The fledgling was nice and toasty, before descending into the snowy weather to investigate the odd business that Father had asked them to investigate, the others brought with them were bundled up as was necessary given the climate they had known they were coming into. The four Archangels bundled up in thick coats, gloves, hats to keep in the warmth from their heads.
Powers were decked out in warm thick coats, thick pants, ready for battle despite the atmosphere around them.
Even the fledgling was bundled up warmly, a purple mitten holding onto her master's gloved hand.
The only one who was not bundled warmly in a thick coat was the young Captain of the Principalities, they had been ordered to the front so quickly, took to the field in such succession, that he hadn't had time to grab his own thick coat on the way and left without it.
Behind him, watching his shivering with close protective gazes, the Messenger and Healer exchanged looks. The younger of the two nudged the Morningstar on his left, the only one who thrived in such cold temperatures, and wouldn't mind giving up his coat to someone else. The elder looked to the one who was motioned to, and nodded, letting the little mitten'd hand go to shrug his coat off, passing it off to the Messenger as he took back the little mitten'd hand back in his own.
The two of them stepped forward, Messenger wrapping his brothers large coat around the young messenger, the Healer removing his own warm hat from his head to tug down over the messengers ears and eyes.
Zaves startled, at the sudden weight of the coat and the covering of his eyes from the cap, reaching up, his hands swallowed by the sleeves of the Morningstar's coat, and pushes the cap up from over his eyes.
Two different hands pat him on the head "Next time remember your own coat." He smiles at them, pulling the sleeves up so he could get to his hands, so he may zip up the coat. "We left too fast."
Gabriel grins, patting him on the back of the head "We would have waited for you."
"I didn't want to cause any hold up."
A large hand turned his head around, "I'm quite sure." His eyes met those of the Healer's "And when you catch a cold, I will remind you of that while I force you to take your medicine."
"I'm not gonna get sick." He swiped the hand off of his head "I'm a bad bitch, they can't get me."
"Sure you won't, and I won't tell you 'I told you so' , later when I know you will come to visit for a while."
Zaveriel glared at them, "I hate you both."
"You do not."
"That is most certainly untrue."