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Sera’s house is, if one is to be polite, grandiose. Excessive, if one wishes to be less so. Still, it is Heaven, paradise, and since space is certainly no issue nobody begrudges the High Seraph a bit of extra space, even if she seems to live in her office most days. From outside the building simply seems large – five stories, a footprint better suited to a warehouse than a residential building. Few go inside, and amongst the angels residing or frequently doing business close to the courthouse there is much speculation as to what exactly she uses the space for.
Since exterminations became public knowledge, many theorize that the exorcists, or their weapons, are kept there.
It is exactly the sort of rumor that is so out of the left field that it is easily discounted at first, but upon second glance has just enough merit to pass along – be it out of genuine belief or humor. Atypically, Sera has never made to dispel these rumors, though she is no doubt aware of them. Like every good rumor, there is just the single tiniest grain of truth to it.
Inside, the house is typical, save for two notable features – the very open floorplan, and the incredibly tall ceilings even for a person of Sera’s stature. Some amongst the elder angels and close friends who have been granted access to Sera’s innermost sanctum have inquired as to the reason for the arrangement, to which Sera will cooly respond that she likes the airiness it brings her home. Simple, straightforward, and most importantly doing nothing to give away that tiny grain of truth.
It is half past five in the morning on a Tuesday, dawn breaking outside the bay window of Sera’s kitchen. The High Seraph is engrossed in her morning ritual – preparing a breakfast, high in protein and accompanied by paint stripper strong coffee for herself, and a mug of citrus tea for the tiny grain of truth.
Perched on Sera’s left shoulder, like a parrot on a pirate of old and still asleep despite the seraph’s movements is Lute –Commander of the Exorcist Legion, Heaven’s Red Right Hand, Shield of Hell and Horseman of War. The rumors are correct; the High Seraph is keeping at least one exorcist in her house. One very sleepy exorcist, whose talons are clenched tight about Sera’s shoulder while she leans against her much larger wife’s head. Sera understands; Lute had gotten back from a field exercise sometime around one in the morning.
If she melted a little inside each time that Lute’s more affectionate side came out, well, that was for her and her alone to know. Lute, she knew from experience, would sulk for days if she brought it up – softness still scared the woman, even all these years later.
Sera’s fault, in part, as with so many things. She flips the bacon, staring down at the pan as grease sizzles and pops. A few droplets hit her hand, and she allows her pain receptors to fire. Sera likes that; it made her a little closer to the mortals under her care. The kettle begins to whistle and she deposits the spatula, flicking the spout open before the noise disturbs Lute overmuch. As she slowly, carefully, pours boiling water over the coffee grounds Lute shuffles on her shoulder again, trilling quietly and fluffing her wings up to keep her balance. The remainder of the hot water goes into a mug with infuser waiting to steep Lute’s tea.
Humming a quiet melody settles the exorcist before Sera turns back to the stove, cracking a half dozen eggs into a bowl before adding a bit of milk, a bit of flour, and whisking. The bacon she pulls off the pan and divides between two waiting plates, swirling the grease before pouring the first omelet. She continues her melody, an old tune, so old that Sera might be one of the few who remember the age in which it was composed. Moving the knife to the rhythm she slices up some peppers, an onion, and a few of the bacon strips.
A wing, so soft and delicate, wraps around her right shoulder as Lute presses a kiss to the side of her head. Sera chuckles, she’d known full well the scent of bacon would rouse the exorcist in short order. For a moment she appreciates the benefits of shapeshifting as she allows another arm to form and pass a strip of bacon up to Lute without stopping her work on the vegetables. Still not fully awake, since instead of thanking her Lute trills like a bird before devouring the bacon.
It took a great deal of restraint not to comment on how cute Lute was being at that moment.
The couple settle back into their morning routine as Sera makes their omelets, pausing only once their drinks are ready so she can pour her coffee and pass the mug of tea up to Lute. She accepts with a murmured thanks and Sera knows that Lute is finally waking up properly, now she’s got something warm to sip on.
Soon enough she’s done cooking, and Sera passes the exorcist her plate. Claws dig into her shoulder, not painfully, never that – Lute is excruciatingly careful even though she can’t do serious damage to Sera. Plate in one hand and half empty mug of tea in the other, the exorcist flaps her wings once and flies over to the table, alighting on her usual seat.
Of course, her wife perches on the wooden chair, legs drawn up beneath her and wings flared out to the sides.
Sera chuckles as she makes to join Lute at the table, shaking her head and stifling a grin.
“What’re you laughing at?” Lute asks, voice husky from sleep; blinking life into her golden eyes as she stares at her wife, unblinking, her head cocked slightly to one side.
“Nothing, dear, now eat. You’ll feel better with some food in you.”
“Feel better if I knew what you were laughing at,” Lute grumps – but, she picks up her omelet and takes a hearty bite out of it. Smiling, Sera starts in on her own breakfast, opting to actually make use of the silverware. She’d chastised Lute in the early days for it but had long since abandoned it as a losing battle. At least she cleans the blood off now before going anywhere public – well, usually.
The kitchen is quiet save for the sounds of silverware and eating; a peaceful moment borne of long familiarity. Neither particularly wants the moment to end, but her food finished and second mug of coffee drained, and the clock nearing a quarter to seven, Sera stretches – ignoring Lute’s waggling eyebrow at the movement – and rises from her seat.
“Unfortunately, I have to go, the court requires my presence this morning.”
“Fuck the court, I need your presence this morning,” Lute shoots back.
“I know, darling, I know. We both have our duties to attend to. Didn’t the embassy request some assistance with Hellbeast incursions in one of the smaller settlements?”
“Yeah, that bullshit,” Lute rolls her eyes, “I really don’t want to go to Hell today, it probably doesn’t even warrant an exorcist response.”
“We’ll have some time to ourselves this evening, yes?” Sera asks, setting her dishes in the sink.
“Duh. If it runs late Rye can fucking deal with it, I’ll be here before you get in. Now go on, get! I’ll clean that shit, you’re running late already.”
“I’m early darling,” Sera smothers a grin.
“Just means you’re on time,” Lute says, and Sera mouths along with it. Flying up just high enough to ruffle the seraph’s hair, the exorcist dives out of the way of the playful swat that followed. The pair laugh as Lute lands and Sera makes her way to the front door.
On the threshold, she turns and ducks her head as the shorter woman flies up to meet her, a goodbye kiss filled with a tenderness and warmth that anywhere else but here would be completely foreign to these two women, forged from steel and duty. Only in this sanctum, only in each other’s embrace, do they let those walls of ice drop – a reprieve, until duty summons them once again.
As Sera makes her way down the street to the courthouse, she is already counting the minutes until she comes home to Lute perched on the banister or diving down through the foyer to land on her shoulder, when the stress of her day fades into nothingness.
It is more than worth a few interesting architectural choices.