"Sinking", continued
Jan. 25th, 2005 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalNotes: In Nomine, PG-13 for violence and making the Canon cry like a little girl.
The Boneyard, AZ
Zadkiel glanced at the bodies of giants that littered the desert floor, their bodies bleaching in the cold light of the sun. The aircraft, abandoned because of their owners’ poverty, neglect, or merely age, were parked haphazardly around the shuttered airport. From her point of view it wasn’t an ideal location to conduct this ugly business, there were far too many places for potential snipers to hide among the dead airliners, but at least the area around the runway was open.
“What now, Milady?” Elsa asked beside her, wearing the vessel of a tall woman of African descent. She’d chosen to manifest her Oath chains openly, wrapped as heavy silver jewelry at her forearms and as a belt. Zadkiel wore her usual Earthside form, matronly and comforting. I could use some comfort myself right now.
“Wait for Andrealphus, and then hopefully get Christopher back. God forgive us.”
Disturbance clanged in the Symphony, and Andrealphus appeared. His form was female, and to an undiscerning eye beautiful, though to Zadkiel it was just gaudy, with impossibly heavy breasts, pouting lips, and eyes that begged to be stared into. Whore indeed.
A figure stepped out from behind him, young, handsome, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Zadkiel heard Elsa draw in a surprised breath. Druiel.
“Oh, how dare he…” Elsa hissed.
“Not one song, not one note, Elsa,” Zadkiel whispered urgently. “We are here to recover Christopher and nothing else.”
“Yes, Milady,” Elsa growled.
“Hello, Zadkiel darling!” Andrealphus greeted with much false cheer. “And who is this with you?”
“I am Elsa, Malakite of Creation, Angel of Halloween Candy, in service to Children,” Elsa answered, her voice tight and controlled.
“Ah, so what would you say if I offered you some candy, little girl?” Andrealphus asked.
“I’m more inclined to ask why Druiel is here, Andrealphus,” Zadkiel intervened. Elsa drew in a breath and visibly clamped down on her anger.
“Because he wanted to be, Zadkiel,” Andrealphus answered. “The poor boy just wants to give his old superior a nice sendoff. Don’t you think that’s sweet?” Andre patted Druiel’s shoulder, and the Balseraph smiled at them. And if you crack one joke, make one remark against your former Archangel, I will have your head, traitor, Zadkiel thought savagely.
“Let’s get this over with, Lord Andrealphus,” she said. “Bring Christopher here.”
Andre’s smile became just a hair tighter. “My darling Retzel first, Zadkiel. I’m not so much the fool that I’ll allow two of Heaven’s superiors to face just myself, even if Chrissie is feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Very well.”
Andre’s smile sharpened further. “You did prepare her as I requested, did you not, Lady Zadkiel?”
“Yes, damn you,” Zadkiel snarled. She sang briefly, and took Retzel down from Heaven, to stand upon the Earth for the first time in twenty thousand years.
Naked, bound in chains and Will shackles, Retzel blinked, taking in the alien landscape around her, the desert, the bones of the aircraft, the harsh, unblinking sun. “Is this… is this Hell, Lady Zadkiel?” she asked timidly.
“Retzel,” Andrealphus called out, and Retzel turned to stare at him, eyes wide with hope. Then her eyes examined his form, and grew narrow, and her face fell.
“Not Hell, this is the Earth,” Zadkiel said. He is not what he was, Retzel, I’m sorry. You held out hope for him, for thousand upon thousands of years, and it was for nothing.
“Come here, darling Retzel!” Andrealphus called out. “It’s been so very, very long. We’ll have such fun together!” He clasped his hands, a hunger in his eyes that he didn’t even try to hide. How long has this itch been waiting to be scratched, Demon Prince, how long?
Zadkiel laid a hand on Retzel’s bare shoulder. She was starting to shiver from the cold. At the very least from the cold. “Bring Christopher here, Andre,” Zadkiel called out, “or we take Retzel home, and you’ll never see her again.”
Andre sang, the notes torn from his personal band screeching in Zadkiel’s ears, and Christopher appeared, crouching on the ground, his face hidden.
As Retzel was naked and chained, so was Christopher. But unlike Retzel, he not endured his confinement so well. Whip scars marked his body, bleeding onto the runway’s tarmac. Open sores bled from his hands and feet. Bloody, broken wings pierced his back. A thick, pink, useless tail fell to the ground behind him, and blunted horns emerged from his head.
“Oh, no. Oh, God in Heaven, no,” Elsa murmured, her face grown pale. Retzel brought her bound hands up to hide her eyes and weep.
This was worse, much worse than Zadkiel had been expecting, even with Lilith’s warning about Christopher going Dissonant. The Discord marked and tore at his soul, and there would be no removing it.
“Christopher… Christopher!” Zadkiel called out. He looked up at her, rising with difficulty, his eyes wide and empty.
“Zad-- Zadkiel,” he said painfully, his voice deepened by the Discord, grating, “El--sa. Ret-- no, no… not Retzel… please not Retzel…”
“What did you do to him, Andrealphus!” Zadkiel cried out. “What in the name of Heaven’s Host did you do?”
“Do? I did nothing to him, at least nothing that he wouldn’t normally recover from in time,” Andrealphus said cheerfully. “Oh, I suppose I did mention one or two little facts of life to him. Such as how the opening to his current job came about. Seems he wasn’t briefed on his predecessor’s perfidy, or what Stone and Creation did to her afterward. Imagine that.”
“Zadkiel…” Christopher rasped, “tell me that… he lies… tell me that he spoke lies.”
“You two can talk later, Chrissie,” Andrea said. “Retzel, come to Momma.”
“No! No bargains! You can not have her! I deny this!” Christopher screamed. “I deny it! Zadkiel, tell me he lies!”
Zadkiel closed her eyes briefly, then forced herself to meet Christopher’s desperate gaze. “I am sorry, Christopher. Andrealphus, in this one thing, speaks Truth. There was an Archangel with the Word of Children before you ever existed. She was one of the Grigori, and was Outcast with them, for it was her that perpetuated their sin of hiding the Nephalim from the Host. For that, even after being Outcast, she was hunted down by Heaven and vilely murdered. I’m sorry, it is Truth, and may you someday forgive us for it.”
“No…” Christopher collapsed to his knees, covering his head with his arms, the Discord roiling his body. Druiel, who had remained silent during the exchange, blanched and stepped back from his former superior, as if fearing his taint.
“He Falling, oh dear God he’s Falling,” Elsa exclaimed. “Milady Zadkiel we have to help him!”
“Andrealphus! Give Christopher to us now!” Zadkiel called out.
“Retzel first, Zadkiel!” Andrealphus shouted back, “Else all you’re going to get back is a djinn in chains to execute. I’m sure the rest of the Host will look forward to seeing history repeat itself.”
“It’s all right, Milady,” Retzel said softly, her eyes upon the Discordant archangel that had sheltered her. “I will go to him, for good or ill. Please, be merciful with Christopher, when you take him home.” She stepped away from Zadkiel and Elsa, the chains of her shackles rattling on the broken tarmac of the runway.
“Don’t you want to stop her, Christopher?” Andrealphus asked.
In answer, Christopher only shook his head and moaned, “I don’t care. I don’t care…” Zadkiel could have wept as she heard the Angelic words slowly begin to twist themselves into Helltongue.
“Retzel, come here, darling,” Andrealphus crooned. He gathered his last servitor in his arms as she reached him.
“Lord Andrealphus, please let Christopher go,” she said, wincing as he held her tightly.
“That’s Prince Andrealphus, little Retzel,” he said, his fingers brushing through her hair, grabbing hold, pulling her head back painfully as he began to invade her mouth. Retzel let out a muffled cry of pain, and beside Zadkiel, Elsa flinched.
“My Lady, what should we do?” the Malakite demanded.
“We can’t face down two demon princes, Elsa, I’m sorry,” Zadkiel said, “I can’t face them both.”
“Christopher isn’t, Christopher won’t,” Elsa said desperately. She rushed forward, heedless of Zadkiel’s cries of warning. “Christopher! Stop! You have not Fallen yet! You are still an archangel!”
“It doesn’t matter, Elsa. Go away,” Christopher growled. “There is no place in Heaven for me now.”
“Elsa! Get back here now!” Zadkiel called out.
The Malakite kneeled beside Christopher, cupping his head in her hands. “Christopher, you have been loyal to me, as my Creator was not. You have always spoken Truth to me, and listened when I spoke Truth in turn. You never demanded more of my oaths than I was able to give. You will not Fall, Lord Christopher! And if you do… then… I will find some way to Fall with you! Malakite chains or not, I will Fall with you!”
“Go away, Malakite,” Andrealphus said, as he released Retzel’s hair, leaving the Mercurian weeping in pain. He raised a hand to strike Elsa…
At which point several things happened at once.
…Christopher caught Andrealphus’ arm and screamed, “She is MINE!”
…Zadkiel began to run forward, drawing a gun from her coat.
….Druiel grabbed at Retzel, yanking her out of Andre’s grasp.
…Elsa leaped upward, catching Andre in the stomach with her shoulder.
Christopher pulled Andre down toward him, trying to get the Prince of Lust caught in his chains. Meanwhile Andre fired a blast of pure force at Druiel, who had manifested a pair of wings and was trying to fly away with a struggling Retzel. He also kicked at Elsa with his Superior level strength, sending her flying across the Boneyard to crash through the body of an airliner lying in pieces on the ground. Zadkiel raised up her gun, trying to find a clear shot between the struggling figures.
The blast caught Druiel and Retzel full on, sending them both crashing to the earth. Christopher let out another wordless scream, and held onto Andre’s arm with all of his remaining strength, screaming invective at Lust in a mixture of Helltongue and Angelic.
“Mine! Mine! Mine! Elsa is MINE, you can’t have her!” he screamed. “You can’t have Retzel! You can’t have EITHER of them! I LOVE THEM!”
Andre, probably realizing he couldn’t handle fighting off Christopher and dodging Zadkiel’s fire, began to sing up a Song of Motion to get away.
And that was when the Symphony began to sing in Zadkiel’s ears, in a manner she truly hadn’t heard for quite some time. A bright glow began to envelope Christopher, and he screamed as the Light began to burn away the Discord entrapping his form. Zadkiel couldn’t turn away, even as the Light threatened to blind her, even as Andre began to scream in earnest as the outer corona brushed against his Vessel.
Then the Light began to fade, leaving her blinking, the previously harsh light of the desert almost appearing to nighttime by comparison, though there was enough to cast Christopher in a shadow…
…no, not a shadow, Zadkiel thought blankly. The naked, pale, and chained Cherub was gone. In his place was another sort of sort of angel, still naked, still chained, but dark in countenance, as Christopher never had truly been.
“Mine, Andrealphus,” the Malakite Archangel repeated, as Lust struggled in his grasp. And then he grasped Andre’s neck in one hand and twisted. Zadkiel heard the Forces that made up Andre scream as he tried to abandon the broken Vessel, but Christopher was too quick. The blast of pure Celestial fire Christopher’s hand caught Andre’s insubstantial Celestial form straight on, scattering his Forces to the Symphony in a Dissonant cry that deafened Zadkiel and must have been heard over the entire Earth and beyond.
And then there was a long moment of silence, broken only by the wind whistling through the aluminum hulks that surrounded them. Christopher lowered his hand, looking at the black chains that bound him, now not of Will, but of Oath.
“Christopher… what…?” Zadkiel began to ask. But Christopher was moving away, heading in the direction of where the three servitors had fallen.
Elsa was pulling herself out of the aircraft’s wreckage, hand over hand, dragging her shattered legs and lower torso behind her. As Zadkiel had, she stopped in mute surprise when she caught sight of Christopher’s new form.
“Zadkiel, please heal Elsa. I must find Retzel,” he ordered, manifesting a pair of black wings and taking to the air.
“Ahh, Lady Zadkiel, what happened?” Elsa asked, as Zadkiel laid her hands on her wounds and sang them away.
“Deux ex Machina,” Zadkiel answered, “quite literally.” With Elsa healed now, they both took to the air, to find Christopher kneeling over the unconscious forms of Druiel and Retzel. Druiel had taken the full brunt of Andre’s blast, apparently shielding Retzel, and they had both landed on the hard packed desert floor near the remains of a needle nosed military jet.
“Retzel, Druiel, awaken,” Christopher said softly, placing one hand on each of their bodies. The song of Healing glowed about them, and they both said up, joining Elsa and Zadkiel in staring in wonderment at his new form.
“What happened to you, Lord Christopher. Where… where is Lord Andrealphus?” Retzel asked hesitantly.
“By God’s will I have changed, dear Retzel,” Christopher answered, taking hold of her hand gently. “And by God’s will, I was given the strength to scatter Andre’s Forces back into the Symphony. He is dead, Retzel. I’m sorry if this pains you.”
“My Archangel was dead before that,” Retzel answered sadly. “God forgive me for not seeing that, and hiding myself away.”
“Do not apologize for holding onto your faith, Retzel,” Zadkiel said. “You held onto the hope that even a Demon Prince might Redeem, which is more strength of conviction than many Archangels could claim. There is no shame in that.”
“Speaking of shame…” Elsa leaned over Druiel, who was looking rather conflicted, somewhere between a trapped animal and a child about to be rescued. “What were you up to when you flew off with Retzel like that?”
“He was hurting her,” Druiel answered simply. “And he had hurt Christopher. And I tried to tell myself that they deserved it, and they were weak, but I…” He shook his head, and tears began to flow from his eyes.
Christopher took hold of the shoulders of his former servitor, and made the Balseraph face him. “Druiel, Balseraph Demon of Teenage Death, do you wish to Redeem?” he asked sharply.
“I… I don’t know if I should… I don’t know if I can… I don’t know…”
“A good start,” Christopher said, and drew Druiel up into the Light of Heaven.
TBC
The Boneyard, AZ
Zadkiel glanced at the bodies of giants that littered the desert floor, their bodies bleaching in the cold light of the sun. The aircraft, abandoned because of their owners’ poverty, neglect, or merely age, were parked haphazardly around the shuttered airport. From her point of view it wasn’t an ideal location to conduct this ugly business, there were far too many places for potential snipers to hide among the dead airliners, but at least the area around the runway was open.
“What now, Milady?” Elsa asked beside her, wearing the vessel of a tall woman of African descent. She’d chosen to manifest her Oath chains openly, wrapped as heavy silver jewelry at her forearms and as a belt. Zadkiel wore her usual Earthside form, matronly and comforting. I could use some comfort myself right now.
“Wait for Andrealphus, and then hopefully get Christopher back. God forgive us.”
Disturbance clanged in the Symphony, and Andrealphus appeared. His form was female, and to an undiscerning eye beautiful, though to Zadkiel it was just gaudy, with impossibly heavy breasts, pouting lips, and eyes that begged to be stared into. Whore indeed.
A figure stepped out from behind him, young, handsome, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Zadkiel heard Elsa draw in a surprised breath. Druiel.
“Oh, how dare he…” Elsa hissed.
“Not one song, not one note, Elsa,” Zadkiel whispered urgently. “We are here to recover Christopher and nothing else.”
“Yes, Milady,” Elsa growled.
“Hello, Zadkiel darling!” Andrealphus greeted with much false cheer. “And who is this with you?”
“I am Elsa, Malakite of Creation, Angel of Halloween Candy, in service to Children,” Elsa answered, her voice tight and controlled.
“Ah, so what would you say if I offered you some candy, little girl?” Andrealphus asked.
“I’m more inclined to ask why Druiel is here, Andrealphus,” Zadkiel intervened. Elsa drew in a breath and visibly clamped down on her anger.
“Because he wanted to be, Zadkiel,” Andrealphus answered. “The poor boy just wants to give his old superior a nice sendoff. Don’t you think that’s sweet?” Andre patted Druiel’s shoulder, and the Balseraph smiled at them. And if you crack one joke, make one remark against your former Archangel, I will have your head, traitor, Zadkiel thought savagely.
“Let’s get this over with, Lord Andrealphus,” she said. “Bring Christopher here.”
Andre’s smile became just a hair tighter. “My darling Retzel first, Zadkiel. I’m not so much the fool that I’ll allow two of Heaven’s superiors to face just myself, even if Chrissie is feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Very well.”
Andre’s smile sharpened further. “You did prepare her as I requested, did you not, Lady Zadkiel?”
“Yes, damn you,” Zadkiel snarled. She sang briefly, and took Retzel down from Heaven, to stand upon the Earth for the first time in twenty thousand years.
Naked, bound in chains and Will shackles, Retzel blinked, taking in the alien landscape around her, the desert, the bones of the aircraft, the harsh, unblinking sun. “Is this… is this Hell, Lady Zadkiel?” she asked timidly.
“Retzel,” Andrealphus called out, and Retzel turned to stare at him, eyes wide with hope. Then her eyes examined his form, and grew narrow, and her face fell.
“Not Hell, this is the Earth,” Zadkiel said. He is not what he was, Retzel, I’m sorry. You held out hope for him, for thousand upon thousands of years, and it was for nothing.
“Come here, darling Retzel!” Andrealphus called out. “It’s been so very, very long. We’ll have such fun together!” He clasped his hands, a hunger in his eyes that he didn’t even try to hide. How long has this itch been waiting to be scratched, Demon Prince, how long?
Zadkiel laid a hand on Retzel’s bare shoulder. She was starting to shiver from the cold. At the very least from the cold. “Bring Christopher here, Andre,” Zadkiel called out, “or we take Retzel home, and you’ll never see her again.”
Andre sang, the notes torn from his personal band screeching in Zadkiel’s ears, and Christopher appeared, crouching on the ground, his face hidden.
As Retzel was naked and chained, so was Christopher. But unlike Retzel, he not endured his confinement so well. Whip scars marked his body, bleeding onto the runway’s tarmac. Open sores bled from his hands and feet. Bloody, broken wings pierced his back. A thick, pink, useless tail fell to the ground behind him, and blunted horns emerged from his head.
“Oh, no. Oh, God in Heaven, no,” Elsa murmured, her face grown pale. Retzel brought her bound hands up to hide her eyes and weep.
This was worse, much worse than Zadkiel had been expecting, even with Lilith’s warning about Christopher going Dissonant. The Discord marked and tore at his soul, and there would be no removing it.
“Christopher… Christopher!” Zadkiel called out. He looked up at her, rising with difficulty, his eyes wide and empty.
“Zad-- Zadkiel,” he said painfully, his voice deepened by the Discord, grating, “El--sa. Ret-- no, no… not Retzel… please not Retzel…”
“What did you do to him, Andrealphus!” Zadkiel cried out. “What in the name of Heaven’s Host did you do?”
“Do? I did nothing to him, at least nothing that he wouldn’t normally recover from in time,” Andrealphus said cheerfully. “Oh, I suppose I did mention one or two little facts of life to him. Such as how the opening to his current job came about. Seems he wasn’t briefed on his predecessor’s perfidy, or what Stone and Creation did to her afterward. Imagine that.”
“Zadkiel…” Christopher rasped, “tell me that… he lies… tell me that he spoke lies.”
“You two can talk later, Chrissie,” Andrea said. “Retzel, come to Momma.”
“No! No bargains! You can not have her! I deny this!” Christopher screamed. “I deny it! Zadkiel, tell me he lies!”
Zadkiel closed her eyes briefly, then forced herself to meet Christopher’s desperate gaze. “I am sorry, Christopher. Andrealphus, in this one thing, speaks Truth. There was an Archangel with the Word of Children before you ever existed. She was one of the Grigori, and was Outcast with them, for it was her that perpetuated their sin of hiding the Nephalim from the Host. For that, even after being Outcast, she was hunted down by Heaven and vilely murdered. I’m sorry, it is Truth, and may you someday forgive us for it.”
“No…” Christopher collapsed to his knees, covering his head with his arms, the Discord roiling his body. Druiel, who had remained silent during the exchange, blanched and stepped back from his former superior, as if fearing his taint.
“He Falling, oh dear God he’s Falling,” Elsa exclaimed. “Milady Zadkiel we have to help him!”
“Andrealphus! Give Christopher to us now!” Zadkiel called out.
“Retzel first, Zadkiel!” Andrealphus shouted back, “Else all you’re going to get back is a djinn in chains to execute. I’m sure the rest of the Host will look forward to seeing history repeat itself.”
“It’s all right, Milady,” Retzel said softly, her eyes upon the Discordant archangel that had sheltered her. “I will go to him, for good or ill. Please, be merciful with Christopher, when you take him home.” She stepped away from Zadkiel and Elsa, the chains of her shackles rattling on the broken tarmac of the runway.
“Don’t you want to stop her, Christopher?” Andrealphus asked.
In answer, Christopher only shook his head and moaned, “I don’t care. I don’t care…” Zadkiel could have wept as she heard the Angelic words slowly begin to twist themselves into Helltongue.
“Retzel, come here, darling,” Andrealphus crooned. He gathered his last servitor in his arms as she reached him.
“Lord Andrealphus, please let Christopher go,” she said, wincing as he held her tightly.
“That’s Prince Andrealphus, little Retzel,” he said, his fingers brushing through her hair, grabbing hold, pulling her head back painfully as he began to invade her mouth. Retzel let out a muffled cry of pain, and beside Zadkiel, Elsa flinched.
“My Lady, what should we do?” the Malakite demanded.
“We can’t face down two demon princes, Elsa, I’m sorry,” Zadkiel said, “I can’t face them both.”
“Christopher isn’t, Christopher won’t,” Elsa said desperately. She rushed forward, heedless of Zadkiel’s cries of warning. “Christopher! Stop! You have not Fallen yet! You are still an archangel!”
“It doesn’t matter, Elsa. Go away,” Christopher growled. “There is no place in Heaven for me now.”
“Elsa! Get back here now!” Zadkiel called out.
The Malakite kneeled beside Christopher, cupping his head in her hands. “Christopher, you have been loyal to me, as my Creator was not. You have always spoken Truth to me, and listened when I spoke Truth in turn. You never demanded more of my oaths than I was able to give. You will not Fall, Lord Christopher! And if you do… then… I will find some way to Fall with you! Malakite chains or not, I will Fall with you!”
“Go away, Malakite,” Andrealphus said, as he released Retzel’s hair, leaving the Mercurian weeping in pain. He raised a hand to strike Elsa…
At which point several things happened at once.
…Christopher caught Andrealphus’ arm and screamed, “She is MINE!”
…Zadkiel began to run forward, drawing a gun from her coat.
….Druiel grabbed at Retzel, yanking her out of Andre’s grasp.
…Elsa leaped upward, catching Andre in the stomach with her shoulder.
Christopher pulled Andre down toward him, trying to get the Prince of Lust caught in his chains. Meanwhile Andre fired a blast of pure force at Druiel, who had manifested a pair of wings and was trying to fly away with a struggling Retzel. He also kicked at Elsa with his Superior level strength, sending her flying across the Boneyard to crash through the body of an airliner lying in pieces on the ground. Zadkiel raised up her gun, trying to find a clear shot between the struggling figures.
The blast caught Druiel and Retzel full on, sending them both crashing to the earth. Christopher let out another wordless scream, and held onto Andre’s arm with all of his remaining strength, screaming invective at Lust in a mixture of Helltongue and Angelic.
“Mine! Mine! Mine! Elsa is MINE, you can’t have her!” he screamed. “You can’t have Retzel! You can’t have EITHER of them! I LOVE THEM!”
Andre, probably realizing he couldn’t handle fighting off Christopher and dodging Zadkiel’s fire, began to sing up a Song of Motion to get away.
And that was when the Symphony began to sing in Zadkiel’s ears, in a manner she truly hadn’t heard for quite some time. A bright glow began to envelope Christopher, and he screamed as the Light began to burn away the Discord entrapping his form. Zadkiel couldn’t turn away, even as the Light threatened to blind her, even as Andre began to scream in earnest as the outer corona brushed against his Vessel.
Then the Light began to fade, leaving her blinking, the previously harsh light of the desert almost appearing to nighttime by comparison, though there was enough to cast Christopher in a shadow…
…no, not a shadow, Zadkiel thought blankly. The naked, pale, and chained Cherub was gone. In his place was another sort of sort of angel, still naked, still chained, but dark in countenance, as Christopher never had truly been.
“Mine, Andrealphus,” the Malakite Archangel repeated, as Lust struggled in his grasp. And then he grasped Andre’s neck in one hand and twisted. Zadkiel heard the Forces that made up Andre scream as he tried to abandon the broken Vessel, but Christopher was too quick. The blast of pure Celestial fire Christopher’s hand caught Andre’s insubstantial Celestial form straight on, scattering his Forces to the Symphony in a Dissonant cry that deafened Zadkiel and must have been heard over the entire Earth and beyond.
And then there was a long moment of silence, broken only by the wind whistling through the aluminum hulks that surrounded them. Christopher lowered his hand, looking at the black chains that bound him, now not of Will, but of Oath.
“Christopher… what…?” Zadkiel began to ask. But Christopher was moving away, heading in the direction of where the three servitors had fallen.
Elsa was pulling herself out of the aircraft’s wreckage, hand over hand, dragging her shattered legs and lower torso behind her. As Zadkiel had, she stopped in mute surprise when she caught sight of Christopher’s new form.
“Zadkiel, please heal Elsa. I must find Retzel,” he ordered, manifesting a pair of black wings and taking to the air.
“Ahh, Lady Zadkiel, what happened?” Elsa asked, as Zadkiel laid her hands on her wounds and sang them away.
“Deux ex Machina,” Zadkiel answered, “quite literally.” With Elsa healed now, they both took to the air, to find Christopher kneeling over the unconscious forms of Druiel and Retzel. Druiel had taken the full brunt of Andre’s blast, apparently shielding Retzel, and they had both landed on the hard packed desert floor near the remains of a needle nosed military jet.
“Retzel, Druiel, awaken,” Christopher said softly, placing one hand on each of their bodies. The song of Healing glowed about them, and they both said up, joining Elsa and Zadkiel in staring in wonderment at his new form.
“What happened to you, Lord Christopher. Where… where is Lord Andrealphus?” Retzel asked hesitantly.
“By God’s will I have changed, dear Retzel,” Christopher answered, taking hold of her hand gently. “And by God’s will, I was given the strength to scatter Andre’s Forces back into the Symphony. He is dead, Retzel. I’m sorry if this pains you.”
“My Archangel was dead before that,” Retzel answered sadly. “God forgive me for not seeing that, and hiding myself away.”
“Do not apologize for holding onto your faith, Retzel,” Zadkiel said. “You held onto the hope that even a Demon Prince might Redeem, which is more strength of conviction than many Archangels could claim. There is no shame in that.”
“Speaking of shame…” Elsa leaned over Druiel, who was looking rather conflicted, somewhere between a trapped animal and a child about to be rescued. “What were you up to when you flew off with Retzel like that?”
“He was hurting her,” Druiel answered simply. “And he had hurt Christopher. And I tried to tell myself that they deserved it, and they were weak, but I…” He shook his head, and tears began to flow from his eyes.
Christopher took hold of the shoulders of his former servitor, and made the Balseraph face him. “Druiel, Balseraph Demon of Teenage Death, do you wish to Redeem?” he asked sharply.
“I… I don’t know if I should… I don’t know if I can… I don’t know…”
“A good start,” Christopher said, and drew Druiel up into the Light of Heaven.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-01-25 07:12 pm (UTC)*silence*
*silence*
*standing ovation*
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Date: 2005-01-25 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-25 09:22 pm (UTC)And boy, is Larry *ever* in for a beating now... :)
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Date: 2005-01-25 10:22 pm (UTC)Very nice, however.
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Date: 2005-01-26 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-25 11:33 pm (UTC)It also brings of the question of whether or not Malakim can be spontaneously created from an existing angel again. I don't see any reason why not, and I actually cheered when I realized what had happened. Fallen Chris would just be wrong and very sad. Heh, guess I had more to say than wow.
My only question remains, where do you go from here? If it's more than I wrap up, I shiver with anticipation. It would also be a very interesting thought experiment to see what an IN universe would be like with a stronger Malakim Chris, and no Andre.
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Date: 2005-01-26 01:02 am (UTC)Malakim can spontaneously generate. David was a Cherub before he was transformed by his own horror at the Rebellion. A fact that Chris will be sure to point out just to annoy him. :)
From here there's going to be a short coda in the Council Chamber, and a little wrapup after that (plus a formal IN writeup of Christopher, Malakite of Children's organization, including some notes on the new political climate in Heaven). I hadn't intended there to be any more stories after that, but I suppose it would be fun to write about the short, short remaining life of Fluerity... (heh)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-26 06:56 pm (UTC)