Chapter Text
With the rehearsal dinner successful, Sophia found herself overly exhausted from practicing her walk in new heels. The dress itself had an overly exaggerated train that weighed down her waist with the more victorianesque cage beneath. It was a fashion that only the elite wore, giving off a princess feel, but the price was rather costly. A corset to add on only gave her trouble breathing while she was dressed for hours in this demanding attire. The wedding itself was expected to be grand and both the Bride and Groom would be expected to make their way around the ball room to thank everyone that came.
Rodger was just as exhausted, his mother demanding he get every single word correct and his stuttering--oh the constant scolding he received for it. His mind would wander from his delirious nature and she would smack him on the head so as not to leave marks on his face. She learned to be careful after his older brother had gotten attention all those years ago for her careless violence. Now, she watched where she struck them.
"You'll need an accessory to compliment your eyes," Magnolia insisted as she opened a velvet encased jewelry box filled with family heirlooms. Only ever worn once for special occasions and nothing more. "They're your best feature and the most valuable of all things a seraphim can have."
"Yes Mother," Rodger yawns in response.
"Stop that," she scoffs while she takes a small sapphire pin and places it on the right side of his suit.
"My deepest apologies, it's just we've been at this all day."
"Well, if you didn't screw up so much, we'd of been done hours ago. You think I'm not tired? I'm the one doing most of the work here. Now stop whining."
Rodger remains quiet now as she brushes at his hair to get it just right. He can hear a soft and gentle sigh from his mother while she fixes his the wrinkles on his suit.
"I would of loved to have a husband like you," Magnolia states. "If only you were born as a stranger and not my child, but would you be just as perfect then? Most likely not."
It's a bizarre thing to say to him and so he remains ever silent, not certain if he should respond.
That night, Rodger finds himself immediately removing his clothing and hanging it on the back of his door for the wedding day that would take place soon enough. His life was about to begin and he would have to choose a career while balancing his family at home. It seemed so exhausting, all at once to know everything would have to be decided and he had no time to really rest. Immediately after graduation of academics came picking a suitor and then the wedding. Once he finished that, as if checking off a list, it was a career and having children. There was nothing else to really look forward to other than building his social connections and climbing the ladder.
"A St. Francis can never climb high enough," his grandfather Sylvester once told him. "I climbed all the way to the top and even then, I began building a staircase to the heavens. We'll reach it one day and become gods ourselves. What would you think of that?"
Rodger hadn't an answer at the time, himself being a mere child of five. To think about it now? Would he want to reach the heavens? Was there something beyond becoming a god? It didn't seem appealing, rather just more responsibility to judge other's fates. But if it made his family proud, he would be willing to go the extra mile.
Once upon a time, Rodger dreamt of becoming a baker. He had a passion for cooking with his Nana Lily when he found himself alone in the manor with her. While his older brother had always been aloof to the family, Rodger always indulged himself in his family time. She taught him how to make Sugar Cookies in a very special way that gave them a taste unlike any other cookie he'd ever come across. Though the woman herself seemed silent most days, she never smiled or found herself doing much, but in the kitchen was where she found peace. Perhaps it had been due to her husband never entering unless it was to be served breakfast or dinner, other than that, it was just Rodger and she together, baking the most delicious treat in the realm as far as he was concerned.
A faint smile would cross her lips when he took his first bite and chewed. His eyes lit up with so much joy, the most sweetest thing he'd ever had.
"A sweet little cookie for a sweet little boy," she had whispered to him, as if the world couldn't know of this secret.
It was her gentle way of speaking that Rodger took from his grandmother, not just her beautiful eyes. He learned to mutter in a hushed tone when he wasn't giving a speech to his peers in school or an interview to impress the higher ups. For him, her voice was just high enough to give off the love she felt, but only for him and no one else. Something about that made him feel most secure when he was with her, completely unaware of the war that her voice concealed within and eventually that same war she would lose before taking her own life. He remembers vividly how happy she was just right before she died days before, all smiles and not a single problem to fuss over because she knew. She knew that it would all be over soon. It stared everyone in the face right then and there, yet not a single soul noticed.
Gazing at himself in the mirror now, he wonders if he would be the St. Francis to reach the Celestial Plains and how would the Gods judge him then? Everyone would know.
They would find out about the Cherry Pits.
"Fortune favors the wealthy. No matter the challenge, money can ease the burden. In a realm filled with an ignorant society of divines, they live much like humans in a way money and status speak while morals remain repressed in a jar with the lid clasped tightly shut. Is it not sinful for angelic beings, closest in the image of the gods, to live so recklessly? Does this not mean Gods are no better than the mortals they so judge? Or does this mean that ignorance and selfish ways can be found anywhere, no matter how pure a soul may appear?"