Seladion was a chief character in my mythology for AElit, which was a world I created first in Parageography (under the late Dr. Douglass Parker) and later expounded upon as part of my graduate thesis. He is an angel-like creature known as a Ninata and, rather like Lucifer, had been cast out of the holy realm of Argyros. His companion was Amaurodios, who voluntarily left Argyros to be with Seladion. Amaurodios doesn't figure in this little scene, but together they had many adventures until they fell out and parted ways.
The man who answered the door had longish hair of a pale shade that didn’t quite seem blond . . . In fact, it appeared almost silver in the glinting of the sun that came over the roof of the cottage, striking the man from behind, giving him a sort of glow.
He was tall, and he was thin, dressed casually in a slightly wrinkled, white button-down shirt and jeans that slouched a bit on his finely boned frame. His eyes were a clear, light blue-gray color that seemed to strike her own gaze even more hotly than the sunlight, and confused, she dropped her eyes. When she looked down, she saw his feet were bare.
“Yes?” His voice was low, lower than she’d expected it to be given his almost feminine mold.
“You are . . .?” Her voice broke. She wasn’t sure she could say it now, to his face. She felt sorry for him.
But then his fair brows snapped forward, and his serene look was made dark and severe, and she could see into him suddenly, could see the blackness at the heart of him, and her sympathy fled.
Her voice strong now, and clear, she said, “You are Seladion.”
He drew himself up then, and only at that moment did she realize he’d been somewhat hunched around the shoulders when he first answered the door. Tall people did that sometimes, she reflected in that split second of mind spinning—tall people got into the habit of slumping themselves over so as not to stand out so much.
And Seladion surely knew the risks of standing out.
But now he was at full height, and she realized that he wasn’t blond, no, of course he wouldn’t be. His hair was silver-white, as all Ninatat’s hair was, and she felt a pang at knowing it would have once been so much longer, that he must have cut it off . . . And Ninata hair did not grow back, for they were as they were carved by Durandios. Except, of course, when they’d been tossed to Earth as this one had been, given something like a human body, and so . . . So Seladion had cut his hair.
“And you are?” Seladion asked.
“Beth,” she told him, then summoned the breath for her big finish: “They’ve sent me to bring you home.”