(no subject)
Date: Febuary 6th, 2001 (immediately following Berith's arrival)
Setting: Berith's room, Raguel's room
Status: Private - Berith, Raguel [Complete]
Summary: Did you forget how it began? I haven't.
Planning to spend the entire day in one's room did absoutely no good if the thing that you wished to remain separated from was obviously close by. And he was. Berith could feel him, the edges of his consciousness, the finality of his voice, the blank watchfulness of his gaze.
He sat himself down on the edge of the bed, set his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. He did not need this. None of it. He would have stayed in London, he would have kept his head down, he would be giving Aziraphale a piece of his mind the next time he saw him....
Berith didn't think about heaven for prolonged periods of time. It was a rule of self-preservation more than a feeling of loathing. He left it alone in that part of his mind where things could scar over and dull.
It didn't take long for angels to learn the idea of quarrelling, and once they had, they took to it like anything. The idea of disagreeing with each other became far too fascinating of a concept to pass up. Baraqiel didn't like it. Too much noise without much reason. Waste of time.
Which was why when a disagreement broke out between a common angel and the head of the Heavenly Choir, he set his mind to putting a stop to it.
"I will not hear of any new songs. We have our own songs. We will keep to them, for they were given to us when we were created."
"But surely if a song comes from my thoughts, it was given to me by Our Lord? I see no reason why other music should be unacceptable."
They had been going at it for time past reckoning. Baraqiel stepped between them and put up a halting hand.
Setting: Berith's room, Raguel's room
Status: Private - Berith, Raguel [Complete]
Summary: Did you forget how it began? I haven't.
Planning to spend the entire day in one's room did absoutely no good if the thing that you wished to remain separated from was obviously close by. And he was. Berith could feel him, the edges of his consciousness, the finality of his voice, the blank watchfulness of his gaze.
He sat himself down on the edge of the bed, set his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. He did not need this. None of it. He would have stayed in London, he would have kept his head down, he would be giving Aziraphale a piece of his mind the next time he saw him....
Berith didn't think about heaven for prolonged periods of time. It was a rule of self-preservation more than a feeling of loathing. He left it alone in that part of his mind where things could scar over and dull.
It didn't take long for angels to learn the idea of quarrelling, and once they had, they took to it like anything. The idea of disagreeing with each other became far too fascinating of a concept to pass up. Baraqiel didn't like it. Too much noise without much reason. Waste of time.
Which was why when a disagreement broke out between a common angel and the head of the Heavenly Choir, he set his mind to putting a stop to it.
"I will not hear of any new songs. We have our own songs. We will keep to them, for they were given to us when we were created."
"But surely if a song comes from my thoughts, it was given to me by Our Lord? I see no reason why other music should be unacceptable."
They had been going at it for time past reckoning. Baraqiel stepped between them and put up a halting hand.