Summary: Naomi's name means beautiful, pleasant, and agreeable. One-shot based on Naomi's first moments after her creation, her birthday.

"Beautiful."

Naomi's name was the first thing she heard. The first word of her existence. Even thousands and million years later she could still remember the feeling of her name echoing through the recesses of her newly formed mind. When all else from early on had faded, it remained. That name was her label, her individualization apart from thousands of other angels. That moment had been beautiful. It'd been the one and only time she had the sole attention of an almighty Father.

His hands formed her, creating her being out of pure light. Six gray wings, spreading out in so many shades they were impossible to count. Four faces, angelic, jaguar, horse, eagle, all radiating pure energy with sharp all seeing eyes. Her very being spoke of the creative and powerful nature of the Father. She wasn't just beautiful, she was exquisite.

Her Father gifted her with more than beauty as well. He blessed her with unique pieces that made her different, that made her stand out. She never got the chance to ask why he gave her the knowledge of the way of minds, a passion for order, the skill of a powerful puppet master, or the zealousness of a queen.

Beautiful meant more than physically. It meant her entire being was a glorious portrayal of angelic perfection, something to be admired and appreciated.

Surely her name meant she was destined for something great. She was destined to make a difference, to be beauty in a universe that lacked it. It was a universe just beginning, and yet it was so very old. It'd already seen the Darkness contained, the leviathans banished, and archangels together. This was the Universe she was created in.

When she first came to awareness, she stretched her whole being out, arms, claws, hands, wings. In that moment all she wanted to do was dance among the stars, to spin and twirl and romp through the cosmos to just glorify the Creation. To rejoice in the gift of life. She was in awe of herself, and of the magnificence she'd been wrought into. Her Father kept her in his creative embrace…for all of a few moments before he let her go and moved on. He turned his back to her.

She was left overwhelmed and alone. Every joyful feeling dissipated into the empty space.

It wasn't until many millennia later that she would understand this loneliness. That she'd know they'd all gone horribly wrong. Where the walls of her office would press in on her until she had to push the feelings aside again. When all was quiet and she had nothing but memories of what was and what had been lost. The loneliness was her gift as well. For if she didn't see it and recognize it for what it was, she'd never be able to do what had to be done.

The Father vanished. The angels struggled. They always struggled for meaning in the universe and order among chaos. She was no different. What she did, she did to achieve that order, she did because that's how she was made. To make beauty from chaos.

But beauty was subjective. And in keeping the order and beauty of Heaven, they'd forgotten the very reason for its existance. When she looked at the sins of Heaven, she wept.

That, dear one, was the moment beautiful Naomi was born again.