Author: LordTarran PM
Archangel Michael is sick of being stuck in the Heavens, not allowed to fight because of the the peaceful precepts of Prince Jesus. As such, he leaves, and chaos ensues as he tries to hunt down his long banished brother.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Supernatural - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,215 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 03-04-06 - Published: 02-26-06 - id: 2820919
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The room is dark, just filling with the light of a winter dawn. The light creeps slowly across the room from the closed shades, bringing a nearly completely bare room into shadowy sight. The sun's rays seem to pause before the edge of a bed, not sure whether or not they wished to wake the slumbering creature hidden by darkness. It illuminates the bed well enough, allowing the eyes of a separate creature to see heavy white quilts and blankets thrown about, away from the hidden sleeper.
Finally, the light decides to continue. Slowly it creeps along, coming first upon light skinned bare feet. It flows up the long legs clothed in simple white clothes, and up the bare torso in less than an instant. The creature's head is then revealed in the sunlight, though only for an instant, as he groans and hides his face. In the split second seen, his face was one of beauty, with perfect, soft features, and golden, nearly glowing hair.
The light seems to have paused again, not illuminating two spots on the creature's back, next to his shoulder blades. This time the light is moves slowly as it reveals what lies there.
At first, only the bases were seen, as the sun reveals the long arm like structures. Then they flow away from these, revealing long folds of feather, glowing white feather, as the wings takes shape in early morning sight. They are fully extended backwards away from his back, pointing upwards, drifting about in a sleepy way. The bend towards one another as the angel stretches his shoulders, sitting up over the side of the bed. His wings folds neatly behind his back as he stands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
His eyes open, revealing glowing orbs of white. His face, though beautiful, is stern. Slowly, he moves to a crate at the foot of the bed. Opening the simple wooden box, and letting the lid fall to the floor with a bang, the angel gazed down at the contents. A shirt of chain mail sat atop a compacted suit of plate mail. In each, large holes were present in the back for the angel's wings. A helm sat to the side next to a sword. The helm was designed to hide all but the angel's eyes and mouth. The sword was plain, nothing more than sharpened steel.
Grace inherent in each of his movements, the angel donned the chain mail, the plate quickly afterwards. The helm clicked into place atop the armor, hiding the angel's face, but intensifying the glow of his eyes. The armor, which had been plain, burst into heavenly glow, as gold and symbols of the sun traced into existence. The helm, also plain, had a crest burst from its top. He looked himself over, in a mirror that was placed on the wall with the windows, admiring his own beauty and power.
The sword came to his hand, though he did not touch it. Immediately, the ordinary metal changed to crystal and gold, lengthening to become a weapon fit for a servant of the Heavens.
A chiming noise is heard, a voice following.
"Good morning, Lord Micha," the voice sounded like warm sunshine. "I hope you dreamt pleasant dreams."
"Thank you, Becca," the angel responded, his voice commanding, resounding, and angelic. "What are the boy's plans for me today?"
"As always, milord, more sitting. His words to me were 'Tell thy master that I, his Lord, his King, wish that he stay within the Heavens today, in order to possibly understand better My message, and My love.' Load of crap if you ask me, Lord Micha."
"I would be forced to agree. I think it is amazing that his father has not stepped in on his nonsense. Thomas had the sense to wonder if this man knew what he was doing, Judas had the sense to try to stop him. What happens? He's given the throne, Thomas is made a saint, and Judas is forever 'Burning in the very bowels of Satan.' My brother is no fool. I would bet my wings that Lucifer made Judas a devil lord," Micha responded, shaking his armored head. "Please notify Lady Gabri that I will wish to speak to her and Peter at the Gate at some point, will you?"
The chiming repeated, as the angel made his way through a plain home, mostly bare, and to the outside. Before him was a glowing paradise. Each blink changed the image. The very idea of Paradise changing changed the actual thing.
Micha opened his wings now, lifting off the ground in one easy beat, gliding despite the weight of the armor towards the obvious entrance to this ceiling-less plane of wonder. Though the world around him seemed infinite, he reached his destination quickly.
Before him were grand gates, solid walls of crystal, a battlement of good, patrolled on top by an army of angels.
As he landed, his great wings folding behind him, a second armored angel landed. She, as seen in the curves in the armor guarding her torso, removed her helmet to reveal a motherly face. Her eyes, though glowing, were not the pinpricks of sunlight that Micha's were. Her locks were also golden and glowing, as she smiled from that frame of hair from a beautiful face.
"Hello, Micha, I suspect this is in some regards to your departure?" the female asked.
"Yes, Gabri. I have had enough of his foolishness. Does Lucifer sit on his heels the way I do? The former prince has had all eternity to build up his strength and forces. The mortals believe that their Lord is omnipotent, that he defeated Satan once, and will do so when the Apocalypse comes. Do they realize that it was not their Lord who threw the Prince of Darkness from Heaven? Do they realize that it will not be their god who fights this final war? Do they think His weakling son could take on Lucifer?"
"They have their faith, Micha," spoke a new voice, a scholarly voice. Gabri and Micha turned to face a middle-aged man, glasses sitting halfway between his eyes and the end of his nose. His eyes were blue, his hair ruddy brown, his skin fair. "And that's all those mortals really have. Everyone here knows the truth, Micha, even if the mortals do not. They aren't concerned with the truth, just what they can use in their favor. While on the mortals, the man holding my job is about to die. Wish he would hurry already. The strike forces have been on a massive patrol around the planet since he got this ill, and once he dies and is replaced, they can all come home. Lucifer will stop his corruption efforts for a few years once the office is healthy again. Hello Gabri."
"Hello Peter," the woman answered. "Micha, don't worry. Once Peter and I work everything out, you'll get out of here, and bring it to my belo… I mean Satan."
"Still clinging after all these years, Gabby?" Micha asked. "Pete, keep her in check when I leave, okay?"
All laugh nervously, though the air of formality fell. The three, Micha, Gabri, and Peter made their way to the Gate. The doors opened slowly, but fast enough to allow the three to pass through to the other side. Before them were clouds, and below the edge of these white cliffs of puff was the earth, stretching out forever beneath them.
"A lovely world, really," Micha commented, fanning his wings out, "once you remove humanity and the corruption entailed by their presence from it."
"Hmmm, you sound like a few of Hell's generals during their lives, Micha." Gabri's voice was both warning and scolding.
"Possibly," he replied loftily. "But there is a difference between me and them. I remember the world before humans, and I have been in charge of wiping out mass numbers of them on several occasions. I met few good humans during my time on earth, and those that I did were far too surrounded by those claimed by my brother, Gabri." His features darkened as he stretched his wings out, beating them a few times to bring himself into the air. He turned to face the female then. "Today I return to the dusts' realm, for the first time without orders. You shall be able to find me if you need me, but otherwise I go to find Lucifer. Fare thee well." Without another word, he dove backwards, towards the world far below.
"He's a fool," Peter whispered. "An utter fool."
"Yes, but he's our fool, Peter," Gabri smiled. "I just hope we can work out things before someone realizes he left."
"He's the wrath, my lady, how can it be used against him?"