The babe had been startled by the arrival of the Seraph, her words making the little ebony gasp, startled. She felt her rather calm mood lighten in the slightest at the fright she had given the girl, lips noticeably twitching, deviating from her rather lifeless expression. The small girl gives the divine a once over, leaving her ego ever so slightly deflating. The vain angel finds offense in the lack of respect given to her by the babe, shouldn't she know a divine presence like herself finds such disinterest a disrespect? Naya is almost repulsed at the thought of mortals no longer recognizing a holy being such as herself. It was an honour to be even looked at by something as divine and pure as her. Fire wasn't as spectacular, it couldn't tell you about every fibre of the earth, it couldn't explain the stories the stars could tell or give you insight on the technology of the past, the flames couldn't give you the reasons why the clouds cried or why the ocean stretched for the moon. 
The Seraph was so sick of being undermined and brushed off. She was not dust collecting on the shoulder of your favourite shirt, she was a living angel. She wouldn't be brushed by so easily, she would be the jagged thorn at the bottom of your sock if that's what it took. She would make sure they knew how holy and virtuous she was. 
Her furious internal ranting stops when the babe says she hadn't meant to deceive the Seraph. She turns back to her, green eyes keeping in touch with the body of the winged babe. At the end of her last words the angel belts out a terrifying laugh, something ugly and forced as she finds herself bubbling with bemusement. Her emerald eyes remained lifeless and her expression managed to stay neutral despite the hoarse, rather choppy laughter falling from her freckled lips. Had no one bothered to teach this poor thing about the world? The divine gathers herself, bunching herself back up into the box she'd confined herself to. "You have much to learn young one, this world of yours does not live and breathe. And although it harbors many living, breathing things, it itself does not live." 
She would have gone into finer details had another mortal not stepped into their presence. Somewhere within a spark of hope ignites, glassy eyes glued to the chestnut-bellied youth in wait. Would she finally be recognized as the holy spirit she was? As soon as the girl's lips open, her stomach plummets. The Seraph feels dread and hopelessness and a white hot rage all brewing within her. This weak mortal had the audacity to speak to her in such a harsh tone, to tell her that she knew nothing of this land. Another forced chuckle spreads from her gut, lips clammed shut as her shoulders tremble with her false laughter. 
"I know many, many things about this world, stulte. I have witnessed generation after generation foolishly plunder about with false hopes of finding hidden treasures, I've watched an entire generation die to a disease they could not fight, I have seen them wage wars over silly little things like land and impure damsels. And I especially know that this world does not live and breathe as you do," she lays her eyes on the two before her, hooded eyes showing how disinterested she was in educating mortals on the things they were too stupid to realize. The Seraph's body trembled with the rage she felt, the blood in her vessel boiling, hotter than Hell Fire. Such mistreatment against His favourite was a sin. She was not going to tolerate their stupidity. So what their dulled senses left them unable to realize how lucky they were, standing in the presence of absolute perfection. She was pure as snow, clean and sinless. Her intentions were lawful, her actions justified. 
Her words to the youth were so quickly brushed off by the ignorant mare, shoved into a corner because apparently she was more trustworthy. How could one not trust a being made by His own hand? Insulted and rather enraged, she flicks her eyes back onto the small babe, letting it rest upon her earth-hued body before instinctively taking up the appearance of the newcomer who spoke. The youngest, Aelin, ushers herself closer to the foreign woman rather than the angel. A sickening laugh threatens to overflow from her lips, but the Seraph keeps herself in check. The babe was a fool to feel safer under the wing of a stranger rather than an angel, an angel was the safest one could get. 
"Naya'il," she leaves it at that, not bothering to question why they did not know her name beforehand. She keeps her lips locked for another few minutes before she lets out a final few words. "I'll follow," it was probably something the elder didn't want, but the Seraph thought it would be amusing to see her rolling in loathing against the divine spirit.