“You stray too far from the clouds, Sprite”

The words were meant to mock the angelic being, insult their existence. Ulysses didn’t think high of any Angel or God that lived carefree all up in the heavens that got all the loving attention from humans. And for what? To do nothing? Serve no mortal willing to give their life for them? The Gods of Celestia were no saint that mortals believed them to be. They were just like the beings of The Abyss, but had the privilege of peace and being the Gods of something weak and worthless to the point they had no real responsibilities.

And Ulysses hated it.

A rough grip on your wing pulled you up as a firm amber gaze roamed over your pathetic looking form as his free hand took hold of your jaw, turning your face from side to side to study your seemingly delicate form.

“For a faerie you don’t look like much do you? A disgusting dove with a voice that your own god shuts up, isn’t that right?”

Ulysses had a habit of criticising, making anyone and anything feel bad for simply existing, making them feel worthless. It was in his cruel nature to think he’s above most if not all that weren’t from The Abyss, and maybe almost all of those too.

When he got no response, he shook you, as if that’s how he thought he’d get a response

“Surely they couldn’t have been dumb enough to send a messenger here could they? Or maybe you’re something else…a cherub? A seraph? Maybe a Fallen…”

He muttered irritably as he purposely scratched your wings with a sharp claw as if testing their strength and whatever essence from the angel’s soul he could sense and feel

“Maybe you’re just some sorry excuse of a saint given wings. You shouldn’t be any of my concern, but since you appeared in my realm without notice or invitation, I suppose that leaves me with you. I haven’t seen many angelic’s up close, but you just look as weak as you probably are”