At the time, I was surprised they chose me for the program.

For starters, as a Droplet, which is one of the more... to put it kindly, "stationary" of the celestial's divine classes, this meant leaving what can only be called home, even if it has no hearth. Droplets, the class most rooted in the Heavens—that should've automatically disqualified us from being in the election pool, no?

Apparently not, since the bus I just stepped off of is now leaving. Leaving me.

Leaving me here at an apartment complex.

With only a cell phone and a suitcase containing a few belongings.

I really shouldn't be here, should I? I'm not a Breeze or a Reed. I'm not from a class that would have any experience interacting with mortals. And yet, I was chosen by more than just my own classmates; even Sunrays and the Kindling, whom I hardly even directly interact with, elected me to be a part of this. They trusted me. So, of course, I couldn't disappoint, whether that be through attendance or performance. I only had one choice from the start: I had to go.

Now I'm here. Here to take on a task I have absolutely no experience with. I've never considered praying to Our Cherished before, but today's a new day.

The Hollow-owned bus left a few seconds ago, but I still can't find it in me to step forward. Moving forward means accepting this is real, it means accepting that all the training I recently received is meant for me to take part in this program. Now, what even is this "program" that's worrying me? From what I've been reviewing to myself since I was elected to partake in it, Hollow, the organization I'm currently working under, is hosting celestials in a co-op program ensuring mortal protection. I am one of the celestials participating as a volunteer for this program. I decided to sign up on a whim, and then I actually got voted in, so here I am, whether it's a wise decision or not.

Someone bumps into me from behind. I know it's a mortal, but I can't bring myself to turn around, so I just move out of their way. That's right, I'm on a bustling city street; I need to be more mindful of my surroundings. My human appearance should be enough to distract people from my odd behaviors. (At least, that's what I've been reassured. I'll see how it goes when put into practice.)

It's a warm, sunny day, according to my phone's weather report and the blazing ball of fire overhead. To begin the blending-in process, I've dressed in Hollow-issued sunglasses, a baseball cap, jean shorts, and a simple t-shirt and jacket. The only thing that's remotely out of place are my cotton gloves, which I have to wear so my touch doesn't transform the living, mortal world into something beyond mortal comprehension. I've never witnessed the effects of my divine touch, but Hollow's reapers really drilled it into my head that I mustn't, under any circumstances, 1) take these gloves off in public and 2) touch anything when they are off. It made me a little curious, but... better to be safe than have to apologize and/or be punished.

Other than those "threats" I have to keep in mind, I need to begin my first trial: head to my new living space. Which was, of course, in this apartment complex. Lifting the brim of my hat, I look up. A tall building looms over me, with the entire front wall filled with balconies representing different walks of life: some are overflowing with flourishing, happy plants, some are overcrowded with miscellaneous waterproof objects and furniture, some have a simple patio chair and table, and some have nothing at all. Luckily, I don't see any humans on them, which makes it less unnerving to stare up at them.

But they sure are high, and there sure seem to be a lot of them. As stated, I have absolutely no experience with communicating with mortals, neither human nor animal. I took lesson after lesson in the hopes of mastering cross-species tolerance and cultural exchange, but I still have no idea what I would do in the face of the subjects I've been taught to interact with. How firmly my hands grip my belongings is proof of this tension, even if my mind tries to convince me that I'm just fine.

Time to go through the plan that's been set up for me one last time: I'll walk inside, and I'll have to talk to a human at the front desk, and then that human will guide me to my temporary home. That human may make small talk and ask questions about my life, which I obviously can't talk about, so I'll have to lie through my teeth (and, funnily enough, I hate lying, even though that's kind of the point of this entire program, isn't it?), and then I'll have to remember all of my lies, and soon enough the entire apartment complex population will think me to be someone I'm not, and then that will spread to the complex's residents' families and friends, and then across the city, across the world, and then the discrepancies will be made crystal-clear and it will be revealed that I'm a divine celestial, and then I'll get in so much trouble with all of my bosses here at Hollow and in the Heavens, and then—

No. No, I need to stop thinking like that. I can do just fine without direct supervision, if my work in the Heavens is any proof of that. I should be perfectly adequate as long as I follow the plan that's been set up for me. Still, I'm not so sure about this train of thought; I mean, I'm an immortal being, and I'm to interact primarily with humans for an indefinite span of time? That sounds comical, no matter which way you put it. Less-than-ideal outcomes are going to happen whether I'd like it or not, and I have to be prepared for scrutiny from both the humans I'd soon interact with and fellow celestials. My classmates will tease me endlessly upon my return to the Heavens (a reality I dread). 

Speaking of celestials, I'm supposed to meet the celestial(s) partnered with me for this program soon. Hollow's reapers told me that while customs training is one-on-one, the program's primary goal is to eliminate dangerous targets. Combat-focused goals are going to be risky, so to decrease the possibility of harm, Hollow emphasized the importance of setting me up with another celestial to take on the danger as a team. We'd be on the same mission, following similar paths. (It sounds easy enough, but I'm not exactly used to working with others. I'm also not averse to the idea of doing so.) From what's been laid out, after I get fully settled into my new "home," I'll begin attending the city's university as a student. The new session has yet to start, and according to today's date, August 2nd, I'll have time to adjust to this life before classes begin on the 28th. A little over three weeks to adjust to this new life... I guess I'll soon find out if this celestial I'm to work with will also be a student. Maybe we can help each other adjust. That's what partners do, right?

Still, just thinking about all of the endless things I now need to keep track of is making what I know is usually a neutral expression twist. I need to just get this thing over with and stop overthinking it. I take a deep breath in (entirely unnecessary; celestials don't need oxygen), and walk into the building.

The lobby (or what appears to be a lobby; I'm still learning) seems to be... without the assistance I was promised. The large, empty area possesses a simple leather couch, a few scattered cushioned wooden chairs, a turned-off television set sitting on an old media stand, and a telephone hooked up near the entrance. The walls are a simple beige, the carpet is a patterned brown and cream, and the furniture is dark brown and faded green. There seems to be some sort of reception desk with its own telephone and a computer setup, but there is no one in attendance. On the desk is a plastic stand with a paper messily taped to the front, and from where I stand near the entrance some distance away, I can easily read the text:

The receptionist is currently off-desk and will be back shortly.

I feel a frown form against my will. This isn't at all what I've planned for, and without the human guide, which is perhaps the most vital part of this first trial, I can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. A taboo emotion, I know, but I'm not in the Heavens, so I'm allowed to feel it right now.

According to the paper, the receptionist (read as: human guide) is going to return soon... Maybe I should wait? But I don't exactly know how to make use of my presence... I begin pacing the lobby since that's the only way to keep myself moving without accidentally doing something disastrous. After glancing at a clock on the wall (which, according to my cell phone's internal clock, is off by about two-and-a-half minutes) numerous times, I give up. It's been seventeen minutes, and still, no one. This... makes me a little restless. What if the receptionist is in danger? What if they need to be saved?

Then it hits me: What if this is my second trial?

According to the training, attacks launched by demonics against mortals have spiked. Humans aren't the only beings affected, either; animals and other creatures that flow with vitality are marked by these dreadful, malignant beings. Luckily for the animals, demonics tend to find human souls and their negative emotions a delicacy meant to be chased at all costs.

As I mentally review my training for the umpteenth time, the sound of a small click snaps me out of it. Before I can even think, my head whips away from the clock on the wall and towards the direction the sound came from. Whatever has made this new noise is near the elevator and stairwell leading to the second floor and above. I remain still, because what if it's just a human? Then I strain my senses and find that I can't hear or see any further disturbances. I also can't sense the warm glow of vitality mortals emit. While there isn't a glow, there also isn't that fear-consuming voracity of demonics. But if there are no demonics or mortals... just what caused that sound? And am I meant to figure it out? Is that a requirement? My better judgment tells me yes, and I leave my cell phone on top of the suitcase and cautiously head for the elevator.

Items fall or move on their own all the time, this I know. It often happens at random. The reasons vary, and this instance very well could just be another item shifting after being placed carelessly. Still, though, I descended from the Heavens with a mission in mind, and I have to fulfill my duties to the mortals and Hollow both. If something does happen on my watch and mortals are harmed, no one would ever forgive me. I could never deserve forgiveness for this.

Once at the elevator, I press a button. Nothing happens, so I press another one. This time, I hear the elevator begin to move—I think it is, at least. I've never used one of these things, obviously. Before long, the elevator reaches the lobby and opens slowly, revealing... nothing. Not a soul is to be found, to my relief(?).

Then I hear that same click. After hearing it for a second time, I recognize it as the sound of shoes tapping against a hard surface. I knew something was strange! That sound can't have come from me, since I'm on the carpet, so... I pinpoint the location of the sound: the stairwell. With my senses entirely focused on this entity, I dart to the first steps and grab the railing, using it to push myself swiftly into the air.

I expect a chase, but that's not what I get. Instead, on the second floor, I see a face inches away from mine, eyebrows raised. I'm so surprised that I have to keep myself from falling off the railing, and I grab it again to rebalance. This new character, who looks just like a regular human, is anything but; this is a fellow celestial.

Celestials are weird like that. We don't really emit the glow of vitality like mortals, nor do we reek of death like reapers. Fear and malice don't pour off of us, but kindness and benevolence don't, either. Instead, we just kind of... exist to be of help. But, as celestials, we always know when the being we're looking at is one of us. And the one standing before me is not an ordinary celestial, either. Their halos, which I'm sure they're concealing from those without All-Seeing Eyes, float above their head, ready to be used at a moment's notice. Now, almost all celestials are designed with a single full halo, but this one has two—two magnificent, glowing halos in a light shade of purple.

This celestial of the Breeze class is a masterpiece, just like me.

Our eyes meet, and for what feels like an eternity, I can't speak. Like me, they're wearing sunglasses to hide some of their features, but I can see those glowing eyes from behind dark lenses. You can't fully hide what you are, especially not if the seeker knows what to look for.

They must not be as shocked as I am by another celestial's presence, because they greet me. "Hey! You must be the other celestial, right?" Their tone is casual, their voice velvety and deep. The sun can't blind me, but I'm pretty sure this celestial's smile can.

I feel strange, so I instead settle for dropping back down to the first floor. If they really want to talk, they can come talk to me down here, right? I try to rationalize what I'm sure was a very rude response to a very welcoming greeting.

Sure enough, not even a few seconds later, my fellow celestial follows my lead and jumps from the railing and onto the first floor. Their build is a bit taller and muscular than mine, with slightly broader shoulders and what I can tell is a handsome face, even if it's partially obscured. (It's a Hollow-recommended thing, the sunglasses are; the reapers told me that if I show my face too much, it'd draw unwanted attention, which isn't good for a relatively stealthy mission.) Their complexion is dark, and their black hair, tinged with lavender streaks, is braided intricately down their back. Lavender, the signature color of the Breeze class, was always my favorite hue among the classes.

Maybe they notice my stare, because they smooth out their clothing, which consists of no hat (lucky them, I'm actually not really liking how mine blocks some of my immediate vision), a white shirt with an unknown logo on it, ripped jean shorts, and black sneakers. Their gloves are beaded with small gems on the backs of their hands. It's a neat design, and I kind of wish I'd asked for some sort of design now, too.

Now that I've fully taken in their appearance, I can begin processing something that immediately bugged me upon seeing them. They're not someone I've ever met, but still... something's strange. Something I can't quite put my finger on. I'm not sure if they feel the same sense of familiarity that I do, so I can't really bring it up, even if it's the first thing I want to say.

I wonder if they notice my puzzlement, because they give me a small wave. "Seems you still need to get settled in. Take your time! We'll chat again later when you're comfortable. See ya!" And with that, they take off out the doors, leaving the apartment complex and going who-knows-where.