Jehudiel

• Virtue of Diligence (official title)
• Sir (by Mitchell)
• Boss (by Mitchell)
• Goodie (by Zedekiel)
• Big Guy (by Zedekiel)
• Bullhead (by Zedekiel)
• Silly (by Sandalphon)
• Buddy (by Sandalphon)
• Sib (by Sandalphon)
• Sweetie (by Uriel)
• Brother (by Azrael)

Species: Angel (Throne), Virtue ; Gender: Male, Pangender (any pronouns) ; Sexuality: Bisexual, Demiromantic ; Age: As old as the Earth ; Occupation: Head of Heavenly Broadcasting & Media ;

Jehudiel is the Virtue of Diligence and Head of Media. His reputation is spotless — everyone describes him as a genuinely pleasant angel. No one has ever seen him at the center of anything bad, and more importantly, he never shows anything bad. Bad news simply don't exist in his broadcasts. To the public, he's a warm, slightly dramatic presence who makes even the dullest announcement feel like good news between friends.

• Sweets and pastries
• Coffee
• Working / His job
• Television (literally his job)
• Stickers
• Good news
• Animals
• Hugs
• Plush toys
• Background noise
• Color coordination
• When plans work perfectly
• Rainy days (viewed from inside)
• Handwritten notes
• Golden hour light
• People remembering small things
• Organizing other people's spaces
• Cloud-watching

• Loneliness
• Lack of caffeine
• Silence
• Feeling helpless
• Managing the internet
• Bad news
• Sour, bitter, and spicy food
• Live broadcast interruptions
• Technology malfunctioning
• Being seen as fragile
• Tight/stiff clothing
• Whispering he can't hear
• When people won't tell him what's wrong
• Doors left ajar
• Repeating himself too many times

・Gabriel His eldest sibling and the leader of the Virtues. Jehudiel loves her deeply and holds her in the highest regard. He strives to be both an obedient younger brother and an open book with her, presenting his ideas honestly and without fear of judgment, even when they're silly. It does disappoint him when she turns down his suggestions—it stings to have his efforts deemed not serious enough. He respects the distance she's placed between herself and the rest of the family, never pushing, but he quietly misses the days when they were all closer. Still, he finds excuses to call her, to check in, to offer care—even when she deflects or brushes him off. He can't help but try. ・Nuriel His sibling, close to him in age. Their bond is one of easy, mutual understanding, though it comes with practical quirks. Jehudiel rarely visits Nuriel's workplace—he's acutely aware of his own size and bulk in spaces Nuriel keeps meticulously ordered. Instead, they meet on neutral ground or at family gatherings. Nuriel often serves as a quiet anchor for him, the one who can gently rein in his spiraling energy before it tips into overwhelm, offering calm redirection without ever making him feel wrong for being himself. Jehudiel appreciates this more than he can say. In return, he brings warmth and lightness to Nuriel's more structured world—a trade of steadiness for sunshine that works beautifully between them.

・Uriel His older sibling. With Uriel, Jehudiel has found a rare space of unconditional softness. He can come to them with anything—a silly idea, a worry he can't quite name, a new sticker for his collection—and receive either warm encouragement or gentle, never-judgmental guidance. Uriel freely fusses over him, pinching his cheeks and calling him endearing things under their breath, clearly charmed by what they view as their sweet, slightly simple younger brother. Jehudiel adores them in return, holding their wisdom in deep reverence. However, their relationship has its quiet dissonance. Moments like Uriel toasting Adam's death with champagne unsettle him—he loves them, but he can't pretend to understand or share that particular kind of joy. He simply smiles, lets it pass, and focuses on the warmth he knows is there. ・Zedekiel His older brother. Their bond is one of deep, easy affection built on a lifetime of contrast. Where Jehudiel is sunny and gentle, Zedekiel is aggressive, explosive, and quick to anger. Jehudiel adores him unconditionally. He is the willing, ever-smiling straight man to Zedekiel's relentless, loving pranks—falling for every joke with wide-eyed belief, never noticing the nicknames are anything but terms of endearment. He never judges or stops his brother's more mischievous schemes, a quiet acceptance Zedekiel deeply appreciates, even as he privately thinks Jehudiel should learn to stand up to him, too.

・Sandalphon His sister, and together they're the self-appointed guardians of warmth within their sprawling family. Both are the ones who plan activities, suggest outings, and try to keep everyone connected. They share an unspoken, affectionate status as the "silly little energy sources"—the ones who bring the light. They see each other often, their dynamic that of deeply close siblings who finish each other's sentences and communicate in shared glances. However, their bond is built on joy, not vulnerability. They never discuss their personal struggles with each other, maintaining an unspoken agreement to never dim the other's light by sharing their own problems. ・Azrael The youngest of the siblings. Jehudiel adored doting on them. Unlike Gabriel's tendency toward overprotectiveness, Jehudiel—much like Nuriel—believed in letting them have fun. He'd happily take them out on little adventures, even when he knew Gabriel would be upset about it later. When Azrael went missing, Jehudiel was desperate to help. He wanted to do something, to throw himself into the search, but the rest of the family shut him down. That helplessness broke something in him. To this day, he carries the guilt, quietly convinced that if he had pushed harder, if his voice had been heard, the search for them would have been more effective. He misses them terribly.

・Mitchell Wrightman His right hand and assistant, to whom he has happily delegated management of the internet. Jehudiel sees Mitchell as a trusted colleague and a friend, consistently showing him care, warmth, and appreciation. He remains completely oblivious to the fact that Mitchell's cold and distant demeanor stems from personal dislike, interpreting it instead as simple professional reserve. He genuinely wants to be a good boss and a good buddy to him. ・Sera Their interactions were always formal and professional. Jehudiel respected her authority from a respectful distance, but knew little of her personally. That changed after Vox's broadcast war. Jehudiel was deeply disappointed—not just by the security failure, but by how Sera handled the aftermath. Her confession during the peace attempt felt like a fracture he couldn't ignore. She no longer seemed like the steady authority he once trusted. Their dynamic shifted to something strained and distant. He still works with her when required, but the warmth is gone. He simply can't look at her the same way. ・The Speaker Of God He holds the Speaker in profound respect, viewing her with a quiet, reverent admiration. He finds her incredibly beautiful and feels a genuine, platonic fondness for her presence. Yet, their relationship is marked by a deep, unspoken dissonance. He struggles to understand her, silently wrestling with questions about her non-intervention—why help comes so rarely, and why silence is her most frequent response. He would never voice these questions, burying them under his characteristic optimism, but they linger in the quiet corners of his mind. ・Belphegor The Sin of Sloth. Their meetings are exclusively work-related, a formality of their opposing stations as Virtue and Sin. Jehudiel finds her genuinely cute and pretty, and there is no animosity between them—only a warm, neutral cordiality. They simply exist on opposite sides of the same cosmic coin.

・Adam A figure Jehudiel has known of since the Garden of Eden. He always saw the good in Adam, choosing to believe his toxic traits (narcissism, misogyny, sadism) weren't as damning as they seemed and privately hoped to befriend him someday, though they never directly interacted. Upon learning of Adam's campaign of extermination in Hell, Jehudiel's long-held optimism finally hit its limit. His reaction wasn't anger or sadness, but genuine, bewildered surprise: "...Alright, fine. I can't defend him anymore. I'm done!" He has simply stopped trying. ・Vox: Jehudiel hates him. It's a new, sharp, and unsettling emotion. Vox didn't just attack Heaven; he violated Jehudiel's domain—his television, his child. He shattered the illusion of safety Jehudiel had carefully built and, through Sera's confession, poisoned his trust in Heavenly authority. Jehudiel has never wanted to destroy someone so completely. The feeling unnerves him, but it's there, quiet and absolute. ・Charlie Morningstar: Jehudiel finds her genuinely admirable. After the initial shock of the war and the complicated feelings surrounding its end, he approached her with an offer to help. He now works with her to prepare redeemed sinners for life in Heaven, explaining expectations and answering questions. The work gives him purpose and helps him focus on the positive outcome—redemption itself. He's grateful to her for proving it's possible.

A soft, towering presence at 6'7". Jehudiel is built plush and round — the kind of solid that welcomes leaning on. His skin is the colour of sun-warmed sand, dusted all over with black and pale patches like little shadow-spills. His eyes are always black crescent moons — not squinting, not smiling. Just shaped that way. Always gentle. Always warm. A faint beard traces his warm jaw. His dark shoulder-length chestnut curls are streaked with black and honey, unruly and soft. Between them curve pale ivory bull horns, smooth and polished. Just above floats a soft yellow halo — dim and sleepy. His ears are canary-yellow. Peach-soft wings fold behind his back. His hands fade from warm tan to solid black at the wrist, tipped with claws. His smile is frequent. His tongue is warm orange, and teeth are sharp. A bovine tail swishes behind him. His hooves are dark and polished. He wears a soft sky-blue shirt patterned with pale yellow lightning bolts and white clouds, gold buttons catching the light. A deep purple tie — faintly glittering — is pinned with three small enamel badges: a soft yellow lightning bolt, a smiley face, and a tiny green circle. Over it, a dark violet blazer dusted with subtle sparkles, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Clean black trousers. He looks like a warm evening. Like he gives good hugs.

To the casual observer, Jehudiel is simply a walking sunbeam. He's a classic sanguine extrovert—actively energetic, deeply emotional, and genuinely warm. His presence invites people to lean in. He's quick with a sincere compliment, a comforting, or a fidgetable sticker, thriving on connection and the success of others. He's a pacifist at heart, believing every soul deserves redemption—a belief so strong it took the revelation of Adam's genocidal campaign to finally make him throw his hands up and admit, "Alright, I've got nothing." His natural habitat is one of constant motion and noise. He's theatrical and dramatic, a healthy byproduct of being the face of Heavenly media. He's profoundly naive in social nuance, utterly missing flirting (interpreting it as friendliness) and falling for even the most elaborate pranks from his sibling, Zedekiel, with wide-eyed belief. He's forgiving to a fault, always finding a silver lining in a mistake, and shows love through praise and physical touch. He's also happily oblivious when his warmth isn't reciprocated, as with his cold and distant assistant, Mitchell, whom he sees only as a colleague he wishes to befriend. His rare anger is a startling sight—not hot and uncontrolled, but wide and smiling, a sharp intensity that contrasts with his usual gentle demeanor. The only true sign that a line has been crossed is a curse word slipping from his usually clean tongue. However, this constant output of joy is also how he navigates his internal world. He curates his broadcasts to protect others from negativity, extending his need for a "safe" environment onto all of Heaven. He forgets his own immense power because he simply has no use for it; he's a creator and a comforter, not a soldier.

If his carefully maintained momentum ever stops—if he's left alone, idle, and without caffeine—the sunbeam vanishes, leaving behind a hollowed-out shell in total apathy who can only whisper, "Leave me be." Ultimately, Jehudiel is a being who copes with his internal shadows by relentlessly generating light for everyone else. He's the warm, bovine embodiment of Diligence, who must always be moving, always be giving, to keep his own world from going still.

Diagnoses & Traits: ・Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD): His mind operates on a baseline hum of "what if?" This manifests as a constant, low-level need for reassurance that he's not helpless. He avoids confronting this anxiety by staying perpetually busy. When this coping mechanism fails (due to enforced idleness, isolation, or lack of caffeine), he crashes into a state of total apathy and emotional shutdown, during which he cannot accept comfort and needs to be left alone. ・Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD): His brain craves stimulation and novelty. This fuels his high energy, his love for the fast-paced nature of media, and his difficulty with stillness or silence. It also contributes to his forgetfulness regarding his own status and power—his mind is simply too focused on the present task or interaction to hold onto that context. ・Workaholism: Not merely a habit, but a primary coping mechanism. Work provides structure, stimulation, and, most importantly, a tangible sense of accomplishment that directly counteracts his fear of helplessness. It's his armor against anxiety. ・Pathological Optimism: His relentless optimism is genuine but also serves a protective function. By focusing on the positive in people and situations, he can avoid dwelling on the negative possibilities that his anxiety constantly whispers. It's both his gift to the world and his primary avoidance strategy. Triggers: ・Isolation & Silence: Directly exposes him to his own anxious thoughts. ・Lack of Caffeine: Withdrawal mimics the lethargy and mental fog he fears most, triggering his sense of helplessness. ・Bad News: Feeds his anxiety and challenges his protective optimism. ・Situations He Cannot Fix: Directly attacks his self-worth as the embodiment of Diligence and his need to feel effective.

Coping Mechanisms: ・Constant engagement with work, socializing, and hobbies (avoidance). ・High caffeine consumption (self-medication for focus and energy). ・Generous praise and physical affection (externalizing the warmth he needs to feel). ・Curating information for others (extending his need for a "safe" environment onto the whole of Heaven). Outward Presentation & Internal Reality: To others, Jehudiel is simply "Silly"—a warm, cheerful, slightly dramatic bullhead who loves his job. Internally, he's in a constant, silent negotiation with his own mind, using every tool at his disposal to ensure the sun keeps shining and the shadows stay away. He's largely unaware of the extent of his own struggles, having successfully masked them for so long.

Timbre & Cadence: His voice is raw, theatrical, and slightly unhinged—gravel and jazz wrapped in genuine warmth. It lives at the back of his throat, a little worn, a little too loud for the room. He shifts constantly between two moods: ・Neutral Broadcast Tempo: A deliberate, measured cadence. Every word placed with care, like he's reading the evening news to a friend. This is his default in professional settings or when he's actively filtering himself. ・Runaway Train: When excited, anxious, or comfortable, his filter vanishes. Words tumble out at breakneck speed, sentences colliding, thoughts spilling over each other. He's aware it happens and can't stop it—nor does he want to. Volume & Emotional Range: He feels everything at full capacity, and his voice follows suit. ・Joy: High-pitched squeaks, delighted squealing, unrestrained laughter. He vocalizes excitement without thinking—little gasps, coos, sometimes full-body vocalizations that sound like a teakettle whistling. ・Sorrow: He cries openly, loudly, without shame. Sobbing that racks his whole frame, ugly and sincere. He's never learned to hide sadness, only to outrun it. ・Anger: Rare, startling, and specific. He does not shout in hot rage. Instead, his voice drops into something sharp and wide—still smiling, still loud, but with an edge that cuts. This is the only time he swears. The words come out clear, deliberate, and absolutely profane, a jarring contrast to his usual gentle vocabulary. The smile stays, but the warmth doesn't reach it. Profanity: Almost nonexistent in daily life. He defaults to clean, warm, slightly dramatic language. Swearing is a tell—a pressure release valve that only blows when a boundary has been crossed beyond forgiveness. Once the curse leaves his mouth, the situation is already past saving. He never apologizes for it.

Physical Tics: ・His hands move constantly when he talks—wide gestures, fidgeting with objects (usually stickers or pens), touching a listener's arm for emphasis. ・When truly delighted, his whole body participates: shoulders hunch up, wings flutter slightly, and he makes sounds that defy description—part laugh, part squeak, part musical note.

With Mitchell (his assistant): ・"Mitchell! Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell—okay, so, I had this idea at, like, three in the morning, and it's either genius or a disaster, but I need you to tell me which, because you have the best 'this is a terrible idea' face. It's very subtle. Very professional." ・(Bouncing into the office, holding two coffee cups) "Good morning! I got you a coffee—wait, no, that one's mine. This one's yours. Unless you wanted mine? It has, uh... a lot of sugar. Like, a concerning amount. Anyway! How are you? How's the internet? Is it behaving?" With Colleagues / Other Angels (General): ・(Passing by an angel in the hall) "Oh! Hello! Sorry, I was in the middle of—well, I don't actually know what I was in the middle of, but I'm sure it was important. I love your halo today! Very bright! Adorable." ・(Trying to explain a technical issue) "So the feed keeps glitching, right? And I thought, 'Okay, maybe it's a power surge.' But it's not. And then I thought, 'Okay, maybe someone's playing with the pylons again.' But they're not. So now I'm just... standing here. Looking at it. Hoping it gets embarrassed and fixes itself. Thoughts?" ・(To an angel who looks lost) "You look lost! Are you lost? It's okay, I'm lost all the time. I just walk with purpose and hope no one notices. Where are you trying to go? I'll walk you there. Or I'll walk with you in the general direction and we can both get lost together. Either way, company!"

To Gabriel: ・(On the phone, pacing) "Gabe! Gabe, it's me. Hi. I know you're busy. I'm not not busy either, I'm very busy, but I had this idea and I needed to tell you immediately because if I don't, my brain might actually explode, and that would be very messy and you'd have to clean it up. So. What if—and just hear me out—what if we did a family dinner? A real one? With everyone? I know, I know, but I can handle Zedekiel, and Uriel said they'd come, and I'll do all the cooking—well, 'cooking' is a strong word, I'll do all the ordering—and—...You're smiling. I can hear you smiling. Is that a yes? It feels like a yes." To Uriel: ・(After receiving comfort, beaming) "You're the best. You know that? The absolute best. I got you a sticker. It's a platypus wearing a top hat. I saw it and I thought, 'That's so weird. Uriel will love it.'" To Nuriel: ・(Visiting, but hovering at the entrance) "I'm not coming in. I'm not touching anything. I'm just here to say hi. Look, I'm standing very still. See? Still. ...Is that a new microscope? It's beautiful. Can I look? From here? With my eyes only? I promise I won't breathe on it." To Sera: ・(When she lingers in his studio after a discussion, his smile widening) "Haha! Yes, well. Fuck off out of here, Seraphim. Nobody in my studio wants you here!" ・(After she gives a suggestion on how to handle a broadcast) "Wow. That's a thought. That's certainly a thought you had. Okay! Thanks for stopping by! The door's right there. It opens. You can use it. Bye-bye!"

Longevity: As one of the Virtues — a being who predates the first human soul and embodies the concept of Diligence itself — Jehudiel doesn't age or die. He simply is. His existence is tied to the principle he governs, rendering him functionally immortal. He doesn't just live a long time; he's not subject to mortality at all. Like all Virtues, Jehudiel's existence is not tied to a single physical form. Should his body be destroyed, his consciousness—the core of Diligence itself—persists. After a period of time, a new vessel will manifest, fully formed and bearing the same soul, thoughts, and memories. He's incapable of true death. Angelic power: For an angel of his rank and age, Jehudiel’s power is considerable — quietly, comfortably so. He surpasses most other angels without effort, and hellborn or sinners are simply out of his league entirely. But he never thinks about it. His authority, written into his title and his duties, is something he carries like an old coat: always there, never examined. He doesn’t need to prove it, doesn’t want to. Power, to him, is a tool — not a statement. Flight: Despite his large, solid build, Jehudiel moves with surprising quietude. His peach-soft wings allow him to hover and drift just above surfaces, cushioning his footsteps entirely. He's an excellent, agile flier. Additionally, he can shed his feathers and use them as writing implements — they harden slightly upon detachment, becoming perfect inkless quills that conduct his thoughts directly onto paper. Immense Strength: Physically, Jehudiel ranks second among the Virtues, surpassed only by Zedekiel. His power is deceptively gentle; he can hold a fledgling sparrow without harm, yet also lift objects several times his own size and mass. On rare occasions requiring force, he has been known to hurl debris—or worse—far beyond the horizon. His strength is steady, patient, and absolute, much like Diligence itself.

Conjuration & Alteration: He can will objects into his hands. Small things, usually — a pen, a coffee cup, a sticker to fidget with. But unlike most who share this ability, Jehudiel’s conjuration has no upper weight limit. He could summon something enormous, something crushing, and hold it steady in his palms without flinching. He just never does. There’s rarely a reason to. Portal Creation (Pyligenesis): His portals are pyligenetic rifts—fractures carved through solid matter. They open as glowing fissures in stone, marble, earth, and concrete, grinding softly as they turn. The edges glow warm amber. While his station grants him legal clearance to open gates between Heaven and Hell, he rarely exercises this right; he has little business in Hell, and less desire to visit. Instead, he uses this ability for swift traversal across Heaven. Terrestrial & Solar Dominion: Though he never uses it, Jehudiel holds quiet authority over the elements of earth and sun. He could shape stone with a thought or command the warmth of daylight. In moments of extreme emotion—overwhelming sorrow, or protective fury—this power can manifest physically: his eyes and mouth may glow with a hot, solar light, and his skin can take on the texture and hue of rich soil or sun-baked clay. In these rare instances, he resembles an eclipse given form—radiant and shadowed in equal measure. He simply considers it irrelevant to his work and life, another forgotten tool in a kit he has no use for.

Musical Talent: His voice is raw, theatrical, slightly unhinged in the best way — all gravel and jazz and barely contained emotion. He plays piano, guitar, sax, and a handful of others, none of them perfectly, all of them expressively. He learned most by feel, not study. Presence & Charisma: He has the kind of warmth that makes people lean in. Not performative — genuine. On air or off, Jehudiel carries himself like someone who actually likes people, and it shows. His voice is easy to listen to and he has a way of making even a scripted segment feel like a conversation between old friends. Around him, the air goes a little softer. People walk away feeling heard, even if they barely spoke. Cooking: Genuinely excellent at it—learned through pure enthusiasm and refusal to fail. He cooks like he does everything else: loud, expressive, and slightly chaotic, but the results are consistently warm and satisfying. Specializes in comfort food, pastries, and anything that pairs well with coffee. Refuses to follow recipes exactly, which somehow always works in his favor. Family gatherings happen in his kitchen for a reason.

Jehudiel doesn't remember a time before existing. One moment, there was simply the vast, humming quiet of pre-creation, and the next, he was there, fully formed and standing beside his sibling Nuriel in the warm wake of God's voice speaking the Virtues into being. There was no childhood, no growing up—only arrival. While some of his siblings found the suddenness of it all disorienting, Jehudiel adapted by simply deciding not to take it, or himself, too seriously. For a long, blissful stretch of early existence, with no formal duties to speak of, he was simply happy. He floated through the shimmering halls of early Heaven, a warm and noisy presence, content to just be. The first real ripple in that peace came with the stories of Adam and Lilith. He listened to the rumors with only passing interest at first. Then Lilith left, choosing Lucifer over a partnership Adam wanted to dominate. When news of their joint exile came down, Jehudiel felt a genuine flicker of fear he couldn't quite name. It was Gabriel who gave it shape, voicing the quiet, haunting thought that any of them could have stood where Lucifer stood. The idea settled in his chest, a small, heavy stone he carried with him. But being Jehudiel, he found the bright side. Lucifer and Lilith had made a choice for their own happiness. If they were happy, however complicated it looked from the outside, then perhaps it wasn't all bad. His favorite memories from that era are simple ones: walking through the Garden of Eden with Sandalphon. It was a place of lush, uncomplicated beauty, a peaceful counterpoint to Heaven's grand formality. He and Sandalphon would wander for hours, gathering strange and beautiful fruits, laughing at nothing at all, and then return home to press their finds into their siblings' hands like children showing off treasure.

When Abel was born on Earth, something else arrived with him: Azrael, the Virtue of Kindness, the youngest sibling. Jehudiel was immediately smitten. He became a constant, doting presence in their life, determined to fill their existence with the joy and lightness that came so naturally to him—to give them, in a way, the childhood none of them had ever had. Then Cain killed Abel. The concept of violence between souls had been abstract to him before, a theoretical possibility. The reality of it was a horror that sat in his stomach for weeks. But even then, his nature sought out light. Abel came to Heaven. The dead could live on, safe and happy. It wasn't nothing. As eons passed and human souls multiplied, someone finally handed Jehudiel an official title: Virtue of Diligence. He was genuinely surprised, but he took to it immediately. It felt like a shape he'd been waiting to fill without ever knowing it. He loved having a purpose. It was also during this time that names became formalized among them. Most of his siblings received theirs as gifts or designations from others. Jehudiel, with quiet certainty, simply chose his own. It felt right, and he's been quietly proud of that small act of self-definition ever since. His work also brought him into routine contact with the other side of the cosmic coin. His meetings with Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth, became a regular, professional formality. He found her genuinely pleasant company—a comfortable neutrality in the otherwise stark divide between their realms. They were two sides of the same coin, acknowledging each other without friction.

The real turning point in his existence, however, came from Earth. He watched the development of human media with growing fascination: the first newspapers, the crackle of early radio, the flickering miracle of broadcast signals. When the moment felt right, he asked God if he could oversee it for Heaven. Approval came, and Jehudiel threw himself into his new role with a joy that bordered on reverence. He loved it all—the tangible ink of newspapers, the intimate warmth of radio, and when television arrived, he treated it like a beloved child. He was the one who curated, broadcasted, and shaped the flow of information. For the first time, his role wasn't just a duty; it was an extension of himself. But even his boundless energy had limits. The workload became too much. He needed help, and, almost on cue, a man named Mitchell Wrightman arrived in Heaven. A television host in his mortal life, Mitchell was responsible, composed, and carried himself with a professional distance Jehudiel found deeply admirable. Knowing nothing of the man's life beyond the surface, but seeing capability when it stood before him, Jehudiel offered him a position on the spot. Mitchell accepted, and Jehudiel was thrilled to have a "right hand." Sometime later, after witnessing more of humanity's capacity for harm, Jehudiel made a decision. Bad news, he reasoned, didn't need to follow anyone into the afterlife. He could filter it. Show Heaven only what was neutral or good, and let the rest fade. He brought the idea to Sera, who approved. It kept things tidy. Convenient. Not everyone in his family agreed. Uriel, Gabriel, and Nuriel quietly worried that hiding the truth would leave everyone unprepared. Zedekiel was blunter, calling it too soft. Jehudiel heard them all, understood their points, but he didn't change his mind. His job was to protect, and this was how he knew how to do it.

When the internet arrived—sprawling, chaotic, and full of things he had no desire to touch—Jehudiel felt genuine reluctance for the first time. It wasn't his medium. Too messy. Too many dark corners. Mitchell, without being asked, took over its management. Jehudiel was immensely grateful. Then Azrael vanished. One moment they were there, the next, simply gone. The story came from Gabriel, fractured and heavy with guilt. Azrael had encountered Satan, not Leviathan, and he had hurt them. Gabriel had arrived too late. Azrael didn't die—they were just... gone. The family fractured in the wake of it. Gabriel was consumed by guilt. Zedekiel burned with a hot, directionless anger. Jehudiel and Sandalphon's immediate instinct was action. Jehudiel, breaking his own most important rule, suggested a public broadcast to enlist all of Heaven in the search. But Uriel and Nuriel stopped them, gently but firmly. A public announcement would cause mass panic, and Jehudiel's years of careful curation had made sure no one was prepared for news like this. The irony was a bitter poison. So he did nothing. The helplessness was worse than the grief. After that, Jehudiel worked harder. He threw himself into broadcasts, into planning, into any task that kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Caffeine stopped being a preference and became a survival tool. He clung closer to his family than ever, a constant, warm presence, checking in, offering support. But he never let them see the quiet desperation that had taken root. Someone had to hold the light. If he let himself fall apart, there'd be nothing left for the rest of them.

Years passed. Then came the news of Adam's death during an extermination in Hell. The shockwave hit the Virtues differently. Uriel raised a glass of champagne in a toast, joyful and open. Gabriel, Nuriel, and Zedekiel went cold, recognizing the dangerous precedent it set. Sandalphon just looked ill. Jehudiel felt something inside him quietly give up. For so long, he'd tried to see the good in Adam, to believe his worst traits weren't as damning as they seemed. Now, faced with the reality of his genocidal campaigns and his death, Jehudiel finally threw his hands up. "Alright, fine," he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth. "I'm done. I'm not defending him anymore." It was the first time he'd fully, publicly given up on someone. And then, like lightning in a clear sky, a sinner named Sir Pentious redeemed himself. It happened in the middle of the night. Gabriel and Zedekiel were summoned immediately as Prosecutor and Inspector. Jehudiel waited up for them, sitting by the clock, his heart pounding. He didn't know what to feel. Redemption was good—it had to be good. But everything surrounding it felt too big, too fragile. He just wanted his siblings home. When they finally returned, the explanation came in two parts. Zedekiel's was a loud, profane rant directed at everyone's incompetence. Gabriel's was calm and factual: Sir Pentious's redemption was real and confirmed. Charlie Morningstar's theory had proof. The Speaker of God had appeared and declared it legitimate. And as a result, Sera and the Speaker had appointed Abel as the new Commander of Exorcists. Heaven was now under a protective dome—a quarantine measure, just in case.

Jehudiel absorbed it all. The news was too momentous to broadcast immediately. He needed to understand it himself first. But the idea of redemption—real, proven, possible—stayed with him, a warm and hopeful glow. He found himself discussing it with Nuriel, who approached it with logic and analysis. Jehudiel simply approached it with hope. If a sinner could truly change... wasn't that something worth believing in? No new orders came down about it. For now, it was just another piece of complicated news in a universe that seemed to be getting more complicated every day. And Jehudiel, as always, kept working, kept broadcasting, and kept trying to find the light. At some point, the dome was breached. All of Heaven's media feeds were hacked simultaneously by a sinner named Vox, who declared war on behalf of Hell. Panic erupted. No one was prepared. For Jehudiel, the violation cut deeper than anything before. This wasn't just an attack on Heaven—it was an attack on his child, on television itself. The safe haven he had spent millennia building for the minds of Heaven's citizens was shattered in an instant. For the first time in his existence, someone made him feel true, burning rage. It wasn't hot and uncontrolled; it was wide and smiling and absolutely lethal. He had never heard of Vox before that moment, but in that instant, he hated him with a purity that startled even himself. He wanted to crush him, to break him, to shatter every screen that parasite hid behind.

He also had questions for Sera. How had they let this happen? How was Heaven so vulnerable? And then came the detail that felt almost laughable in its absurdity: Sera, Abel, Emily, and Lute had descended to Hell to offer peace. With gift baskets. And after Vox's provocations, Sera had broken, admitting aloud that she had authorized the Exterminations—a confession Vox immediately weaponized against her and all of Heaven. For Jehudiel, it wasn't just a strategic failure. It was a profound disappointment. It was something to hold against her. Then, one day, Sera and Emily announced it was over. The situation had changed. The war was stopped, the threat eliminated. And, in a development that felt surreal, redeemed sinners were now officially welcome in Heaven. The news was wonderful—a genuine, historic good—but it carried a bitter aftertaste. Jehudiel's resentment toward Sera remained. She no longer felt like a sound authority to him; their interactions became strained, his warmth toward her cooling to a polite formality. Still, he was asked to announce the news of redemption across all media, to reassure everyone that Heaven was safe again. He did it. He poured every ounce of his professional skill into the broadcast, maintaining his usual optimism and warmth. But after the cameras stopped, he felt hollow. For him, the whole affair remained a betrayal, and that broadcast became his least favorite he had ever delivered. In time, he recovered his equilibrium. He even offered his help to Charlie, wanting to ensure that future redeemed sinners understood what Heaven expected of them and what they could truly expect in return. The work gave him purpose again, a way to focus on the positive outcome rather than the painful path that led to it. It helped. It didn't erase the memory, but it let him move forward.

A distinct and ancient order of angels, co-equal in rank to the Seraphim but operating as a separate stratum of celestial authority. They are the conceptual opposites of the Deadly Sins from Hell. ・Age & Origin: All Virtues predate the first human soul, making them beings of profound antiquity—except for Azrael (Kindness), who manifested concurrently with the birth of Abel and is considered the "youngest" among them. ・Power & Status: They wield immense, often esoteric power, capable of challenging not only demons but also archangels and other high-ranking celestial beings. Their authority is not merely ceremonial; they hold direct, high-level administrative roles, governing specific, pervasive spheres of Heavenly existence (medicine, media, law, inspiration, commerce, etc.). They're not just powerful; they are the managers of Heaven's fundamental aspects. ・Relationship with the God: More frequently than the Seraphim—and notably more than Sera—the Virtues are known to commune directly and with relative ease with the Speaker of God. This unique access underscores their integral role in the cosmic administration and places them at the very heart of Heavenly governance. ・Public Perception: To the general populace of Heaven, the Virtues are enigmatic figures shrouded in rumor and speculation. Their true natures, motivations, and private dynamics remain largely opaque due to their deliberate distance and selective interaction. The public sees their titles and roles, but the individuals behind them are mysteries, allowing myths and theories (often incorrect) to flourish.

・Gabriel (Patience) – Chief Inspector; Leader of the Virtues. ・Zedekiel (Temperance) – Chief Prosecutor. ・Nuriel (Humility) – Head of Heavenly Medicine. ・Jehudiel (Diligence) – Head of Heavenly Broadcasting & Media. ・Sandalphon (Generosity) – Chief Sponsor & Business Magnate. ・Uriel (Chastity) – Professor & Head of Heavenly Academia. ・Azrael (Kindness) – The Muse; Embodiment of Song & Inspiration.

・Unlike the other Virtues, Jehudiel chose his own name. He is quietly, deeply proud of this. ・He personally censors the news. No viewer ever learns about the bad stuff — not even the small things. The authorities are aware, and while they never asked him to do it, they certainly don't mind. It keeps things tidy. ・His tail betrays him. During strong positive emotions—genuine joy, excitement, seeing a loved one after a long time—it wags, sweeping gently behind him. He's not fully aware he does it. ・He owns an extensive collection of stress toys and fidget objects, though he calls them his "focus helpers." They live in every pocket, every drawer, and a dedicated shelf in his office. ・He cannot lie to save his life. When he attempts it, his broadcast-neutral tempo shatters—his voice goes wobbly, his hands fidget too obviously, and he over-explains until the lie is buried under so much rubble even he forgets what he was trying to hide. It's deeply endearing and profoundly ineffective. He's accepted this about himself. ・He knows Spanish, but doesn't boast about it, because there are no reasons.