Hope the First
Saint Hope
"Hope always tried her best to do what she thought was right." Paul explained, a sad tinge to his voice. "The problem was always with what she thought was right, and how she applied it."
"I don't understand." Reyna tried to work through it.
"Angels - well, Saints mostly, start somewhere else and ascend. Hope was once human, and ascended with her family - a very rare feat in our world." Paul's feathers ruffled. "I shouldn't be telling you about this. Not at all."
"Paul." Reyna pleaded.
"She wanted to keep everyone safe." Paul murmured. "She lead a massive revolt in the Heavenly Plains, and painted our lovely home in various shades of red to protect the people she cared about."
"Hell of a way to keep people safe." Reyna made a face.
"You should have seen her, though. She was fearless, fierce in her task." Paul stood and went to his desk, digging around a bit. "Michael and Lucifer had a real hard time keeping the conflict contained in the Third Heaven. Her followers just kind of cropped up where they were least expected. So many died."
There was a small aha!, and Paul padded back to the table with an image, which he handed to Reyna.
"This is- you were-"
"I was requested." Paul explained slowly. "One of the few that didn't earn a death sentence for playing on the opposite side of the line."
"Was she really that beautiful?" Reyna's hand brushed across the photo, worn in appearance. She only recognized a couple of the many faces gathered together. Banded, really, in a misconstrued mission.
"In more ways than one." Paul sounded almost wistful.
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