There were eighteen years left in Linus's term, and someone has to fill them out. Alleluia shoos her acolytes and addresses her interface.
The Archangel Linus is dead. Who will be the next Archangel?
The angel Isabella, daughter of the angel Rinnah and the mortal man Charles.
Alleluia's met her... She's very young, she would have been readier if she'd succeeded Linus at the natural end of his term, but Isabella it is.
...She should wait for this news to reach the Eyrie and for Isabella to ask her, but this is an emergency interim change of leadership. Perhaps Isabella would like to have the answer ready as soon as she touches down at Sinai.
And who will be her angelico?
Darius, son of Noah and Abigail.
That's... Well, that's not her acolyte's father's name, but -
- but isn't he adopted -
Alleluia clears the interface. She goes into the acolytes' dormitory and knocks at Darius's door.
Meep.
"Coming!" he calls, nearly knocking over a lamp in his haste to open the door.
He opens the door, and suddenly he has no idea what to say.
'You are very pretty' is probably not the place to start. Neither is 'Your wings are very fluffy' or 'I need singing practice' or 'Can my family come live with us?' He stands there for an extended moment, trying to put appropriate words together. What do you say to the person who's supposed to be your soulmate?
Well, before he figures that out, a shock of pain from his kiss hauls him out of his reverie. Ow. Oh hey, soulmate. And he's been standing here not saying anything for. Longer than he'd like.
"... Hi."
Her Kiss is going insane with its own colors, although if it hurts her she's got a heck of a pain tolerance.
"Nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too. Um, are you ready to go to the Eyrie? I can carry you or if you'd rather I didn't I can ask to borrow one of Alleluia's children...?"
"I've already packed my bags, um, I, don't mind you carrying me?"
"That's all," Alleluia says.
"All right - where are your bags, then?"
Right in there: there are bags. Packed lightly (but efficiently, and well organized) and sparse in number, but definitely bags.
"Of course," says Alleluia.
Darius obligingly goes in the direction of the exit, wondering how common it is for angels to drop people.
And then, bags and all, despite him being quite a bit taller than her, she scoops him up in a bridal carry, waits for him to find a comfortably settled position in her arms, and jumps off the mountain.
Oh goodness.
He does make a little 'Eep' sound when she jumps off the mountain. Surely that doesn't count as an undignified squeak. Right? It doesn't.
But he doesn't squirm, so, that's nice.
"If you get height-sick or dizzy or anything, I can fly lower, it's just more flapping."
"Um. I. Should be okay for now. Not height-sick or dizzy, just. Actually wondering if angels drop mortals all that often. Please don't drop me, it will be really hard to sing in the Gloria if you drop me."
"I won't drop you. I've never actually heard of it happening outside horrible storms, and if we encounter a horrible storm I can sing it away."
"... I, um, realize that sounded a little, like I thought you might on purpose and nononono, I don't, it's just, first, thought in head. I also wondered how likely it was that someone would shove me off the mountain, but I didn't say that when I first got there and did here because I would like to at least attempt to honestly communicate with, um, with you, because. Yeah."
"Well, I promise not to drop you, either on purpose or accidentally. Or push you off any mountains."
"Thank you. I also promise not to drop you, or, push you off of mountains. Even with wings I assume it would be alarming."
"I... don't actually know, but it seemed like the thing to promise. 'Oh, good, we are decided on not being terrible to each other,' except in. Dropping from high places."