"Bullshit, Sandalwood. We all have our women and men, our weaknesses. Michael had Joan of Arc, Raphael Tobit, Gabriel Mary, you your children. You would do anything for your offspring. Anything," Samael said, referring to the host of Nephelim children Sandalphon had sired. His bloodline was needed to interpret and keep the books of Heaven, and so he was charged with creating angels from his own blood each day to tend to the ever-increasing collections.
Sandy looked coolly at Samael. Outside, the voices of angelic choirs rang as the entirety of Heaven rose to greet the dawn. "My children serve a purpose. Yes, I love them, but what separates us from other pantheons is our chastity of heart, Samael. Our virtue. My love for them is a controlled love, not all-consuming. They spring from me, they are me. Eve is not yours. She is God's, and God's alone. He rejected her. And now, she is no one's."
