jeriendhal | (no subject)

He lies, he lies, he lies… The dissonance screeched in Christopher’s ears, and he let out a whimper of pain. The shrinking, rational portion of his mind recognized the destructive act of Cherubic self-resonance, as he tried to deny to the Truths he needed to know. The greater portion of his mind didn’t care, and could hear the chalkboard screams in his head. It can not be Truth. It can not!

The door opened, and Druiel slipped through, careful to stay out of the range of Christopher’s Celestial form, which was held into place by a spiked Will collar and a short length of chain.

“You look like shit, Dad.” Druiel… Druiel wasn’t looking at him. Was staring at the walls, staring at the ceiling, was staring everywhere except right at Christopher.

“Hurrhh,” Christopher murmured, unable to gather energy to speak further.

Druiel stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and finally met Christopher’s gaze. “Just wanted to see you one more time before Andre dumped you. You’re lucky. Turns out you’re gonna go free.”

He swallowed, tasting blood (not real blood, how could there be in the Celestial realms?) “F-free?”

“Yeah, Prince Pretty Boi is gonna be taking you for a meet with Zaddy to hand you over. Lucky you.”

“W-why?” I know why. Let it not be Truth, please God.

Druiel kneeled down to get a little closer. “You can’t guess?”

“No, no, no!” Christopher growled. “He cannot have Retzel! They would not give her to him!” They would do anything, if they thought they could. They murdered the Grigori of Children. They would… would not… would… wouldnotwouldwouldwouldnotnotnotnotnotnotnotnot… He screamed in pain as the broken, bleeding wings tore themselves through his skin, flapping open uselessly, rotting grey feathers falling away.

Druiel backed away from him, so fast his shoulders bounced up against the far wall. “Blessit, what the fuck is the matter with you? You’re going home, you bastard!”

“Can’t… trade… me… for… her. Can’t… They can’t…”

“Hey, at least you’re getting out of here. You know Lord Rottting Flesh hasn’t let me have Earthside duty since I came down here?”

Christopher blinked, focusing on Druiel instead of his own pain. “Stop being… so selfish…”

“Oh, fuck you very much, Dad. At least I came down to visit again, after Pretty Prince beat the shit out of me.” He waved a bracelet in Christopher’s face. “Had to take a geas shackle from a lilim just to get healed up properly.”

“Why…?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you… come back?”

“Fuck if I know,” Druiel growled. He shook his head. “Just wanted to see you before you went back up, I guess. Make sure I remembered why I came down here”

“I thought… you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” He made as if to kick at Christopher, but then apprently thought better of getting in striking distance of the Cherub’s bearish jaws. “It’s better down here. I can do anything I want!”

Oh, my child. “You just said… Saminga won’t… let you go… Earthside.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to!”

“Maybe… you just think… you don’t want to… Balseraph.”

“Shut up, Dad!” This time Druiel didn’t hesitate, and the kick caught Christopher under his jaw, shattering teeth. “Just shut up!”

Christopher said nothing after that, of course. But after that, there wasn’t much to be said anyway.

TBC