jeriendhal | Interesting Times: Defiance

This is getting tres old, Nybbas though to himself. I’m gonna have to peel off a separate manifestation just to handle petitioners if it keeps up. He focused his attention on the Virtue standing at… aggressively neutral was probably the best description, parade rest across from his desk. Male, cut like a high school gym teacher without the aging jock flab.

“Look, kiddo,” he began. “I appreciate all the attention I’ve been getting lately, but I gotta tell ya, if we try and stick one more angel in the Children’s Television Workshop, eventually the humans there are gonna notice.”

“What makes you think I was with Children?” the Virtue demanded.

He sighed. “Babe, how many other Blackwings are gonna run around Heaven with little teddy bears embroidered into their Balskin pants?”

“I’m not here for a job,” the Virtue stated flatly.

“Uh, huh.” Nybbas rubbed his face. “No time for quiz shows today, son. They went outta style in the 50’s. What d’ya want?”

The Virtue jaw worked his jaw around a bit, and Nybbas distinctly heard teeth grinding. “I just wanted to tell you how… how much I hate you,” he spat

Ah, honesty. “Lotsa folk do,” Nybbas admitted, grinning. “Any particular reason, darlin’?”

“You helped kill Christopher! Isn’t that enough?”

Nybbas settled back into his chair. “Kill ‘em? I never even met him face to face. Anyway, y’ could argue he killed himself, trying to take out Fluerity one-on-one.”

The Virtue’s biceps flexed, and Nybbas imagined his fingers wrapping around his chains behind his back, fighting the Need to lash out with more than words. “Media weakened his Word. Every stupid cartoon peddling toys. Every commercial making a ten year old child desire $200 shoes. Every damned blinking image that kept a child glued to an electric tube instead of going out in the sun to play. It hurt him.”

“My job,” Nybbas said, flattening his usual relaxed drawl. “Can’t blame me for doing it so well. Well, you can, but it doesn’t do y’ much good.”

The Virtue’s head bent, finally, and the Angel Prince pretended not to notice the tears soaking his carpet.

Nybba’s voice softened. “Hurts, don’t it? Can’t hit at Fluerity, cuz he’s gone. Can’t hit at me, because I’m… here.”

A short, sharp nod, still staring at the floor.

“This is the point where y’ usually shout ‘It’s not fair!’”

The Virtue took in a breath, and raised his glistening face to Nybbas’. “Christopher… he taught us not to say such things, because we were supposed to make it fair, for all those we could.”

“That’s what his job was, so they say,” Nybbas said agreeably. “Speaking of which, you sure you don’t want one here? I gotta a couple of orphans from Faith that could probably use the company, or maybe you could use theirs.”

“No, thank you. I will find a Superior eventually… not you, I think. Until then, I will serve Christopher and his Word, as he would have wished me to do. But I just wanted to see you…”

“I get it.” Nybbas waved a hand in dismissal. “Take care, Babe. He would have wanted that, too.”

“I know.”