8 posts tagged “angel”

I've a new story I'm going to post on here in the near future.

WORKING TITLE: Sinners and Saints

RATING: R (for violence, language, cannibalism, and gory stuff.)

MISC. : Will contain but is not limited to the following - MPreg, demonic posession, sadomasochism, very strong language, zombies of a sort, general troublemaking, SEVERE ANGST, and dismemberment. If you can't handle that or don't want to see it, then don't read the story when it's posted. Thank you.

SUMMARY: Alabaster Willem is immortal. His unexpected lover is not. Al had come to terms with Sam's mortality long ago, and in fact was thankful for it. It gave him a reason to keep fighting his darker half. Over the years, Sam has asked time and again to be turned into the same thing as Al. An ageless, immortal non-flesh eating zombie. Time and again he was refused. But when Sam finally makes it a demand and not a question, the immortal Fallen finally gives in. The price? His own tormented soul.

so, i've decided to call a certain collection of stories "The Forever-Man", since they're all centered around my lovely Al, who, unfortunately for him, is immortal. Though, this one doesn't exactly have him in it.

and i'm playing around with names for certain characters.

as always, enjoy.

NOTE: these sort of take place AFTER all of the major action and plot type of stuff.

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"No... No no no no!" he screamed. "NO!" It was that darkness, that empty place between realms to which he had returned once again. The burning in his flesh was not real, insofar as he knew that his body was only thoughts manifested. Feelings and emotions brought into a familiar illusion so that his sanity may remain intact, for a time.

Quickly, he recalled his final moments before opening his eyes to the darkness of Purgatory once again. He could still feel those hellfire limbs holding him, and see those dimmed green eyes staring down at him in confusion and uncertainty. And the tears...

And the joy. But that joy he felt so strongly inside his heart, burning to his very core was gone now. Replaced with comfort, and a faint sound. Distant, irregular, and somehow peaceful. A heartbeat unlike any other, and after some time, the length of which he was not privy to know, he recognized it to be that of the green-eyed Forever Man.

"He is here."

He turned towards the voice, his ears perked up as he strained to listen again.

"You can sense him, in your own fashion. In mine I can smell whisky in the air. Such a... unique human creation."

He turned a circle, trying to find the source of such a soft, gentle voice. "Where are you?"

"I am everywhere."

"Show yourself!" he demanded, clenching his fists as the heartbeat, that once distant drumming in his thoughts grew stronger, faster.

There was a chuckle. "Calm yourself, child," the voice said in a soothing tone. And upon hearing it, the blue-eyed soul did begin to calm. And the heartbeat began to fade back into a steady hum in the back of his thoughts. It did not dissapear, but remained as a gentle lullabye.

"I am Azrael."

He felt a pull, a panic in his heart. Such a simple statement, a mere name, set into him an instinctual fear. He felt a chill throughout his being, and came to realize a hand was touching him. Clammy, cold. Cold as...

"Yes. And you know why I have come, Aaron."

"That is not my name," he said boldly. "I despise it, just as I despise-"

"God, for having punished you so unjustly."

"Stop doing that!"

He could hear the smile in the voice of Azrael. "I apologize. I do not mean to offend, child. It is merely a... what is that word you mortals are so fond of using? Personality trait? Habit?.... No. Ah, yes. Quirk. I am quite fond of that one myself." He chuckled, and drew his hand away.

The warmth that followed caught the mortal soul by suprise. As he grew accustomed to the feeling once again, he chewed his lip, a nervous tick he supposed. An involuntary response when he would fall into deep thought. Which life had it been when he had last done such a thing?... It was so long ago. It was hazy at best... He spoke, knowing the other already knew his mind, and had read it like an open book.

"You can take me, but you can't have him. Not after what you bastards have put him through."

He could hear Azrael's voice as he spoke quietly to himself. The words he did not understand, but the tone spoke for the meaning well enough.

"I've been prepared for this too many times. Go ahead and take me. I'm ready. I'm done. Just leave him to try again, new and-"

"I have an idea," Azrael interrupted. "If you are up for it."

Once more he felt that cold chill. This time, he braced himself for the quickness with which it spread. He focused on its path, comitting to memory the places where Death would always strike first. "Up for what?" he asked, unable to stop himself from saying them. Were those his words? Or did they belong to the ever growing hellfire burning in the place where he knew his heart should rightly be, if in this place he could claim to have one.

"I am tired of talking to a shadow," Azrael said suddenly. His voice became soft once more as those words which seemed nonsensical to the mortal's ears were spoken.

It was faint, the light. He could not pin down from which direction it had crept upon them from. But he was grateful for such a light in this place of eternal darkness. This waiting room of the damned.

His eyes caught movement, and followed it to see an arm. Fragile, yet he knew it to be quite strong despite. That arm spanned the distance between the hand caressing his own cheek and the lean figure standing in front of him. Such wild hair, and a face that smiled down at him.

He knew that smile. And somehow, he believed, such a smile was shared amongst the hosts of the divine. He had seen it coupled not with sombre grey eyes which looked upon him now, but rather with eyes that shined brilliantly with laughter and excitement; sparkling emerald gems from a face far more handsome than that which belonged to the angel Azrael.

At least, this mortal soul believed it to be far more handsome.

That smile was disarming. Unexpected. And oh so mischevious.

"I was never here," Azrael said carefully.

"What?"

"Simply stated, child," he said. "The angel of death never came to collect you, nor the one you carry inside your heart."

"Can you do that?"

He nodded, his voice taking on a false innocence. "There were so many deaths in that last battle. I may have.... overlooked a few by accident. Working with numbers that large, it can happen." He laughed, and it was a lighthearted sound. "And it's not my fault if those few happen to be a certain four that can't stay out of trouble."

Tyler stared up at him, and could only blink in confusion.

And Azrael pulled his hand away, allowing the warmth within the one he called child to spread throughout once more. "What?" he asked, his angelic voice filled with so very human sarcasm. "You honestly expected me to send the two of you off alone? Preposterous! Where would be the fun in that for me? Besides, if you want that happy ending, you need to do a little something in return."

"Oh no," he replied, shaking his head and holding up his hands to stress his desire to refuse. "I had to sit back and watch the last time someone made a deal with creatures like you. No way. Not going to do it. I have absolutely no intention of living forever, thank you."

"That isn't what I meant," Azrael snapped, slightly offended. But only slightly. He did understand the other's reluctance. "If my records are correct... and they always are, despite the few times I'll accidentally-on purpose overlook little indiscretions, there are two pages of the book in desperate need of repair and revision."

He tried to keep his mouth shut. He tried to understand the subtlties of what Azrael was proposing. However, he found he could not control his mouth and voice, and for a second time words that were not his own erupted forth before considerations could be made. "Where are you going with this, jackass?" Immediately, he clamped a hand over his mouth, and stopped the diarreah of words from going further. After a few moments, and a rather amused chuckle from the angel of death, he sighed. "Sorry. I don't understand what's going on. Something-"

"It appears someone cannot wait his turn to speak."

"Sorry," he repeated.

"Not you," Azrael said, a slender finger prodded his chest, over where his heart should rightly be. Where the warmth had grown and settled into a comfortable, disjointed pulsing sensation. "Him. Please, do try to keep him from forcing you to say stupid things. It is most unbecomming of you."

And Tyler smiled quietly to himself, reaching up to hold his hand against his chest fondly. "I... We'll do it, that is, as long as it does not turn into another of your divine scavenger hunts."

Azrael nodded and held up a hair. "On my honor, you won't have to go hunting for them. They will, in fact, find their own ways to you. Where you will look after them until Raz has finished making the apropriate changes."

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 "Alejandro," he said, sitting up in the bed. "We should move in together."
 "What?"
 "You've been here more than you've been at your own place. It makes

sense."
 "But what about-"
 Kallen cut him off with a laugh. "Don't start. You know I'm right."
 "I don't think we're ready for that."
 "You can't be serious. We've known each other since the school yard days.

And honestly, how often are you actually at your own appartment in any given month?"
 "Well-"
 "And how do you expect to raise up Damien when you're not home half the

time?"
 "My mom helps."
 "You mean your mom is doing your job for you." Kallen shook his head,

throwing back the covers and climbing out of the bed. "You and Damien are moving in

with me and Erick. And you're not going to argue. Besides, it'll be good for the boys to

have someone to play with, and a nice, stable family enviroment."
 Alejandro sighed, nodding. He couldn't argue with Kal. After all, the man

was brutally honest. He pulled the blankets up further, wrapping it around himself to

keep warm in his lover's absence. "Kal, what will I do for work?"
 "You've always wanted to work in a museum, right?" he replied, asking as

he buttoned up his uniform shirt. "You have a doctorate in paleoanthropology. And

you're squandering it away working as a secretary in a... what's that place do again?...."

Kallen turned his head to smile at him. "Ah! That critter cloning place, where they make

the ones we can eat. Never did quite understand that..." It was a goofy, awkward smile,

almost as if it didn't quite belong on his face. "I'll put in a good word for you with the

curator when I see him."
 "Kal, really, you don't have to."
 He strapped on his belt, checking to make sure his flashlight and mace were

in their compartments. "No, but I want to. You deserve it, and it's what you've always

wanted since we were kids." He laughed, going back to the bed to lean in and kiss his

cheek. "When I get back, you'd better be home with Damien and packing your things."
 He felt his face burning, and his mouth a little dry. "This is just so much so

fast. I mean, are you sure? There's barely enough space for you and Erick here. I don't

want to-"
 The taller blond laughed. "I told you, don't start. And stop worrying about

everything."
 "Well excuse me if I can't be as carefree as you are. My brain is fully

functional."
 "Hey!" he laughed, ruffling his lover's hair before stealing another kiss. "You

can mock my off-key singing, and even my creepy late-night muffin baking binges. But

never mock my brain." He smiled that awkward smile again. "It can't understand the

subtle bits."

2 more dribbles from the AS mythos, specifically, 10,001 and The Songs of Haniel

enjoy.

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 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."

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"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.

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.

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 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."
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 "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.

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 "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."

this is sorta far-futurish for my Al character. i think i might want to work this into the Angelican Scriptures project when i pick it back up from the dusty box i've shoved it in. it's dark, it's got foul language, and murder.

enjoy.

note: just a few quick explanations - Al is host to the entity known as Belial, a demon prince of Hell, who in my story is the fallen angel Sheol from the War in Heaven, and was one of Lucifer's 3 chief generals. since he is a Fallen, he is weakened when exposed to things that hold Holy essence, those born of Heaven (angels and other heavenly creatures), or is on Holy Ground (save for most cemetaries). He is on a path of redemption, trying to earn his way back into Heaven for his wrongdoings against God. that is how he is able to muster the strength to break free.

--------------------------------------------

 "You know there's only one place she can go, Alabaster."
 "Motherfucker! Let her go! She's got nothing to do with this!" he

shouted, struggling against his bonds. But he was so weak... though simple chains

they were, he could not break them. Not in this place. Not in the presence of what

was Holy.
 "She has everything to do with this!" he snapped back angrily. "Angel

and Fallen cannot co-exist. This... THING is an abomination!"
 Angrily, Al tried his bonds again, knowing he did not have the strength

in such a holy place to free himself. His teeth gnashed at the air as he roared in his

rage. His green eyes burning with such deep rooted anger, such darkness that he

seemed a caged beast.
 "Ah..." the priest said, tugging the woman by her hair and forcing her

forward just out of his reach. "Look at him, witch. Look at him and see your

loving father for what he truly is. A monster."
 She stared at her father. Watching him in his madness. She felt the cool

trickle down her cheeks, and tasted the salty sweetness of her tears on her lips.

But she did not fear him. The monster that he was, she did not avert her gaze.

And then, she saw it. The small spark in his eyes that was the man she grew up

with. The man who loved her, who gave her everything she had ever wanted and

more.
 "Be still, Alabaster, or the woman will die."
 Al looked at his daughter, starting to settle against the wall like a tamed

animal. "Please," he said at last, his voice slightly hoarse. "Please. Let her go. It's

me you want. Let her go, and I swear to you, you'll never hear about her again.

She'll do no wrong. You have my word."
 "Your word?... Your word?" he said, his voice thick with amusement

and mockery. "Your word doesn't amount to anything. You lie, you cheat, you

steal and you kill. Your WORD has no value, beast."
 And she smiled then. Her father saw it, and his eyes pleaded with her.

Silently begging her to be still. Not to do anything she might regret.
 Subtly, she shook her head and her vibrant emerald eyes glanced

towards one of the pews. The one where the priest had laid his briefcase of

torturous toys.
 Al's eyes grew wide as his daughter put all her weight into her shoulder,

shouting as the priest pulled back on her hair when she hit him. Stunned he

released her, and she made a play for the briefcase. Her fingers fumbling with the

latches a moment. She tried to pry it open once they were undone, but was

stopped by a combination lock embedded into the leather.
 "No!" Al screamed, unable to stop himself from struggling once again

as the priest took a handful of her hair, pulling her back hard to press the nozzle

of his gun against her temple.
 She gasped as she was pulled upright and dragged up the platform to

the pulpit. She struggled against him the whole way, her nails clawing at his arm, at

his hand, trying to force him to release her.
 But his conviction was strong, only serving to fortify his crazed belief.

He pushed her with such force against the altar that it knocked the breath out of

her.
 Alabaster screamed pulling as hard as he could against his chains. The

steel shakles bit into his flesh, but he didn't care as the hot blood began to slither

down his hands. He would gladly rip his own hands off, it only it would make the

deranged priest stop, make him leave his daughter alone.
 The woman looked up, gathering as much saliva as she could, spitting

upwards into his face.
 "You bitch!" he shouted, pistol whipping her before taking a step back

and cocking his gun.
 She stared up into the nozzle of the pistol defiantly, as if daring him to

shoot her. He was sweating, and she could see it in his eyes, the fight between

sanity and madness. And she laughed.
 His hand shook, and his finger slipped. The trigger pulled and the

laughing was cut off. Gray-blonde hair and chunks of flesh splattered across the

altar. Blood splattered up into his face. He wiped furiously at it and turned as the

chained man wailed angrily.
 The bolts holding the steel plates to the wall started to strip from the

wall. Muscles pulled tight as the chains began to sag, legs bracing against the floor

for leverage, for support.
 The grinding of his teeth was audible enough that the priest started to

back away. His heart pounding as he watched the man rip his way from the wall.
 He cocked his pistol again, shooting wildly at the monster barrelling

towards him. Each shot that hit him only made him more enraged, more beastly as

he closed the distance quickly between them.
 The priest turned to run, screaming in fear as a hand reached out to

grab him by the back of his head and pull him backwards. A chain wrapped

around his throat tight as he was dragged, still kicking to where the woman's body

now lay, still warm, still bleeding from the remnants of her skull.
 He clawed at his neck, trying desperately to pull it away, gasping for

breath as he was forced to look on what he had done.
 "You call her an abomination," he hissed in the priest's ear. "You call

me a monster."
 He licked the priest's ear after he spoke, pulling the chain tighter, but

not enough to snap his neck. Not yet. "If I am a monster, what does that make

you in the eyes of your God? There is only one place murderers go, priest."
 His eyes grew wide as he was pulled once more, slammed against the

floor beside the dead woman, beside this demon's daughter. As he looked up into

the eyes of the man who was killing him, he didn't see the joy and the madness he

had expected to see. Instead, he saw the raw pain inside him and knew then 

who this man was.
 His last thought before he felt his neck snap was cast in despair and

fear. Oh God... I didn't know... I didn't know...

sorry if i've posted some or all of these before. i found this notebook under my bed, and can't remember if i worked my way through it all the way. any dribble in the book that i actually remember posting, i've left out this time. i think.

enjoy.

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 "Father."
 "Joeseph."
 The Faceless nodded. "That was my name. A long time ago, in another world."
 "Why... why are you like THIS?"
 "Each of us were born with a gift, a trait of our parental souls. As half-breeds, we were mortal, but we bore the powers of demons."
 Joe turned to see standing here two different, yet similar beings. "Our brother, Justine's twin was believed gift-less. Our sister, being the older of the two, had inherited all of our father-soul's gifts. Our brother was believed to be a by-product, inheriting the less desirable human qualities Genki possessed." It was the boy, once a mere child now a grown man, who spoke. "It was not until the Battle of Paradise Gates that our brother's gift was revealed."
 "My brother," the other man said. "My mronic, ruthless, selfish brother had inherited our father-soul's most important gift: spiritual transferance of non-tangible matter... Demonic Possession. But Joeseph was unique. He could work it in reverse, and rather than he possess another being's body, he could summon someone else into his own."
 "I don't understand."
 "Our brother is a Faceless now because he traded places with YOU, Joe. I saw it happen, at the Battle of Paradise Gates. When you touched the Sword of Death, the connection had been completed. He took your place in the fields so that our champion, Death, would not fail."
 "Why? Tell me why I remember things I never did. See things I never had."
 The Faceless spoke again, if it could have been called such. From his mind into the others' his words flowed, for he had no mouth with which to speak. "That was my gift to you father."
 "I'm not your father!" Joe snapped angrily. "Genki-"
 "No. I was born of the good, of the humanity that was left in you. My sister was the demonic child of Genki. But I am unique. I am from you," Joeseph replied contentedly. "Yo show my gratitude for being able to cross worlds, I lived the rest of my days with him on the island. He taught me so much about what it means to be a family. I helped raise Astarte, and my own half-brother, Miguel. I learned what it means to be human. All of my memories I gave to you. I grew up, and I experienced the joys you took for granted."
 "Joeseph..."
 "I knew it wasn't me he saw. It was you. He called your name in the passion of night. I accepted it. But he was kind... so kind... for 30 years, I lived the life I was given. Knowing I would give that life back to you."
--------------------
 "The Snake Eater is an emblem of transformation, an emblem of eternity."
-------------------
 Their eyes locked, and they looked away quickly, innocently, embarrassed. Joe laughed lightly and looked back at him. He raised his glass, and Tem linked their arms together. The pair leaned in close to sip from their glasses.
 "To us," Tem said.
 "May we never deal with end of the world bullshit for the rest of eternity," Joe said with a grin.
 "I'll second that."
 They finished their drinks and remained beside the fire, huddled beneath a heavy blanket for many hours. At last, the angel of destruction rose, turning and holding out his hand.
 Death took it without question. He climbed to his feeth, and pulled the red haired bastard tight against him. Their eyes met in carnal desire, and for a moment it seemed their minds touched before their lips crashed together.
 Temmothy melted against his loyal protector, allowing his mouth to be raped by his lover's tongue. At last, he pulled away, panting for breath with a burning need in his eyes.
 He looked toward the bed and smiled, his hands reaching up to untie the belt of his ceremonial robes. He shrugged the garment off and stood exposed in the firelight.
 Joe watched him, his breath caught in his throat as his dark prince moved, his form young and graceful as he had once been all those years ago. He climbed upon the bed, sitting on his knees with his thighs spread and one hand sliding down to caress himself intimately. His other hand outstretched, beckoning for his lover to come to him.
 The new god would not dissapoint. He shed his clothes quickly, and joined him on the bed. He was a perfect specimen of strengh, of pure and raw primal force. Reaching over, he yanked the other man's hair, and pulled him to him. He held the red head tight once again.
 No words were spoken, only glances shared as lips touched and hands roamed; shadows danced and bodies writhed in the firelight.
 The silence of the Dark Palace was broken by the blood curdling screams of the Snake Eater prince and the moans of his most loyal knight.
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this was a random spin-off idea for my reclaimation series - i re-worked it some into what i'm currently working on. this is the events of my Reclaimation series, written in the form of an ancient myth/story passed down among a tribal type of people.

 Generations ago, there was a man who sought to become a god. In his rise to power, that man broke the world.
 But there were some who would not praise him, and the man became angry. He tried to kill those who would not obey him.
 Many lives were lost, and many memories burried. Those who survived the slaughter banded together, and raised an army.
 They were the last of mankind. Their leaders led the march on the man-god's tower.
 They fought the man-god's legions. Ordinary men and women became heroes, and they refused to die until victory had been won.
 This was the beginnin of the world. This was the end of the Dark Times. But the world was wounded, dying. Mankind tried to rebuild, to bring life back to the war-torn planet, but to no avail.
 They took to the stars, to find a new home. What they found was Gaea. What they found was Me.
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again, this was another spin-off idea, written in an ancient myth/story format.

 Secrets from the darkest regions, raining from the heavens like shooting stars. Men and women controlling giant metal beasts.
 They look like Earth men and Earth women. But they smell of something older, something sinister.
 They came down, and they used their metal beasts to rampage the lands of Gaea. Innocent blood was spilt, and there was nothing anyone could do.
 The kings of Earth men met with the Chieftans of Gaean tribes. The soothsayers and Earth wiseman were sent for to help give answers.
 The Earth wisemen called the metal beasts MECHS, and spoke of them in much fear.
 The kings and Chieftans gathered their braves warriors and knights...
 And I reached out in agony to the Defenders of Gaea. It was time for the four of them to be called again.
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 "Everything's happy underground."
 "We can't be happy underground."
 "But there's no sign of the weather underground," he replied happily. "And we can have turpentine for tea."
--------------------------
 One god rose from beneath the earth.
 One god drifted ashore from the west wind.
 An angel emerged from the lighted horizon.
 Another fell from the space between the stars.
 The god from the earth roared, and all that is became.
 The god who rode the wind breathed out, and all that moves became.
 The angel of the horizon smiled, and all that lives became.
 And the angel from the stars watched, and he waited; for all that is decays, all that moves breaks down, and all the lives must die.
 So was the creation of the world in the beginning.
 And so shall it be again.
---------------------------
 "The world is in its stage of rebirth. The world was destroyed, and went into hibernation to regain its strength and power. This period, the time you lived in, is called the Dark Years, for all the darkness in the world had run amok.
 "But as the time of rebirth neared, the world began to awaken, and in doing so, the decendants of mankind's bravest and noblist warriors began to awaken their latent powers."
 He paused and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to focus harder. At last, he nodded and spoke again. "At the end of every major stage of the world, a battle must be fought."
 "why?"
 "To decide who will rule the world; Man or Beast?"
 "I don't understand. This has happened before?"
 "Yes," the young shaman said with a nod. Slowly, he began to gather up his stones to place them back in their bag.
 The hacker watched him, then quietly asked, "So which am I? Man or Beast?"
 Kellog laughed lightly, reaching out to gently pat his hand before putting his bag into the travel pack. "You are both, yet you are neither."
 "what's that supposed to mean?"
 He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just the messenger."
------------------------------
 "Astarte Pike," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood before an antique portrait.
 "The founder of the Westview Sanitarium," Doctor Janus said from behind her. "As well as the first earth-man to be given the Colonial Bio-Technical Research Grant in the history of the Senate."
 She smiled. "And it's because of him that I'm alive," she said. "Ironic."
 "How so, senator?"
 "In my past, over 200 years ago, it was I who gave him life. And now, it is his life's work that lets me keep mine."
---------------------------
 "What the hell's wrong with you! This was a live ammo test! You could have got us all killed!"
 "Doesn't matter," he said coldly. "Soldiers are pawns, trained to kill and be killed."
 "That still doesn't-"
 "As long as the mission succeeds, the number of casualties becomes meaningless."
 "You're one cold bastard, Pike!" Ashton snarled.
------------------------
 He smiled. "It was only a matter of time before you would come, young Xander."
 "Who's he talking about?" Christina asked Ashton quietly.
 "The physical stamina of Beatrix Kicklighter. The mind of Xenocrates Pike. I wonder... can you live up to your namesakes, boy?"
 "I've gotten this far, haven't I?"
 "Not alone, I see," he said.
 Tem smirked. "I know what you're working on old man. But if you want me, you take these two as well."
 "Hold on a second here!" Ashton interrupted.
 "Christina's skill with programming and data is top of the entire school. And Ashton's talents for battle rival my own."
 "This is not a negotiation, boy."
 "I know. But you can't finish your research withou tme. The DAMIEN system will not work unless you have me to pilot it."
 "You've gone mad, kid."
 "Well, you know the options," he said, crossing his arms over his slender chest.
 "Cadet-"
 "That's Lt. Marshall to you, _Sargent_," he replied.
 "You understand what you're draggin your friends into?"
 "I have full faith in them. They are the best of the best. You'll find no better."
-----------------------
 "How? But we all thought-"
 "I was raised by the military," he said. "I've been working undercover for the past 2 years trying to locate the DAMIEN Project."
 "But why?"
 "To save lives. They have been trying to find a pilot for the prototype my father developed. But the failsafe security system will kill anyone who is not authorized to pilot the machine."
 Ashton nodded. "So you think you can do this all by yourself?"
 He shook his head. "No. I already know I can't. But I have to try anyway."
 "Why here, why now? KMAA's students are much more-"
 "Because that's where everyone expects to find them. I didn't come here because I wanted to. I was sent from KMAA. I rose quickly in the last 2 years to the top ranks. At Kicklighter, if you're at the top long enough, they transfer you here to join the Program."

So I have taken the random dribblies of mine about Belial, Lucifer, and the like (based off of my and a few friend's RP characters) and turned it into another giant epic story. I have written up a rough outline of the project, and will use the dribbles i have written previously, with some heavy handed editing of course.

This is one of three official excerpts from the first few chapters of the project, which will be posted on Melancholia Dragonflies chapter by chapter when completed, much like my other work PROJECT 8-13.

--------------------------------------------

Excerpt from The Angelican Scriptures

Opening: Whispers in the Dark

My kind came from Heaven. But dwell in Hell. We are the forsaken. We are the forgotten. We are those who dare not tread in the light. But there are some among us who defy the Universal Law. Who challenge the Devil, and defy his dark will.

We are the Lost. We are the Shadow. Many of us scattered throughout the globe. Abandoned by God, and in the service of the Morning Star. But there is a whisper among them of a man that will bring them together under a single cause. To restore the world of man to God's domain, and push the dark ones back into the pits from whence they came.

There are rumors in the dark that one among us is the key to ending the war that Lucifer began, and we supported. I have never placed stock in rumors...

That was my final mistake...

Chapter One: The Earth Bound

He looked up from his bowl of chedder broccoli soup. "Can I help you?"

"Are you the one called Sheol?"

"Who want's to know?" he replied, taking another spoonful of his hot soup.

 The woman nodded with a smile. "Mind if I have a seat?"

 "Go ahead. It's still a free country. Well, this side of it is."

 She nodded once more, crossing her legs after she sat down. A cigarette was brought to her lips, and a silver zippo lighter flashed into view. She inhaled deeply the deadly smoke, and leaned back with an arm draped over the back of her chair. "We have been looking for you for quite a long time."

 "I can't fool the great Gabriel can I?"

 She laughed and tapped her cigarette over the ash tray on the table. He took another spoonful of cheese and broccoli. "We told you that when the time came, you would be called into the service of Our Father." She paused, and he seemed to ignore her, focusing on his soup. "Your services are needed."

 "I fulfilled my obligations to Him years ago. I no longer owe Him anything."

 "The restoration of a human life requires more than a simple night full of converting innocent teenagers to the Word of God. He showed faith in you, Sheol, and granted your wish for your dead lover to be returned to you. Now it is time for you to repay what He has done for you."

 He set down his spoon and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. Black rimmed frames came off, and were folded neatly to be placed back into their dark red case. He opened his eyes, dull, dark-green orbs stared across the table at her as he slowly smiled.

"What is His will then, Gabriel?"

 She nodded, and pulled an envelope from the inside of her jacket. A golden wax seal held it closed. Unbroken... meant only for him. "The Princes will soon be upon this Earth. Leviathan, Satan, and the Morning Star. War will rage again, and Our Father has heard the rumors of a Fallen hiding in the dark, waiting for a chance to get even."

 "I see. And he assumes that it is I? There are others of my kind now. More than I would like. Let your Angels take care of it."

 "No, Sheol. I cannot. Michael, he is stubborn, and will show no mercy, even to you."

 "So? Let him come. I welcome death by his sword. I have remained in this world for far too long."

 She smiled then, and tapped her cigarette once more. "You have become weary so soon my Brother?"

 He sighed. "Not soon enough," he replied, folding the envelope and tucking it into his pocket. "I will take no part in this war."

 "You have no choice. As one of the Princes, they will seek you out, and they will find you. What I have given you was given to me by Metatron, and to him from God himself."

 "What is it?"

 She smiled. "You will know when the time comes. Until then, do not break the seal, but keep it with you always."