“Except,” she began, choosing her argument on the fly, “there is no such thing as perfect. Surly you have noticed this over the centuries.” She shook her head and sighed. “Truth is seldom so cut and dry. It is mostly perception.”
The demon turned from the window, unable to watch anymore. “That is no fault of yours. I know you are not going to like what I am about to say, but just listen. This is no fault of yours. Your father made the choices that set this in to motion knowing full well what would happen. Perhaps this is His way of granting freedom. As painful as that may be.”
She lingered there for a moment, debating on whether or not to follow. “Michael, you are not alone in this world. You have made a life here, you have emotion. That is something so many would give anything for. Do not forget that.”
“I once would have argued with you on that statement,” Michael stated, his laugh low. ”And I could not tell you when I realized father was not perfect. Somewhere along the line, it was lost.”
He listened for a long moment, each step taking him away from her, each step carrying him and his rattling feathers, almost smirking as he turned. ”Sometimes emotion is not a good thing, Cordae.” The reply was soft, almost echoing in the room despite the fact. ”I was everything father wished for in a servant, and I’m here, I am falling with the rest of my siblings. If this is his mercy, I am afraid I would rather have his wrath.”
He paused, his eyes landing on hers. ”I was created to be a servant, and nothing more. I am useless once my feet touch the ground, without Heaven to run. What do you suggest I do in my madness?” It was rhetorical, his eyes dark on hers, daring her to suggest something for a light to do. ”I will fade out over time without Heaven and Father.”
The rumour mill was running wild among the gods and other celestials. Heaven was falling apart they said, but Iacchos hadn’t believed it. Everyone knew how immortals liked to talk. Anything to fill their long and now rather empty existences with any kind of drama. Heaven may have been in fractions, but falling apart? That couldn’t be. If it had stood the test of time, then how could anything possibly change now? Even the Greeks hadn’t fallen apart and if Iacchos was brutally honest- his family was far more twisted with it’s plots and ploys than any. If they were still standing strong- then the others should have been just fine.
It wasn’t till the God heard the first cracks in the skies as angels began to fall. He had been on the balcony of his home, wine in hand when the first streams of flames began to light the night. He could feel the graces burning, see the wings snapping off. This was impossible. This had to be some kind of joke, a nightmare even. The angels were falling. The sky was a blaze and those rumours were holding true. How could this possibly be?
It was terrible and beautiful all at once. The streaks of flames that light the sky were breath taking in their beauty if one didn’t know what they were. But the God could do nothing more than stare in horror as angels crashed to the earth, flames surrounding them. What would become of them? The answer was one Iacchos knew well. Some would become human, he’d see it happen before. Others… Well others would become twisted and corrupted by the darkness that would seep in as the light of their graces vanished. He’d seen that fall take place before too.
He had to figure out what was going on. A panic began to creep into him as he thought of what would become of his dear ones now. He had to find them all, ensure their well being. Try to help. Anything. This was a disaster. This was the start to their end. He had seen many terrible things happen in his life, but this was one he never expected to happen.
Who could have even been capable of such a terrible thing. There was no way all the angels rebelled at once. There had to be something, someone. The moment the God reeled himself in from the shock of it all he set off to find Michael. The grace was diminishing, but he had just enough time to lock his senses. Within a moments notice he teleported to where the, now fallen, angel was.
“Old friend…” He said as he appeared in Michael’s presence “The angels… This… How?”
There seemed to be a circle of feathers around the angel from where he stood watching, cold, distant. Hands in his pockets as he had learned to do, he said nothing for a long moment. It took awhile for his eyes to even meet Iacchos’ in the reflection of the window, the smile slow and sad.
“Metatron.” It was a soft statement, soft and simple. He was keeping it together for as long as he could, though he could feel the fire going out. An angel was light, was pure god’s reflection. A piece of the crystal, and part of the heat. Without the grace it was cold and dark,no longer seeing the world lit up by your own existence. ”Metatron and Castiel. I left before the fall. I would not wish to repeat another crash, whether into the cage or onto Earth.”
It was calling to him again. That cage, that dark yet light, burning cold heat, the flames that froze your bones, and it wasn’t here. It wasn’t here, and it was. He could feel that cold creeping in from his grace fading- and yet, and while it wasn’t the cage, it felt such as damning. ”My Father does not seem to care for Heaven or his children anymore. I knew of this, but this- this is our damning moment.”
The tone of his voice was off and that worried her. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the sight of the angels falling or the sight of her friend in such a state. “I understand,” she replied softly, resting a hand on his arm to keep him from fidgeting. “I’ve seen what can happen when beings dark side and it is never pretty.”
“Hush. There will be none of that, Michael,” Cord chastised. She gave him a firm look before sighing and following him to the window. It was a terrible sight and she couldn’t help but hate the blissfully ignorant that just saw the beauty of the lights.
“You were doing what you thought was correct at the time, my friend. Everyone makes mistakes, no matter who and what they are. You cannot blame yourself for the past nor the present. Is there any chance of anyone surviving this?”
“Mm, we were created to be perfect, Cordae, you are aware of this fact,” His hands behind his back, he turned to look at the demon, giving a faint smile. ”I am fully able of blaming myself. I have heard it said by another fallen angel that when you fall, you see the truth. I think that statement may be more true than I would like to believe.”
Putting his hand so close to the glass he almost touched it- and yet not- a few more feathers fell. ”We were created to listen to Father, and we started on our own direction. Falling has been a punishment, and not truthfully to be away from father, few of us ever saw him. The true punishment was removing the veil from our eyes and seeing what we truly are.”
He turned to watch the siblings fall, noticing it was finally slowing. ”Falling is a reminder that you are not the creator, not made to think or be, you are made, simply, to serve. If you are unable to accept that, if you are unable to do as you were created to do, you will become something else. You will be put into a new position, into a new way to serve or exist.”
A weak laugh escaped the angel. ”We are tools of the lord, an extension of his hand, sent to do as he deemed fit. Yet this many of us falling will upset the balance.” Giving the other a grave look as he turned, he walked away from the window. ”I do not look forward to these coming days.”
They looked so pretty, just like the comets that whizzed through space without one care. So when the Doctor looked up and saw them, actually saw the so called shooting stars that everyone on the street were pointing and standing in awe from his stomach dropped. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Eye catching and exhilarating. It was—
It was something unnatural.
“Rassilon’s sake…”And the Doctor couldn’t help but stand there in awe, his stomach feeling hollow, his hearts racing faster and faster. His undying need to follow one of them down and figure out exactly what they were growing with every second. With every tick of time. “What is going on…?”
At first, Michael didn’t intend to approach the odd man, even though he could feel the power. He was strong in his own way, he was old. He wasn’t human in any form. But he was important, he could feel that much. His steps rang out, the soft padding of the leather shoe simple and neat, the suit and jacket close to his body. ”You are witnessing the fall of Heaven,” It was simple, it was cold, he could feel things shift within him still, the battle of light and dark, the feathers that simply couldn’t stay- that were changing hues faster than he could blink.
Soon he wouldn’t be the Michael he had tried so hard to be. To learn from all this lessons, he would backtrack. ”My Father’s favorite has finally inherited the throne, and shunned the rest of his siblings. I believe Father said the meek shall inherit the Earth.” He sighed, glancing towards the sky. ”I believe he may have had the wrong home in that line.”
Even though she was a demon, she knew what was happening. She had seen it in the eyes of the angel she had been gifted with a time ago. The sight of them falling like that broke her heart more than she was willing to admit out loud.
Finding Michael wasn’t difficult. Over time, Cordae had picked up on some of his habits and where he tended to linger. She couldn’t imagine him being on his own.
Although everything served it’s purpose, even she was unsure what the meaning for this event was.
“Hello Michael,” she whispered, sliding beside him and casting a worried look at him.
“Cordae.” The word was out of his lips before he even turned. He was changing, there was no doubt about that. A slow and gradual decent, without the physical fall. ”I was not going to wait for my fall to Earth. I had my descent into the cage, and I had must admit I had no interest in following my brothers flight pattern.” He gave a faint smile, fixing his sleeves as he did.
“I suppose I should have, perhaps I would have become human and passed away on impact and saved many a fallen angel of power.” His hands shifted behind his back as he took a few steps towards the window. They were still falling, and he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop his eyes following each jagged line, being able to spot every feather.
“I caused many to burn up in this fashion, in the original war of the angels,” He murmured. ”I could not stop watching them either. It is not pride, it is- respect. Mourning the final moments within God’s grace, while they cannot. The pain is too great.”
He had heard the whispers. Metatron was spotted, Castiel was striking back. The scribe who had disappeared, the scribe who God had taken so close, pushing the angels away. Pushing the ones he’d given power, such as Michael - and had taken that time to step away. No matter what Naomi chose to do, no matter what she would feel was necessary, the fact that he wasn’t in the cage was a secret. The fact that he was on Earth now- something closely guarded.
The fact that he walked away from Heaven - something he kept to himself. Lingering on Earth, he could feel the burn. The pull at his wings that caused a panic, and a long tired sigh from his lips. There was a darkness creeping in as the light faded. As his essence started to change. ”Castiel.” The word was both forgiveness and damnation, a frustration unspoken. The day they had told him to watch over the Winchesters, had been the day they damned heaven and themselves.
As every moment passed, his wings grew heavier, knowing there were feathers starting to linger, and he could feel it. The pain that clenched at in very being, that pulled at him, making him grimace, closing his eyes tighter. By the time he opened them again, the sky was bright with those fallen siblings as they sailed towards the ground as comets.
It was the old regime once more. It was when they had rounded them up and threw them out- yet so much worse. There were so many more- and though his tears were quickly drying as he could feel something start to change - they were genuine.
Home had fallen, at the hands of a member of the secretarial pool.
I wish I could have let the illusion last. But she was so afraid and asking so many questions, it just didn’t feel right to lie to her. Trying my best for her though. Kid means the world to me.
Not everyone will agree, but I do feel that being honest with the child is best. You will have more trust from that child for that reason, I believe.
Mock? No, never. I may speak sarcasm strongly, but never in an instance like this. I’m honestly curious. I want the truth, not the fluffy wings and golden harp story that most people hear about. Well, in that instance, you’re the one in charge. Although, just so we’re on the same page, what exactly is it you’re doing? I highly doubt it’s following in the family’s name, taking over the business and proceeding to completely change the direction of the company.
I do not think that completely meets the intents of my actions. I seek to take my place in Heaven, as my father intended before he caused Enoch to rise into an angel, and lead my brethren to a place of free will. Where we are no longer as we are. I have hopes it will lead to less death in our civil war we have been fighting since the creation of humanity. We have become personally involved in your battles, and it has driven us to even more distance and war between our own kind, and is time we step back and take care of our own, before we attempt to even touch our other father’s creations.
As for my kind, no, we do not have harps and our wings are rather rough to the touch, and only show when we are on Earth. I am not sure of the reasons father designed us in such a fashion, but while within Heaven’s boundaries, we are light, only light. *licks his lips and seems to think on how best to say this* Before Earth existed, before the universe, my brethren and I were created by my father. It was at once, a creation of a Heavenly host and servitude was to be our aim. There are countless numbers of us, and yet, we are merely heat and light. We are the reflections of my father’s light and apparent love, existing to follow his every order and whim. It lasted only until our first questions were voiced. We were created to be warriors. We are not peaceful, we are not kind and gentle. We destroyed whole cities, our nephellim, the children of angels and humanity, caused the flood Noah struggled to survive, from the simple reason that they were sheer monsters that were pure violence and blood lust. It is rumored one survived.
We are the soldiers of God, and much of humanity has adapted to the idea that this means we care. While that is partially true, it is the same element of how humanity cares for the insects in it’s garden. While you are aware they exist, and you are aware that they may be able to harm you, even kill you in the right sense, they are hardly of import over all.
I apologize if any of this offends, it is merely clearing the air of the misinformation that has accumulated.