NaNo 2010 - Third Post
I have a new, prettified journal layout (that hopefully isn't too confusing), and if I stay on track I'll have 10k, tonight. All in all, that sounds like a win.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
~Numb~
Linkin Park
Raziel was bored. Sitting at the foot of the throne of God, recording the glorious happenings in His presence might sound prestigious (And perhaps it was), but that did nothing to keep it from being dull. Uriel had been droning on for hours, his perfectly melodious voice rising and falling in an exact cadence as he offered up the prayers of the righteous for His consideration, and it was all Raziel could do to keep his eyes open and his quill moving across the scroll in front of him.
Angels didn’t need to sleep, exactly, but right now Raziel would have been glad for the excuse.
His hand moving automatically across the page, he let his mind wander. There’d been whispers that Sariel was back in heaven and he always had the most fascinating stories of Earth and the strange things humans got up to. If Uriel could just stop droning (a difficult achievement at the best of times), he might just try to see if Ophanim could take his place as recorder long enough for him to nip away for a bit.
He was in the middle of mentally trying to construct an excuse when the dulcet, droning tones (a combination that only Uriel had ever mastered) of the speaker were shattered.
AS IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN, A JOURNEY HAS BEGUN
The words crashed around Raziel, a familiar voice battering him as if the very air had turned solid with their weight. Hadraniel had arrived. “Oh, bother…” he gave the page he’d been working on a distressed look, taking in the splotch of golden ink that marred the otherwise beautiful script. It was simply a matter of waving it away, angelic powers being more than a match for something as tiny as an ink spill, but it was the principal of the thing. He didn’t try to fix it immediately, though. If one thing was certain, it was that there was no way he’d be lucky enough that Hadraniel planned on being succinct. Even worse, much as Raziel might wish it, there was no ignoring him. His voice could penetrate the most focused of concentrations, and -if that wasn’t bad enough-he had a nasty habit of setting off the force of twelve thousand lightning flashes if he didn’t feel his pronouncements were being attended to with the appropriate level of rapt attention.
ONE HAS SET FORTH WITH THE ABILITY TO BRING ABOUT YOUR KINGDOM, Hadraniel boomed as he strode into the Holy Presence, golden hair falling to frame a perfectly striking face. WITH A VOICE SKILLED TO REACH EVEN THE DEAF EARS OF MAN, HER WORDS PIERCE THEIR HEARTS… BUT, LO, SHOULD SHE BE LEFT TO THE MERCY OF HELL, ALL SHALL BE LOST. ONLY WITH HEAVEN’S PERFECT GUIDANCE WILL THE GLORIOUS AWAKENING OCCUR.
There was no audible response from Him. There never was. But, even as Raziel raised a hand to rub his temples to chase off the beginnings of a headache, he felt the sudden awakening of knowledge in his mind. Eyes glazing slightly, he sensed the vision of a young human girl, dark wavy hair framing a serious face. She was hardly more than a child, even by human standards, but there was a knowing look in her eyes above a crook of a smile and she was holding a strange instrument at her side. A guitar, the knowledge came again, and he shivered at the suddenness of foreign thoughts in his head. No matter how often it happened, he always found it a bit unnerving.
“And who shall be sent, Lord?” Uriel asked in that unruffled voice, even though his own thoughts would have been invaded at the same time. But then, nothing ever really ruffled Uriel, unless it was an unsolicited interruption to his daily litany.
Silence. Even in their heads, there was no answer. But, as it dragged out, the Heavenly Host watching each other with that perfect patience, Raziel suddenly had the strangest urge. His daydreams, so carefully buried (Not to mention disrupted by Hadraniel) came bubbling to the surface, demanding to be noticed. He’d wanted to talk to Sariel… listen to the happenings of Earth… but what if he could do one better? What if, instead of staying here and listening to the same old, every day droning, he could actually experience it for himself?
He hadn’t even realized he was standing until his quill fell from his lap, clattering softly against the golden pavement at his feet.
“I’ll go.” His voice sounded scratchy in his own ears… hardly angelic at all… and he cleared his throat as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “I mean, if it pleases you Lord, I would be your humble servant.”
There was a hush that fell over the hall, the Host waiting in patient breathlessness (not that they actually needed to breathe anyway, but in such suspenseful moments in really seemed to add to the effect), anticipating His answer.
None came.
Raziel hadn't been nervous when he stood up. If anything, the urge had been so out of his comprehension that he hadn't even realized what words he was saying until they'd left his mouth. But as the silence dragged on, he waited with growing apprehension. The longer it went, the more the pressure to speak up in his own defense overwhelmed the nagging thought that he should probably be very, very quiet now.
"I-I really do wish to serve You, Holiness. My duties... My duties could be shared and I would be faithful to Your every Word... I would like the chance to bring Your Kingdom glory.... i-if it so pleases you, Lord."
Still nothing. Raziel shifted his weight again and tried to ignore the urge to curl up into a ball and hide, seeing as it would really do no good, what with Him being all-knowing and ever-present, after all. But the longer he stood, the more he could feel the weight of the host's judgment resting on his shoulders.
Where most angels were stunning to behold, beings of wonder and fear and awe, Raziel somehow seemed to have missed out on that benefit of Infinite Grace. Where Hadraniel had flowing golden hair, or Uriel had cherubic features, or Ophanim had the stature (and cheekbones) of a Greek Adonis (Something Raziel felt he'd always been a little too smug about, ever since such features became so well liked on Earth), Raziel had the unfortunate status of being nothing more than average.
It wasn't that he was unattractive. He had smooth skin and hair that (mostly) did as he wanted. He was thin, strong enough, with perfect teeth. But where others of the host carried themselves in a way that inspired cowering and conveyed the glory of His presence in their very demeanor, Raziel had never really inspired anyone towards anything more than a mildly fond, fuzzy feeling... the kind that one might feel towards a little brother or a particularly well-liked dog. And he was scrawny. Meant to spend his days recording the testimonies of Heaven in his scroll, he had a scholar’s build... not an athlete's. As far as fearful heavenly beings, he was one of the lowest on the totem pole.
Even as he waited, more and more uncertain and berating himself for even daring to draw attention to his presence, he could feel the weight of the eyes of the Host as they turned to consider him.
Uriel was the first to speak. "Perhaps it would be best to send one who was more schooled in the ways of the Earth and less likely to be swayed by human charms."
He should have been silent -he knew he should have - but Raziel couldn't resist muttering under his breath. “Never stopped Sariel.”
There was still no response from Him, but Hadraniel 's voice thundered into the gap, dripping with disapproval, and Raziel couldn't help but cringe. IT IS HARDLY YOUR PLACE TO JUDGE YOUR BETTERS.
"I wasn't-"
But all dispute was cut off as the knowledge slid into their minds, solid, unquestionable, definite. Raziel. Raziel would go. Stunned by the permission, the young angel found he couldn’t find his voice to respond. Even Uriel's placid expression shifted at the interruption. His mouth opened, gaping, like a fish out of water... and then he carefully closed it, composing himself. Bowing his head, he acceded. "As you will it, Lord, so it shall be done."
YOUR HONOR AND GLORY IS ALL WE DESIRE, Hadraniel said as well, but Raziel couldn’t help wondering if there was an edge of disagreement in those booming tones (If you could call it an edge. His voice was about as sharp as a hammer).
Bowing before His throne, Raziel didn’t dare raise his eyes to look upon Him. “I will see Your Will carried out, Lord. I won’t let you down.” And he meant it… though he was sincerely hoping his desire would equate to success, because he wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence at the moment.
He gathered his things in the continuing silence until Ophanim came to take his place and Uriel was able to pick up his recitation where he had left off. There was no blatant disagreement. No overt judgment in the Hosts’ gazes, but somehow the air seemed heavier on his shoulders as Raziel made his way out of His presence to find Sariel.
He was going to Earth…. And he had no idea what to expect.
Aaaaaand, shameless Good Omens ripoff is a go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
~Numb~
Linkin Park
Raziel was bored. Sitting at the foot of the throne of God, recording the glorious happenings in His presence might sound prestigious (And perhaps it was), but that did nothing to keep it from being dull. Uriel had been droning on for hours, his perfectly melodious voice rising and falling in an exact cadence as he offered up the prayers of the righteous for His consideration, and it was all Raziel could do to keep his eyes open and his quill moving across the scroll in front of him.
Angels didn’t need to sleep, exactly, but right now Raziel would have been glad for the excuse.
His hand moving automatically across the page, he let his mind wander. There’d been whispers that Sariel was back in heaven and he always had the most fascinating stories of Earth and the strange things humans got up to. If Uriel could just stop droning (a difficult achievement at the best of times), he might just try to see if Ophanim could take his place as recorder long enough for him to nip away for a bit.
He was in the middle of mentally trying to construct an excuse when the dulcet, droning tones (a combination that only Uriel had ever mastered) of the speaker were shattered.
AS IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN, A JOURNEY HAS BEGUN
The words crashed around Raziel, a familiar voice battering him as if the very air had turned solid with their weight. Hadraniel had arrived. “Oh, bother…” he gave the page he’d been working on a distressed look, taking in the splotch of golden ink that marred the otherwise beautiful script. It was simply a matter of waving it away, angelic powers being more than a match for something as tiny as an ink spill, but it was the principal of the thing. He didn’t try to fix it immediately, though. If one thing was certain, it was that there was no way he’d be lucky enough that Hadraniel planned on being succinct. Even worse, much as Raziel might wish it, there was no ignoring him. His voice could penetrate the most focused of concentrations, and -if that wasn’t bad enough-he had a nasty habit of setting off the force of twelve thousand lightning flashes if he didn’t feel his pronouncements were being attended to with the appropriate level of rapt attention.
ONE HAS SET FORTH WITH THE ABILITY TO BRING ABOUT YOUR KINGDOM, Hadraniel boomed as he strode into the Holy Presence, golden hair falling to frame a perfectly striking face. WITH A VOICE SKILLED TO REACH EVEN THE DEAF EARS OF MAN, HER WORDS PIERCE THEIR HEARTS… BUT, LO, SHOULD SHE BE LEFT TO THE MERCY OF HELL, ALL SHALL BE LOST. ONLY WITH HEAVEN’S PERFECT GUIDANCE WILL THE GLORIOUS AWAKENING OCCUR.
There was no audible response from Him. There never was. But, even as Raziel raised a hand to rub his temples to chase off the beginnings of a headache, he felt the sudden awakening of knowledge in his mind. Eyes glazing slightly, he sensed the vision of a young human girl, dark wavy hair framing a serious face. She was hardly more than a child, even by human standards, but there was a knowing look in her eyes above a crook of a smile and she was holding a strange instrument at her side. A guitar, the knowledge came again, and he shivered at the suddenness of foreign thoughts in his head. No matter how often it happened, he always found it a bit unnerving.
“And who shall be sent, Lord?” Uriel asked in that unruffled voice, even though his own thoughts would have been invaded at the same time. But then, nothing ever really ruffled Uriel, unless it was an unsolicited interruption to his daily litany.
Silence. Even in their heads, there was no answer. But, as it dragged out, the Heavenly Host watching each other with that perfect patience, Raziel suddenly had the strangest urge. His daydreams, so carefully buried (Not to mention disrupted by Hadraniel) came bubbling to the surface, demanding to be noticed. He’d wanted to talk to Sariel… listen to the happenings of Earth… but what if he could do one better? What if, instead of staying here and listening to the same old, every day droning, he could actually experience it for himself?
He hadn’t even realized he was standing until his quill fell from his lap, clattering softly against the golden pavement at his feet.
“I’ll go.” His voice sounded scratchy in his own ears… hardly angelic at all… and he cleared his throat as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “I mean, if it pleases you Lord, I would be your humble servant.”
There was a hush that fell over the hall, the Host waiting in patient breathlessness (not that they actually needed to breathe anyway, but in such suspenseful moments in really seemed to add to the effect), anticipating His answer.
None came.
Raziel hadn't been nervous when he stood up. If anything, the urge had been so out of his comprehension that he hadn't even realized what words he was saying until they'd left his mouth. But as the silence dragged on, he waited with growing apprehension. The longer it went, the more the pressure to speak up in his own defense overwhelmed the nagging thought that he should probably be very, very quiet now.
"I-I really do wish to serve You, Holiness. My duties... My duties could be shared and I would be faithful to Your every Word... I would like the chance to bring Your Kingdom glory.... i-if it so pleases you, Lord."
Still nothing. Raziel shifted his weight again and tried to ignore the urge to curl up into a ball and hide, seeing as it would really do no good, what with Him being all-knowing and ever-present, after all. But the longer he stood, the more he could feel the weight of the host's judgment resting on his shoulders.
Where most angels were stunning to behold, beings of wonder and fear and awe, Raziel somehow seemed to have missed out on that benefit of Infinite Grace. Where Hadraniel had flowing golden hair, or Uriel had cherubic features, or Ophanim had the stature (and cheekbones) of a Greek Adonis (Something Raziel felt he'd always been a little too smug about, ever since such features became so well liked on Earth), Raziel had the unfortunate status of being nothing more than average.
It wasn't that he was unattractive. He had smooth skin and hair that (mostly) did as he wanted. He was thin, strong enough, with perfect teeth. But where others of the host carried themselves in a way that inspired cowering and conveyed the glory of His presence in their very demeanor, Raziel had never really inspired anyone towards anything more than a mildly fond, fuzzy feeling... the kind that one might feel towards a little brother or a particularly well-liked dog. And he was scrawny. Meant to spend his days recording the testimonies of Heaven in his scroll, he had a scholar’s build... not an athlete's. As far as fearful heavenly beings, he was one of the lowest on the totem pole.
Even as he waited, more and more uncertain and berating himself for even daring to draw attention to his presence, he could feel the weight of the eyes of the Host as they turned to consider him.
Uriel was the first to speak. "Perhaps it would be best to send one who was more schooled in the ways of the Earth and less likely to be swayed by human charms."
He should have been silent -he knew he should have - but Raziel couldn't resist muttering under his breath. “Never stopped Sariel.”
There was still no response from Him, but Hadraniel 's voice thundered into the gap, dripping with disapproval, and Raziel couldn't help but cringe. IT IS HARDLY YOUR PLACE TO JUDGE YOUR BETTERS.
"I wasn't-"
But all dispute was cut off as the knowledge slid into their minds, solid, unquestionable, definite. Raziel. Raziel would go. Stunned by the permission, the young angel found he couldn’t find his voice to respond. Even Uriel's placid expression shifted at the interruption. His mouth opened, gaping, like a fish out of water... and then he carefully closed it, composing himself. Bowing his head, he acceded. "As you will it, Lord, so it shall be done."
YOUR HONOR AND GLORY IS ALL WE DESIRE, Hadraniel said as well, but Raziel couldn’t help wondering if there was an edge of disagreement in those booming tones (If you could call it an edge. His voice was about as sharp as a hammer).
Bowing before His throne, Raziel didn’t dare raise his eyes to look upon Him. “I will see Your Will carried out, Lord. I won’t let you down.” And he meant it… though he was sincerely hoping his desire would equate to success, because he wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence at the moment.
He gathered his things in the continuing silence until Ophanim came to take his place and Uriel was able to pick up his recitation where he had left off. There was no blatant disagreement. No overt judgment in the Hosts’ gazes, but somehow the air seemed heavier on his shoulders as Raziel made his way out of His presence to find Sariel.
He was going to Earth…. And he had no idea what to expect.
Aaaaaand, shameless Good Omens ripoff is a go.