FIC: Counting the Cost
Sep. 7th, 2005 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalSome people cope by ranting in their journals. Me, I write angst-fic.
Notes: In Nomine, Christopher & Janus, Katrina related. Brightness setting: Gray to Dark
There was something comforting about lists, Christopher reflected. Lists put things in perspective. Lists somehow made what one believed into what one knew. Lists were one of things Christopher had first worked on as a young servitor of Destiny. Lists like the one he was compiling now.
Moesha Ellis, age six months: Destiny Achieved - Convinced father to give up alcohol. Died from: drowning.
Jamal Washington, age eight: Destiny Achieved - Let go, so his mother could hold on to his brother. Died from: drowning
Lucius Waller, age six: Destiny Achieved - Gave last juice packet to little sister. Died from: dehydration.
It was a long list. Longer than usual rather. Though it was nothing he had not done before. Perhaps he should write that thought down, so he could believe it better. No, what he needed to do was be near his Heart, but that would have to wait.
There was a commotion at the entrance to his office. He heard the faint cry of You can’t come in. He said not to be… Then the door burst open and a gray whirlwind of interlocking toruses blew past Christopher’s flustered servitor and began orbiting his desk, sending papers flying for cover in it’s wake.
“Hello, Lord of the Wind,” he greeted the ofanite formally, keeping one hand on the page he had been working on.
“Hello yourself!” the whirlwind replied. “You coming out yet?”
“I’m busy right now, Janus,” Christopher replied calmly.
Janus’ rings settled above his desk, then lowered to encircle him. “Come on! You’ve been in here for a week! Too long! You need to play!”
“Janus,” he began, then took a deep breath and started again. “I’ve got several manifestations playing, right now.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re paying much attention to them. You need to get out!”
He pushed Janus’ rings gently upward, and set a heavy paperweight on the page. “I don’t feel like it.”
The ofanite tilted in curiosity. “Hey, you mad about something?”
The one joy of Heaven, was that you would always hear Truth there. The one hardship of Heaven, was that you would always speak Truth there, whether or not you might wish to say a gentle lie. “Yes, I’m mad about something,” Christopher admitted.
“What?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?”
God, if Janus did not sound exactly like a young Reliever just then… But no, he was an archangel, there was no need to protect him from Christopher’s feelings. “All right, I don’t want to talk to you about it.”
Janus’ rings increased their acceleration, and little lightning flashes arced between them. “You’re mad at me? Well that’s a fine thing! I don’t even know what I’ve done!”
He should have known better than to expect the Archangel of the Wind to take a hint. “It’s more what you didn’t do, Janus.”
The rings tilted again. “Still not getting you, Chris. What are you talking about?”
“The storm this week, Janus,” Christopher snapped. “How many thousands dead? How many children dead? You could have diverted it, sent it away from the city, instead of drowning it.”
Janus’ rings were completely vertical now. “But I did divert it!”
Christopher blinked, put his hand on the paperweight, and then took it away again. I will not break the Pax Dei. “Janus, are you telling me you sent the hurricane towards the city?”
“Well yeah!”
“Why? For God’s sake, why?”
The rings tilted back to horizontal and slowed. “Shake ‘em up. Give ‘em a kick in their complacency. Guys sitting there thinking ‘Yeah, we’re ready for any disaster, we got it covered. We're the biggest and the baddest’ when it’s pretty obvious that they don’t have a clue. So I showed them what a real emergency is. It’s what I do.”
Christopher closed his eyes, trying to will away the pain of the Truth in front of him. “Yes, yes it is, Janus. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”
The rings did the equivalent of a shrug. “Sorry about all the kids though.”
“Yes, I know you are.” What else could he say?
There was a knock at his door, and his secretary popped his head in. “Milord, we’ve got a few more children arriving.”
Christopher stood up. “From where?”
“Niger. Little ones mostly, who didn’t get enough food in time.”
“Thank you, Jeri.” He made a bow to Janus. “Excuse me, I have my duties.”
“Sure thing.” And with that the Archangel of the Wind blew out of the room, and was gone.
Christopher paused and concentrated on his form, changing from adult human vessel to that of Cherubic bear, warm and comforting. He ambled from his offices in the Cottage to where the children waited, so young, so confused.
“Welcome,” he greeted, “you are all welcome here.”
End
Notes: In Nomine, Christopher & Janus, Katrina related. Brightness setting: Gray to Dark
There was something comforting about lists, Christopher reflected. Lists put things in perspective. Lists somehow made what one believed into what one knew. Lists were one of things Christopher had first worked on as a young servitor of Destiny. Lists like the one he was compiling now.
Moesha Ellis, age six months: Destiny Achieved - Convinced father to give up alcohol. Died from: drowning.
Jamal Washington, age eight: Destiny Achieved - Let go, so his mother could hold on to his brother. Died from: drowning
Lucius Waller, age six: Destiny Achieved - Gave last juice packet to little sister. Died from: dehydration.
It was a long list. Longer than usual rather. Though it was nothing he had not done before. Perhaps he should write that thought down, so he could believe it better. No, what he needed to do was be near his Heart, but that would have to wait.
There was a commotion at the entrance to his office. He heard the faint cry of You can’t come in. He said not to be… Then the door burst open and a gray whirlwind of interlocking toruses blew past Christopher’s flustered servitor and began orbiting his desk, sending papers flying for cover in it’s wake.
“Hello, Lord of the Wind,” he greeted the ofanite formally, keeping one hand on the page he had been working on.
“Hello yourself!” the whirlwind replied. “You coming out yet?”
“I’m busy right now, Janus,” Christopher replied calmly.
Janus’ rings settled above his desk, then lowered to encircle him. “Come on! You’ve been in here for a week! Too long! You need to play!”
“Janus,” he began, then took a deep breath and started again. “I’ve got several manifestations playing, right now.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re paying much attention to them. You need to get out!”
He pushed Janus’ rings gently upward, and set a heavy paperweight on the page. “I don’t feel like it.”
The ofanite tilted in curiosity. “Hey, you mad about something?”
The one joy of Heaven, was that you would always hear Truth there. The one hardship of Heaven, was that you would always speak Truth there, whether or not you might wish to say a gentle lie. “Yes, I’m mad about something,” Christopher admitted.
“What?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?”
God, if Janus did not sound exactly like a young Reliever just then… But no, he was an archangel, there was no need to protect him from Christopher’s feelings. “All right, I don’t want to talk to you about it.”
Janus’ rings increased their acceleration, and little lightning flashes arced between them. “You’re mad at me? Well that’s a fine thing! I don’t even know what I’ve done!”
He should have known better than to expect the Archangel of the Wind to take a hint. “It’s more what you didn’t do, Janus.”
The rings tilted again. “Still not getting you, Chris. What are you talking about?”
“The storm this week, Janus,” Christopher snapped. “How many thousands dead? How many children dead? You could have diverted it, sent it away from the city, instead of drowning it.”
Janus’ rings were completely vertical now. “But I did divert it!”
Christopher blinked, put his hand on the paperweight, and then took it away again. I will not break the Pax Dei. “Janus, are you telling me you sent the hurricane towards the city?”
“Well yeah!”
“Why? For God’s sake, why?”
The rings tilted back to horizontal and slowed. “Shake ‘em up. Give ‘em a kick in their complacency. Guys sitting there thinking ‘Yeah, we’re ready for any disaster, we got it covered. We're the biggest and the baddest’ when it’s pretty obvious that they don’t have a clue. So I showed them what a real emergency is. It’s what I do.”
Christopher closed his eyes, trying to will away the pain of the Truth in front of him. “Yes, yes it is, Janus. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”
The rings did the equivalent of a shrug. “Sorry about all the kids though.”
“Yes, I know you are.” What else could he say?
There was a knock at his door, and his secretary popped his head in. “Milord, we’ve got a few more children arriving.”
Christopher stood up. “From where?”
“Niger. Little ones mostly, who didn’t get enough food in time.”
“Thank you, Jeri.” He made a bow to Janus. “Excuse me, I have my duties.”
“Sure thing.” And with that the Archangel of the Wind blew out of the room, and was gone.
Christopher paused and concentrated on his form, changing from adult human vessel to that of Cherubic bear, warm and comforting. He ambled from his offices in the Cottage to where the children waited, so young, so confused.
“Welcome,” he greeted, “you are all welcome here.”
End
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-07 08:14 pm (UTC)