Glances Down a Serpent Hole - Final Plague
Title: Glances Down a Serpent Hole - Final Plague
Fandom: Darksiders
Characters/pairings: Azrael
Rating: PG
Summary: Some tasks were given only to the His most trusted.
Warnings: Blending the Bible with games again.
Notes: Hey, new Glances series. Lets see how often I can actually update it. And the Book of Angels actually does exist. At Barnes and Noble. Not sure how much of it is accurate information vs pop culture, but damn it, the paintings are pretty.
Table of Contents
o o o
12 ‘For I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am the LORD. 13 Now the blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you; and the plague shall not be on you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.
Exodus 12:12-13
For the last of the Plagues, Azrael stole away the souls of the first-born of Egypt, an act so devastating that the Pharaoh finally was forced to let the Hebrews go.
The Book of Angels
o o o
Zachia ben Zuriah huffed, almost running to keep up with his brother. Malachai was hurrying, head up and eyes alert for danger, the precious lamb tucked under his arm. They were late, so very late, and Mother would worry. The free men had noticed the way the slaves were gathering lambs, and the sudden 'drop' in supply meant they could charge much more for one. The merchant had been suspicious, despite the story of a slave festival that the Prophet's brother had had spread. They had been delayed far too long, and night was setting in. The Prophet's words echoed in their minds, and though Zachia was young, he knew better than to complain about the pace Malachai was setting.
Voices, raucous and sharp, and Malachai stopped short. Free men, barely past their rights of passage, drunk and jeering up the street. One saw them and pointed, and Malachai turned on Zachia with fear in his eyes. "Take the lamb," he urged, thrusting the tiny creature into his hands. "Go back to Mother. Hurry!"
"Not without you," Zachia shook his head, holding the lamb tight enough that it protested, bleating. The free men stalked closer.
"I'll be along quickly," Malachai hissed. "They'll follow if we both run. Go, now!" Zachia swallowed and darted for the nearest alley. Pinching the lamb's mouth shut, he turned to watch.
One of the free men got in Malachai's face, angry about something. Malachai ducked his head, in a show of respect that Zachia knew he didn't feel, and responded politely. The free man punched Malachai in the face and the older boy fell to the ground.
Zachia bit the inside of his arm, keening into his sleeve as Malachai was beaten by the free men. The lamb, the precious creature that would save their sister's sons, struggled in his grip. He was too little to do anything, too young and a slave, and he had to get the lamb home before the midnight crier sang, but he couldn't leave his brother behind. He wavered between duties, and he had almost decided to charge anyway, when the tall man appeared.
He was impossibly tall, taller than Father, than the Prophet, taller even than the Pharaoh. He wore a dark hood, and the glimpse of his face that Zachia saw was as pale as the Pharaoh's wives. He stalked up behind one of the free men and at his touch, the free man fell to the ground, asleep or dead.
The others turned on him, outraged and swinging. He touched each in turn, pulling back with a hard yanking motion, as if pulling something away, and they fell before him. The last one Zachia saw clearly, and he nearly screamed when the tall man's fingers passed into the free man's body like smoke and pulled on nothing. The free man dropped, and the tall man stepped over his body, crouching beside Malachai.
"No!" Zachia yelled. He ran forward, tripped, and the lamb got loose, running away. Zachia cried out in despair, lunging for the lamb and he only fell again, barking his hands and knees.
The tall man touched Malachai gently and stood, his feet silent on the hard dirt street. Zachia wept bitterly, bowing his head. Malachai was dead, he'd lost the lamb that would save his nephews, and now this sorcerer would kill him, too. He forced himself to look up; Malachai would have wanted him to look up, to face his death as a man, and what he saw shocked his sobs silent.
The tall man had wings. Great, white wings that seemed both there and not, rising above his head. He pushed back his hood and his hair was as pale as his wings, falling about his shoulders. He was so beautiful and so sad that Zachia's heart ached.
The man was a messenger of the Lord. An angel.
"Rise, Zachia ben Zuriah," the angel said, his voice deep and soothing. "Cease your tears. Your brother will not die tonight." Zachia stumbled to his feet, terrified of disobeying, and the angel's next words turned his veins to ice. "Where is your home? Your brother is in no condition to walk. I would see you both home safe before I continue my work."
Zachia shook his head sharply. "The Prophet warned us," he whispered. "Death is coming to the city tonight." His eyes darted to the free men, all so very still. "I think you are a death angel."
"I am," the angel replied. Zachia bit his tongue on a despairing moan, and the angel looked at him curiously. "What fear do you have of me? Are you not a follower of the Lord?"
"I lost the lamb," Zachia said miserably. "We won't have the blood above our door. My sister's sons were forced on her, but she loves them, and they are their father's first sons. I do not want them to die." His breath hitched. "I do not want you to kill them."
The angel crouched to his level, there-not there wings furling around them both. "The lamb's blood is to tell me which houses to spare," he said gently. "Showing me serves the same purpose."
"Promise?" Zachia blurted, then winced. Who was he to demand anything of an angel?
"Azrael of the White City gives his word," was the solemn reply.
Zachia took two panicky breaths and nodded. The angel straightened and carefully scooped Malachai into his arms. Malachai grunted sleepily and turned his face against Azrael's chest, and Zachia felt his heart leap. Malachai was alive! Swallowing past the fierce lump of joy and terror in his throat, he turned to lead the way.
A free man was sent screaming into the night at the sight of them, and Zachia wondered what a follower of the Pharaoh's beast-gods saw when they saw the angel, but they went unharmed. Mother was waiting outside the house, and she fell against the wall when she saw Azrael, her knuckle between her teeth and her eyes wide in fear.
Zachia ran up to mother and pulled her sleeve, to no effect. "Ah, this way, my Lord," he said, holding open the door instead. Azrael accorded Mother a polite nod as he passed her, and she seemed about to faint.
The angel appeared even taller indoors, and the phantoms of his wings filled the tiny space. Father rose from his seat, then fell to his knees, working his mouth soundlessly. Sarah did not scream, but she put herself between Azrael and her young sons, and Zachia saw the small knife in her hand. He waved her down irritably, and led Azrael to the pallet he and Malachai shared.
Azrael was very careful in setting Malachai down, easing him onto the blanket. Malachai's bruises stood out in the firelight, and if Zachia watched long enough, he could see them shrink. Mother had come in and knelt at father's side, and they placed their foreheads on the ground. Azrael gave them a bemused look, then placed his hand on Zachia's shoulder, still kneeling beside the pallet. This close, with ghost feathers laying over his shoulder, he realized that the angel had no darks to his eyes, and intricate shapes up the side of his face. "I am not Death," Azrael murmured, tracing the same shape around Zachia's eye. "But I have stepped into his role, and his blessing is mine to give. You will live a long and fruitful life, Zachia ben Zuriah, as a free man. Your love for your family will be returned to you ten-fold. I only ask that you continue to care for them as you do now."
Zachia wrapped his arms around Azrael's neck and hugged tightly. "I will," he whispered fiercely, hot tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. "I will, thank you, thank you, for helping my brother."
He let go, quick enough to catch the surprise on Azrael's face. The angel composed himself and stood carefully, stooping to keep from knocking his head on the ceiling. "Do not fear me," he said to Sarah. "Your brother's word has stood in for the lamb's blood." He touched Father on the shoulder as he passed. "Do not kneel to me; I am but a gatekeeper. Do not leave your home tonight."
"Wait," Father rasped sharply, daring to lift his eyes to Azrael's feet. Azrael paused at the door, and Father swallowed twice before he was able to speak. "My Lord Gatekeeper, why? You..." A harsh choking sound. "I know you are the Death-angel the Prophet warned us of. Why help my sons?"
Azrael was quiet for a long time, long enough that Father cringed against the floor in expectation of a blow. "Tonight, I am the wrath of the Lord," Azrael said quietly, pulling up his hood. "But I am also His mercy." And then he was gone, with the sound of a hundred wings flapping from outside the ajar door.
o o o
29 And it came to pass at midnight that the LORD struck all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of livestock. 30 So Pharaoh rose in the night, he, all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead.
Exodus 12:29-30
Fandom: Darksiders
Characters/pairings: Azrael
Rating: PG
Summary: Some tasks were given only to the His most trusted.
Warnings: Blending the Bible with games again.
Notes: Hey, new Glances series. Lets see how often I can actually update it. And the Book of Angels actually does exist. At Barnes and Noble. Not sure how much of it is accurate information vs pop culture, but damn it, the paintings are pretty.
Table of Contents
o o o
12 ‘For I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am the LORD. 13 Now the blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you; and the plague shall not be on you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.
Exodus 12:12-13
For the last of the Plagues, Azrael stole away the souls of the first-born of Egypt, an act so devastating that the Pharaoh finally was forced to let the Hebrews go.
The Book of Angels
o o o
Zachia ben Zuriah huffed, almost running to keep up with his brother. Malachai was hurrying, head up and eyes alert for danger, the precious lamb tucked under his arm. They were late, so very late, and Mother would worry. The free men had noticed the way the slaves were gathering lambs, and the sudden 'drop' in supply meant they could charge much more for one. The merchant had been suspicious, despite the story of a slave festival that the Prophet's brother had had spread. They had been delayed far too long, and night was setting in. The Prophet's words echoed in their minds, and though Zachia was young, he knew better than to complain about the pace Malachai was setting.
Voices, raucous and sharp, and Malachai stopped short. Free men, barely past their rights of passage, drunk and jeering up the street. One saw them and pointed, and Malachai turned on Zachia with fear in his eyes. "Take the lamb," he urged, thrusting the tiny creature into his hands. "Go back to Mother. Hurry!"
"Not without you," Zachia shook his head, holding the lamb tight enough that it protested, bleating. The free men stalked closer.
"I'll be along quickly," Malachai hissed. "They'll follow if we both run. Go, now!" Zachia swallowed and darted for the nearest alley. Pinching the lamb's mouth shut, he turned to watch.
One of the free men got in Malachai's face, angry about something. Malachai ducked his head, in a show of respect that Zachia knew he didn't feel, and responded politely. The free man punched Malachai in the face and the older boy fell to the ground.
Zachia bit the inside of his arm, keening into his sleeve as Malachai was beaten by the free men. The lamb, the precious creature that would save their sister's sons, struggled in his grip. He was too little to do anything, too young and a slave, and he had to get the lamb home before the midnight crier sang, but he couldn't leave his brother behind. He wavered between duties, and he had almost decided to charge anyway, when the tall man appeared.
He was impossibly tall, taller than Father, than the Prophet, taller even than the Pharaoh. He wore a dark hood, and the glimpse of his face that Zachia saw was as pale as the Pharaoh's wives. He stalked up behind one of the free men and at his touch, the free man fell to the ground, asleep or dead.
The others turned on him, outraged and swinging. He touched each in turn, pulling back with a hard yanking motion, as if pulling something away, and they fell before him. The last one Zachia saw clearly, and he nearly screamed when the tall man's fingers passed into the free man's body like smoke and pulled on nothing. The free man dropped, and the tall man stepped over his body, crouching beside Malachai.
"No!" Zachia yelled. He ran forward, tripped, and the lamb got loose, running away. Zachia cried out in despair, lunging for the lamb and he only fell again, barking his hands and knees.
The tall man touched Malachai gently and stood, his feet silent on the hard dirt street. Zachia wept bitterly, bowing his head. Malachai was dead, he'd lost the lamb that would save his nephews, and now this sorcerer would kill him, too. He forced himself to look up; Malachai would have wanted him to look up, to face his death as a man, and what he saw shocked his sobs silent.
The tall man had wings. Great, white wings that seemed both there and not, rising above his head. He pushed back his hood and his hair was as pale as his wings, falling about his shoulders. He was so beautiful and so sad that Zachia's heart ached.
The man was a messenger of the Lord. An angel.
"Rise, Zachia ben Zuriah," the angel said, his voice deep and soothing. "Cease your tears. Your brother will not die tonight." Zachia stumbled to his feet, terrified of disobeying, and the angel's next words turned his veins to ice. "Where is your home? Your brother is in no condition to walk. I would see you both home safe before I continue my work."
Zachia shook his head sharply. "The Prophet warned us," he whispered. "Death is coming to the city tonight." His eyes darted to the free men, all so very still. "I think you are a death angel."
"I am," the angel replied. Zachia bit his tongue on a despairing moan, and the angel looked at him curiously. "What fear do you have of me? Are you not a follower of the Lord?"
"I lost the lamb," Zachia said miserably. "We won't have the blood above our door. My sister's sons were forced on her, but she loves them, and they are their father's first sons. I do not want them to die." His breath hitched. "I do not want you to kill them."
The angel crouched to his level, there-not there wings furling around them both. "The lamb's blood is to tell me which houses to spare," he said gently. "Showing me serves the same purpose."
"Promise?" Zachia blurted, then winced. Who was he to demand anything of an angel?
"Azrael of the White City gives his word," was the solemn reply.
Zachia took two panicky breaths and nodded. The angel straightened and carefully scooped Malachai into his arms. Malachai grunted sleepily and turned his face against Azrael's chest, and Zachia felt his heart leap. Malachai was alive! Swallowing past the fierce lump of joy and terror in his throat, he turned to lead the way.
A free man was sent screaming into the night at the sight of them, and Zachia wondered what a follower of the Pharaoh's beast-gods saw when they saw the angel, but they went unharmed. Mother was waiting outside the house, and she fell against the wall when she saw Azrael, her knuckle between her teeth and her eyes wide in fear.
Zachia ran up to mother and pulled her sleeve, to no effect. "Ah, this way, my Lord," he said, holding open the door instead. Azrael accorded Mother a polite nod as he passed her, and she seemed about to faint.
The angel appeared even taller indoors, and the phantoms of his wings filled the tiny space. Father rose from his seat, then fell to his knees, working his mouth soundlessly. Sarah did not scream, but she put herself between Azrael and her young sons, and Zachia saw the small knife in her hand. He waved her down irritably, and led Azrael to the pallet he and Malachai shared.
Azrael was very careful in setting Malachai down, easing him onto the blanket. Malachai's bruises stood out in the firelight, and if Zachia watched long enough, he could see them shrink. Mother had come in and knelt at father's side, and they placed their foreheads on the ground. Azrael gave them a bemused look, then placed his hand on Zachia's shoulder, still kneeling beside the pallet. This close, with ghost feathers laying over his shoulder, he realized that the angel had no darks to his eyes, and intricate shapes up the side of his face. "I am not Death," Azrael murmured, tracing the same shape around Zachia's eye. "But I have stepped into his role, and his blessing is mine to give. You will live a long and fruitful life, Zachia ben Zuriah, as a free man. Your love for your family will be returned to you ten-fold. I only ask that you continue to care for them as you do now."
Zachia wrapped his arms around Azrael's neck and hugged tightly. "I will," he whispered fiercely, hot tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. "I will, thank you, thank you, for helping my brother."
He let go, quick enough to catch the surprise on Azrael's face. The angel composed himself and stood carefully, stooping to keep from knocking his head on the ceiling. "Do not fear me," he said to Sarah. "Your brother's word has stood in for the lamb's blood." He touched Father on the shoulder as he passed. "Do not kneel to me; I am but a gatekeeper. Do not leave your home tonight."
"Wait," Father rasped sharply, daring to lift his eyes to Azrael's feet. Azrael paused at the door, and Father swallowed twice before he was able to speak. "My Lord Gatekeeper, why? You..." A harsh choking sound. "I know you are the Death-angel the Prophet warned us of. Why help my sons?"
Azrael was quiet for a long time, long enough that Father cringed against the floor in expectation of a blow. "Tonight, I am the wrath of the Lord," Azrael said quietly, pulling up his hood. "But I am also His mercy." And then he was gone, with the sound of a hundred wings flapping from outside the ajar door.
o o o
29 And it came to pass at midnight that the LORD struck all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of livestock. 30 So Pharaoh rose in the night, he, all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead.
Exodus 12:29-30