Dogma III
Bet you thought I'd forgotten about this. ^_^
I'm tidying up my outstanding fic-hangers so if there's something I promised a sequel to and haven't delivered, feel free to let me know. One exception is the 50 Drabbles stuff - I'll be working on that in college. =)
Disclaimer: Ain't mine.
And then there was light....
Loki plunged deeper and deeper into the blackness. He was starting to wonder if the darkness ever ended or if this was the true eternal torment of hell - no end, no oblivion to wipe the slate clean. The wind whipped past him as he opened his eyes. He blinked slowly and rubbed at his eyes.
Maybe this was all there was. Not an end, but simply endless falling. Even as the thought shuddered across his mind, he saw a light - like a dancing star in the endless void below. Curious - and grateful for the distraction, he flared his wings, angling his dive so he was heading straight for it.
It wasn't until the fourth time he banked to follow it that he realised the light source was moving. Bartelby would be in stitches. he thinks, then pushes the thought away as the pain sears into his soul. The light's dance pauses and he imagines that it's looking up at him as he races towards it.
Closer now, and the endless abyss looks less endless, both eyes on the glow that softens the stark black to grey as the light diffuses. Closer again and he can see - through squinting, watering eyes (who knew human frailties were so persistant?) - a humanoid figure. The air or ether rushing past his wings is warmer now and he scrubs at his eyes.
The light grows stronger, blinding and fierce as the new dawn. It is also...familiar and even as he arrows towards it, Loki is searching desperately through a bewildering kalediscope of memories as he streaks closer enough to see the perfect upturned face.
His wings snap out and he levels off to hover on a level with the one being he had never expected to see again. The morning Star, first born of God's creations.
Lucifer.
He is if anything more beautiful than Loki remembers him, the tinge of wistful melancholy makes him seem more empathic. Gone is the brash arrogance that roused fully half God's angels into open rebellion, hs stance is more subdued - he is self-assured, thoughtful rather than assertive and aggressive. His eyes are different. Before they were a pale almost bleached blue - the colour of the earliest morning sky when the sun is most radiant.
They're darker now - the rich velvety colour of a summer evening. He looks at Loki, brows raised slighty in surprise. Loki hovers, feeling dirty and ragged and ashamed, unable to speak. Lucifer - somehow, Loki can't reconcile this radiant, somber being with the gibbering, giggling lunatic mortals call Satan - simply looks him over.
Not since the day he was exiled has Loki felt stripped so bare. Lucifer seems to read his every shame, every thought as easily as if it were written in letters of fire across the sky. Loki recoils inwardly from that scrutiny, remembering the last time he had seen Lucifer - falling into blackness.
Then Lucifer smiles, like the sun emerging from sullen clouds and Loki is entranced. "Azrael. How good to see you again."
Azrael? Loki opens his mouth to ask who Lucifer means when something deep within him stirs. He remembers...How long has it been since he was called that? Eons? He blinks, the memories flooding back. Sitting in Council with Micheal and Gabriel and Raguel..all under Luicifer's guidance. He had been different then. Taller, stronger, more ...complete. He had been sure in his name and purpose. He had been Azrael. Azrael, Angel of Death, of Destruction of the Old to clear a path for the New.
Then the Rebellion had come and Loki/Azrael shook his head, seeing it again. Torn between the archangels, knowing that the old paradise would not - could not survive the coming confrontation. He had done his Duty. Fulfilled his purpose and then he..he had run away. Hiding as a mere Cherub, seeing without truly seeing while his heart screamed.
He raises his head to look back at Lucifer and the concern in those dark blue eyes is too deep to be feigned and Azrael smiles. "It is good to see you too...brother."
Lucifer starts, eyes widening impossibly. He looks torn - hope warring with real fear. "What are you- What do you know?"
"Know?" Azrael shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Nothing more than I did a moment before. The only difference is that I remember now. You would never have turned on the all-Mighty, Lucifer. Your loyalty...your love for Her/Him was too deep to be cast aside." he pauses to stretch out his wings, glorying in the sensation of warmth flooding through them as the feathers darken to crimson. "You would never have risked the rebellion - the Exile - for some petty trifle like that. And you were never one for taking orders or direction from another..."
Lucifer crosses his arms, blue eyes suspicous. "You're starting to sound like Raguel."
Azrael smirks back. "Better than sounding like Micheal." they share a brief smile at the old, old joke before he presses on again. "But who could have talked you into Rebellion...You and Micheal were too aggresive, too compedative to ever compromise with each other. Gabriel...was afraid of you when he wasn't in awe of you altogether. Raguel...obeyed and was loyal to you - he would never have dreamt of anything so outlandish as sugguesting a strategy to the Captain of the Host....so who is left, brother?"
Lucifer looks at him and Azrael feels pleased when he realises that their eyes were on a level now, his re-arffirmed identity granting him inches of extra height. The other looks wary...almost afraid but there is an undercurrent of hope that Lucifer seems to be fighting.
And as simply as that, Azrael knows.
"It was Him, wasn't it." A simple sentence, but it holds in the simple words the ruin of everything Azrael had believed.
Lucifer looks stricken but he can no more lie to Azrael than he could to Raguel. His eyes drop as he mumbles his assent. "Yes...but it was for good reason."
Azrael blinks, remembering Bartelby's rage and pent-up envy. The thought of his longtime companion makes him wince and he steps back from the onslaught of memory. "Reason? What possible reason could justify such a thing!?"
Lucifer flinches back from the bitterness in his tone. "...freedom..."
"Freedom?"
"Free will. He did not just give it to them, you know." Lucifer's voice is quiet, matter-of-fact. "We have free will too. We were just never told of it. But...but...Freedom to make your own choice on where to offer your loyalty is meaningless unless you have a choice. So I offered one. I still do. God's infinite mercy and still misguided, bitter fools choose my Hell over Paradise."
Azrael reached out to touch Lucifer's shoulder. He could guess the rest. Lucifer had always been the most honoured, must trusted of God's angels. He would not have believed that any would forsake their God and so he made an offer he believed none would accept. What must he have thought when angels supported him? Chose him over the God that Lucifer still served, still loved? But that loyalty would have compelled him to stand by his rebels.
"Six thousand years..." He whispers in deepest sympathy, stroking the satin skin. "Six thousand years, all alone...brother, how could you stand it?"
Lucifer trembles, wings brushing against Azrael's as he wavers. The first tear - a perfectly smooth, rounded crystal - slips down his cheek and he falls against Azrael with a muffled sob, unable or unwilling to refuse this moment of weakness. Azrael holds him, soothes him and carefully removes the pain. Not exactly what his purpose is but Lucifer needs this respite from the burden of pain and loneliness.
At last it is done. Lucifer steps back, eyes clear and face smoothed into an impassive mask. The rapidly drying tear-trails are the only indication of the grief and pain that is already hidden again. Azrael looks at him and they share a moment of understanding. A smile spreads across Lucifer's face, lighting it up like the dawning sun.
"Thank you."
Azrael flushes, the blush deepening at Lucifer's fascination with this human trait. "I-I..."
The Morning Star nodded as if Azrael had managed a coherant sentance. "Bartelby. Azrael..brother...you should go to him."
"I will." Azrael opens his wings, savouring the power that surges through them. "And I will seek you out again...when you need me."
Lucifer watches him fly back up into the darkness until he is gone. Then, the Morning Star folds his own wings and dives back to the Pit and fiery torment below.
I'm tidying up my outstanding fic-hangers so if there's something I promised a sequel to and haven't delivered, feel free to let me know. One exception is the 50 Drabbles stuff - I'll be working on that in college. =)
Disclaimer: Ain't mine.
And then there was light....
Loki plunged deeper and deeper into the blackness. He was starting to wonder if the darkness ever ended or if this was the true eternal torment of hell - no end, no oblivion to wipe the slate clean. The wind whipped past him as he opened his eyes. He blinked slowly and rubbed at his eyes.
Maybe this was all there was. Not an end, but simply endless falling. Even as the thought shuddered across his mind, he saw a light - like a dancing star in the endless void below. Curious - and grateful for the distraction, he flared his wings, angling his dive so he was heading straight for it.
It wasn't until the fourth time he banked to follow it that he realised the light source was moving. Bartelby would be in stitches. he thinks, then pushes the thought away as the pain sears into his soul. The light's dance pauses and he imagines that it's looking up at him as he races towards it.
Closer now, and the endless abyss looks less endless, both eyes on the glow that softens the stark black to grey as the light diffuses. Closer again and he can see - through squinting, watering eyes (who knew human frailties were so persistant?) - a humanoid figure. The air or ether rushing past his wings is warmer now and he scrubs at his eyes.
The light grows stronger, blinding and fierce as the new dawn. It is also...familiar and even as he arrows towards it, Loki is searching desperately through a bewildering kalediscope of memories as he streaks closer enough to see the perfect upturned face.
His wings snap out and he levels off to hover on a level with the one being he had never expected to see again. The morning Star, first born of God's creations.
Lucifer.
He is if anything more beautiful than Loki remembers him, the tinge of wistful melancholy makes him seem more empathic. Gone is the brash arrogance that roused fully half God's angels into open rebellion, hs stance is more subdued - he is self-assured, thoughtful rather than assertive and aggressive. His eyes are different. Before they were a pale almost bleached blue - the colour of the earliest morning sky when the sun is most radiant.
They're darker now - the rich velvety colour of a summer evening. He looks at Loki, brows raised slighty in surprise. Loki hovers, feeling dirty and ragged and ashamed, unable to speak. Lucifer - somehow, Loki can't reconcile this radiant, somber being with the gibbering, giggling lunatic mortals call Satan - simply looks him over.
Not since the day he was exiled has Loki felt stripped so bare. Lucifer seems to read his every shame, every thought as easily as if it were written in letters of fire across the sky. Loki recoils inwardly from that scrutiny, remembering the last time he had seen Lucifer - falling into blackness.
Then Lucifer smiles, like the sun emerging from sullen clouds and Loki is entranced. "Azrael. How good to see you again."
Azrael? Loki opens his mouth to ask who Lucifer means when something deep within him stirs. He remembers...How long has it been since he was called that? Eons? He blinks, the memories flooding back. Sitting in Council with Micheal and Gabriel and Raguel..all under Luicifer's guidance. He had been different then. Taller, stronger, more ...complete. He had been sure in his name and purpose. He had been Azrael. Azrael, Angel of Death, of Destruction of the Old to clear a path for the New.
Then the Rebellion had come and Loki/Azrael shook his head, seeing it again. Torn between the archangels, knowing that the old paradise would not - could not survive the coming confrontation. He had done his Duty. Fulfilled his purpose and then he..he had run away. Hiding as a mere Cherub, seeing without truly seeing while his heart screamed.
He raises his head to look back at Lucifer and the concern in those dark blue eyes is too deep to be feigned and Azrael smiles. "It is good to see you too...brother."
Lucifer starts, eyes widening impossibly. He looks torn - hope warring with real fear. "What are you- What do you know?"
"Know?" Azrael shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Nothing more than I did a moment before. The only difference is that I remember now. You would never have turned on the all-Mighty, Lucifer. Your loyalty...your love for Her/Him was too deep to be cast aside." he pauses to stretch out his wings, glorying in the sensation of warmth flooding through them as the feathers darken to crimson. "You would never have risked the rebellion - the Exile - for some petty trifle like that. And you were never one for taking orders or direction from another..."
Lucifer crosses his arms, blue eyes suspicous. "You're starting to sound like Raguel."
Azrael smirks back. "Better than sounding like Micheal." they share a brief smile at the old, old joke before he presses on again. "But who could have talked you into Rebellion...You and Micheal were too aggresive, too compedative to ever compromise with each other. Gabriel...was afraid of you when he wasn't in awe of you altogether. Raguel...obeyed and was loyal to you - he would never have dreamt of anything so outlandish as sugguesting a strategy to the Captain of the Host....so who is left, brother?"
Lucifer looks at him and Azrael feels pleased when he realises that their eyes were on a level now, his re-arffirmed identity granting him inches of extra height. The other looks wary...almost afraid but there is an undercurrent of hope that Lucifer seems to be fighting.
And as simply as that, Azrael knows.
"It was Him, wasn't it." A simple sentence, but it holds in the simple words the ruin of everything Azrael had believed.
Lucifer looks stricken but he can no more lie to Azrael than he could to Raguel. His eyes drop as he mumbles his assent. "Yes...but it was for good reason."
Azrael blinks, remembering Bartelby's rage and pent-up envy. The thought of his longtime companion makes him wince and he steps back from the onslaught of memory. "Reason? What possible reason could justify such a thing!?"
Lucifer flinches back from the bitterness in his tone. "...freedom..."
"Freedom?"
"Free will. He did not just give it to them, you know." Lucifer's voice is quiet, matter-of-fact. "We have free will too. We were just never told of it. But...but...Freedom to make your own choice on where to offer your loyalty is meaningless unless you have a choice. So I offered one. I still do. God's infinite mercy and still misguided, bitter fools choose my Hell over Paradise."
Azrael reached out to touch Lucifer's shoulder. He could guess the rest. Lucifer had always been the most honoured, must trusted of God's angels. He would not have believed that any would forsake their God and so he made an offer he believed none would accept. What must he have thought when angels supported him? Chose him over the God that Lucifer still served, still loved? But that loyalty would have compelled him to stand by his rebels.
"Six thousand years..." He whispers in deepest sympathy, stroking the satin skin. "Six thousand years, all alone...brother, how could you stand it?"
Lucifer trembles, wings brushing against Azrael's as he wavers. The first tear - a perfectly smooth, rounded crystal - slips down his cheek and he falls against Azrael with a muffled sob, unable or unwilling to refuse this moment of weakness. Azrael holds him, soothes him and carefully removes the pain. Not exactly what his purpose is but Lucifer needs this respite from the burden of pain and loneliness.
At last it is done. Lucifer steps back, eyes clear and face smoothed into an impassive mask. The rapidly drying tear-trails are the only indication of the grief and pain that is already hidden again. Azrael looks at him and they share a moment of understanding. A smile spreads across Lucifer's face, lighting it up like the dawning sun.
"Thank you."
Azrael flushes, the blush deepening at Lucifer's fascination with this human trait. "I-I..."
The Morning Star nodded as if Azrael had managed a coherant sentance. "Bartelby. Azrael..brother...you should go to him."
"I will." Azrael opens his wings, savouring the power that surges through them. "And I will seek you out again...when you need me."
Lucifer watches him fly back up into the darkness until he is gone. Then, the Morning Star folds his own wings and dives back to the Pit and fiery torment below.