Tyrael had not realized how much he enjoyed his species' company until he couldn't have it anymore. It struck him as terribly strange and ironic that becoming a mortal was what had clued him in to how much he'd loved being an angel.

No one really thought of angels as being social creatures. Foolish thinking he now knew.

He had relied on the other councilors, and the members of his aspect, for comfort and companionship. This, he now recognized. Watching the true-mortals interact with one-another only cemented this for him.

It was all giving him a terrible heartache. He missed his home, and his people. He had missed his brother for so many centuries - he could freely admit this now. He missed his lieutenant. He missed what they'd all had...before.

Perhaps it was simply a mortal thing to recognize longing for what it was. Perhaps he hadn't always felt this way...except he had, hadn't he? The bigger the divide in the council grew, the more wrong something had felt. The longer he was away on Sanctuary, the more eager he'd always been to return to the Courts of Justice.

Maybe his mortal heart was simply better at recognizing this. Maybe he'd just been given the context he needed to know what was wrong.

Of course, he had his companions. They accepted him, trusted him, wanted to be around him (or so he viciously hoped). They were his people now, and it would have to be enough because there was no way he could go back after all this. After Diablo. After Malthael.

There was also the matter of his 'nephew' (not that he thought he could get away with calling Rathma such out loud.)

Every instinct in him, both angelic and mortal, said that he was family. Nevermind that he could still sense the familiar traces of resonance in the ancient Nephalem, he acted very much like his father at times. (Saying this would be a one-way-ticket to Malthael's doorstep, he was sure.) Rathma was undeniably Inarius's son, and as far as Tyrael knew, this was the main source of trouble between them.

He couldn't know the particulars of that relationship, but he remembered well that Rathma had been there, fighting to tear his father down, fighting angels and demons alike. He remembered the blankness on his face when watching Mephisto take Inarius away.

There was already bad blood between them, and they'd only just properly met. Perhaps he was better suited looking for companionship elsewhere.