Laurence was wary of the teacher Yves had suggested be brought in to teach classes of angels about to head to earth. While he could hardly protest for other Archangels, he'd protested for his own word, and Yves had just - looked at him. Laurence eventually agreed, but he was still wary.

For one thing, the human was still living. He had the power to survive here, and had an 'astral' form that could reach the Celestial realm, but he was still a living human. Secondly, the human was *pagan*. He followed the teachings of Mullenkamp, a demi-goddess who had broken away from the church of St. Iocus - which, despite its patron saint's name meaning 'Joke' in Latin, was still a strong christian sub-group. Finally, the human's power for which he was the living avatar - Laurence shuddered at the thought of such close contact with Ethereals - was referred to simply as the 'Dark' and that sounded far too close to what Light fell to.

But Yves had implied it was for the best, and so Sydney Losstarot was allowed to come to the Church of the sword to teach those who were ready for earth-duty. Sydney had requested segregation by choir, and so the class he faced today was all Seraphim.

Laurence sat in the back, however, and watched, eyes dark.

Sydney *looked* Ethereal - pale and thin, his hair falling around hollowed eyes and down past his chin, large reverse cross tattooed into his back. His arms had been cut away to be replaced with razor-clawed metal arms.

Sydney Losstarot paced. "Men lie," he said, as his opening lines. "This will offend you, but it is fact: Men lie, and lie worse than any demon you will ever meet. There is some small favour in this; your war has remained hidden this long for that very reason."

The Seraphim shifted and murmured disapprovingly among themselves.

Turning on one metal-booted heel to pace in the other direction, Sydney continued, "They lie first to themselves, much as demons do, but with as great a stake as dissonance, if not greater. Balseraphs, for example, have a greater perspective; they have a longer life, they know much of the world's secrets, they have less to fear. Oh, Princes, yes, there is always that fear - but that is fear of individuals, not fear of life."

Laurence's brows raised at this beginning. He leaned forward slightly.

"Humans," Sydney continued, "fear life. They fear life, they fear death, they fear hunger, they fear betrayal, they fear what sleep brings. They fear the death of loved ones. They fear everything they could possibly fear and more. Certainly, some of you will fear some of these things; humans fear all of them. And as such they lie. Their lies are comforts to them, angels; their lies guide them into a belief that they will be all right, despite death, famine, pain around them. Simply speaking, much of the time they cannot mentally and emotionally *handle* the Truth."

His gaze was sharp as he glanced over the class. "I may be human, you Serpents of Flame, but I have been chosen by the Dark; I hear the truth whispered in threads of song on the wind. A man tells me that he wishes to avenge the deaths of his family and I know that he has killed them. I cannot tell him this; he has told himself otherwise far too often. A woman insists she did not sleep with other men, and can believe it because she never had full intercourse - touching doesn't count, she tells herself, and soon she believes it. And I cannot tell her otherwise, because she has taught herself not to listen."

The class had fallen silent - Laurence thought he detected some horror in them, knowing what in humans might fight them.

Sydney stopped his pacing, placed his hands very carefully on the wooden table at the front. His claws scored the wood despite his care. "You must be artists, Seraphim. You must find their fears that cause them to lie, and expose them. This will hurt the humans, but they will learn the truth. You must also love them, respect them, guide them."

A Seraph raised a wing. "How can we respect those who lie?"

"Ah," Sydney said. "How indeed? You must learn that on your own. But if you do not respect them, you will never help them, only hurt them. Truth is a beautiful thing, but it is dangerous. It can kill."

Another Seraph raised one. "But if all men lie, might you not be lying?"

"All men lie," Sydney said softly.

"You believe it."

Sydney's eyebrows raised slightly. "So will they. Class dismissed."

Seraphim filed out uncertainly, trying to figure out what they'd heard, how they could apply it.

Laurence waited until they were gone before offering his hand to Sydney. "Thank you," he said.

Sydney smiled very slightly as he took the Archangel's hand and shook. "Yes," he said.