spend more time listening than thinking.

She shocked herself out of her stupor as the woman briefly questioned why they met up here before she realized that even on the weekdays, the disciples of Xipe worked and worshipped, dedicating their entire being to the Aeon. 

And realized that she'd spaced out and was being guided by Robin as they trailed after the Halovian male, the morning sunshine hitting their faces as they left the chapel, passing by other disciples as they paused and bowed their heads towards the Halovian male.

"I suppose you're not familiar with the customs of the discipleship," Sunday spoke as the reached the bottom of the stairs, beginning a leisurely pace.

She was quiet as she considered her next words.

Recognizing this, Sunday let out a breathy, melodic laugh. "You don't need to be careful with what you say, for in this moment, I'd like to think of it as a moment from our childhood—"

"You're a prick for leaving me behind like that without warning," she said, tone flat and unfiltered.

Robin's eyes widened as she looked between her brother and the childhood friend, the woman her brother desired, shock written all over her face. She breathed out in relief when Sunday's wings fluttered with his laugh. 

"Still as feisty as ever, oh how I missed it," he laughed, turning to look over his shoulder. There was no doubt that a smile was on his face, even with the veil and wings folded over his countenance.

"Beyond your holier-than-thou prick move..." she began, tone sharp and throwing verbal daggers. "I missed you too," she finished, voice softening near the end as she offered a melancholic smile. "Both you and Robin, though Robin less since she actually visits me once a month."

The wings around Sunday's head seemed to soften and flutter quietly, feathers relaxing as he slowed his pace down enough to walk with his sister and childhood friend. The three chatted as they pleased, ignoring the stares from people on morning runs or walking their canine companions. 

Sunday, for once, relaxed in the tranquility of the friendly bickering between his sister and the woman he loved, happy to listen to them as they discussed what type of chocolate confectionery was the best in the morning. 

How he had missed this...

He paused as he realized these two had fallen silent, looking to his side to see them both staring at him. Had they asked him a question?

"Did you two say something?" he asked, feeling his face flush. For once he was grateful for the veil.

"No, it's just... I forgot you had a habit of doing this," the woman spoke.

This? What was it that she was referring to... oh. How had that happened? Somewhere in the midst of the conversation, his darkened wing had stretched out to wrap around both girls, sheltering them from the world. He didn't remember doing it. Must've been something... second nature to him. He lifted it as if he was going to fold it back before a hand grasped the top of his wing, causing the Halovian male to choke on a groan.

"Wait– don't... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without your permission, but... I kinda like... having your wing there. It's comforting and it feels safe."

"She is right brother. We've always felt safe hiding here. Remember when we'd try and play in the rain and you insisted we hide in your wings to wait out the storm? Like a mother hen hiding her chicks in her wings," Robin spoke, a fond smile on her face as she recalled all those memories.

Sunday breathed out in relief when his wing was left alone, chuckling as he remembered the memories too. "I couldn't let your curls fall flat Robin, and I couldn't let my only friend go home with a soaked dress."

He was somewhat glad his temporary lodgings were a little far as he soaked up the same feelings he'd longed for from his childhood. Sunday grew bold as his yearning grew, but not bold enough for skin-to-skin contact, so as they walked further, his fingers grasped the cuff of her sleeves, and that was enough for him. Enough for now.

Chapter Text

The golden morning sun rose higher in the sky as they walked behind the small manor where Sunday was staying, the gravel path quiet underneath their voices. Sunday's fingers still clung to the cuff of the woman's sleeves, the Halovian male fighting the urge to grab her hand. The fact that she hadn't noticed him holding her sleeves both pleased and irked him. It pleased him because he was with her, touching something, and it irked him because how could she not notice? Was he not being obvious enough? But then again, most understood that the disciples swore a vow of celibacy, and were to remain alone unless Xipe THEMSELVES commanded otherwise.

Their paces slowed as they approached a corner of the gardens, the corner occupied by a large willow tree, the long spindly fingers brushing the ground. It coaxed them to approach, to take shelter beneath the leaf-laden branches.

The trio sat at a small table tucked underneath the tree, catching up on years missed as they dined. Well. Almost all of them. Whilst Robin and the woman ate freely, Sunday did not.

The woman noticed as she pinned him with a stare, setting her fork down.

"You're not going to eat?" she asked quietly, cocking her head.

Sunday shook his head, decorative chains on the veil tinkling with the movement. "Not at the moment no." He paused and sucked in a breath, considering his next words before speaking once more. "How much do you know of the discipleship?"

Silence fell, overshadowing the lighthearted mood that had settled. It was tense, as if they were verbally sparring instead of a normal conversation. Though... perhaps, when it came to conversing about the Harmony... one could only be cautious.

"Next to nothing. I find it a bit ridiculous that your face is covered," she quietly admitted, looking away from Sunday.

Robin's eyes widened as she covered her mouth, shaking her head. "Oh dear, no no no! He covers his face because anyone ranked lower than a Cherub turns to ash if they see it."

Confusion and bewilderment crossed the woman's face as she turned again to face Sunday, sadness flashing in her eyes before it trickled away. Sunday wondered if it was a trick of the light.

"Is... is that true?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper. He almost mistook it for a breeze flitting about in the willow branches.

"It is."

He marveled at the sadness rushing back in her face before it vanished, determination filling that gaze instead. Why was she making that expression?

"Then... I'll close my eyes! Extra tight! It's not fair that we eat now and you don't, so, if I close my eyes and not look, I won't be turned to ash."

Sunday blinked, his mouth parting in surprise as he considered the idea, astonished by the idea. He didn't need to look to his left to know Robin shared the same expression.

"I... suppose it would work..." Robin murmured. "As long as you don't see his face."

"Exactly! You can even blindfold me with the napkins too—"

Sunday put a finger to the woman's lips, shushing her. "That's too far, dearest. I trust you will keep your word and your eyes shut tight."

She stared at his finger and trailed up his arm before settling on his covered face, staring at where she assumed his eyes were before returning to his finger, slowly nodding as he pulled away. She closed her eyes tightly and went so far as to cover them with her own hands, fighting the urge to peek when she heard the rustle of Sunday's wings moving, undoubtedly unfolding to rest beside his head.

It was harder not to look when the delicate tinkling of the decorative chains covering the veil's fabric clinked and sang.

She couldn't stop the sentence that came out of her mouth. "Can I at least touch your face—? If I can't see it."

It was like time froze. Even the birds stopped singing. Heat crawled up her neck and settled in her face, in her ears, her face becoming flustered and warm. She could feel the bewildered stares from the Halovian siblings for the second time that morning. "Ha... ha ha ha—" she began to laugh, ducking her head in embarrassment. "Forget I asked anything—"

"You may," came the quiet, soft-spoken reply.

She froze. "What?" Must've been a fluke. A Seraph? Allowing her, a mere common mortal, to touch his face? She must've been hallucinating, hearing things! There was no way she'd be allowed to do so. 

"You may. Just be gentle."

"You're quite bold, brother," Robin spoke with equal softness.

Sunday hummed as he grasped one of the woman's hands, resting his cheek in her palm and bringing her hand to his face. He leaned into her touch, closing his own eyes as he reveled in the knowledge that he was being touched, being loved, even if it wasn't exactly how he would've liked. He almost cooed when her hands traced his face, traced his facial features. Her touch was soft, exactly how he liked it, and it caused his wings to flutter. 

But alas, such things are only temporary.

He almost cried when she took her hands back, almost grabbed them to keep them there, but he let her go. Easy conversation started up again, Sunday remaining quiet as he listened to the two women chatter, chewing through the crimson flesh of strawberries, picked fresh that morning. Their sweetness was decadent yet fleeting, brushing by him with the mere kiss of a promise. Surely these strawberries were akin to his longing, his yearning, the promises of a love more divine than his title; fleeting yet decadent, somehow so selfish on his part to desire so strongly.

When he could eat no more, he grasped the veil once more and fitted it over his face, wings coming up to fold over his eyes once more.

"You may open your eyes again, dear," he spoke, touching the back of the woman's hands.

She startled, jumping in her seat at his touch.

"Ah, I should have warned you. My apologies."

Both women laughed, the sound music to his ears.

-----------------------------

He's filthy.

Absolutely filthy.

He yearns for the touch of another, yearns to be held like he used to be. Yearns to have his cheeks kissed and squished, like how his mother used to when she tucked him and his little sister into bed. The Solis Filius, heir to the Godthrone, struck down by something as small as physical touch. He was helpless, weakened with yearning, how risible was his burden, the Seraph Prince falling so low as to plead for the touch of a lover. 

It certainly ached, oh, it even shook and trembled, the desires wrecking him to his very core, and at last he understood in completeness, the very tone and vocal strain of the despairing pleas of the sinners that come to confess. The very damning woes of the congregations fallen off the path, lost and alone in the dark, lost without their sun to guide them.

That was why he existed.

That was why he was the Solis Filius; Son of the Sun, so he could guide the lost and weary back to the narrow path.

But... how could he be the Sun if he himself fell victim to the strifes of mortal life, if he so pined after the follies of romance and desire? Even if but for a brief moment, he wondered if this was punishment for harboring secrets deep inside his heart, for shielding the budding desires for the one he loved.

What would the people think if he joined the lines that flowed out the doors to the confession booths, his sin utter blasphemy against his people. Winged Halovians spent their lives in the service of Xipe, worshipping Xipe and guiding the congregations to do the same. How could he fall so low...

He fell to his knees before the statue of Xipe, hands clasped in prayer lest they shake. They already were sweating inside his black leather gloves. His doubts were his companions as he whispered his prayers in the empty church, the setting sun casting its light onto the walls, painting the white marble with a blood orange hue before fading to a dull gray, the warmth of the sun being devoured by the oncoming night.

He remained kneeling even as the stars began to wink into existence, one by one, watching him when he broke at last, the male succumbing to the floor in his entirety. Aloud he wept, golden tears shimmering in the silver crescent gaze of the moon as he lay there on the floor.

Who was he but another male under the cover of the moon, unimportant to the ever changing entity. His back ached and itched something fierce, accompaniment to the pains of his heart. He may have borne an immortal body, one of flesh and bone over flesh and blood, but inside him, the heart of a helpless, teary-eyed little boy beat, the thumping pace erratic and afraid. He was afraid.

Such a thing killed him to admit, but aloud he cried, "I am afraid."

He curled in on himself, embracing the cold bite of the floor.

"I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid—"

A mantra he lived by. One he had lived by even till know, even if he hadn't acknowledged it.

"I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, afraid afraid afraid—"

Head tucked against his knees, his hands came up to cover his ears, pulling on the wings just below. He was being watched, he was surrounded. He was being mocked and stoned, the single word becoming his very being. 

​​Afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid—

Sound shrieked into his ears and became all he heard, his terror drowned out in the ringing resounding through his skull. A desperate, last ditch attempt at receiving the comfort he sought, he called the name of a dead woman, yet his voice waivered, betraying him and displaying the mortal weaknesses of his heart. His mind wandered for a brief moment to his youth; the children at school were not wrong to dub him 'Crybaby Sunday.' He choked on his tears as he called out once again, called out for someone long gone.

"Mother..."

-----------------------------

The cathedral was silent save for the broken whimpers of someone collapsed on the floor.

Robin blinked once, twice, thrice in concern before stepping towards the collapsed man, caution in every click of her heels. It was hard to make out the man in the dim lighting, the moon hidden behind a patch of clouds.

Her lips pursed as she squinted, trying to make the figure clearer. It helped, somewhat, but not enough to tell who it was. The Halovian female lifted up her hands, a dim ball of light sparking to life in her palms. She held her hands before her, shining that little light on the weeping figure, the light bouncing off of something sharp and gold. She stepped closer, shuffling as she tried to make out who it was.

Robin froze.

Maybe it was the shape of the halo. Maybe it was the way the weeping breath hitched and broke. Maybe it was the way the voice shattered as sobs eddied and banked, going from loud to soft. Maybe it was the darkened wings, now visible and easier to see, twitched and spasmed, the four tinier ones ruffled and fluffed up.

She dashed for the fallen male, that ball of light in one palm as she reached for him, his name leaving her lips.

"Sunday?"

The veil that usually adorned his face was gone, cast aside at the foot of the statue. His hands were bare as he held them over his ears, the tiny ear wings folded over his hands, as if he were afraid he'd let go. He stared at her, golden eyes closing as he turned his face away, as if he were ashamed, or... perhaps, afraid. 

"Why are you here, Robin?" 

Robin did not have a response for him as she pulled him upright to a sitting position, only grabbing his veil when he seemed stable enough to sit on his own.

"Do I need a reason to see where my brother is?" she said at last, giving him a worried look.

Sunday's face was pale, more than normal as he gazed up, eyes blank and distant. There was an age to his face that did not match him at all. Something old consumed his thoughts, his eyes told as much, lips trembling as he looked away. He pursed those shaking lips together, sucking in an equally shaken breath.

"Tell me, dear sister... if you had someone you loved, but they sat just out of your reach..."

"Don't go there, brother. Such thoughts will only lead to misery."

Sunday fell silent, letting violent tremors shoot through him.

"Are... you afraid?"

That word. That word again.

He could vaguely see the faint outlines of his classmates as they teased him and guffawed at him when he struggled to speak up, his voice no better than a baby deer standing for the first time. 

"Who would've thought that a Halovian would've been such a scaredy-cat?!"

"Why are you so afraid anyways?"

He covered his ears again, missing the hand that came to rub at his back in an attempt to comfort.

"Brother... let's get you home..."

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered into the room through the sheer curtains, the fabric whispering in the morning breeze as it blew through the windows. The golden glow fell upon a sleeping face, turning gray feathers white as wings rustled from their spot, folded over the sleeping male's face. An old habit. One that had never been broken, no matter how he had tried. His breathing was even, deep, yet somehow it carried an aching loneliness in every sigh.

Such a sight was beheld by a woman, a woman that held the affections of the male that slept.

She crossed the room towards the shelves lined with books and small trinkets from a childhood nearly forgotten, fingers trailing the edges of the wood. They paused near a white and gold box, tiny and somewhat hidden. Glancing at the figure still laying in bed, she grasped the little box and turned it, finding the crank in the back. She took hold and twisted, once, twice, thrice till it turned no more, and let go of it.

A soft melody began to play, plinking and clicking as she set it back on the shelf.

She swayed to the lilting melody, head swaying with it as she moved about, straightening a few other books, opening the curtains further. And... surely he wouldn't mind if...

The lock clicked as she unlocked the windows, pushing them open to let the morning breeze inside.

At this the sleeping male groans, roused at last. He turned onto his side, away from the sun as if it burned him, murmuring under his breath, "Robin... just five more minutes please..."

"I'm sorry to say Robin already left this morning."

Sunday froze. That was not Robin. His wings folded under his ears as he pulled the covers over his head with such speed it left even her surprised.

"What are you doing here?! You know you're not supposed to see my bare face, you'll turn to ash—"

"Sunday, I'm still here aren't I?"

He paused, panting as he considered, thoughts racing each other. And then cursed in his own mind as he realized he was acting like a child in trouble. Hiding in his bed, underneath the covers... 

"Sunday."

The sound of his name from her lips was firm, but coaxing. But... damn him he hesitated.

He shook under the covers, hands clammy as he pulled the covers back, wings folding over the lower half of his face if he needed to pull them up over his eyes. Some coverage was better than none... right?

The sunshine blinded him for a moment as he hissed, blinking against the light before his eyes adjusted, landing on the woman standing in front of the large wardrobe, rifling through his clothes. He almost protested until he noticed the clothes already set out on his chair.

She didn't need to do this, he could take care of himself, he wanted to say. But... he remained silent as he sat himself up, watching as she moved with no hurry. 

"Why?" he asked instead.

"Why what?" she responded.

"Why are you doing this? Picking out my clothes, ​​​caring ​for me?"

"Well... why not? I've known you since we were children."

"Yes but—" he bit his lip, the words struggling in his throat, eyes glued to the point between her shoulder blades, that very point where if she'd ascend to discipleship, they would undoubtedly grow.

You've grown. You're not a little girl anymore. You're a woman. I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm a man. We could sleep in the same room as children and no one batted an eye but now?

He couldn't stop staring at her. The white dress she wore showcased her purity in his eyes, but the way it hugged her figure...

While it wasn't skin tight, it still hugged just enough to taunt him. To bait him. This was unfair. Did she know how she tempted the Solis Filius?

His fists curled into the comforters, gripping the fabric as he looked away. Surely this was a trial to purify him of his lusts. His yearning. It was wrong for him to want something so badly. But oh, Xipe spare him, he was suffocating. Truly it was no longer a mystery as to why he often heard the same sins over and over from the same patrons.

"I've already prepped breakfast for you," came the voice, a mere siren's call as it tempted him to destroy himself. "It's on your desk once you're ready."

Her shoes clicked on the floor as she left his room, leaving the Halovian male fighting himself. He was aflame, burning in his sins, set on fire by the woman now on the other side of the door that clicked shut with a quietness it shattered any semblance of calm remaining in him. 

He clutched at his chest as it ached and throbbed. His eyes burned, wings freezing when something hot and wet touched them.

Sunday brought another hand up towards his face, wiping at his eyes. Golden tears glimmered at him before falling into his palm.

-----------------------------

Had the confessional booths always been this small? Or was it the fact that the wings at his waist, now larger and growing more steadily, took up more space?

The Seraph didn't have time to ponder on this question as he called for the next patron to visit him in the booth. When the door shut, and the patron settled, detectable only by a shadow through the mesh wiring, Sunday clasped his hands together and closed his eyes.

"Heed the call of this lost lamb, O Triple-Faced-Soul, and be with us now and accept this lamb back into the folds of thy care as this lamb professes their sins before thee, seeking thy forgiveness and mercy. Please, beloved patron, speak."

"Solis Filius... I've committed a grave sin. Grave enough I am unworthy of Xipe's mercy."

The voice sounded familiar, but the mesh distorted it just enough that he couldn't tell. Not really. The next lines came to him with ease. It was a script, a recital at this point. He'd done this since he was a youth after all. He could probably do this in his sleep if he really wanted.

"Lost lamb, no sin is unforgivable, please, speak and receive Xipe's guidance."

"I've fallen in love with a man."

He opened his mouth to continue, but then paused as he realized the next line failed to flow with the confession. Falling in love was not a sin in itself unless circumstances proved otherwise.

He blinked, rapidly as he considered. Sunday then realized silence was no good for the patron and spoke, "Please, explain further. Love itself is not a sin unless the circumstances lead it to be."

"Solis Filius, I've fallen in love with a man unobtainable."

"Is he married?"

"No, he is not."

Confusion filled him as he pondered and considered. How could a man be unobtainable? If he wasn't married, there was no problem unless he already had a lover, or... circumstances proved difficult.

"Then who?"

Silence. Heavy and thick silence fell between them.

And then a whisper reached him through the mesh screen.

"Solis Filius, I am ashamed. But since we were children, I admired him from afar, but alas, he was unobtainable. Taken as a youth to become a Bronze Melodia, and now, he sits beside me, in a position far higher than anyone else."

The same, heavy, thick silence fell again as he considered the words of the patron. A childhood crush, but the man taken to become a Bronze Melodia...

He froze as he connected the dots. He was the man in question.

"That... is a grave sin indeed. But fear not, lost lamb, Xipe has forgiven you."

Sweat beaded and dripped down his temple. The booth, usually frigid, was now sweltering. His clothes must've been too tight, or maybe his wings really must be too large for the space he was confined in now—

"Sunday."

He froze. He knew that voice for certain.

"I've been plagued by dreams as of late. I dream of a child. And that child is of my flesh and your blood."

He swallowed. And swallowed hard. "Seek Xipe's guidance on this matter further."

That heavy silence returned. And it stayed, long after she left.

-----------------------------

"I offer you what you desire on a silver platter, and you deny it?"

"Please, I do not mean to—"

"Silence. I can only influence so much before it violates her agency."

"Xipe... I cannot help but doubt. Is this a trial or do you truly wish to see me, the Solis Filius, akin to an heir of a royal lineage, wed?"

"Is that not the duties of the princes and princesses amongst the mortals? Surely it is no different."

"Well, yes, but— you've commanded celibacy amongst the discipleship, especially for those ranked higher than the Powers—"

"Unless I command otherwise. And I, Xipe, the Harmony, the Triple-Faced-Soul, command you, Solis Filius, Sunday, to wed."

-----------------------------

He stared down at the congregation below as they conversed, the sermon over. It was normal. As normal as it could get. Except for the stare that burned into him.

He dared not meet the eyes of the woman who stared at him, lips in a thin line. If he tuned out the chatter and focused on the melodies of each individual instead, he found that her melody had gone from blending in with the rest to growing bolder. Bolder and louder, more powerful. His mouth went dry when she began walking towards the mezzanine, still staring at him, despite his face being covered. 

His fingers curled into the railing, wings trembling. In excitement or fear, or perhaps the thrill of pursuit, he couldn't tell. He shook them, ruffling the feathers as he pulled them back in tight, his new wings protesting a little at the action, but ultimately surrendering.

A step back and a pivot sent him gliding towards the archway leading towards a hidden stairwell, the stairs spiraling towards the main floor. He all but flew down them to meet the woman that waited at the bottom, her brow furrowed, her arms folded, and a frown etched on her face.

It killed him just a little to see such an expression.

"Good morning, Solis Filius," she greeted, scanning him head to toe. "I see you're doing better after Robin found you collapsed in front of Xipe's statue the other night."

He laughed, a breathy, weak little thing as he lowered his chin. "I had gotten so in-tune with Xipe's melody that I was overwhelmed and my physical body could not handle the strain, that is all."

A lie.

Or at least, a partial one.

It was mostly true, but the strain had been of his own making. She did not need to know that.

"Please, will you accompany me on a walk through the cemetery?" he asked, stretching out a gloved hand. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

"Little creepy to take a girl on a date where the dead rest, Sunday." Her deadpan was the only giveaway of her teasing him.

"Surely you'll humor a friend and come with me?" he whispered, pleading with her.

Her face softened as much as his voice did, eyes going to the other hand that lay over his heart, and then that outstretched hand. She smiled at him, sighing.

"Still a helpless baby bird, aren't you?"

"Not entirely, but for you? Yes."

That quiet confession. Disguised and veiled beneath words. There was more to what he wanted to say, but here where anyone could interpret his actions the wrong way, his heart needed to be veiled in secrecy. 

He was helpless to his feelings, tangled up in them like a rat caught in a trap. She was the poison and he the drinker of the poison. If she killed him, he'd gladly lose his life.

Sunday almost wept with relief when her hand grasped his at last; a silent acceptance of his confession.

"Lead the way, Sunday."

Chapter Text

Tucked away from the public view by bushes of blue flowers, a grave stood erected in the middle of the blue arrangement. White pebbles created a small tower at the base, each one so carefully placed. Each pebble was the same size, the same hue. Beneath the name engraved into the gravestone, one that Sunday could not bear to read lest he weep, the words were carved in gold: Beloved Mother and Protector

Sunday stood before that stone, his hands clasped in front of him, as if he were about to pray, quietly inviting the woman he adored to come and see.

"Robin and I lost our mother shortly after the Stellaron disaster many years ago..." Sunday explained, his voice a mere whisper that trembled and broke as he recalled. He wasn't sure what Robin had seen or heard, but what he did know, was that he cried the whole time and clung to his mother's clothes and his sister's hand. She wasn't too much younger than him, and it was his duty to protect Robin.

It had been, in his mind, one of the few times he'd failed. And such a failure he kept locked in his memories.

He didn't dare think about the second time he'd failed.

"I didn't know," came the voice to free him from his thoughts. "I'd always assumed Mr. Gopher Wood was your father."

"In a way."

She looked at him, giving him a look. "Being cryptic are we?"

"I do not hold much... affection... for that man. It took me many years to realize that he was not taking care of my sister and I because it was his duty as our 'father' but rather—"

The words died on his tongue as his mood soured. The Halovian swallowed hard, lips pursing beneath the wretched veil he had to wear lest somebody perish.

"You don't have to tell me if you can't."

Silence consumed the male. His vocal chords felt heavy in his throat, and every attempt and desire to speak perished on his tongue. He recalled the explosion that had taken out Gopher Wood... and the violet raven that trailed him ever since, bearing Gopher Wood's voice and mind.

His exhale spoke more than he ever could: the shaking, the broken breath that left him. He choked on his own breath when she grasped the tips of his fingers, his eyes snapping to her as they went wide.

Maybe it was the sun, or just his mind playing tricks on him, but the faint outline of a halo had begun to weave around her head as she looked at him, offering a steady, quiet solace if he wished to partake. 

He licked his lips, his mouth drier than an abandoned well. Words tangled themselves in his throat, seeking to escape but unable to do so.

Perhaps the first sign of the dam breaking was the way his wings went slack, feathers splaying outwards. Maybe it was the way his shoulders began to shake, or the tears that built up behind the veil. Maybe it was the way he continued to choke on his breath, on his words, frozen in place as he searched for a way out. He was supposed to be strong, supposed to be a better man than this and yet here he was, the Solis Filius, akin to a Crown Prince about to ascend to the throne—

She moved before he did, her other arm coming to wrap around him as she stepped forward, violating the sacred space around him, trespassing where mortals should not go, but she couldn't be such anymore could she? Not with what Xipe commanded.

He broke.

His knees gave out from under him, and the Solis Filius fell to the earth, wings twitching, rendered useless as they spread out like the train on a gown.

The earth should've hurt with how gravity pulled him towards the ground. It should've hurt with how he plummeted, but instead of kissing the ground he found his head resting on her shoulder, her arms pulling him close. Surely this broke so many of his vows but at the moment, he could not bring himself to care. 

The Solis Filius wept.

-----------------------------

"Mortal child, you're hesitating."

"Am I not supposed to? He is a Holy Man, it almost feels sacrilegious to pursue him."

"Not when I command it, mortal child. But, you are changing, even as you slumber this very night. From the shell of a mortal to the vessel of the divine, you will ascend to the same status as the Solis Filius. You will be Filia Lunae."

"Are you certain... certain it's not a mistake...? What if it goes wrong—?"

"I have ascertained the future, child. You are Filia Lunae."

. . .

"As you wish."

-----------------------------

The halo hung behind her head, floating there. There was no extra weight like she'd expected, but rather... she almost didn't feel it if it wasn't for the subtle pressure on her skull. It wasn't an annoyance by any means, no, but... nagging. New. 

Unknown.

The shape of the halo was hard to discern, the crown wasn't fully developed; only the vague sense of its existence made itself known. 

Now, on the other hand, the itching in her back was another problem entirely. 

Robin had given her a look when she'd come pleading for help, but was still merciful and did not ask questions, though she knew the Cherub had them. 

"Please, don't tell your brother about this... I don't know what rank I'm supposed to be... ascending to."

"If... what my brother has been muttering about is true, I think you will be a Seraph, like him. You'll have to see his face after all."

"Are you not allowed to see him?"

"... no... not really... he's too bright to look at for long..."

Robin's statement held some truth to it. Even with the veil on his face, it was hard to look at him for long. He just seemed too holy, too pure to gaze upon. Not without withering to death from the weight of sins. Or guilt. Or both. Definitely both.

Footsteps were caught just outside her temporary bedroom door, and voices too. She paused in her mind to listen instead, her breath catching in her throat from panic. She wasn't supposed to be seen like this just yet—

"Brother wait! She doesn't want to be seen!"

"I'm sorry Robin, but I have something urgent to discuss with her—"

"Brother! Are you even listening? She wants some privacy!"

They paused just outside the door.

"... At least... 5 minutes?"

Her back was killing her. It was enough of an annoyance she didn't hear Robin's response but it was easy to assume when one of the siblings knocked on the door. 

Gritting her teeth, she responded to the quiet plea to be let in. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Sunday. And Robin," came the reply, quiet and subdued. "We... I mean... I have something urgent to discuss with you."

She stared at the door. Stared at the shadows in the crack at the bottom of the door. Caught the sight of Sunday's robes and the toes of the purple heels of his little sister.

"How urgent?"

There was a pause on the otherside of the door.

"If... if you're indecent we can come back at a later time?"

"No, it's fine, I just want to know if it's life or death."

"Well... no..."

Robin's heel clicked as she stepped forward. "Let me handle this, please."

Sunday protested, but a hushed word from Robin had him quieting.

The door knob turned and the door opened just enough for Robin to slip through before the door shut. She looked towards the woman in front of the mirror, eyes catching on the vague form of the halo behind her head.

Robin smiled and let out a soft laugh, "It looks like the moon. I think it's fitting." Her hands came up to rub at the woman's bare arms, offering comfort and warmth. "I've sent Sunday away for now, to let you gather your thoughts."

She looked at the Cherub, sighing through her nose. "I've... heard discourse and rumors. Some unpleasant, others surprised and shocked. They say Sunday's been commanded to marry but are at a loss as to who his bride is."

She straightened, looking away from the Halovian to stare at herself in the mirror. "Did the Triple-Faced-Soul command it? And if so, is it I? Robin, I don't ask out of confidence or ego, no not even a superiority complex, but out of question. I'm changing, Robin. Physically, mentally— my back itches and aches, my head feels heavy from the halo..." she trailed off, voice cracking a little. "I have done nothing deserving of Xipe's gaze, done nothing to deserve ascending to this state, so tell me Robin!" Hysteria laced each word as she continued. "Is it I?"

Robin gave her a soft, sad smile as she embraced the shaking woman. "It seems we don't need to explain too much then... but now I ask, did you accept Xipe's blessing? Sunday was only commanded to marry, and was given the opportunity to choose his bride. And he chose you. Of all the women he could have picked, including out of many Halovian women, he chose you. Xipe must have come to you in a dream giving you the choice to accept, and if you bear the beginnings of a halo and are growing your own wings, then you accepted."

The woman did not respond, her eyes downcast as she pondered.

"My friend... Sunday has long been helplessly in love with you. But if you had rejected his request, he would've accepted it."

A huffed laugh. "Well then, good thing I didn't then, Robin. We both know he's more emotional than he lets on."

"You're right, he is. But, I find that part of my brother endearing... and it is what makes him so good at his work." Another hug, tighter than the last. "I'll let him know you'll be available soon, just come when you're ready."

Would she ever be ready? Would she ever be able to face Sunday at the altar? Would he be able to handle it? Well, she already knew the answer to the last question. He would undoubtedly cry. It's just who he was. A man who tried too hard to appear infallible, unemotional, and yet... he emotionally vulnerable. 

She watched as Robin slipped out the door, doubts haunting her every thought.

No... she wasn't ready.

-----------------------------

He paced in front of the mantle, the fireplace empty and devoid of warmth during the day. His wings ruffled and twitched, flexing before settling in their spots, conveying his anxieties. Robin sat on a lounge chair nearby, watching him.

"You're anxious, brother. You don't need to be, you know."

"I know... I know..." he whispered, closing his eyes as he paused. He pursed his lips as he looked at the staircase, hands shaking behind his back as he toyed with the little black box.

Was it too soon? It had to be too soon. It absolutely was too soon. She would say no, and he would move on, and... actually if she told him no, he didn't think he would be able to move on. Not fully. 

"You're overthinking, brother."

"How can I not... this is one of the biggest moments of my life."

He could not tolerate another failure.

"You'll be fine, I just know it, brother," Robin soothed, smiling at him. She stood up from her spot and crossed over to him, straightening his clothes. She picked off an invisible piece of lint, double checking that his veil was still in place. "You'll do great, I just know it."

The sound of a door clicking shut echoed from upstairs, the siblings turning to look.

"I'll leave you two be now, alright? I'll be close by if you need me though."

Sunday nodded, swallowing hard. His knees felt weak, his clothes felt too tight, his wings too heavy—

Robin hugged him before darting off, giving him a wink and a smile as the woman upstairs descended to the landing.

"You... wanted to speak with me, Sunday?"

Sunday froze as he looked, jaw dropping to the floor. So it wasn't a trick of the light...

"Sunday?"

"Ah— yes, right, please, sit down."

He wasn't sure if that was more to him or more to her.

"I... assume you've heard the rumors floating about."

"Yes, I have."

Right. Of course she has. It was all anyone would mutter about. Sunday startled when he realized he'd been silent for too long. "W-Well, good! This will go by easier then. As you may have heard, I've been... commanded... by Xipe to marry."

She nodded, humming in confirmation that yes, she knew that.

Was it just him or did that tiny box get heavier? The tiny black box he kept hidden out of view, tucked in his hands, hidden just underneath his aching, trembling wings. Just ask her, just ask the question, just ask, worst she could say is no.

"Sunday? Is everything alright?"

He opened his mouth to speak when a phone began to ring. It took all of his willpower to not cry out and tell her to ignore it, tell her to call them back later if she picked it up, to tell her that he was more important than some silly little phone call—

The ringtone went dead silent as Robin's voice instead filtered into the air.

They tuned out the Halovian woman, leaving the woman with the halo in the form of the moon, staring at him.

"Sunday?"

He choked on his words. Why couldn't he just ask? He had everything prepared and scripted beforehand, why was this so hard?

"It's... nothing, it's fine."

No, it wasn't fine, it absolutely was not fine! Why was it so hard to ask one tiny question?! It was just a question! A question that would change the course of his life for eternity, that would bind him to another for the rest of his life and beyond, for Xipe's blessings extended beyond the grave. It would not be till death do we part. 

"I just figured... I'd tell you I found my bride..."

Her face looked pained as she smiled at him. It took more power than he had to not beat himself up then and there.

"Well congratulations. Let me know when the wedding is."

He opened his mouth to protest and tell her she was the one he wanted, but she stood up. Despite her smaller stature, she somehow looked down on him. "May you both have a happy life."

Sunday felt something in his chest break as he watched her walk away. And he felt his heart wither when he did nothing to bring her back, his fear trapping him in his spot.

Never before did a little black box feel so heavy...