It was always rough to see an angel fall in battle. But after eons in the warrior class of angels, it was a reality he faced every time he picked up his sword. Many were newly created, disciples made from the recently departed souls of the faithful. It saddened him to see them go so soon, but he knew that God always had a plan with their spirits, whatever they may be.
And still, through the sadness, he was able to smile. Not necessarily because he wanted to. Because he had to. If he showed sorrow, his smiles would not inspire others to be greater than they are, and the demons would win a silent victory over him. Even little things were a battleground to him. Because battle strategy was all he ever thought about.
But then he heard a lilty voice in the air. Haziel, who was always soothing to talk to. He turned and offered her a genuine smile.
"Sister, how are you?" He asked, though he knew how she was, as a few hours ago they were sharing a battlefield together.
"You don't look too banged up." He nodded, looking her over. Luckily Angels weren't terribly squishy, though he did have a few unseen bruises from that night.