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.”
“That’s true”, replied the god with a slight chuckle of his own. The chuckle was one of observation, not of amusement. The souls in Elysium would just have to adjust to the influx of souls coming to join them. And as for Tartarus, those there deserved their punishment and if it was cramped then so be it. The god took a breath and thought about how worn the transfer would leave him. But it was worth it. Not only was he aiding Michael with something, he was helping all those souls.
“I will speak with Hades”, he said softly. “Tartarus will have room and employment for demons with the increase in souls entering. The Erinyes can’t possibly look after the big of a number all on their own. Though my nieces are great at their job.” Iacchos smiled faintly. ”I know how the demons of Lucifer’s making were formed. Unlike ours, who were born like that… They were turned into it… I know…” Iacchos took a deep breath.
The sadness felt by the wine god on the whole situation was clearly displayed in his eyes. Tears stung the corner of his eyes as he listened to the angel speak of replacement. “After all these centuries I see you again, only to find out eventually I’ll lose you forever. Gods, what a reunion.” The god’s voice shook and his lower lip trembled as he spoke.
“As long as one can keep the demons busy,” Michael stated softly, glancing towards the other. ”You have time with my kind around Earth, but most of the higher levels of angels, from the powers up, have not leave Heaven for any reason. Our foot soldiers, the weakest of them, have disappeared. Soon Earth will be without our protection, though, I am not sure if this is a bad thing.”
Pausing to let his gaze linger on the other, his hands still behind his back, he gave a small twitch of a smile, reaching up to brush away one of the tears. ”Do not cry, old friend,” He stated softly. ”All things have their time, and I suppose as do the angelic kind. Perhaps Father will return and bring us back as we were one day, and yet, I hope not. It would be a large step back, unless he restored us to what we were as we are now. Our time will pass, it has passed.”
Iacchos smiled brightly in return at Michael, oh how he’d missed him. Iacchos wanted to walk right up to him and pull him close. But it had been a long time and he didn’t expect Michael to be as human as he was before their parting. The angel had been among his brethren a long time and Iacchos away from his. The wine god took a breath and watched his old friend. He could tell how Michael had aged, his eyes reflecting an age seeming even older than Iacchos. They’d both been through their share of troubles, but Michael had to deal with much more in the past eons than Iacchos did.
Iacchos looked down and laughed a bit himself. “You don’t have to pick it back up, you know”, he replied, his own speech much more like the mortals than it used to be. It was a result of snubbing the majority of his pantheon and almost all other pantheons. He’d made a life for himself away from the other, keeping up his duties while avoiding all those that weren’t vital to his existence. Iacchos slightly tilted his head up and smiled at Michael, but his smile soon faltered.
Iacchos listened to Michael speak and took a deep breath. Long ago he had been told that something like this could happen, but he had hoped and prayed it wouldn’t. It seemed that not even the pleas of a god could change what fate had decided. The wine god listened carefully taking in every word and committing it to memory. “I’m here when ever you need me, old friend. As always, I’m forever at your service.”
When Michael spoke of the levels of Heaven fading is when the god went completely silent. What was he supposed to say to that? He had no words. He knew Michael was speaking of the angels. After a few moments Iacchos forced his attention back to the souls. “I- uh, yes, of course. I can help with that. Elysium and Tartarus have lots of room.”
Iacchos took a breath and then stepped forward to Michael and placed a hand softly on his vessel’s cheek. He looked the angel in his vessel’s eyes as he spoke. “Does this…” He started off. “Does this mean…” Iacchos couldn’t even finish the sentence as his emotions crashed over him. The wine god pursed his lips to hide their trembling. He continued to breath deeply as he just stared.
“Elysium and Tartarus began having room when Father insisted on going his own way,” Michael commented with a low chuckle. There was no praise of his father in that comment, and yet, it was void of the anger he had so long ago. There was some level of Michael that understood his father, even if his heart was breaking that the God had left his angels to fade into nothing.
The souls had to be taken care of, far before the angels were concerned. It was their duty. They had watched over them, and sadly, hell would be involved as well. ”Hell will go cold as well, leaving the demons, who are not related to myself, the ones that- that were created by my brother, will live on. I’m afraid it is up to your kind to take that burden. They are human souls- twisted and changed-” He sighed, looking to the grass, for a moment, the sky, and stopping-
Shifting his gaze to look the wine god in the eyes, he gave a slow sad smile in answer. There was no need for words, despite the light within the vessel, there was only a limited time left in Michael’s existence. ”I have appointed that a seraphim or cherubim is to take my place in Heaven, one that will be around for longer than an archangel will.”
Centuries passed on earth where Iacchos remained. He never ended up going back to the Mountain, it held no appeal for him. He remained on earth where his sons and daughters grew, had children of their own and his linage continued on. He watched over and kept track of all his descendants and continued to live a life with Korus, Hades, Ember, Bromios, and Agape. But in his heart and he always missed Michael. There were times when he’d spend hours staring up at the heavens, thinking of the angel, sending a small prayer and then continuing on as he had to. When he was gone too long Korus would send one of their children to fetch, reminding him that he had a life to return to.
Iacchos had always understood that this separation from the angel would happen. He knew that Michael had a greater responsibility and purpose. And quite honestly Iacchos was as proud as ever, knowing his dear one took up that responsibility. It couldn’t have been easy, but Iacchos always had faith in the angel. Long before this need for Michael to step up, Iacchos had known it was his destiny and birthright. Iacchos still wore the heart Michael gifted him all those eons ago.
He was off on another one of his sky gazing trips. His hand griped the pendant as hey laid in the field staring up at the skies. All Iacchos had to keep him company was the memories now. No one seemed to understand his need for going off this way. Korus would insist that it was a waste of time as over the eons he’d become annoyed with the habit and how much time it took out of their days. But Iacchos listened to no one; he needed the moments away as much as he needed anything else he held vital in life.
But on this day the wind swept the land a little different, the sun shone in a different hue, and the flowers swayed with a different way. All these little things caught Iacchos eye as he appeared in the center of the field. Iacchos looked up at the sky and then after so many centuries felt Michael’s grace and then he heard his voice; the same voice as when they parted. Iacchos teleported to the angel’s location and stood before him.
The god remained for a few moments, in awe that fates had allowed him this. His expression carried slight disbelief at first and then a softness took hold of his expression. Iacchos took a deep breath and then finally spoke. “Michael…” the god said softly, speaking the name aloud after so very long. Iacchos again parted his lips to speak, but said nothing and simply smiled at his dear one. There were many things he wished to say, but suddenly he found his mind blank.
The angel was the man he once was, dark hair short, blue eyes bright in the light, dressed in the suit of the days he had lived on Earth for long periods. He was tall still, his grace just as bright as the day he was made, but he knew that wouldn’t last. He knew, like all things of his religion, he was limited. He couldn’t help but smile at the other, eyes lingering over the necklace over the other’s shirt, the heart he had given the other man, before he reached into his own shirt, pulling out the simple pendent. ”I never lost it, old friend, even if I could not use such physical forms in Heaven.”
Taking a few steps to look over the land, he was old- older than he had been when they last met. Older than he should be- but that was part of being a leader, guiding his angels, trying to help his race survive. ”I do not-” He caught himself with a slight laugh, head dipping a little, tongue darting over his lips. ”I have been in Heaven for much too long, I slip into old patterns. Let us see if I can pick up on the speech as I became accustomed to before I left.” He smiled at the other, his laugh rich along the land, clearing his throat as he seemed to think it over.
“For all this frivolity I’m using, I’m afraid I don’t come with good news,” He stated, seeming to carefully pick his words, then closing his eyes, savoring the sound of them. The way they flowed, the shortened words. The words of humanity, not the overly formal attempt to blend in of angels. His words weren’t quite completely blending in, he never did, but he had adjusted in some ways. ”My brethren are going to need your assistance in Heaven, though I do not think it will be for some time.” His expression darkened as he remembered why he came, turning to look at Iacchos, frown in place now, searching the other’s eyes.
“Heaven is darkening, Iacchos, and with it will come a cold that the souls of Heaven and our hell have never felt. Action will have to be taken soon, for the lowest levels of heaven have darkened, and the light is fading, the souls will need a new home. I must ask your help, I’m afraid.”
Michael hadn’t set foot on Earth in years, picking up his responsibilities, and letting time go by. Serving as vice roy, things had been wary, but picking up. And after a few thousand years (hundreds on Earth) he managed to begin switching things around. He could smile as he saw fellow angels speaking up for what they wanted, as they started to seek their own actions, rather than following the word of their missing father-
and it started. It was subtle and slow, in ways they didn’t notice until it was too late for some. Heaven began to dim, ever so slightly, among the lower levels, and angels began to leave heaven- or so they thought. It was only when alarm rose, and they were asked of, that Michael found he could not sense them. They were not in Heaven, Earth, Limbo, Purgatory or Hell. They were not in other realms. They had faded out.
It was then they noticed.
It was then they cried.
That angels sought relief, blamed Michael for leading them down the path away from their father, blamed the seraphim for sitting quiet within their throne room, their father for leaving-
And Michael could only stare. Watch at them from his own chair, not the throne like his father had, but a modest chair at the end of the assembly of angels he had arranged. His chin on his palm, fingers on the side of his face as he watched the accusations, heard the panicked cries of a race that was dying because their father had left them to it.
Slowly rising from his chair, it scraped as he shifted, the angels turning, eyes wide, expecting a word, a demand. Instead, he started from the room, his robes moving around him, feeling those tears sting in his eyes, but not fall. He had hardened over the years, changed.
“Where are you going?”
“You can’t leave us like father did.”
Swallowing, he turned, giving a faint smile. ”My brothers, sisters, we are dying. Our race has a limited time left. Those of higher levels, will survive longer. I suppose Metatron is gone. Seek a seraphim or other figure to take my place. I am an archangel. I have little time, and I wish to say good bye to those I love.”
It was something unexpected, and he took advantage of it, stepping out of the doors as the objections behind him rose, closing the doors- and closing his eyes, feeling the warmth of home. Knowing it was dying. They were light reflected, they were not meant to last forever.
It’s what led him to land on the ground of Earth once more, taking a few steps onto the grassy land, looking over the landscape and fixing his vessels clothing. He had brought him back from the dead for this purpose, the favorite of many, this body.
It’s what led him to Iacchos’ realm, his steps slow and heavy, hands behind his back, smiling faintly at the religion that would likely reclaim Earth, unless one of the other’s took over. Their time was done, and it was time to accept it. ”Iacchos?” It was odd to hear himself in a human voice once more. It had been so very long.
AU//Micheal and Iacchos go away
Time has marched on, and Michael managed to take control as vice-roy of Heaven, changing the ways, slowly but surely. Just as relative peace began to take hold, as they began to think for themselves, Heaven began to darken. The throne room’s darkness started to spread like an illness, and the weakest angels, the ones that were the furthest from God, began to simply disappear and fade away, dying. Michael’s prediction was correct. Figures who demanded to know why he had not prepared them for this sought him out, and he fled to the Gods, where he found his oldest friend, and love. From his confession of their fate, Iacchos talked Michael into giving into a side of him, that love that was there, and to live out the rest of existence with him in a way he couldn’t before. In a relationship. Moving back in time to the present, so that Michael could live out the rest of his days among the light of home, and in times of peace, the relationship is blooming and growing, neither quite sure what they are doing, and both full of guilt.
Pride is a funny thing.
I merely mean that they earn their talent. Humanity learns to create such pieces through hard work and sacrifice, mine is a gift from father. I cannot take pride in something that was not mine to begin with.
And so they should, old friend. Your craftsmanship is impeccable.
I envy humanity that can take the pride in their work.
He’s confused about them, he’s not sure of what he feels for who.
His interest is purely romantic, there is no lust involved, as he still does not understand it, and it is likely he will never enjoy sex as humanity does, with what he is. He will always be disconnected to it, and while it will feel pleasant on some level, it will always be the body that is getting the pleasure, and not him.
He has a possibility of falling in love with others (women or men), or being confused if he does or not, as time goes by. I do not know who or where or when he will, or even if he will. It will be more the muses choice than mine, as it was with those three on top. It was a sudden realization with the way he was acting with them, he was realizing what was going on. I do not claim control over the muse.
In no way does this mean he expects a relationship, he sees all three loves as doomed, as all three are heavy on lust, and all of them have their own complications towards it. He does not expect the love to actually develop towards anything long lasting, merely an affection.
He (and the mod) also do not expect for the love always to be returned. Sometimes love is one-sided, it’s just a tragedy of life.
//these two gifs just kill me~
//Mikey looks so lost in the first one. x.x