Her spells were deflected, but Arti had expected no less from her opponent. She furled her wings against her back, as she landed gracefully on the floor, sword vanishing from her hand, dismissed just as her shield had been. Her gaze turned to the Goddess, now sat in the pews, and she strode slowly towards the woman as she spoke. "I would not dream of taking them all, just the majority. We all need a certain amount of grief in our lives, and you will still remember them - but the pain will not be associated with that memory anymore, that is all," Arti added as she stood beside Shiloh. 

Sitting beside the Goddess, she took the woman's hands in her own and closed her eyes, warmth radiating from her body as she began to glow. "My name is Artiya'il, I'm not from this world, but it does not matter. Grief if both a gift and a curse, but it is my privilege. You have been judged Shiloh, the grief you carry is more than you should bear, for a long time you have worn it as a badge, as a symbol, believing that it made you stronger - but instead it has been a wound, close to festering and even closer still to becoming your end. Today I relieve you of that burden, so that you might shine brighter, stronger and stand taller for their sake as well as your own," as she spoke the sounds of the room drained away, the warmth growing almost hot. Suddenly she let go of Shiloh's hands, letting out a long, slow breath. Several of the white feathers of her wings suddenly began to change to red and after a moment Arti opened her eyes to look at the Goddess. "They love you dearly, I am glad to know them." 

Turning in her seat, she rested her back against the pew, hands clasped in her lap as she gathered herself for a moment. The extent of the grief Shiloh had carried had been heavy, it was one of the reasons the Archangel had been drawn to her, but not that she had performed her duty Arti knew more of her, and suddenly she found herself in a dilemma. "You never take care of yourself, you're always the last person on your list," she said, turning her head slightly to look at the Goddess. "I'm afraid you're not rid of me, there are others who will require me, but not as much as I feel you do. Would you object to me staying close to you? Not that you will get much choice mind you, ask my siblings, they will tell you - I'm like a dog with a bone, I don't give up easily once I have an idea."

There was a stifled snort from the deity, but without the amusement. "Of course I am. That's because I am expendable." The deities, the entire Conclave–whatever they were called by the Voice–they were expendable. Deities could be uplifted and demoted in the blink of an eye if they were no longer needed or if they crossed the line. Their lives, their existence, their very purpose was to act as the go-between for a being of higher power and the physical world. They weren't given a choice. If they were chosen, they were expected to carry out their roles until their time was up. That's how it was and had always been. And for Shiloh, knowing this was the reason why she saw her position as a job instead of a privilege. Until the next emergency arrived, she was just passing time trying to make the wait for her dismissal bearable. As much as the Machinarium was her home, this wasn't what she had wanted.

Despite allowing the angel to perform her duty, it seems she had second thoughts. Here Shiloh had thought this would've been a one and done deal only for Artiya'il to ask if she could stay. With much reluctance, Shiloh sighed. "Sure, will you be staying as a visitor or a resident? If it's the latter, I'll need to write up the details regarding your accommodations." Making new rooms wasn't too difficult, but she would rather build an individual suite instead of a dedicated residential hall for overnight stays. Actually that was exactly what she didn't want–more reasons for people to loiter in Antikythera if they had no business being here. "If you do want a room, don't skimp on what you do or don't want. It's easier for me to make it right the first time than do several adjustments. Not that I can imagine why you'd like to stay; the Machinarium's pretty boring."

Artiya'il raised an eyebrow at Shiloh's use of the word expendable, she understood what the woman meant, after all she had done her research into how this world worked, but she did not for one moment believe in the words she had just said. "No one is expendable," she replied in her usual monotone, her words lacking any sort of emotion. "And you most certainly are not. Whether you chose this life for yourself, or whether it was chosen for you, is irrelevant. You should hold yourself in higher regard than that." There, there was an element of emotion in the Archangel's tone - was that something of a reprimand from the usually apathetic Seraphim? Most likely; she had often had similar conversations with her beloved Uncle, for he too saw himself much as Shiloh saw herself. An irritating trait on both their counts. 

"Resident," Arti replied simply, eyeing the Goddess carefully. "I believe the Gods of this world take Champions, and you do not have one. Well, consider the position filled," Artiya'il continued, brushing at her skirt before looking at Shiloh once more. "You may not see your value Goddess, but I do, and until you start to see yourself as I and others see you, consider me your ever present shadow. If you thought I was persistent in performing my duties for you, then that is nothing in comparison to now," she snorted, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "Oh I think the Machinarium is rather intriguing, but I need very little if I'm honest. My kind do not sleep, we do not eat. Well, we eat out of courtesy to others but we find no sustenance in it," she shrugged. "I look forward to working with you more closely Shiloh."