Innocence. Pash didn't know that was a quality he had in such abundance, but upon reflection, he supposes the nature of innocence is such that you're not supposed to be completely aware of it. Maybe he should try to forget about it? But Lucifer doesn't seem to think he's broken it yet, so he resolves not to worry.

Pash's wings are overall a smooth, tapered shape, but the feathers closest to his core are downier, and they curl up a bit when he's happily flustered, like now. The eyes dotting them blink more rapidly, too.

The young Ofan keeps his gaze fixed roughly around Lucifer's knee level, Grace both beaming and twisting. "Yes, Brother. I'm all right. I just...no one ever called me beautiful before. And everyone knows you're the most beautiful." He doesn't disbelieve the compliment; he's not that modest. Besides, the other Ofan are beautiful, and he's like them, fearfully and wonderfully made. Still, Lucifer being the one who said it makes it feel like a higher compliment than if it were spoken by a lesser angel.

"Thank you." It's almost a squeak, but he seems to pull himself together after that, managing to make himself meet Lucifer's gaze again.


((I go insta-pink in the sun, but this was a little worse than usual. Anyway, all is well now.))