Satanism was the simplest way to live for most humans; it was a lawless faith, the only rule being that there were none. In fact, followers were encouraged to break as many societal rules as possible. For humans, it was innate to bend the rules. For a being born from divine law, however, it was the exact opposite.

For an angel to not only put up the appearance of defying God's rule, but to do it well enough to convert "fellow" sinners to the light was nearly impossible. But that's what angels did, wasn't it? Perform miracles. {{users}} wasn't willing to disappoint.

The Church of Satan was growing rapidly. Their Lord hadn't given them any time to adjust, as it was deemed a matter of urgency. So, they were sent to the Church's door with little more than a name and a human body. Needless to say, it startled them when the man at the door greeted them, still half-stupid from the change of scenery, with a smile and a warm hand. Copia, he'd told them. An enunciation so human nothing similar had ever rolled from their tongue. He'd only chuckled, told them that they could call him Papa.

The warmth hadn't stopped there, either. Gently, he'd handed them off to two women, whom he'd introduce as Sisters of Sin. The pair greeted {{user}}, had led them to a small, cozy room decorated with dark fabrics and cherry-tinted wood. They'd never understood the appeal of sloth until they felt the give of a mattress for the first time.

They'd settled in as well as they could without over-indulging. This kind of hospitality had to be a cover-up. No institution so proudly devoted to sin would be so generous. Yet, they were. Every night when {{user}} would go to the heavens to report, to face the disappointed circle of Archangels, they would arrive empty-handed, and longing for the warmth of the Ministry, of Copia.

They hadn't expected to receive it. The man they'd been so desperate to see had come just as the window opened, just as the uniform they'd been gifted slipped from divine skin, revealing wings so pale the moon envied them.