But First, Paperwork

Here was an easy synopsis of what I thought about being a Cupid so far.

It was a lot of heavy lifting in every sense of the word.

Firstly, the sheer amount of data crunching would be staggering for even the most overzealous of office workers and spreadsheet enthusiasts. Secondly, there was some serious gear that needed to be hauled around when on job to take notes on behavior and also categorize new findings for the planet generally.

Furthering the second point, the ‘devices’ only briefly explained by Jun previously deserved a whole number to themselves for how much that needed to be learned, practiced, and drilled although, technically, they would simply fall under ‘gear’ as well as the previously mentioned items.

The phrase ‘remember your gear’ sounded deceptively easy when you were unaware that the dropdown of items included could probably span from Oeuvre back to Earth. (An exaggeration, yes, but not by much.)

Thirdly, there was a uniform that Cupids were required to wear at all times while on the job, which came with the expectation that it be maintained to a high standard of both cleanliness and efficiency. This included taking care to keep the components clean -of course- but also making sure that the uniform itself contained each little do-dad or thingamajig gadget provided to more easily aid in completing jobs; which made sense, but was terribly overwhelming to try and remember on the first day.

Cupids wore white although not for the reasons you might think, it was definitely not because love was ‘pure’ or ‘wholesome’. (Which is why I thought Cupids were most commonly portrayed in a white flowy toga or cream colored loincloths. Unsurprisingly, I was under-educated on the topic.)

Quite strategically, Cupids wore white because it reflected sunlight and Heralds were not meant to be seen. For example, if a Cupid’s ghostly form was spotted by a human they were more likely to squint and look away if the Cupid’s uniform was white than if they were wearing any other color. Additionally, it didn’t absorb heat which was convenient for Cupids monitoring planets that had airborne heat sources like Earths did.

It wasn’t that glamorous or whimsical when it was explained like that, although it did logic out in the boring way most things did.

My Instructor’s name was Cyan, like the color, or at least that’s how she introduced herself.

She was a Fairy -a fact also provided by her introduction- who had been working on Oeuvre for around a century or three. (My jaw had hit the floor at the number, too; she didn’t look a day over… well, she was smaller than a child and had the complexion of one, too, I didn’t know how old I thought she looked.)

I said as much to her and Cyan seemed to take an even shinier liking to me despite the way I winced at the delivery of my words and how they might be construed.

She’d had me Manifest my wings for her which she’d squealed and cooed over, delicate fingers running over the obsidian feathers with something akin to childish fascination.

“Black wings are usually more matte or leathery but yours are so shiny! And fluffy!”

I decided to take that as a compliment and not as a scathing remark about a reason for me to stick out against the others.

“If you don’t mind me asking-”

“I don’t!”

“-you probably had wings before… here, right?”

Her wings were prettier than the immaculate stained glass windows I’d seen at the grand cathedral in France, I’d toured the church in my gap year and marveled alongside everyone else at the multicolored light refracting rainbows and history against the walls as they had done for decades.

“That’s correcto, Fairies are born with wings like Pegasus or wyverns; I haven’t even tried to Manifest myself a different pair, why would I when mine are so perfect!”

Hers were equally -if not more- breathtaking than those grand cathedral windows, their beauty only magnified by how small they were; a true miracle of nature that easily distracted me as the three foot nothing fairy fluttered patiently around my head, wings glinting in the light like cold shocked cracked sugar.

“They are beautiful.”

I admitted cautiously, not sure if it was a social faux pas to comment on someone else’s wings or not.

“Aren’t they?”

She smiled happily, pinching the tip of my wing teasingly which made my shoulders jerk before she twittered a giggle and instructed me to put my wings away.

I broke my careful concentration, making sure to watch as the feathery wings slowly grew hazy before simply shimmering out of existence. Wow.

“Alright, back to the books for now, Mister.”

I nodded, taking a seat once more and scanning over the papers strewn across the table we had settled at; Cyan folded herself into a sitting position to the left of my gathering of files so she could oversee what I was doing.

“We’re going to go through a bunch of successful Matches so you can see multiple instances of compatibility and how much it varies. Just ‘cause something worked for one Subject doesn’t mean it will work for somebody else! Even if their situation is the same or similar, the Subjects are different so the solution is too!”

I imagined if our dialogue were written out, almost all of Cyan’s lines would’ve had an exclamation point at the end of them. I didn’t mind, it helped me bring up my energy to match hers a little when I usually tended to prefer something a little more towards commas and periods with the occasional question mark.

“After this, we’re gonna test your handling to establish a sorta baseline of your physical…”

She gestured to my person, her gesticulation airy and wide.

“Prowess if you will, just so I know where to start your lessons. Oh, and pay attention ‘cause there will be tests!”

Good to know, if I wasn’t sweating before I definitely was now.

“Don’t worry about it, though!”

Yeah, sure.

“We’ll get’cha there from wherever you are, that’s what I’m for!”

She winked, reaching out to smack my hand away from an incorrect paper I was about to group together with another as a ‘pair’; pointing to a different page indicator at the top corner.

“Classification begins with filing, we can’t have every newbie trashing our archive system now, can we? Double check all the ones you paired again to make sure you didn’t make any mistakes.”

I groaned inwardly, sullenly spreading my papers out in a fan to make sure all the page indicators were grouped with the same ones, face abashed when I found two that were in the wrong pile.

It was hard to keep track of everything; what file went where, how to classify one paper from another, what to look for on a paper at first glance, and remembering to make sure it wasn’t double sided before I chucked the file into a group going off of the information on one side only. (For some reason -much to my horror- I kept forgetting to check.)

Cyan never failed to point out my mistakes but didn’t shame me for making them, even when I repeatedly sorted the papers wrong or froze up and couldn’t give the answer for things clearly indicated just because my head was so full with everything I was trying to learn.

“That’s okay, Birdie, we all had to start somewhere; it’ll come with time!”

Oh, and she called me Birdie because she said I reminded her of a baby bird with my feathers and wide eyed, confused expressions. Once again, I chose to take this as a compliment and a sign of acceptance although I did have a harder time convincing myself of its positive merits when likened to a sad, small, defenseless bird.

After we finished sorting the paperwork she’d given me, Cyan took me to another facility set up like a range of sorts; except it was larger than any range I’d ever seen and exceedingly better decorated.

Each practice space had its own separate area with floating targets and color coordinated indicators explaining what each target represented; for each species, you had to aim somewhere different when delivering information since the ‘brain’ wasn’t always in the head. (A fact I found truly unsettling although I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.)

Most of the area within the practice room was taken by a vast array of counter space filled with all sorts of cleaning supplies, measuring straps, device attachments, body guards, and gadgets of every sort all neatly aligned either on shelves or displayed behind see-through cabinets. (I assumed they were glass or the Oeuvre equivalent.)

If a jewelry shop display met high class action movie restock montage, I imagined this would be the end product.

“This is where Heralds come to practice, restock, and maintain their various equipment! Main devices vary heavily between Heralds but the little gadgets are pretty universal, I’ll be teaching you all about’em!”

Once again, I was absolutely dumbstruck by how this world worked, head tilted back and eyes wide as I marveled at the sheer scale of this one practice area. My human brain couldn’t compute the sheer mass the building would’ve had for there to be multiple of these training areas.

I couldn’t wrap my head around the concept that the area of space didn’t matter, that things could be as big as they needed to be without ever running out of room somehow contained within a building with tangible walls.

How, I didn’t know; I didn’t think I’d ever really be able to rationalize Oeuvre’s theory of relativity in regards to space and the objects kept within but no one else seemed to be as concerned as I was so it was probably fine.

“-you still with me?”

I startled as Cyan’s wide red eyes blinked at me, the Fairy’s small face not a hand’s width away from mine as I nodded quickly and shook my attention away from the untouchable ceiling so impossibly high above us; feeling like an ant looking up at the roof of a warehouse or something similar in scale that highlighted my vertical inadequacy.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m just– there’s a lot to take in.”

She smiled cooingly, blinding me momentarily as the lights glinted off of her fluttering wings.

“Aww, that’s okay Birdie, it’s so much to take in for a little fledgling Herald!”

She pressed a wrapped candy into my hand, patting her fingers over it kindly and urging me to unwrap it.

“Have a treat, that’ll help!”

I glanced down, untwisted the wrapper, and popped the caramel flavored candy in my mouth with a garbled ‘thanks’ around the sugar sweet.

I had half the mind to be suspicious, what with Jun giving me the tart when I started to panic and now Cyan with the candy.

Might as well ask.

“So… is there something in your sweeteners here that I should be concerned about? Is it like an underworld situation where I’ll be stuck here forever if I eat a piece of food?”

Well, it was already too late if that was the case; the candy felt a little sickly sweet now at the thought.

Cyan just laughed, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head as she pulled the sleeve of my shirt at the shoulder and directed me towards one of the tables closest to us.

“Of course not! Sweet things help relieve stress, for humans it makes your brains release something that calms you down; I don’t remember what it’s called…” She paused, thinking. “Serotonin! That’s it.”

She flitted up and tapped my forehead, knuckles rapping lightly against my skull as she followed the crease created from where I had scrunched up my brow at her tapping.

“Humans are so fiddly, you know that?”

Yeah, I’d kinda figured, being one and living among them and all that.

“No, I hadn’t.”

I mused dryly just so I could see her put her hands on her hips and huff.

“Well, you are! So delicate and sensitive, too!”

That seemed rich coming from her but I didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, let’s get to learning! There’s been far too much yapping and not enough listening!”

Once again, I didn’t comment on the irony since she was the one talking and only smiled, nodding my head as Cyan started off on what I assumed to be another long explanation about Herald equipment and their uses.

Shifting the candy around in my mouth, I felt ready to learn some more.