Molting wasn’t exactly befitting of an archangel, was it? Especially when his feathers were wrought from the purest of lights. Yet, those shimmering blue quills were so quick to fall away with the changing of seasons. The new growths were bright, though a bit weak. This is why he had chosen to take a bit of time off in Heaven rather than risk undergoing a molt in Hell. The thought of the conflict in Hell is stressful. The company of another might ease his nerves, but he’s chosen isolation out of pride. He wouldn’t mind another’s help preening, but can’t bring himself to ask.