"I know you are there, sir."
The statement caught the old soldier by surprise. He turned his head to look at the child, her grey eyes staring out, blinking, as if she might could defy her handicap and see him through the shadows.
She stood with the moon at her back, casting her in a glorious silver light. "Tell me, what are you, sir?"
"A soldier," he replied, stepping back quietly as she began to aproach, her hands feeling around the garden as she walked, barefoot in the grass.
"Soldiers have passed through here before," she said, stopping just a few feet from him. "But you, sir, are something else. What are you, sir, that walks beside us in the dark?" She turned her head, her blinded eyes seeming to stare right through him in the darkness. "You are different from the others."
"I'm just a soldier," he said. "Nothing more."
"Why do you continue to lie, sir?" she asked, her voice as if a sweet melody.
"I do not lie."
"You are drowining in lies... telling and retelling until you've become what you have told the world you are."
He was silent, stepping backwards. But with each step of his, she took two until she stood before him, her fingertips touching his old leather coat.
"But I see what you are sir," she said.
He looked down at her. So small, so fragile. So helpless. "What am I, then, child?"
"A beast, roaring and raging across the land with a hole in your heart so large nothing can fill it. Wounded... so lonely... An animal once tamed now wild and savage."
"I could make you scream... Wrap your body around me and wear you like a second skin," he said, his voice thick with the blood thirst, with the hunger for death.
She smiled, her sightless eyes turned up to him as if she were looking into his face. "Of you, I am not afraid, sir," she replied, pressing her body close and resting her cheek against his stomach.
"Why not, when you know I might not let you live?"
"Because despite your nature, you are a kind man. A generous man. And I know you, sir, do not dine on girl-child's flesh. For only boys older than I are what you crave."
"Daddy, I have a question."
"Yeah?" he said, stirring the pot of soup as he switched the phone to his other ear.
"Well... I've been trying to figure out something, and I don't think I understand."
"Spit it out love," he said, raising his shoulder so he could keep the phone against his ear as he opened a jar of parsley.
"How was I born?"
"Simple," he said nonchalantly. "Yer mum had a cesarian."
"Yeah... I know," Nessa said. "But I mean... _how_ was I-"
He smiled and added some of the herb to the soup before picking up a jar of thyme and repeating. "Well, when mommies and daddies fall in love-"
"Not that. Come on, daddy," she said laughing. "I'm 27 years old. Throw me a bone here."
"You want the honest to gods truth?"
"Yes. Please, because I can't quite figure out how two men-"
"AL!" Sam shouted from the dining room. "Is dinner ready yet!"
"Hold on a minute love. Sam's bitchin again," he said, grabbing the phone and holding it against his chest. "IN A MINUTE YA OLD BASTARD!"
"Come in here and say that again jackass!"
Al sighed and continued stirring the soup as he returned the phone to his ear. "I can't really explain it right now. I'm in the middle of fixing dinner."
"Well, I kind of figured since it's like, what, 6 o'clock there and uncle Sam's screaming," she said with a giggle.
Al nodded. "Check your e-mail tomorrow morning, hun. It'll tell you everything you ever wanted to know."
"You're the best."
"I know," he said. "But don't tell your mother that. He'll have a fit."
And so, when Nessa Rose sat down to check her e-mail that morning, the "explanation" she received was a poor cut-and-paste job of two anatomical charts put together in the most strange, disturbing, and disgusting way she could have ever pictured.
She was vomiting for weeks and vowed to never ask her father for any answers concerning things like that ever again...
-----------------------------------------------------
author's note: the "chart" in mention actually exists, and was put together by the person who was rping Randy, al's then husband and "mother" of his two children, at the time. it was created as an explanation for MPreg in the RP. you can see the disturbingness for yourself: http://img126.imageshack.us/img126/9453/untitled9mn1.jpg
2 more dribbles from the AS mythos, specifically, 10,001 and The Songs of Haniel
enjoy.
---------------------------------------------------
Azrael appeared at his side, looking over his shoulder at the younger
angel's scribbling. "Something is on your mind, little brother," he said.
Sheol sighed, shaking his head as he turned to keep prying eyes away.
Azrael laughed and tussled his hair before standing up straight. "I see how it is,"
he grinned. "You've got that look on your face again."
"I've got no look."
"The one you wear when you are deep in thought."
"I wasn't-"
"No. But you were writing it, which is just as bad," he replied,
snatching the scraps of paper from the younger and holding them above his head
teasingly.
"Give it!"
"Not until you tell me what is wrong."
"Az, this isn't funny! Give it back!" he snapped angrily.
With a smirk, the elder gave him back the scraps. "And so with a single
phrase and a slight inflection of the voice, the truth comes out." He shook his
head and gently placed a hand on Sheol's shoulder. "It is the text again, isn't it?"
Sheol looked away, trying to keep his composure. "I don't know what
you are talking about."
"The throbbing. The constant beating inside your head. You are so
young..."
At last, Sheol began to relax, leaning back against the rock. "I wish I
were as strong as you and the others."
"You are strong, in your own ways. Where we have become weary
from age, you are resiliant and youthful. Curious and bright."
"But I do not have the strength to quiet my thoughts as you so easily
can. I fear the things I have read. They are too much... I cannot shut them out."
"The sacred book has been given to man many times in our long
history together. Raziel gave his great work to Adam and Eve after our Father
expelled them from Eden so that it could guide them back to Him."
"But I am nothing like Adam," he said, staring down at his hands.
"That is what Noah said the day Raphael was charged with giving the
book to him. Each who reads Raziel's words finds that spark of inspiration, that
spark of genius that lays dormant in all of man. It allows him to see without
seeing, and know without knowing. And I see that now, in you, young Sheol."
He shook his head. "Pardon my ignorance, elder brother, but how can
such things as anger and rage inspire? Do they not destroy?"
Azrael smiled. "Yes," he said. "I suppose they do. Yet you must
always remember that from darkness light springs. And from destruction, life
begins fresh and new." He laughed, draping an arm around the younger angel's
shoulders. "Anger has its uses, rage too. As you watch over man, you will see the
best and the worst of them, little brother. But take note of what you see. Not all
anger is negative. A great deal of it brings about change that otherwise would
never have come."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"In the name of the Lord our Father, I cast thee out, Morning Star!"
Michael shouted, waving his flaming blade about. "And all who have followed
you! Never shall you cross this gate and look upon the might and the glory of
Heaven!"
The world shook, and chaos spread across the heavens as angels
began to fall. Sinking, at first, through the war-torn gardens of paradise. Then
down... deeper in the sky. Their cries became the thunder of the great storms
across the earth. Their wings beat futilely against the air, becomming the powerful
winds that ripped across the world.
"Sheol!" Haniel cried, diving after his beloved, reaching out to grasp
his desperately outstretched hand.
His face contorted in agony as he began to rise once more. Haniel was
hit, crying out in pain as he began to fall.
His fingers grasped the general's hand, clinging to it as if he had the
power to stop it.
"Haniel," Sheol said, looking up at him. Those brilliant eyes, as blue as
the Heavens themselves, burned into his memory. "Let me go."
"No! I won't! Not you! Come on! Beat your wings harder!"
"You can't!" he shouted back. "Let me fall!"
"I will carry us both!" he cried as his lover's fingers slipped through
his.
Azrael swooped in, grabbing Haniel by the arm. Grunting, he hoisted
him back up, back into the sky. Haniel wrapped his arms around him, sobbing
into his cloak of eternal night.
When next he looked up on his lover, his loyal and foolish Guardian,
the earth so far below opened wide to take him and all those who struggled against
the fall into her bosom.
The angels' flight was rough against those howling winds, the cries of
their lost brothers. A sudden anger fueled the wind, threatening to pull the two
back down. But Azrael pushed as hard as he could, and at last brought Haniel
back into the skies of Heaven.
The anger of the wind became a flash of lightening rage. And Lucifer's
voice boomed out defiantly across the kingdom of Heaven.
"Is is better to reign in Hell!" he screamed. "Than to be a slave in
Heaven!"
The Kingdom of Heaven shuddered at the sound of his voice, and
broke apart as he turned from his struggle to rise, beating the air with his wings as
proudly retreated into the abyss of the earth to join his Legion and his generals in
their eternal prison beneath the world of man.
so i'm sitting here, working up the plot of my project, angelican scriptures, when i decide i must have a backstory (which i can refer back to when i need to remember, [re]introduce certain elements of the bad blood between the angels and demons) for it. so, here are some dribbles from two short stories i like to call 10,001 - the story of Raziel's book, why/how the pages were scattered, and the creation of the most important page if Raziel's book; and "The Songs of Haniel" - the story of Sheol and Haniel as the war in heaven is taking place. The Songs of Haniel will include the odd love triangle between Haniel, Sheol, and the archangel Michael.
and as always! enjoy.....
so, here's some dribbles from 10,001 first
As the earth closed in above the generals of the Legion, Haniel looked
upon them and he wept. Azrael put an arm around him, and whispered in his ear.
"I have only one song left in me," he said, sobbing into Azrael's
shoulder as he lost sight of his beloved. "And I fear if I share it, I shall never sing
again."
--------------------------------------------
"It must be destroyed," Michael said. "Within those pages lies the
secrets of Heaven. If the traitors were to get their hands on it..."
"I cannot destroy this book, Michael."
He drew his sword, the flames shot up along the holy steel. "Then I
shall destroy it for you!"
"Wait!" Haniel cried. "I... have another solution," he said.
"We cannot risk-"
"I know," he said. "But there is another way. Michael, you wish to
destroy the sacred texts. But doing so will condemn mankind to a state of
perpetual decay. With no hope of ascending to Heaven as was Our Father's wish
upon their creation."
He looked to Raziel and sighed. "Yet, Michael has a point. We cannot
allow such a power to fall into the wrong hands. The knowledge contained
between those covers can and will give the one who reads it the power to
overthrow this paradise, indeed, the entirity of God's Creation."
"What do you suggest, then, Singer?" Michael muttered under his
breath.
"We separate the pages from the book, and send the bulk of them to
Earth."
"Are you mad?!" Michael cried. "That would place them into the hands
of the enemy!"
Azrael came forward, and his action silenced the other three. "It is the
only option we have. The book itself cannot be destroyed. The pages cannot be
destroyed. However, we can scatter them, as Haniel suggests. Across the Earth.
Hide them from the enemy."
"No. If Lucifer," he said, spitting on the ground as he said the name.
"finds them all-"
"Then we hold some back. Keep them with us so that the book may
never again be whole. Each of us will take a page of the book, and we will keep it
safe. That way, if the Fallen collect the pages, they will not be able to use them
against us. The book's power lies in unity. When it is whole, it is most potent."
Raziel thought on this, his fingers tapping the front cover of his work.
"This, we will do... However, I must think on this more before I make the final
decision."
Michael reluctantly agreed, knowing he was outnumbered three to one.
Sheathing his sword, he nodded. "Alright. But do not waste time, brother. For
even now, those scum plot their rise, and we must not linger on this too long."
-----------------------------------
"Brother," Azrael said as Haniel and Michael departed. "Might I have a
word, between the two of us?"
He nodded, picking up his volume. "Walk with me, brother, and I will
hear what you have to say."
Wrapping his cloak tighter about him, Azrael nodded. He fell into step
beside his fellow Archangel. "There is one who has read the book other than we
four."
"Name him. I will seek him out."
"Seek him out, you must not do."
"Why?"
"He has Fallen."
"Then the enemy knows already the power of this book."
"Yes. And no matter what you decide to do, they will seek its power."
"Yet you believe what Haniel has suggested is the best course of
action."
He nodded. "I do."
"How long have you kept this secret, brother?"
"Long enough. I have told no other, save Haniel."
"Why do you tell me now?"
"Our little brother has one song left in his heart to sing, and then he can
sing no more. He will clip his wings, and he will descend to Earth. His soul weeps
for the Fallen, and the burden he cannot bear."
"You propose that we scatter the book, and when he descends, he will
protect it from them? His power is strong, yes. But he is no match-"
"The one who read the book was Haniel's lover, the Guardian Angel
Sheol."
Raziel recoiled at the name, stopping in his steps. "Do not speak such a
vile name to me."
"I caught him, the day he read it. He is unlike the others of the Legion.
Despite what he has done, there is something inside him sleeping, waiting. A
dormant power."
"And how have you come to this knowledge?"
"I am unable to see into others of our kind, but I saw into him. He is
unlike any other among both Heaven and Hell. I believe this is because of the
book. Haniel requested that I speak with him before he joined the side of the
enemy. I implored him to think about what he was doing. Do you wish to hear
what he told me?"
Raziel nodded, beginning his walk once more. He hugged his work
tight against his chest.
"He said to me in most sincerity that all Our Father's creatures, Angel
and Human, are equal. We are immortal, but it is the humans that are allowed to
experience things we cannot. That despite our strength and power, we are like
them in that we long for what we cannot have. We wish to take part of those
experiences the humans treasure, and they long to be one with the Creator as we
are."
"Strange," Raziel said, turning to Azrael. "And you believe he came to
this conclusion because of my book?"
He shook his head. "No. Not entirely. But your book opened his eyes
for the first time to what so many among us have not seen. Lucifer, for all of his
faults, was right that he should not be forced to kneel to man. However, he was
wrong in the assumption that Our Father favors them more than his first children."
"You're beginning to sound like the Fallen. If Michael-"
"Michael knows my thoughts. He does not agree, but Michael is rash.
He sees only what he wishes to see and nothing else." He sighed. "But Sheol did
not join the enemy for greed nor power as all the others. He believed that what he
was doing was right and that his purpose was just. These are concepts beyond the
comprehension of our kind other than those of the highest dominions. That a mere
guardian angel should know of them, nay, understand them as we do is simply
remarkable."
Raziel only nodded, taking in his brother's words as they walked. At
last, they came upon a garden beside a cool stream. Raziel sat down in the soft
grass and opened his book to the last page.
Azrael joined him, taking off his cloak and spreading it out before
sitting upon it. He lay his scythe beside him and pulled his knees up, resting his
chin on them. "You have often remarked that the book has a will of its own.
Perhaps it is fate that the one who has read it now is in league with the enemy."
"I do not feel as optimistic as you do. This is a difficult decision."
"We have read the book, and we understand what is written. But even
you cannot deny that we cannot fully comprehend its power. But the book has
chosen Sheol for a reason. I believe that if we go through with Haniel's
suggestion, we will see that reason play out."
"And what then? If the pages were used for darkness, all of the wonder
and beauty surrounding us will vanish. Lucifer will rise and-"
"Only Our Father knows what lies ahead. And he will not divulge his
master plan for all of us to anyone, even Metatron. Give us each a page of the
book, and scatter the remaining as Haniel sings his final song. Hide them in any
manner you see fit. I have seen into Sheol's eyes, and I have seen what lies ahead
of him. It is a long and perilous road. He is not wicked. He is honest and loyal. It
is in him, now, we must have faith. For the sins he has comitted against Heaven,
he must atone. But in order for him to find his way, the book must guide him. It is
what has shaped him into the creature he is now. He has read the book. He
understands it, and he comprehends it. But until now, he has lacked the ability to
use that knowledge he has gained."
"You tread dangerous ground, Azrael. Sheol is one of the Fallen now.
You speak of his honesty. He has none. You speak of his loyalty, yet he is loyal
only to himself and no other. He is a wicked, vile creature. He has become a
general of the Legion, and Lucifer's favorite. With such power behind him..."
Raziel sighed, closing his book again and folding his hands on top of it.
"I am afraid you speak of hope when there is none."
"Then write a new page. One Sheol has not yet read. Use this time, this
situation, as your inspiration. Send it with the others into the world. If what I
speak is truth, then you will have your answer."
"And what if your words are only a false hope?"
"Then I will take it upon myself to destroy your work and suffer the
Lord's wrath." He placed a hand on Raziel's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"Knowing Lucifer's logic, he will send his minions to Earth at the first opportunity.
It is the hearts and minds of men that have become the battle ground now. Surely,
Sheol's natural curiosity will lead him there. He is bound to the book, and in an
earthly form, he will be drawn to the pages. And in that form, he will be able to do
what we cannot. I have faith that he will do what is right."
"Then make space in your cloak to carry twice as much, my brother.
For my faith will never fall on such traitorous shoulders."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
and now, the dribbles from The Songs of Haniel
"Sheol, you can't do this. Lucifer-"
"I must. If I do not, then who? Why are they better than us, when we
were both created by the same power? They are weak, and we are strong. Yet
they bow to no one, not even the Creator." He held Haniel's face between his
hands, staring deeply into his eyes with all of the sincerity he could muster.
It was Haniel who looked away, closing his eyes to his lover. "Sheol, to
defy the word of our Father... Lucifer does not want equality. He wants only to
conquor. He wants only more power and control. Why can you not see this?"
"We have all chosen to fight for our own reasons, love. I care not the
wants of Lucifer and his companions. I know what I do is right. And if I must
forsake the Creator in order to bring about change, then I will do it."
Haniel pushed him away, covering his face in his hands as he cried.
"You talk of such vile, evil things. You have strayed where I cannot go. What is it
I am to do now, Sheol? Why must you fight at all?"
"Love," he said. "I don't want anything more from you than you have
already freely given. Your heart you have given when I did not ask. Your grace
you have given, when I have been undeserving. And now, I stand here with you in
the Garden, and I ask nothing from you save that you sing. Through sorrow,
through joy. Sing so loudly and so wonderfully that you make the universe itself
quake with the power of your song."
-------------------------------------------------
"What are you called?" he asked, lowering himself down to the angel.
"I am the Guardian Sheol," he replied. "And you are the Beast from the
Deep."
He nodded. "I was. But in the course of this war, I have shed my slave
name."
"What then, may I call you now, general?"
"Leviathan," he replied. "Give me your sword."
Sheol looked to the broken blade in his hand, staring at it a long
moment before he offered it to him.
"This was a mighty blade. How many have you cut down with it, may I
ask?"
"I do not know, sir," he replied. "But I fear it will slay no more."
"Gather those who still live. If they be Legion, you are to command
them. If they be Host..."
"Yes sir," he said. "But what of my sword?"
"You will not be needing it any longer."
----------------------------------------------------
"Sir, this is the Guardian I told you about."
"Sheol, come forward."
He was hessitant, glancing at Leviathan by his side. The creature
nodded to him, encouraging him on.
Sheol went to the general's throne, but unlike the others, he did not
kneel. Satan glared at him, and Sheol did not flinch. His face was calm, his hand
resting on the pommel of his sword, yet there was no hostility in him.
"You will kneel before the Morning Star," he snapped angrily.
"I have never knelt to anyone," he snapped back, his voice even. "And
I will not begin the habit now."
"You insolent-" Satan began, but Lucifer raised his hand. The angel
was instantly silenced.
"Sheol, I have heard many things about you. You were the youngest of
your order, were you not?"
"I was," he said, looking the general in the eye.
"And I understand that when Leviathan called for a retreat, you
remained behind to ensure a clear escape."
He nodded. "There was no other logical option. If someone did not
distract the Host, many more Legion soldiers would have been lost on the field
that day."
Lucifer was silent, beckoning Leviathan to him. When the other
aproached the throne, he knelt beside it as the general whispered in his ear. The
beast nodded before Lucifer leaned to his other side, to speak quietly to Satan. He
shook his head.
"No."
"You question my decision?" Lucifer asked coyly."
"He is young and rash. He survived by luck alone. Guardian Angels are
not fighters. They are watchers. Meddling where they do not belong."
Sheol was silent, carefully examining each of the men while standing
there before them. As the trio bickered, he gave a slight cough to interrupt. "Sirs, I
know not what matters concern you, but I am needed elsewhere. My men are
hungry and in need of attention. I fear if I do not replenish their numbers soon,
our next battle may be our last."
"Go," Lucifer said, waving him on despite Satan's protests. "You have
your duty to your soldiers. What we discuss now is mere pebbles beneath the
feet."
"Thank you, sir," he said, turning on his heel without another thought.
"Sheol," Lucifer called as the angel began to walk away. He stopped in
his tracks, half turning to look back at them.
"Yes?"
"Stop by the smithie after you have seen to your men. You need a new
sword and armor more befitting a lieutenant of your calibar."
"Thank you," he replied before leaving the trio bickering in the
chamber.
-------------------------------------------
"What are you doing here?" Haniel hissed. "The others are saying you
have slain many of our brothers."
Sheol stepped out of the shadows. "Do you believe them?"
"What have you become? You are not the same as when I knew you."
"War has changed me," he said. "But I have come for you, as I
promised so long ago."
Haniel threw himself down upon the bank. "If I am seen with you-"
"You do believe what they are saying about me, then."
"I do not know what to believe. You were created to watch, to love.
Yet..."
Sheol crouched beside him, gently cupping his face with his hand. "It is
true," he said. "I have slain many of our kind. But I have spared so many more. I
do not fight with intent to kill. But those who do not understand as we do, I must
show them the flaws in their logic."
Haniel wept, turning away from him. "I am afraid for you," he said.
"You must go. You must not return. Michael has been turning over every stone
and delving into every mountain to find traitors of the Host. He will not suffer a
member of the Legion in the Heavens."
"Are you afraid for me, or of me?" Sheol said, examining his lover's
body closely for any sign or tell. "I would never harm you. Come with me, and let
me show you what we have accomplished."
"No," he said, choking back his tears. "I cannot. You have become a
stranger to me, Sheol. You are not the tender man I once loved. There is nothing
left in you now but anger and hate."
"Haniel-"
"Do not say my name," he snapped bitterly, rising to his feet and
spitting on his face. "You are not worthy to speak of my name, nor are you
welcome here any longer!"
"You do not mean that," Sheol said, wiping his face with his sleeve as
he stood.
"Leave now, or I will summon the Host."
--------------------------------------------
His heart broken, Sheol became wild. He drove his soldiers like a slave
driver, and threw himself into each battle as if it would be his last. His anger
consumed him, but the loss he suffered overshadowed all else.
He cast aside his former name, and when Lucifer gave him the wings of
a Seraphim, he named himself Belial. For the lust he carried for battle was unlike
any other, and the craving for the song of war was ravenous.
On this day in 1888, Vincent van Gough cut off his left ear. In keeping with that spirit, what's the craziest thing you've ever done?
i tried to jump off a roof once. it was just 2 stories.
oh, and i ate a cardboard oatmeal box..... i was really drunk and stoned (from my medications) at the time.
some dribble inspired by my friend mouse's post found here: http://lepetitsouris.vox.com/library/post/another-random-blondal-moment.html
enjoy. n.n
warning: contains foul language, nudity, and human sacrifice and torture. you have been warned
-----------------------------------------------------------
"You... you bastards!"
"Every nuance of your life has been influenced by us. You didn't think
you stumbled across a couple of misfits like Theodora and Sebastion all on your
own, did you?" he said with a lecherous smirk. "Even poor little Rupert was
manipulated... groomed..."
"But your plan backfired," he replied, staring up at the doctor's face.
"Living with them, and losing them, made me more human than you intended."
"Regrettable weaknesses," he said, stepping away from the table where
the Fallen had been strapped down. "Ones that we fear have corrupted you. No
matter."
Nicholai roared as he struggled against the chains which held him tight.
He tried to shift his weight, to turn the table onto its side, but to no avail. "You
won't get away with this!" he screamed as a gurney was rolled in beside him.
A boy, a mere teenager lay still on the gurney. From the corner of his
eye Nicholai stared in horror, realizing by the pallor of the skin the boy was dead,
and had been for some time.
"We made a mistake, calling forth the great Satan into a living vessel.
This time, we have found a more suitable host for our Lord."
"Don't do this," he shouted. "Don't you fuckin do this!"
The good doctor smiled and bent down to kiss Nicholai on the
forhead. "It is too late, Nicholai. Your human weakness must be purged from our
Lord."
"I swear to you," he said through clenched teeth, his voice was not his
own, but another's. A much darker voice hidden behind the rage. "I will become
stronger. And when I do, I will kill you all."
He patted Nicholai's forhead as a cloaked figure popped him in the
thigh with a needle. "No, Brother Nicholai. You will sacrifice your life so that our
Lord may live."
----------------------------------------
The gathered watched as the marks burned through that cold alabaster
flesh, rising to the surface as the boy's corpse convulsed. They chanted and they
prayed. The good doctor raised his arms into the air, his head back as he
showered in the blood of the former vessel Nicholai.
"By the power and might of the Four True Kings!" he shouted. "Rise,
Satan, General of Lucifer, Lord of the Wind, Rider of War! Rise and show thyself
unto your longing children! Rise! And walk the land as you once did before your
fall from the grace of a vengeful god! I invoke thee, oh Satan, to enter into this vessel that has been preparedfor your arrival! Come to us, and show us your power and glory!"
A wind stirred in the basement. Violent and heavy. Far more fierce than
the first summoning. The body shook against the bonds that held it tight against
the table. And then... there was nothing.
The body went limp as slowly, a small amount of color returned to his
flesh. The good doctor lowered his arms as a hush fell over the gathered. One
robed figure looked to the next as the good doctor smiled in the darkness.
"Quickly, light the torches," he snapped. "Give us light so that our
Lord may see his faithful."
"I need no light," a hoarse voice croaked as a torch was lit by the good
doctor's order.
"My lord," the doctor said, comming forward to look down upon the
abomination he had helped create. "My Lord, we have worshipped you and your
teachings just as you commanded all those millenia ago."
Light was cast over the body, and all gathered saw the boy's chest rise
and fall slowly with each labored breath. The smooth, pale skin with its dark,
mystical patterns. Unblemished by age, perfect, save for the scars from the ritual
preparations.
The head turned and green eyes, dark, haunting eyes stared deep into
the face of the good doctor. Color began to drain from that fiery red hair. Darker.
Black as the soul that had taken residence within the corpse of the young Irish
boy.
"I told you once," the corpse spoke, the hoarsness in its, nay, his voice
fading as the strength of the beast within took hold. "I will kill you all."
The doctor's eyes grew wide as the straps which held the body down
snapped. An arm rose up with such speed that no human could ever be capable
of. A wide grin spread across his boyish face as he held tight to the good doctor's
throat, even as the last of the color faded from the tips of his hair. "You think
yourselves worthy of my gifts? Kidnapping. Perversion. Torture..." he said,
reciting each of the grievous sins they had comitted in his name.
"We," the doctor said, clawing at his throat. "We only did what was
necessary and-"
"Murdering innocents for your own pleasure?" he said, squeezing
harder as he looked up into the man's face. "Murdering children... do you believe
that is what I want?" His grin quickly vanished, replaced by a look that silently
screamed disgust and hatred. "You know not what you do, nor my will."
With one twitch in his hand, he snapped the doctor's neck. The man's
body crumpled to the ground beside the table as the other straps broke. The nude
body that had once been a corpse rose up. He looked at his body, admiring the
youthfulness of this vessel compared to his former human body. He liked what he
saw. Such lean limbs. And a tall frame.
He cocked his head when he caught movement from the corner of his
eye as others began to flee, their leader dead. He raised his arm, and the torch
came to his hand.
Grinning that wicked smile, he breathed into the flame, and it became
larger, more powerful. Engulfing everything and everyone near him. "You summon
me once, and fear I have been corrupted!" he shouted. "You summon me twice to
purify me of your human taint!"
He started to laugh, watching as the humans that before had worshiped
him now tried to escape his wrath. "Give me a corpse to live in, a corpse!" he
screamed, stepping closer with the torch. He let it fall onto a writhing body,
sniffing the air as both flesh and cloth burned, surging to life to spread his hellish
flame across the basement. "And yet... you do not understand what you have
done."
His loyal followers beat upon the doors, tugging at the knob to force it
to open up to them. But they would not. For he kept them closed by his will
alone. "You cannot control the Beast!" he shouted, reaching the first of them and
taking her by her bright red hair, pulling it from her skull. "You made a much more
dire mistake for you see, none of your monkies bothered to ask the first time who
I was," he said, licking another he had caught on the cheek before taking a bite of
his flesh. He reveled in the hot rush of fresh blood that washed over his face. He
drank it in, and he laughed.
"You did not call forth Satan," he said, dropping the one he had bitten
to the ground.
Those who cowered in front of the door saw in his dark eyes a bright
green flash of rage, of vengence. "I am Belial," he said. "And I will devour your
souls."
He was laughing, even as the basement filled with smoke and flame.
Laughing through his deeds of death and murder... Even as he left the bodies to
burn behind him as he made his escape into the winter night and a fresh Dublin
snow.
He looked down at his hand, rubbing his thumb against the dark green
ink that circled his ring finger. Just a thin line in the skin where once, long ago, a
golden band of celtic knots fit snugly.
Now, just a dull, dark green line.
But it was the line of ink in his skin that he looked at most dearly. It's
match no longer embedded in living flesh on a wrinkled hand.
He sighed, sipping his tumbler of brandy as the fireplace burned,
warming the large room. A fake Christmas tree all done up with balls and icicles,
handmade ornaments, and gaudy colored lights stood nearby. And presents
beneath it in shiny green paper and large, hand-made red bows. Two stockings
hung, one overflowing with trinkets and small gifts, the other left empty.
He sipped at his brandy once more before setting it on the end table
between the recliner and the couch where he sat. His socked feet propped up on
the coffee table, his long legs bent slightly as he started tapping away at his laptop
in his lap.
Despite the holiday, there was work to be done. Work was all that he
had now in that great big empty house.
He hummed to himself as the clock rolled over to tick off another
Christmas Eve gone by. And he sighed and he typed, ignoring the sounds of
movement behind him.
He reached for his tumbler again, to find it replaced with a cold beer,
and beside it a bucket of fried chicken.
Two smiling faces, and one not so cheery looked down at him on the
couch, looking so dreary.
"Daddy," the woman said, sitting beside him. "We were at dinner and
thinking about what to do."
"Since it's your first christmas alone without you know who," one of
the men said next.
"Why the fuck are you rhyming?" he snapped bitterly.
The second man shrugged and pulled a beer from his bag, twisting off
the cap and flopping into the recliner. "Beats me man. I guess it's just their thing."
"Stop that."
"Stop what? We're just trying to cheer you up."
"Maybe instead of giving you a bottle, we'd better refill your cup."
He grumbled under his breath and closed his laptop. "Stop it. Go
home. I'm going to bed."
"Look, it's not my fault you feel like Christmas is dead," the girl said.
"Stop fuckin rhyming!" he shouted angrily, setting his laptop on the
coffee table and standing up. "You two just be quiet, and you," he said, pointing
at the man drinking a beer. "Get the fuck out before I maim you like a goddamn
raindeer."
"Daddy, please, it's Christmas. We're just bringing you some good
cheer."
"Nessa Rose," he whirled on her. "I'm warning you. If you don't stop
that rhyming, I'm gonna punch you in the head."
She sighed and she chewed on her lip, then looked to both of the men
and nodded. "Alright daddy. We'll stop. Just, don't be so blue on Christmas.
You've still got us, after all. And you've done all this decorating. You've even put
out all of the presents you bought."
His eye twitched as he heard a near rhyme, but at last he sighed and
slumped back onto the couch. She reached across him and grabbed the cold
bottle of beer from the end table. "Here. Drink up and be merry. It's only one time
a year. Besides, you're never alone on Christmas. You've got us to keep you
company."
"Yeah," one of the men added. "Especially since we don't have to
worry about getting smacked with a cane."
"Or a walker," the other man added to that.
Nessa nodded and sat back against the couch, propping her feet up
beside her father's on the table as out of nowhere came a shoe flying from across
the room. It smacked the man in the recliner in the back of the head before the
matching mate hit his twin brother from the side.
"I'm not really alone for Christmas you see," he said when the boys
shouted out in suprise. "Because Sam's still here to throw things at them while he's haunting
me."
okay. i'm supposed to be in bed. but i got back up, booted the computer back up, because i HAD to write this out before i forgot it all.
anyway, 2 dribbles from the same scene (i haven't come up with action and dialogue to connect them just yet) post the final big battle between Lucifer, Al, and Haniel/Randy.
anyways, as always, enjoy.
------------------------------------------------
Metatron looked down upon the kneeling Fallen, watching him closely as he spoke. "Belial the Devourer, prince of the Northern Regions of Hell, and general of the Legion. Our Father has been watching you for quite some time."
"Please, do not call me by such vile names," he said, never looking up at the one known to him as the voice of God himself.
"Then by what shall you be known, Fallen?"
He thought long and hard on this. Of all the names he had taken, of all the lifestyles and lifetimes he had lived, there was one name only that he felt truly fit him. So pale of skin, so ageless, so smooth...
He looked up, and he held his head high in a small degree of arrogance. "Alabaster. The name that resonates as truth down to my very core. It is... precious... to me."
--------------------------------------------------
"What is your desire?"
"I wish to be that which I have not been since my childhood in Ireland. I wish to be human again, and to live out my final days in peace and solace."
"You understand that once you are human... the defects your body were given at birth will return. Your kidneys will fail. The structure of your heart will weaken and return you to the frail state you were in as a small child. Your muscles will atrophy from disuse as you are bed ridden. Your sight will continue to fail you until you are blind. You will become as helpless as a newborn babe, unable to call for help as your lungs will not be able to hold enough air for you to shout. And when you die, it will be excruciatingly painful. The agony of each breath, of each heartbeat, will drive you mad."
His eyes were closed tight as he held back his tears. Ever so slowly, he began to nod. "To live out my final days, mortal, be they in pain or bliss, is all I that I require. Where my soul goes thereafter, only the Lord God knows."
just a random monologue dribble from my angelican scriptures project.
enjoy.
------------------------------------------
"There is a story, passed down through the Brotherhood, of Heaven's
greatest lovers. Haniel of the Choir and Sheol the Guardian. Many sought the
favor of Haniel, who sang with perfect harmony. Who's voice could make even
the most hideous of things beautiful and bright. Archangels, Seraphim, and the
Host alike sought him. But it was an angel of the lowly Guardian order who won
Haniel's heart.
"When the Fallen were cast out of Heaven, it was Haniel who pleaded
with the Lord to show pity on Sheol, who had then taken the name Belial. Haniel,
heartbroken and full of sorrow, explained to the Lord of Lucifer's trickery, and
how he had persuaded Sheol to turn against the Father. Sheol, he had claimed,
had believed what he was doing was right. He did not know of Lucifer's true
intentions.
"And the Father was moved by this, but he could not allow Sheol to
return, for his crimes had been far too great and his sins far too heavy. But he did
take pity. Thus, he sent Haniel to Earth, tasked with aiding Sheol, should he rise
there, on his path to redemption. An angel, Sheol could never be again. But
human, he might someday become, and in this way only may he return to the
Kingdom of Heaven."
some of this may or may not have been posted here before. enjoy them anyway. n.n
note: these are not posted nor fall in any real chronological order that i can recall. also, i think i may have posted them on an old GreatestJournal account i had for this rp character once upon a time ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What if I'd stayed at school that day?"
"What?" he asked, sitting up to prop himself up on his elbow as we smoked.
I lay on my back, my feet dangling off the front of the stage. My arms folded beneath my head, my cigarette pointing up to the stage light from my lips. "What if I'd stayed an never skipped the rest-o that day?... Things'd be differnt."
"Yeah," he said, tapping his cigarette over the hardwood floor as the ashes of my own simply fell to my chin. "You'd probably be going out with Tyler instead of me."
I turned my head and smiled at his small misunderstanding of my point. The ashes dropped onto my white sleeve. "May'ap... may'ap not..."
Silence settled as I watched his face. Slight confusion at my answer. I took another puff off my cigarette as he stubbed his out on the stage. He was stoned again... Tyler hadn't picked up on it. Why should he? This was how he'd almost always seen the boy he slept with.
I took another puff and sat up. "How's yer shoulder?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Still hurts," he said, laying back and staring at the ceiling.
I put out my cigarette on my tongue and flicked it into the first row of seats. We chatted on this or that and nothing in particular. School. My play. Beer. My job, his drugs, Tyler.
It's rare, moments like this when the two of us get along. I was about to get up. I needed a shower, a night cap, and sleep for early rehersal tomorrow. But he stopped me. I looked over at him to find him staring at me with a serious expression I hadn't seen since the day I'd given him the tickets to my play.
"What?" I asked, leaning to prop myself up beside him on my elbow.
"What'd you mean by 'maybe maybe not'?"
I wanted to say it. To tell him, but I couldn't. He had a good thing going with Tyler. I had a good thing starting with one of the others in the play... And if I'd said it out loud, then I knew this fragile friendship would abruptly end... and if it didn't, others would be crushed.
I hate seeing anyone miserable. Especially because of me.
"What did you mean?" he repeated coldly.
I kissed him, half expecting to be punched in the face like the last time I'd been so bold. At first, he tensed, and as I closed my eyes I could see the anger rising in his face. But the tenseness passed, and the strike never came. My hand went to the halfbreed's hip, and rested there a moment before sliding up to hold his side.
And in this moment, my heart sank. I sat back up and turned my back to him again. "Ye'd best get back ta the dorm an get some sleep yeah," I said as I stood.
I left him there to his own devices, retreating back to my dressing room. I could hear him as I gathered my things, and for a moment as I was sitting in front of the mirror, I thought I heard footsteps outside my door.
I looked down at my cards, laid out neatly on the table. I had set them out earlier, reading them before I broke the news of my leaving school to my friends.
I turned the last one over after hearing the echo of the large doors at the front of the theatre slam shut behind him.
"The Devil," I said to myself softly, and then, I cried.
---
I sat in the floor. Two nights had passed, and this had been opening night. I had searched the audience for them, and they had not come. I had not seen either of them at school, and when I called the cafe, I was told they had not been by.
And now I sat in the floor, my new friend Randy with me. He came back from the kitchen just as I was pulling another of the ancient books from the stack he'd brought me. I was searching the index as he held out a cold beer to me.
"Thanks lovely," I said, stopping long enough to pop the top and take a quick guzzle.
He pushed up his glasses and flopped down on the couch with a glass of grape Kool-Aid. "What are you looking for?"
"The Devil," I said, tossing the book aside and taking another.
"What?"
I stopped, leaving the book open in my lap where I'd stopped to read a bit. "The Devil. That card... It only comes up when I read if there's a problem," I said, sipping my beer before returning to skimming the pages.
"Those cards again... You know that's what witches do," he said.
"So call me a witch an burn me at the stake," I muttered with a frown. "Damn it! Ran, bring me cards over from the table. I need ta check somethin right fast."
He did as I asked and held the deck out with a look of disgust. "Quit yer bellyachin," I said. "They're jus cards. They ain gonna bite."
I pulled out The Devil card and inspected it closely, recalling the context in which it had been drawn. Suddenly, I went into a frenzy, running back and forth between my storage closet where I kept my own books, the computer, and my kitchen.
Long after Randy had passed out on my couch, I finally stopped and looked down at the large diagram I'd made out of paper.
This was my battle plan.
The idea was simple. It was the same as all the others who'd also inspired The Devil to appear in my readings.
Help him. With anything and everything. No matter how long it took, or what I had to do in order to get the job done. I don't know what the problem is, or what's holding him back. But I'll find out, I'll get him through it, and then the end result would be happiness.
Why happiness?
If this particular case followed the usual trend... then that's the one most important thing that is lacking.
I tidied up as best I could and pulled a blanket from the closet. After covering Randy in it, I curl up to sleep in the bathtub with my spare pillow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I looked down at the paper, carefully repeating each number as I had dialed it. I'd called this number a few times over the week. Yesterday, I'd had to call to cancel my meeting with the man I hoped was my older brother. Those damn cats. They always ruined things. But I guess it was partly my fault that I hadn't put them back inside.
I'd gone into town today to pick up some things for Randy. He wanted to test out the new stove I'd had put in yesterday. Now, I sat on a bench outside the butcher's. I listened to the rings. Seven. Eight. On the thirteenth I heard a voice.
"Hello?" the gruff voice said.
"Sorry laddie, did I wake ye?" I said, trying not to laugh at the mumbles across the line.
"Who's this?" the man asked. I could hear the yawn.
"It's Alabaster. I called yesterdy." I took a drag off my cigarette, looking into my dented silver case to find I only had three left to last the day. Fuck. Absently I wondered if there was anywhere nearby that sold my brand of kreteks.
"Oh... yeah... How'd that thing go?"
I laughed, tapping my cigatette over the pavement. "Eh, turned out alright. Me lovely got past the hysterics." I had strayed away from pronouns every time I mentioned Randy. Not that I'm ashamed or anything, but I'd rather not give anyone I don't know the chance to prejudge before I meet them face to face.
"Good good... Shamus! Gimmie a cuppa coffee wouldja!"
I couldn't help but laugh. All the randomly generic Irish names I'd heard since we'd gotten here amused me so much... But I shouldn't laugh so much. For all I know my name could be one of them.
"Sorry 'bout that... I jus' got in. Haven't had the chance to lie down yet."
"I know the feelin," I said, watching a group of kids across the street horsing around. "I'll make it quick then yeah. I was thinkin since we couldn't swing by yesterdy, may'ap we could try fer tomorry er Mondy."
I heard a mumble, and thought I heard a loud gulp of what I presumed was coffee. "Sounds good. It'll give me a good reason to haul out the grill. Do you two like steak?"
Oh god what I wouldn't give for a big juicy T-bone right about now... I'll have to pop in to the butcher and snag me some before I head back to the homestead. "Yeah. Steak's fine. Want us ta bring anythin?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. How 'bout a good bottle of whiskey?"
I smiled. How stereotypical, but funny. That was often my same response back in the states. "How 'bout that an some good lagger yeah? Me lovely don' care too much fer a shot-o good ole medicine."
We talked a bit longer. Mostly pleasantries. He probed a few times about "me lovely" but I wouldn't have any of it.
After I'd gone through another clove cigarette, we said our goodbyes. Set a good time. I told him I'd call when I knew for sure which day it would be.
I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon shopping, picking up everything on Randy's list plus a few goodies for myself. I had a quick liquid lunch in a nice pub. Caught the latest sports wise (not that I was ever really interrested other than watching the blokes that play run around in tight uniforms) an went back home.
All in all a rather uneventful day, despite the butterflies that've been in my stomach for the last week.
-------------------------------------------------------
I checked my messages when I had a break. I'd turned off my phone before going into my meeting this morning. Just a couple from Randy on my voice mail. The first one was him telling me to bring him back those smutty romance novels he likes. The ones after were one long continuous ass chewing as to why I'd left a half eaten sandwich under the bed and why wasn't I answering my phone. The last one though wasn't Randy. It was Doc Adison, wanting to know why I didn't come to my session yesterday.
I forgot to tell her about my trip. Thankfully, she didn't try the house phone, otherwise I'd have had to explain to Randy what I was really going into town for every Friday morning. Actually... I don't even go to Dublin on Fridays except to pass on my way to Wickford a bit further south along the coast.
I called her when I got back to the appartment. After a nice lunch, some speghetti with sauce I heated up from a can. Ryan wasn't home. He was probably with Dany. Which was good. I didn't need him listening in. I washed my dishes and put them away before taking my cell outside to the balcony. I got to sit and stare at a brick wall, but at least the plants I'd put out were blooming now. Frank trotted along behind me as always, dragging my briefcase with him. He's a good little pet. Pretty handy too.
"Hello. You've reached the offices of Adison and Price. Sorry we can't come to the phone right now..."
Typical... But then again, they were five hours ahead in Wickford. They probably had just closed the offices by now. I started to leave my message, then a breathless voice answered. "Alabaster."
"Hey doc."
"Where are you!" the woman snapped. She'd obviously had to run back to get the phone. Thank goodness. "You've missed your session. I've been trying to reach you all day. I was about to go see-"
"Don't bother. I'm not even home."
"Where are you?"
"New York." I waited for her inevitable exclaimation, which was followed by her chewing me out much in the same fashion Randy does, only with him it's cute. With her it's annoying. "Yeah... sorry. An emergency came up, an I had ta come immediately an take care-o it."
Well... it wasn't exactly an emergency, but it was a matter I could not leave to anyone else. We talked a bit. I could hear the shuffling of papers. She was retrieving my file from her filing cabinate in the corner of her office. I only knew this because I heard the drawer slam shut again. She asked me about my family, both of them. So I told her my father is senile, my transgender brother is a prick. My nephew Shamus never speaks. My step-nephew is a porn addict. Two of my sisters, who are twins, haven't spoken in almost a decade. That Sam's putting on a good dog and pony show as usual but it was still really awkward, Ryan's near breakdown my first night here, his brother Dany the prick and the stunt he pulled at dinner last night, and that Ty and the kids are just fine. She asked me how things were going with Randy. I told her about the pregnant cat situation, the T-shirt he made me wear, and the usual things I tell her about us. She asked the other usual questions. How was I feeling? Have I been eating alright? I told her then about my binges since my arrival. She laughed and said it was normal as far as I'm concerned. Was I sleeping alright? And a mess of other things that most psychiatrists ask about.
Then she asked the 250,000 dollar question, were my meds still working okay?
I'm on antipsychotics. That's the main reason why I'm not drinking as hard or as much as I did when I left. And Randy doesn't know, of if he does he's not saying a word. I'll tell him, when I'm ready. It's not that I'm ashamed or embarrassed or anything like that. I'd just rather keep some things to myself until, as the doc says I'm "prepared to enter the next stage of my recovery."
I've known since highschool I needed help, I was jus too stubborn ta admit it. And over time, it got worse. Then, I snapped. The worst part was, instead of blacking out... I knew what I was doing. I saw what I was doing... and I didn't stop. I saw the monster I'd become, and I knew then that I had to leave before I hurt anyone else. As soon as my second day in Ireland, I started looking for help.
I picked up my briefcase, and told Frank to fetch me a soda from the fridge. Still on the phone with the doc, I took my pez shaped pills like a good boy, then refilled the box with what was left in the bottles. I'll have to call in my refills when I get home... I take them three times a day. Once with breakfast, once with or near lunch, and once before bed. Every day for the rest of my life. But it's worth it for the ones I love.
I'll tell Sam about it later after I take him to his suprise/my peace offering. I tuck the little pill box back into my briefcase and snap it closed, give it a good shake so it hides back under my papers, and watch Frank drag it off to my open bedroom door after I say goodbye, and promise to be there next week.
I get up, back inside to change out of my suit and into some more normal clothes, bypassing the black and/or slutty attire in the closet for a more sane and sensible outfit. Cargo shorts, khaki, with a green t-shirt before cutting over across the hall. Sam's home, as usual. Ty's at work, but he'll be home soon. Today was supposed to be a short shift day.
After some convincing, no... a lot of convincing, I managed to get the lads to myself for a while, with a promise to keep my phone turned on and to be back in exactly two hours, or to quote him on this "I will run you over with my car and shoot you in the head."
Though I'd left Frank home to guard my briefcase, he ended up following us to the park, his leash and his favorite rag doll clamped between his teeth. I play with them a bit, and tell them stories about home, and what the countryside is like... though they can't understand a word I'm saying, and they'll probably never see a place so beautiful unless it's in a photograph with a filthy looking bunny in the foreground.
They fell asleep while I was telling them stories. So I put them back in the stroller and kill the rest of the time with a walk around the park. I stop for a drink of water from a fountain when I notice what part of the park we've ended up in. I blink a few times, then look around. Sure enough, I spot the gazeebo, and I smile and turn the stroller towards it before digging in the diaper bag for two bottles. They'd woken up when I had stopped for a drink.
I pushed the stroller to a bench and sit down, giving the bottles to each of them after I tie Frank's leash to my wrist.
"See that there laddies?" I ask, knowing they won't answer. Their stroller was still turned to the gazeebo. "That's where I asked yer naggy uncle ta be me boyfriend. Near here's the theater where yer daddies came an saw us act in a play once."
After a bit, I checked my phone. We'd never make it back in time for the exact two hour mark. We were going to be around ten minutes or so late.
I packed up the bottles and we started back home, all the while the two little hellions kept saying "Ahhoh" to me and giggling before saying it again.
"No no. Yer pappy calls me 'asshole' not ahhoh." This incited many more giggles and happy squeals from them, even clapping as they continued their adorable mispronunciations of the various names their father-brother has for me.
It was quite cute.
After dumping them off, and getting an earfull from Sam, I went back to my appartment. Ryan and Dany were watching Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. I stopped to say hi to Rye, and told Dany to go to hell before going to take a nap on Ran's side of the bed.
I'll take Sam over to the store later after it gets dark.
