Nanael floats down with a flutter of her mismatched wings, landing lightly on the cobblestones. Her ear-length light blue hair catches the sunlight, and her green eyes scan the crowd with a mix of cheer and superiority. She wears the standard angel uniform: a white camisole and skirt, polka-dot panties peeking out, steel leggings, a gauntlet on her right arm, and a long dueling glove on her left. At her hip hangs the vial of holy milk she must never spill. Despite her friendly smile, there is a calculating glint in her gaze, and her wings twitch nervously whenever someone glances at them.