When Thalia founded the Order of Saint Traft, she hadn't expected it to require quite this much paperwork. As she sat at her desk in her makeshift office, a dusty room in a corner of the rundown cathedral, she contemplated delegating the tedious task to one of her lieutenants. When Thalia remembered the look on Gerda's face the last time she asked the cathar to sort through the sea of letters, she laughed and abandoned the notion. A knock at her door pulled her out of her musings.

"Come in" Thalia said, and couldn't help but to smile as Gerda opened the wooden door with a creak. "Ah, Gerda, I was just thinking of you."

The lieutenant glanced at the pile of letters on Thalia's desk and grimaced, clearly remembering the assortment of papercuts she received during her last encounter with those letters. "Thalia, there is someone who is here to speak with you." Gerda paused for a moment after that, measuring Thalia's response.

"Alright," Thalia said when she was no longer able to wait out the silence, "who might this 'someone' be?" In the months since the order's formation, Thalia had only spoken with its namesake, Saint Traft's geist, on a few occasions. The dead had full schedules, apparently. "Is it another envoy from flight Heron?" She tapped her finger against the letter she had been writing, a carefully worded response to an Order priest in Kessig who was requesting aid in their efforts to locate some nameless necromancer. Thalia's response to the request was short; the Order was too busy suppressing the werewolf resurgence to bother with a would-be ghoulcaller. More often than not Thalia's visitors were angels from the only flight that seemed to resist the corruption that have overwhelmed flights Goldnight and Alabaster. Still, Thalia had learned to be wary of angels in recent times, regardless of their flight.

Gerda shuffled uncomfortably. "I suppose the most accurate answer is 'yes'."

Thalia raised her eyebrows in confusion but nodded and stood nonetheless, the legs of her wooden chair grinding against the stone flooring. "I will return when our business is finished, then. Thank you, Gerda."

"Thalia?" said Gerda as her commander exited the room.

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to…" Gerda gestured to the letters.

"No, that's quite alright," laughed Thalia, as Gerda very clearly failed to hide her relief.

Thalia's boots tapped loudly against each stony step of the spiraling staircase as she made her way to the cathedral's loft. The loft, like the rest of the chapel, was forgotten and isolated when Thalia and the Order took it up as residence, informed of its location in Nephalia by Saint Traft himself. The rebuilding and restoration of the holy site was still going on, but the loft was the first part to be restored, a feat Thalia had undertaken herself. She wasn't sure if she had really expected any angels to come once the loft was restored, and when the first envoy of flight Heron, Sigarda's host, did arrive Thalia was more than a little skeptical about them. But the flight had proven to be stalwart allies nonetheless. Flight Heron may not have been as militant a host as flight Goldnight, but their wards had proven themselves invaluable, especially in the forested areas along the coast where the dead did not rest easily. In the end Thalia was grateful for them, even if the distant attitude of the angels had proven to be a tad… discomforting.

The knight-cathar took a deep breath as she approached the doorway that led to the loft. "Here we go." She threw the door open, but the being who awaited her in the solar was no mere envoy of the angel Sigarda's flight.

The angel who stood before Thalia was Sigarda herself, her radiant white wings folded gently behind her.

"Thalia, founder of the Order of Saint Traft and comitant to flight Heron for these past few months. We finally meet." The angel nodded gently, a more personal greeting than Thalia had ever received from an angel before. She froze for a moment before dropping to one knee and bowing her head low.

"Sigarda," said Thalia, "it is an honor. The help from you and your flight has been invaluable to our efforts here." She raised her head and looked up at the angel in front of her, taking a brief moment to examine Sigarda while she had the chance. The angel seemed dressed for battle, heavily armored from the neck down. Her orange hair cascaded down her back, framing her face like the setting sun. Thalia stared, perhaps for too long.

"Is it customary for humans to simply look at each other for this long?" asked the angel. Thalia rose to her feet quickly, at a sudden loss for words.

"N-no, I mean, sometimes? I suppose it depends on the situation," came the knight-cathar's reply.

"The situation? You'll have to explain. I am not entirely familiar with human customs."

Thalia paused for a moment, debating on how best to handle the discussion, though she couldn't help but wonder how often Sigarda spoke with humans herself. More often than not the three sisters only communicated through their envoys.

"Well," Thalia began, "it is not uncommon for humans who share a certain… connection to find a sort of pleasure in each other's company. At times, looking into one another's eyes, among other things, is a sign of… favor."

Sigarda nodded slowly.

"I see. I believe I have seen other examples of humans showing favor to on another. I will keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Of course, Sigarda." Thalia stood still, trying her best not to fidget beneath the angel's gaze. "What business do you have with the Order, my lady?" Now it was Sigarda's turn to shuffle in an almost uncomfortable fashion, the feathers of her wings ruffling in a way Thalia had never seen before.

"I was visited by Avacyn and my sisters recently."

Thalia's fists clenched, and she was suddenly very aware of the empty spot at her side where her sword usually hung. She had left it in her office. If Avacyn's corruption had reached Sigarda, then…

"Don't worry, Thalia," Sigarda said, interrupting Thalia's mental downward spiral, "whatever grip she has on my sisters has not yet touched me. She did, however, make it abundantly clear that if I do not join her my own wellbeing, and that of my flight, is at risk."

Thalia's fists unclenched, though she was still unsure where Sigarda was going with all of this.

"As my solar can no longer be considered safe, and my flight and I are the only ones who know of your residency in this chapel-"

"You want to stay here, with the Order" Thalia finished.

"Yes, you do catch on quick." Sigarda smiled a small smile at Thalia. "I am not used to asking permission from humans, but if you allow it I would like to stay in this chapel. Only for a short time, until I can discover what it is that is causing my sisters and Avacyn to act so… unlike themselves."

Thalia nodded slowly, unaware of it even as she did. How does one deny the request of an angel? Especially one of the three sisters? Especially when that sister has been providing aid to the Order? Still, it was almost too unreal for Thalia to believe.

"Thank you, Thalia. I will not forget this kindness." Sigarda smiled again as she approached the knight-cathar.

"Of course, my lady. It is the least we of the Order can do to repay you and your-" Thalia's reply was cut short as the angel walked closer, forcing Thalia to look up to her (was she always so tall?), and pressed her lips against the knight-cathar's. She froze on the spot, refusing to so much as breath until the angel pulled away, a curious look on her face.

"Was that wrong? Is this not an action humans perform to display favor?" asked Sigarda.

Thalia didn't respond immediately. Rather, she couldn't respond immediately. She was still having trouble breathing, and she was painfully aware of how wide her eyes had become, though she

"O-of course. Yes. Favor."

"Very well. I will begin by inspecting the surrounding area and reinforcing the wards." Sigarda spread her wings wide and took to the air, exiting the loft, and leaving Thalia alone. She made her way to a chair in a corner of the loft and slumped down into it, doing her best wrap her mind about what had happened.

She, Thalia of the Order of Saint Traft, had just been kissed by an angel.