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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 2, 2011 14:19:31 GMT
my duty is to my father
Gabriel[/font] Gabriel stood on the outermost rampart of the Heavens, gazing unseeing down through the firmament towards Earth. His thoughts were elsewhere... elsewhere and elsewhen - back in a time when things were much simpler, and his heart was not so troubled as it now seemed. In the beginning, at the dawn of time, there had been so much hope for the future. When he and his brothers were the only sons, before the weak creatures who now resided below had existed, when his Father had loved him... The huge form hunched his broad, brooding shoulders, wing feathers shivering and settling, then bowed his head and closed his timeless, inhuman eyes to the horrors which lay constantly behind his vision. His heart was tormented, confused, and he was in need of guidance. Where was his brother when he needed him? The Lord had issued an order... and for the first time in four billion years Gabriel was not sure whether he could obey it. The order was to take a message to the gates of Hell itself... to tell Azazel that he had won, that he could have the earth and all who resided there, that God no longer cared what Fate held for His children. Through countless ages Gabriel had been carrying messages... messages of goodwill, messages of hope, messages of great portent, and messages of dark promise, but all those messages had one thing in common - they were delivered to Man, to one of God's children. As a father would warn his wayward son before meting out a punishment, so God would warn his own children of impending doom. As a teacher would reward his pupils by giving them the promise of something good to look forward to, so God would give his own disciples the promise of great impending joy. This though, this was different altogether. This seemed like a betrayal of Man's trust, and while Gabriel did not hold much love for the feeble creatures, he could not help but think they should at least be warned. Of course, the vast majority of them had already turned towards the dark, if they only but knew it. The greed, the power struggles, the wars and the hoarding of resources already meant the world was well on its way to being destroyed. But to give no warning of what was to come... Gabriel did not think it was right. But he had always been the good son, the dutiful son. Unlike some, he had never failed in his duty to his Father. He had always been vigilant, unstinting in his labors, and loyal to his God. He had not once questioned a command, nor failed to do the Lord's bidding instantly, without hesitation. Even when he had been sent, with his brother Sariel, to smite every living soul in Sodom and Gomorrah, he had obeyed with no thought of all the lives which would be lost as a result of God's wrath. Now though, for the first time since God had placed the light of Heaven into this angel's pale eyes, Gabriel was torn. [/color] the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Feb 4, 2011 21:13:47 GMT
ALWAYS, THEY SEE SUFFERING. Michael did not feel himself. It was a strange sensation. The optimism in his mind had quietened, his determination had weakened, and his intuition lay dormant. He perched alone on a high cloud, his brow creased as he stared contemplatively into the sky. It was as clean and white as a canvas for his thoughts, and comfortingly familiar and constant. It was a reminder that not everything had changed, at least, not in Heaven. Down on Earth, on the other hand, what he had witnessed caused great knots of worry to tighten in his chest. The humans were slowly and surely self-destructing. Bleeding the planet dry of its resources, destroying the natural environment, slaughtering each other; they doomed themselves and each other to a fiery eternity, unknowing of the judgement that awaited them. The good he had always taken pride in had diminished until he would search for hours for that tiny shine of light in a soul. Accordingly, his visits were becoming more frequent, though it was difficult for him to keep his wings folded so tightly against his back under the thick, large-collared navy coat he had acquired specifically for the purpose of concealing his angelic status, and also to cover the holy knife that he kept with him in case he happened to encounter any demonic forces. He could take no chances. Though he was perfectly capable of subduing foes without the aid of weaponry, the situation may not allow such mercy. Additionally, he could not deny, with demons it was better to end their poisoned lives lest they in turn poisoned others. There always felt as though there was desperation of sorts in the way he sought those virtuous souls. Even in the Churches there was sin, greed and pride and avarice, tainting God’s own name. Every day he was able to raise a smile for his siblings and provide the impression they wished from him: the cheerful, hopeful archangel, the righteous and resolute, welcoming all who needed guidance. In truth, the weight of the suffering in the human world left him with a heavy heart, and any encouragement he gave was pure hypocrisy. It was bitter irony that it worked anyway. He needed that advice himself, and received none. Certainly, some had extended words of consolation over the state of humanity, but those were half-hearted. He smiled to himself, the gesture faintly gracing his sombre features. He could not expect anything more, when he personally ensured that they believed he was coping with the matter. He would not tell them otherwise, and he himself did not realise how close he was to breaking. Those humans, the weakest of God’s children, had somehow taken over his existence. He cared for them more than he cared for himself, and had neglected his own wellbeing in his concern for theirs’. He dredged up a precious ration of optimism. He had observed many times that hardship brought out the best in humans. Had he not already seen small acts of heroism that proved there was still the capacity to be good inside them? There was still bravery and kindness, compassion and empathy, determination and purity. The difference now was that these virtues warred with evil, with doubt and fear, selfishness and spite, and, most fiercely, apathy. With temptation universal and ubiquitous, from around a corner to the click of a computer mouse, the internal battle was constantly waged. Once these trials had brought the children together, they would realise they had allies, and grow into better people. He still believed that, after everything he had seen. Values and priorities would change; they would begin to appreciate what God had given them. He hoped and prayed that this was the case. Regardless, he would be there for them, to guide and guard them, with their Father’s blessing – or without, he accepted reluctantly. His work had seeded a true and powerful love for the humans and with childlike single-mindedness he had come to conclude that they mattered more than anything. With a sigh and a stretch, Michael finally stood, his spirits restored somewhat. Not all was lost. The struggle between Heaven and Hell was eternal, and he would be watching over the humans for as long as they lived. He could not allow himself to become disheartened simply because evil ephemerally had the upper hand. Encouraged by this, he began to fly in the direction of Heaven’s outskirts, heading for another excursion to the human world, to hunt again for the light that gave him his continued hope. As he reached the edge, he spotted a hulking, familiar shape. He had heard that Gabriel had been given a message, and so had expected to encounter him on his way out, perhaps, but not before he had even left. He could not be back so soon, so why had Gabriel not yet left? Why was he standing, staring down into the Earth? His shoulders, the only clue Michael had to his emotions, were drawn and tense. Worry, stress, ambivalence, the possibilities came to him and all were rejected as feelings one rarely associated with God’s Messenger. Curiosity and anxiety piqued in unison, Michael altered his course and landed lightly a few feet behind Gabriel, no closer for fear of missing Heaven altogether. “Gabriel,” he greeted with the usual inoffensively polite tone, stepping to stand alongside his brother. He allowed a hint of his concern to seep through his voice, hoping he would not be turned away. WHEN WILL THEY SEE THE LIGHT?
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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 4, 2011 21:46:53 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font] Gabriel felt the breeze of his brother's arrival before the lighter archangel landed, and so it was no surprise to him when Michael spoke. He paused before turning to him though, to collect his thoughts and compose his features, and to decide just how much he was going to tell him.
Angels were incapable of lying, but over the centuries Gabriel had become adept at being enonomical with the truth. Throughout his dealings with the humans, he had delivered the Word of his Father to the letter, nothing more, nothing less, and if that had meant keeping some things from the last of God's children then so be it. He should know though, after all this time, that he could keep nothing from Michael. He would be foolish to try.
Gabriel's relationship with Michael was a complicated one. He loved this, his closest brother, almost as much as he loved the Lord Himself. But he was also envious of the love God showed to His most disobedient son. Michael was always questioning, always thought he knew better than God himself, but still their Father loved him more. While Gabriel, the good son, the obedient son, had to content himself with being second best. He could not understand how his Father could love Michael more, when all Gabriel ever did was try to please Him.
Still, regardless, Michael was the one to whom Gabriel turned whenever he needed advise, and it was to him he turned now.
"Michael," he responded in a similar courteous tone, raising his darkened wings slightly as he turned to face the slighter angel. "To what do I owe this honour?"
Gabriel was not one to open up so easily. He kept his thoughts to himself, even though every bone in his body screamed at him to tell Michael of his dillema. He hated himself for it, but still he had a little dig at his brother as he spoke, insinuating that Michael hardly found time to talk to him, so busy was he with his pet humans. Why did he do this? Why did he find every opportunity to try to goad Michael? Michael only ever showed him love and compassion, but still Gabriel would not open up to him. Jealousy ate away at him every time he saw Michael in God's presence, and he hated himself for it.
[/size] the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Feb 4, 2011 22:49:37 GMT
MY MORAL COMPASS LEADS ME Although he thought he had detected an edge of sarcasm to Gabriel’s question, Michael could not help but infer any underlying meanings in the hope of gleaning greater understanding of his brother. To take the response at face value, Gabriel was pleased to see him, and expected for there to be a specific reason for his presence. Judging from the other angel’s expression, that was definitely not the correct assumption. There were other options. Gabriel was being hostile and had not expected to see Michael at any point. Gabriel was mocking Michael’s own flawless etiquette. Gabriel was in a bad mood and was using Michael as a medium for his annoyance. Whatever his reasons for the query, they were negative. Mentally cautioning himself, Michael decided to proceed with caution and tact. His words were always measured with Gabriel, through a combination of love and care, his standard politeness, and the knowledge that he often completely missed his brother’s warning signs and prodded a nerve whenever he spoke without deliberation. He did not worry about becoming genuinely angry. It was unlikely that Gabriel would be able to snap his temper, and though his evasive manner was certainly trying on the patience, it was something he had grown used to and learned how to bypass. Instead of taking it to heart, Michael effortlessly forgave his brother, trying to start enjoying the challenge Gabriel represented, a challenge of his perceptive and empathic skills. Once he knew the reasons and feelings behind Gabriel’s actions, he could begin to help him. Perhaps this was so difficult because Gabriel hardly understood himself. It was a theory Michael had often come back to, though it remained unconfirmed. With a small smile and a brief raise of his eyebrows, Michael showed that he was unperturbed by the unwelcoming reception he had received. More than anybody else, Gabriel should know that he was not the person to give in, no matter what the argument involved. He could play the waiting game. He was a master at it. He would patiently and painstakingly unpick Gabriel’s barrier, thoroughly melt the cold shoulder he had been presented with. It gave him satisfaction and relief to hear what was truly inside Gabriel’s mind. He had originally thought it would become easier over time, but the many centuries they had spent together proved it only ever grew harder for his brother to trust him. When he had first noticed it, he had spent long hours debating the cause. Was he disliked? Envied? Idolised? He allowed himself to make no judgement, his overpowered conscience smothering the wonderings in a way that was almost unhealthy. His gaze crossed Gabriel’s expression, reading it as best he could. His stark blue eyes, the most striking feature in his strongly defined face, were clouded with preoccupation. It was subtle, but he was certain it was there, hidden away. If the issue was linked to his message, then it must be something very disconcerting, to throw the most stoic and dutiful of archangels. If that was so, why did Michael not know of it? He swallowed a sigh, willing Gabriel to trust him and open up. “I was worried,” he replied, his tone mild but his anxiety clear in his expression. “You seemed troubled.” MY UNWAVERING PATH
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Raven
Fallen
The Darkness in your Light
Posts: 64
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Post by Raven on Feb 5, 2011 6:10:39 GMT
Décor was laying down upon a cloud, her green eyes watching two angels… one seemed to have a problem with the other… though the other seemed to ignore this… or didn’t see it as important. ‘how strange… tension… must be something… fun.’ she thought with a soft yawn. Her almost bare skin was covered only in her thick black hair and a see through silk dress… that did little more then give her the right to say she did have something on. She gently stroked her phoenix’s head. She’d give it a few more minuets… no reason to rush… actually maybe it would be fine to just remaining reclined.
She had grown uninterested at first assuming they were no more then foot soldiers… though as she remained stationary her mind reprocessed the rather short “conversation” that had happened so far… Michael… then they were far from the lesser trash she had so bluntly assumed. At this she recalculated whether it was worth standing. ‘I could have some fun here… but… is it really worth wasting my energy… after all I don’t wish to anger father.’ She tapped her delicate chin with her porcelain fingers. ‘but… there seems to be more then enough raw emotion burning in brother Gabriel… I guess I should make sure there isn’t another civil war…’ She rose stretching her lithe body out like she was a deadly jungle cat.
Her footsteps fell silently with little effort on her part, as she made her way towards the angel brothers. “Greetings brothers… or… I guess cousins…” She pressed one of her fingers against her chin as her acidic eyes flicked between them with a stare of apathy. “What ever could be the problem… two of father’s closest servants… a black sheep and a sheep as white as snow.” She smiled with a glance towards Michael. “I myself prefer the black sheep myself… though… as I’m here only to a certain degree…” Her eyes turned to Gabriel. “Of coarse… if I was a damsel in distress I wouldn’t mind being saved by Heaven’s white knight… so… if the tensions over who is my favorite… then your both equal… though… I guess… that is far from the reality of the situation…”
She sighed a flight of crows forming a solid wall of talons, feathers, beaks, and crimson eyes. Upon this she leaned against… oh how she hated standing… but more importantly she hated to waste this much energy. A long yawn escaped her lips as she continued to watch with half lidded eyes. “So Gabriel… what does the messenger bring new of to earth? Flood… Famine… plague… oh… the second coming… Just tell me if I get it right… oh… another great flood…” She smirked revealing her white teeth that could make pearls seem lackluster and as dull as simple rocks. “Oh… hopefully a cataclysm… the mortals have been quite defiant lately… even -I- find their revel sickening.” a laugh escaped her mouth as the wall shifted into a rough pad in which she was now laying down on, resting upon her side holding her head up with her left arm.
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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 5, 2011 21:41:37 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size]
Oh perfect perfect Michael, always doing and saying the right thing, never losing his temper, just quietly going along on his own path, disobeying the Lord and still being loved the best for it, dishing out advice and words of wisdom to any who would listen. How did one ever measure up to that?
And Gabriel... ever doing as his Father wished, tearing himself into pieces to spread the Word of God, delivering messages of hope, punishing the sinners... all that he had seen and done, all in the Name of his Father. Why should Michael get to be the beloved son?
He shook his head and turned away, resolving to take off then and there and deliver the message with which Father had charged him. Damn Michael, and damn the snivelling humans whom he loved so much. Let them all slide down into the pits of the underworld with the rest of the slime.
But as he turned, he saw that they were not alone. One of the immortals... an original sin incarnate, stood, or rather slumped, beside him. As he eyed her with mistrust she slid langorously down to lean aganst the mass of crows she had summoned.
Gabriel stiffened at her choice of description. Black and white, light and dark, good and bad... he, Gabriel was the good son, the obedient son, the one their Father chose to do His bidding, knowing that he would not fail in his task, knowing that He could rely on him no matter what.
His expression grew dark as she slid down to lay prone and enticing, pure sin to tempt the purest of hearts. How was it that the Lord had not banished these, the original sins, along with the Fallen Ones? How could they be allowed to remain free? Or was that all part of God's plan?
Gabriel began to feel as Michael must, what with all these questions running through his mind. What message was he to bring this time? Not what this temptress, or his brother, expected, that was for certain. And why did Michael not know of it? Why had Father not told His favourite son what He had planned? Because He knew Michael would try to stop Gabriel, that was why. Just like he had tried to stop Gabriel and Sariel at Sodom and Gommorah, just like he had tried to convince God not to send the flood, and managed to persuade Him to allow the innocents to be saved. This time their father wanted to be sure it was done right, and for all eternity.
Gabriel should feel proud, honoured, loved, that the Lord had trusted him and him alone with this, and he knew without a doubt that he should keep it close to his own heart. But whether it was his own childish need to gloat over Michael being kept in the dark, or whether it was the presence of Temptation that made him want to do it, he could keep it to himself not a moment longer.
Drawing himself up to his full impressive height, dark-feathered wings held aloft, he slowly turned back to face Michael full on. A small smile graced his lips as he studied the face of his closest friend. Though the question was asked of him by another, he chose to aim the reply at the one he knew it would hurt the most.
"Did He not tell you brother?" he asked in mock innocence. "I am to go to the gates of Hell itself..."
He paused for effect, flicking a sideways glance at the slothful, erotically languid figure beside him.
"I am to inform our brother Azazel that he has won, that the pitiful humans are his for the taking. Father no longer wants his failed creations."
With a last triumphant look at his brother, the archangel Gabriel spread his wings high over his two companions and fell, straight down over the edge of Heaven for what seemed like an age, before the wind caught him in her caress and lifted him to soar away into the night.
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Feb 6, 2011 15:33:04 GMT
EVIL EXISTS IN US ALL [/center][/colour][/size] The arrival of Décor was unexpected, but Michael listened politely to her musings, knowing it was a rare thing for her to make the effort to communicate with somebody. He kept his gaze firmly on her face, knowing that it would be discourteous to acknowledge her body. He was also aware that, being sin incarnate, if he took her too seriously it would constitute as temptation. Temptation from Décor was the most dangerous and pervasive. In order to counteract this, he took none of her words to heart, instead considering them with mild wry amusement. He was the black sheep? It was a dated human expression he recognised: the black sheep was the misfit, a disappointment, with the less valuable wool. He supposed all she really meant was that he was unusual, or perhaps it was a reference to his ‘rebellion’ against some of his orders. He would rather be that than Gabriel, the white sheep, one of many, mindlessly following the flock. She seemed to be in a pessimistic mood, going on to predict countless terrible messages that Gabriel could be taking, each one more disastrous than the last; even the second coming signalled the end of the human world. It could not be something so important, because he would have been told. Then again, the thought struck him, should he not have been told regardless of the message? If it involved the children, he should have been informed. Gabriel should know that he would want to be notified, no matter how unimportant it was. He felt a foreboding weight press upon his mind, his instinct finally rousing in time to strengthen his dread. Something was wrong. Something was being kept from him. He was lucky that Décor had arrived when she did. He would not have realised without her words to prompt him. He was about to ask when Gabriel spoke, with a little, knowing smile that only served to strengthen Michael’s growing sense that there was something hugely important happening where he could not see. How could Gabriel smile at a time like this? He doused a spark of annoyance that rose to the bait. He would not lose his composure here. Quote:“Did He not tell you brother? I am to go to the gates of Hell itself...” His eyes briefly widened at the implications of that statement. He could think of no reason why he would not need to know of a message for Azazel or any of his servants. There were no possibilities, or at least, none that restored his optimism. There could only be bad news coming. Every second until he heard it was torturous. His heart was already heavy with anticipatory pain. Quote:“I am to inform our brother Azazel that he has won, that the pitiful humans are his for the taking. Father no longer wants his failed creations.” For a split second, Michael denied it, denied the truth as fiercely and comprehensively as he was able. He searched Gabriel’s expression for any hint of a lie, and saw only sureness and satisfaction; he closed his hands into fists, pressing his nails into his palm to make certain he was conscious and sane, to try and find a way out of accepting this thought, this terrible truth that, in the next instant, crushed him thoroughly. As Gabriel left, his spread wings momentarily cast Michael into deep shadow. The passing darkness, and all other surroundings, went unnoticed as he became lost inside his own thoughts. Unaware of his shaking hands, he struggled to come to terms with the sudden, sharp agony of betrayal. He had forsaken them. God had abandoned six billion of his children. In an instant, all belief and hope they may have had was ripped away from them. Any chance of a happy afterlife in their Father’s arms, any hope that they could receive reward for their good deeds, any remaining faith in His love and forgiveness, it had become empty. As they strived towards enlightenment and penance for their sins, they were straining for the Heavens that were now forever out of reach, and once they lost the strength to continue the climb, they would fall and tumble into the waiting abyss of suffering and torment, Hades, waiting below, inescapable, indiscriminate, inevitable. They would never know that it was all that was left for them. It was over for them, those innocent humans. It would have been better, he realised with a cold wave of renewed anguish, for them to have already died, to have met an early demise for the sake of slipping in through the closing gates of Heaven. Each one would descend instead to an undeserved eternity of misery at the hands of evil. Only then would they discover that their fight had been for nothing, that their goal had been forever out of reach, and that their virtues were meaningless. Many would regret choosing the right path, regret not falling sooner into sin once they had discovered that there was no purpose in abstinence. What was his duty now? Michael wondered. What had God expected him to do? There was only one thing he could do. Protecting the humans was right. Opposing Azazel was right. Giving in was wrong. Turning away was wrong. It was so wrong it shook him to the core that his Father had even considered it. How had He strayed so far from the morals Michael still believed him to personify? How had he succumbed to the deadly apathy? He had to remind Him of those morals, to make him care again, to dare to act as His conscience once more. No orders would sway him. His priorities were engraved in his soul, what had become the very purpose of his existence. As he worked through to this conclusion, a dozen emotions chased each other openly across Michael’s features unchecked: the agony, fear and anxiety, the distress and sorrow, shock and indignation, ambivalence and confusion and loss of hope, confidence and trust. Finally, his expression settled into a quiet, unhappy resolve. He could not follow his Father’s word. He would never be able to do it, and never forgive himself afterwards. He decided this firmly in his mind, and gathered the scattered shards of his composure. He did not know what emotions his body had betrayed him, but he knew that any temptation Décor may have offered would have been lost. He had completely lost awareness during his inner turmoil. Now that he could once again display no weakness, he faced her. He clearly could not attempt to conceal the fact that he had had no knowledge of the message and his consequent preoccupation. Instead, he nodded once to her. “Thank you,” he murmured, daring not to raise his voice any louder for fear of it cracking. He could not allow her, of all beings, to see his true distress. He fled her company then, flying swiftly into the air and heading for his Father’s throne in the centre of Heaven, trying to decide on his opening words. As he halted at the threshold, he swallowed once, painfully aware that he was losing his handle on his emotions. He knew his Father would see perfectly just how he truly felt, but he had to keep in control of his words in order to make a convincing argument. He had to be fast, too. Gabriel had already left, and though he could still be called back, that all relied on Michael. The pressure settled over him, familiar but greater than ever before, bowing his shoulders as he entered his Father’s presence. He did not kneel. He stood, his hands at his sides, his fingers still trembling, unbeknownst to Michael. He took a breath, and voiced his planned question in a low and defiant tone. “Father, how could you become so blinded by the sin in the human world that you lose sight of those that remain true?” WHAT MATTERS IS THE STRENGTH TO FIGHT IT [/center][/colour][/size]
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Raven
Fallen
The Darkness in your Light
Posts: 64
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Post by Raven on Feb 6, 2011 20:28:32 GMT
“The twit won…” She said raising one of her pristine brows… and at this she stood up fully. “Well… now… I find it funny… Azazel finally won… because God got bored..” She began laughing. “Ah… that should anger brother… ‘you lost but you can have it anyways.’” She blinked rather annoyed when both of them ran off. She had graced them with her presence and they leave with out some much as a farewell. No manners what so ever now a days.” She shook her head before whistling the large black phoenix which gentle lifted her into his claws and took flight after Michael she watched as he spoke to god… she saw it as folly.
She dusted herself off entering the presence of her lord father and descending to one knee. After this she stood back up going to Michael’s side and using him to support her own body. She whispered softly in his ear. “Why ask the lost why they are so… and not lead them to the correct path…” Her words were honeyed with her own perfumed breath and the sickly sweet smell of her hair and aura. “It won’t serve you any good to stand here and argue with madness… while the armies of hell rise beneath their dark lord’s wings. The question is simple… why not prepare those who are willing. God has forsaken them… but he said nothing about the angels.”
She moved her hand over to cup his face “Oh… if only we weren’t siblings… how much fun we could have.” She said slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder as he stood before the ominous god… she had never feared him… though she did always respect him. He was after all her creator and she always felt a unbreakable connection to him… she was the choice… unlike many sins who side with Azazel she had remained with God… for while sin was generally bad… their was good with in it.
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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 6, 2011 21:24:32 GMT
suffer the childrenThe Lord God had of course been expecting Michael. He had seen into the heart of Gabriel, and was saddened by the torment He saw there. Gabriel had always been such a good son, such a dutiful son, never questioning His orders. Unlike Michael...
But God saw in Gabriel a darkness which saddened Him even more. When the light of Heaven was first perceived in the archangel's eyes, God was full to overflowing with love for him, so perfect was he in his splendour and courage. God had made him His messenger because He could see there was nothing Gabriel could not do. But as the years went on, and God's second children grew more unruly, so God had had to send Gabriel to punish them more and more, asking him to witness greater and greater horrors. And Gabriel had grown sullied because of it.
Michael on the other hand... Michael had always been wayward, ever questioning, never satisfied. God had at first been angered by this unwillingness to do as he was told, but as time went on He grew to realise that He needed those questions to keep Him from growing complacent in His creations. It was easy to be divine... far harder to be flawed. And so Michael had grown to occupy a special place in God's affections, almost as though God had ruined Gabriel, and so thrown him aside for an unspoiled toy. If only Gabriel knew that all God wanted to see in him was some spark of independence, some free will, much as He had created in his second children, misused as it was.
And now here was Michael to lay questions at His feet yet again. Why did Gabriel hold such anger in his heart towards his brother, that he had felt the need to goad him with the knowledge with which the Lord had entrusted him alone?
It did not pass unnoticed that the boy remained standing in His presence, but He let it go for the time being. He remained seated, studying the face of His beloved son.
When Decor entered however God grew impatient, and stood, regarding her with barely disguised anger as she whispered in Michael's ear.
"Be gone!" he demanded suddenly. "Do you dare to enter my presence without my leave? Do not presume just because I allowed you to remain in my dominion, that you can come and go as you wish! You are still mine to command!"
He turned to Michael, confident that His order could not be disobeyed.
"Come here to me, my son," He spoke kindly, and held out His hand towards the boy. "Do not think that this decision was easy for me. It was not. For millenia I have given them chance after chance, often at your begging, and time and time again they display such a lack of understanding for my teachings."
He bowed His head for a long moment, before seeking out the trusting eyes of His beloved son.
"Gabriel should not have spoken of it to you," he continued. "It was not his place. But there is nothing you can do. My mind is made up. This time your reasoning and arguments are useless."
and suffer some more((Ooc: Have you ANY idea how hard it is to play God??? ))
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Post by snow on Feb 6, 2011 22:37:38 GMT
EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE [/center][/colour][/size] As Décor spoke, he refused to look at her, averting his gaze as her sickly sweet scent surrounded him. On any other day, he would have had the strength to acknowledge her and tell her to leave, but as he was, he did not dare. Distracted from her as he was, preoccupied with the urgency of Gabriel’s message, he was still susceptible to anger, though she had focused more on encouraging lust, which he was, as an archangel ruled by manners and morality, thankfully immune to. He had to ignore her, as he could not afford to slip, certainly not here before his Father, and so was thankful when she was ordered away. As He continued speaking, replying to his question, his attention became focused again on God. Of course it had been a difficult decision. Michael had expected no less. Nobody could damn six billion children without a second thought. It did not justify the action. Nothing, as far as he was concerned, could justify the renouncement of the children. He almost stepped towards Him, almost reached for that outstretched hand, but consciously held himself in place. The shaking had spread up his arms, though still went unnoticed. The kindness his Father showed him came with a slap of guilt. He had always regretted being so clearly favoured over Gabriel, but that was because of the Messenger’s own faults. However, to remain cherished when the humans had been cast away as failures hurt Michael deeply. For those that were good, they had not caused their abandonment. Even for those that had strayed from God’s wishes, as long as they returned to the light, could they not be forgiven? Had Michael not disobeyed and challenged countless more times than they? Why should he continue to be shown love when they had been deserted? As the Lord lifted His head, Michael found himself frozen in place by the wise and weighted gaze. He wanted so greatly to trust that wisdom, craved it with childlike longing, the urge to close his eyes to everything he should be fighting and forget his cause. Yet his stubborn streak would not let it go. He could not do such a thing. Who could the humans rely on then? The pressure was vast enough that he both wanted to run from it and could not escape and, he had to admit, he did not want to, not truly. It was the situation, the battering of emotions he so rarely experienced. His Father spoke again, as the desperate trust he had clung to slipped away and the hollow pang of betrayal once again resounded in his chest. Quote:“Gabriel should not have spoken of it to you. It was not his place. But there is nothing you can do. My mind is made up. This time your reasoning and arguments are useless.” He had been right. Gabriel was not supposed to have told him. For once in his life, he had gone against God’s wishes; probably without even registering he was doing so. It was thanks to that fleeting rebellion that Michael had the chance to save the humans. He could not waste it. His resolve strengthened again, even as his composure continued to weaken. He concentrated on phrasing a response, a counter to such decisive words. He did not believe in the impossible. Failure was not a notion he could entertain, not for the briefest of moments. He had to fight until the end of days for what should be, and would continue to hope and pray through victory and loss that the battle would one day end for the side of good. “How could I forsake them now?” He said finally, a slight tremor seeping through into his voice. He had to focus, to stay rational and reasonable. If he allowed himself a single thought of what could happen to the humans, of everything that could pass, if only he failed… He would drown in possibilities and the deluge would come. That despair had to be held at bay until a conclusion was reached, by a fragile barrier of need, the need to follow the argument through to the end, to continue until even he accepted that there was no slight chance of turning matters around. If he released it, if that barrier buckled and broke, something inside him would have to shatter, something unidentified but imperative, his faith or sanity, something. That could not happen, he told himself again, it could not. He worked to convince himself that it was not an option, driving himself into a corner where the only option left was to fight. “To give up on every single one, to assume that there is nobody left with any good inside their soul, and nobody with the strength to gain it, nobody that will ever change their ways, nobody that still believes…” He forced himself to take a breath, his dry throat reducing his words to a cracked undertone. “If I do that, what do I live for?” FOR HIM WHO BELIEVES [/center][/colour][/size] (Mark 9:23)
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Raven
Fallen
The Darkness in your Light
Posts: 64
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Post by Raven on Feb 7, 2011 0:16:50 GMT
Décor quivered as God spoke to her with harsh words. “Y…yes… father” She slumped slightly though not due to the usual reasons of lethargy. She walked away with out another word. She found a small isolated area to sit down at. Formidilosus curling up at her side resting his large fiery head beside her. Gabriel didn’t know hardship… sure he was obedient… and Décor was as obedient as her nature allowed… but while Gabriel was only loved less then Michael… Décor seemed scorned. This is what she was made as… by her father she was born and he seemed to hate her for it. She had known what man went through… they were as God made them… and now he hated them for it
She stroked the large dark phoenix lightly on its beak. Tears held back she though if her brother would treat her better then Father… but she never wanted to become like brother… he had risen against God… against Father…and he only lived because of Father’s mercy. She sniffled slightly rolling up as a large black wing blanketed over her. What had she ever done to deserve this… God cared not when Michael barged in… but when she had come before him he commanded that she leave… as far as she cared it was venomously spoken.
How could he hate her… when all her fellow sins left with brother… but she remained faithful. She released a shudder maybe she’d leave. Then would he feel loss for his daughter… she had started to feel that wasn’t true.
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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 8, 2011 10:19:57 GMT
suffer the childrenGod watched, a little saddened, as Decor left. She could not after all help being as she was. He had created her, he had shaped her into what she had become, and all on a whim. All because He wanted to be sure the humans had the choice, to resist or to fall. He knew now that He should not have set so much store by their will power. Humans were created with free will, and the Lord in His wisdom and pride had assumed they would choose the right path. Now, finally, after all these millenia, he could finally admit that He had been wrong. He should never have created them. They were flawed from the very beginning, He had given them too much choice. Now He could finally admit His mistake, and go about rectifying it. Those who remained down there on the Earth were lost. They would never be saved. He would let the devil take them and allow them to destroy themselves. He had tried sending flood, famine, plague... He had even sent Gabriel and Sariel to destroy the evil, but still it came back, every time. This time was final. This time the devil could do his own dirty work, and soon no human being would remain.
Still, after all these years, the Lord was saddened each time he thought of Azazel. The archangel had showed so much promise... but pride and ambition had got in the way. Sometimes God thought he should have made them all the same, all like Gabriel - obedient, solid, steadfast and immovable. That way he would not have lost Azazel and then Sariel so shortly after... he would not have to contend with Michael and his constant arguments. He could be content, knowing that each of his firstborn were doing His bidding without question.
But He knew that would not have contented Him for long. No, indeed, that was why he had also created the humans. Even the angels, flawed as some of them were, had not been independent enough for the Lord. In the beginning one thing had been certain - that the angels would always respect and adhere to His laws. They would always love Him, without fail. And so He had created Man, to see if free will would make a differentce, to see if the love He had for each of His creations was still enough to keep them faithful.
It was not long after that when Azazel had risen up against Him, and ultimately been cast down.
Michael's voice succeeded in pulling Him back to the present, and He focused back on the beautiful face of His favourite son.
"They are flawed, Michael," God emphasised, leaning forward to rest His elbows on His knees. "They were a mistake, I should have been content with you, my first children."
He smiled, and His face softened for a moment.
"You cannot save them, my son," he continued. "Even now Gabriel is at the gates of Hell. I will lift the bonds which bind Azazel to the underworld, and he can take all humanity down with him into the pit. I no longer have a use for the world. We will remain here, in my kingdom, for all eternity, and I shall no longer feel the need to prove how much anyone loves me. This is my command Michael. Do not disobey me in this."
and suffer some more
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Post by snow on Feb 8, 2011 20:18:57 GMT
I FOLLOW NOT YOUR COMMANDS [/center][/colour][/size] Michael listened silently to his Father’s words. The humans were flawed. They were a mistake; they should not have been; they were below expectations. What they had become was undesirable. They were doubting or wayward or utterly lost. That was His reason. Michael struggled to understand how such an excuse could even begin to rationalise indiscriminate desertion. Every being made mistakes, but a life was a life. A soul was a soul. That, once created, could not be undone, and had to be accounted for. You had to be responsible for your mistakes, deal with them and make them right and persist until they were mistakes no longer. A mixture of Michael’s ethics and tenacity formed this conclusion and, in his mind, set it in timeless stone. God spoke again, in a softer tone, explaining that Earth was to belong to Azazel, who would walk freely upon it without opposition. The familiar feeling of rising rebellion began to manifest in Michael’s gut. The weight of the order to stay in Heaven was pressing, but it was nothing he had not cast off before. He could defy this, he would defy this, it could not happen. He had never needed to protect the humans so greatly before. Never had God given in, not permanently. The flood had been bad enough. This was immeasurably worse. A flash of his pain briefly shone through his increasingly frail mask of composure, displaying his anguish for those with eyes swift enough to see it. He wanted to argue that they were His children, and He should love and cherish them regardless of their faults, forever patient and willing to forgive and forget. He wanted to reason that everybody had flaws, even Michael himself, and even, if he would dare to say it, God. He wanted to remind Him that He did not have the right to decide their fate, for why else had he given them free will and created Décor and her siblings? Once He closed the gates of Heaven, the children would have no more reason to follow Him. He sighed, forcing himself to think logically. The priority had to be stopping Gabriel. If Azazel received the message, he would make a move. More humans would be lost. The recovery – and, he told himself firmly, there would be a recovery, no matter what – would be countless times harder. He had to implore God in a way that would yield results. That could no longer be achieved by appealing to his compassion. Recognising that fact left a cold disappointment in Michael’s mind. What had his Father become? This was not the wise Lord that had created him, overflowing with love for all His creatures and never abandoning even his most prodigal son, the son that always challenged and questioned and rebelled against His wishes, but received the opposite to the expected and instead was loved all the more for it. When had it happened? Had there been precursors? Could Michael have stopped it? It could not have been a sudden thing, there must have been signs. Had he missed them? Or had he not been there to see, too busy with the humans and their plight? He swallowed his words, replacing what his heart cried with what his intelligence dictated. What God cared about now was His Heaven and His angels. That was the angle he had to take. Stop Gabriel. Use the angels. How? He thought for a moment before the idea came to him, drifting lazily into his head and hastily seized. Would Azazel really be satisfied with Earth? The children were tools to him, soldiers for recruiting. Once they were in Hades, they were his to assemble. Either that was his motivation for gathering them, or it was purely to prove his influence and wound God Himself. Michael did not claim to understand Azazel, but he knew that the Lord of the Flies was addicted to the intoxication that the increase of power granted him. He would relentlessly hunt more. After Earth would come Paradise, the last sacred haven and the last thing God cared for. “Do you think he would be satisfied with that?” he asked, almost derisively. “If he is freed to Earth, he will come for Heaven next.” He hesitated, wondering if he had the guts to continue. One thought spared for the humans below, and he knew he did. “Will you abandon us then, too? This is a slippery slope you step onto, Father, if Azazel hears of your…” He stopped, at the last word, not quite brave enough to accuse Him of betrayal. “…Decision,” he finished instead, somewhat lamely. BUT YOUR COMMANDMENTS [/center][/colour][/size]
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Post by Bogwoppit on Feb 9, 2011 18:15:27 GMT
suffer the childrenOf course this very thing had crossed the Lord's mind, and he had dismissed it instantly. Azazel, fallen as he was, was still an angel of God. He may covert the Earth and all of God's second children, but even he would not risk attacking Heaven itself. All those years ago, in the first great battle, Azazel had been easily defeated by those warriors closest to God's heart, and he had fled in shame to be banished to the underworld. He would not be so stupid as to think anything would have changed. For all Azazel's faults, God still had faith that his pride would prevent him from making himself look foolish again.
God could almost hear Michael's inner turmoil as the angel stood before him, and the instant of pain in his eyes did not go unnoticed. The Lord felt his heart break a little at the thought of his favourite son suffering so. Why could he not also see that it was futile to try to save these weak humans any more? For all his arguments and reasoning, Michael was so very naive.
His dark eyes hardened as Michael delivered his judgement.
"Be careful Michael," he spoke softly, an edge to his voice. "I will only tolerate your insubordination to a point. My patience grows thin."
He stood then, towering over his son, and stepped down from the dais to pace the room, hands clasped behind His back.
"My mind is made up," he stated. "I forbid you to leave Heaven. The deed is done. It is over. Now leave me."
His statement brooked no argument, and He did not look again at Michael, instead gazing out the window at a group of Seraphim, who stood as usual, clad in black, gazing downwards as they waited for a disaster.
Soon... you wil not have long to wait my children...
and suffer some more
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Post by snow on Feb 10, 2011 20:49:43 GMT
TO FEAR THE LORD IS TRUE WISDOM [/center][/colour][/size] As his Father stood, His imposing height and hardened eyes almost made Michael take a step back, and he noticeably flinched as God strode past him. His terse movements and following stern words were fairly intimidating, though Michael was harder to overawe than most. He stood for a moment as God stared out the window, automatically opening his mouth to counter the statement before realising he had no words with which to do so. For once, he could not think of anything that would suffice. No righteous accusation, defiant shout or mournful plea would come to him, nothing that would work. He could remind Him of the cherubim, of Uriel, or of all the times the children had surprised them all, save the ever-hopeful Michael, by returning to the light. Nothing sounded persuasive enough. The decision had been made, and he seemed to be too late to do anything about it now. He sealed his lips and, after a long gaze at his Father’s back, he finally left the chamber. He did not go far, stepping to the side of the entrance and sinking to the ground. He felt completely drained now that the argument was over. He could allow himself to admit his exhaustion. He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and staring into the sky. He considered his next actions, working through ideas and their potential as if it was a battle strategy he planned. In a sense, it was. Azazel would not waste the chance to reach the humans directly, he was certain. The ferocity with which he had fought in their battle, his determination to remain free upon the Earth, was what had left Michael with his sole scar and worst memory. He would move as soon as possible, which meant Michael should do so too. But what should his move be? He knew that, regardless of what anybody else did, he would be fighting however he could. It was not something he could do alone. Ideally, he would somehow regain their Father’s support and put the entire celestial army into motion. With any less, their chances were severely reduced. If that was not an option, he would just have to gather as much support as he could. This would be far harder. Although he expected most of the cherubim to give him their backing, asking them to go against God put them in a far harder position. He would do his best to persuade them, but ultimately it was their decision, and he understood that many may not have his conviction. Moreover, this was not the same as the other attacks he had planned. He had never before dragged other angels into conflict with him when acting contrary to their Father’s wishes. Every being that died rested on his conscience. Each would have suffered because of him, because of his certainty that it was their responsibility to do what was right. His conscience already bore many deaths, most harrowingly that of Sariel. He was willing to endure that pain, as long as he was the only one. The alternative was following orders and leaving the humans to Azazel. He was not sure how he could forgive himself if he ever did so. It would be against everything he was; an ultimate act of hypocrisy for the sake of his own mental wellbeing. In Michael’s mind, that was not forgivable, let alone reasonable. He would not allow himself to act in self-preservation, but also failed to consider the opposite possibility: martyrdom. There was time to speak to the cherubim later. He wanted to meet with Gabriel first, preferably before he met with their Father. To do that, he should probably wait where he was and approach him as he came to report back. It was important to do this as soon as possible. Gabriel had told Michael his message. He had gone against God’s wishes, if only briefly. At last, there was a sliver of hope. Providing he had done it with good intent, he could finally be maturing enough to understand when their creator was and was not doing what was best. It was probably too soon to draw Gabriel onto his side completely, but he could at least give him the option. Besides, he wanted to thank his brother for the most helpful thing he had ever done for the humans. TO FORSAKE EVIL IS TRUE UNDERSTANDING [/center][/colour][/size]
Job 28:28 [/center]
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