Azael sat atop the ridge, looking down at the smoking remains below. Why would humans do so much damage to their own homes? They should have been ready, many of them were ready when the signs came. Perhaps those left were too upset by not being chosen, by not being taken to the next world.
When the gates had fallen, he had been glad to escape. The world forbidden to him and his kind had been opened, they could experience what had been denied. Now he questioned if the only good thing that was denied had been the way the sun feels on his leather wings.
A flutter of feathers filled the air, a face of flame and a body swaddled in robes sat down beside him. Instinctively, Azael recoiled, inches away even though the war had long since ended. The figure produced no flaming sword, nor holy chains to bind him, instead an apple appeared in its hands, prompting a devilish grumble from Azael's stomach.
"Don't taunt me," he growled at the figure.
"I won't taunt you," the angel said. "I saw you hadn't eaten yet."
Azael gave the apple a distrustful eye before snatching it from the angel's hand. "If this some kind of trap, I'm going to add 'Sneaky Angels' onto my menu."
It chuckled, the flames turning a cheery orange and yellow. "I will endeavor to not be 'Sneaky' then."
Azael's hunger couldn't handle waiting anymore. The crisp sweetness warmed his tongue. When nothing but seeds were left, he licked what juice escaped from his fingers and lips. The angel stayed beside him, another apple in his hand. Azael accepted it more gently and asked the question that now burned in his mind:
"Why would you help something you hate?"
"Because it is good to help," they said simply, summoning another apple as the second disappeared, "and it's not helpful to judge."