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momebieI'm not going to repost ALL of the writing I did for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pocky_slash's Writer Chat Thingy, but I wanted to toss this one up and maybe clean it up a bit, so that I could use it to fill one of the challenges for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
getyourwordsout. COME ON TEAM 150,000! YEAH WE'RE SLACKERS, BUT WE SLACK WITH STYLE! Also of interest, is the fact that this is the bit of writing that inspired the poem I posted for therealljidol this week. I might still be freaking out about actually having done that, but I'm trying to learn to let things go. What was that goal of mine this week? Baby steps? Baby steps.
This is brought to you by the prompt 'a beautiful evening, spoiled', andsparkism's suggestion that I cross over some of my universes, which resulted in angels over hearing loud lesbian sex. So um, yeah.
Araqiel was the fourth angel to fall. Lucifer had been the first, of course. It was an interesting bit of trivia for Araqiel that the humans had taken to calling Lucifer the Morning Star, light bringer. As far as Araqiel could tell, the only thing Lucifer had ever brought light to was the idea that the angels were not immune to love as they were to most other human traits. Since that time new angels had been brought up through the ranks differently. It couldn't be decided whether the changes made any difference. The two other angels had also fallen because of Love, though with a tinge less Pride than Lucifer had shown.
Being ever the over achiever, Araqiel had Fallen for something else entirely. His crime had been Concern and Curiosity. They weren't traits his exile was likely to fix, so he made the decision to hold out for the long haul. Eventually the host would need him and would call him back. Not that such a thing had ever happened before, but he was determined to be a special case and a model prisoner. Granted, his cage was the size and shape of the whole world, so he had it better than most.
When he fell he spent four evenings just standing at the window and looking up into the night sky before he got the urge to try sleeping. It wasn't that, like some of his brothers, he disdained the idea of picking up human habits. It was just that the stars were so beautiful from down here, and he couldn't imagine ever wanting to look away. On the fifth night of his exile he took one last look upward before pulling the curtains closed and climbing onto the bed.
He sat in the dark for a bit, wondering exactly what it was he was supposed to be feeling about now. How did the humans know when it was time to lie down? Was there an internal notification system, or did they take the cue from their environment? When he was through with that meditation, he laid down fully clothed, and closed his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was that, without something to focus his attention on, his mind started to flutter to life. He remembered so many of the things he wanted to forget. His back ached where the wings had once been. His fingers twitched with the urge to build something, or to take up his sword. The din inside of him was maddening, and he couldn't help but feel volatile. Like he was a lightning strike hurtling through the calm night sky. He began to understand why most angels seemed to take badly to exile, why there wasn't enough of them left to call back.
It was at this point that he heard a rather loud thud come through the wall that adjoined his room to the apartment opposite. It was a welcome distraction. That thud was followed by another. And then another. There were giggles, and then there was more silence. In the silence he was plunged back into the icy well of his thoughts, and that simply wouldn't do. So he did what he was specifically told not to do at the outset of his exile. He got out of bed, exited his small apartment through the front door, and then walked down the long, twisting hall until he was standing outside of the front door to the apartment that backed up against his. He then knocked on the door and made his presence known.
Several minutes passed between the knock and the slow turning of the handle. The door was pulled back a short way and a pair of eyes with sculpted, feminine eyebrows looked at him from just under the chain. “Yeah?”
“Hello,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I just took occupancy in the apartment behind yours, and I wanted to let you know that I'd heard you just now.”
The eyes squinted, and a faint tinge of pink flushed across the bridge of the woman's nose. “Sorry. There hasn't been anyone in that apartment for a while. We kind of got carried away. It won't happen again.”
Araqiel didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. It was a peculiar feeling, being noticed. He'd been topside on the planet more times than he could count, but no one had ever looked at him before. It carved a very distinct place for him into the universe and shoved him into it almost immediately. It was a constraining feeling, being looked at, studied and summed up, by a person. He understood, suddenly, why Seraphiel had warned him to avoid all relations with humans in the past.
“Is that okay?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes, quite,” Araqiel said. She closed the door in his face.
He had no other recourse than to return to his apartment. He couldn't bring himself to lie down again. The knowledge that he was was too much to add to the already buzzing sensation of thought. He resumed his sentry at the bedroom window, looking up at the stars. How different they seemed, now that he himself had a body and they didn't.
pocky_slash's Writer Chat Thingy, but I wanted to toss this one up and maybe clean it up a bit, so that I could use it to fill one of the challenges for getyourwordsout. COME ON TEAM 150,000! YEAH WE'RE SLACKERS, BUT WE SLACK WITH STYLE! Also of interest, is the fact that this is the bit of writing that inspired the poem I posted for therealljidol this week. I might still be freaking out about actually having done that, but I'm trying to learn to let things go. What was that goal of mine this week? Baby steps? Baby steps. This is brought to you by the prompt 'a beautiful evening, spoiled', and
sparkism's suggestion that I cross over some of my universes, which resulted in angels over hearing loud lesbian sex. So um, yeah. Araqiel was the fourth angel to fall. Lucifer had been the first, of course. It was an interesting bit of trivia for Araqiel that the humans had taken to calling Lucifer the Morning Star, light bringer. As far as Araqiel could tell, the only thing Lucifer had ever brought light to was the idea that the angels were not immune to love as they were to most other human traits. Since that time new angels had been brought up through the ranks differently. It couldn't be decided whether the changes made any difference. The two other angels had also fallen because of Love, though with a tinge less Pride than Lucifer had shown.
Being ever the over achiever, Araqiel had Fallen for something else entirely. His crime had been Concern and Curiosity. They weren't traits his exile was likely to fix, so he made the decision to hold out for the long haul. Eventually the host would need him and would call him back. Not that such a thing had ever happened before, but he was determined to be a special case and a model prisoner. Granted, his cage was the size and shape of the whole world, so he had it better than most.
When he fell he spent four evenings just standing at the window and looking up into the night sky before he got the urge to try sleeping. It wasn't that, like some of his brothers, he disdained the idea of picking up human habits. It was just that the stars were so beautiful from down here, and he couldn't imagine ever wanting to look away. On the fifth night of his exile he took one last look upward before pulling the curtains closed and climbing onto the bed.
He sat in the dark for a bit, wondering exactly what it was he was supposed to be feeling about now. How did the humans know when it was time to lie down? Was there an internal notification system, or did they take the cue from their environment? When he was through with that meditation, he laid down fully clothed, and closed his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was that, without something to focus his attention on, his mind started to flutter to life. He remembered so many of the things he wanted to forget. His back ached where the wings had once been. His fingers twitched with the urge to build something, or to take up his sword. The din inside of him was maddening, and he couldn't help but feel volatile. Like he was a lightning strike hurtling through the calm night sky. He began to understand why most angels seemed to take badly to exile, why there wasn't enough of them left to call back.
It was at this point that he heard a rather loud thud come through the wall that adjoined his room to the apartment opposite. It was a welcome distraction. That thud was followed by another. And then another. There were giggles, and then there was more silence. In the silence he was plunged back into the icy well of his thoughts, and that simply wouldn't do. So he did what he was specifically told not to do at the outset of his exile. He got out of bed, exited his small apartment through the front door, and then walked down the long, twisting hall until he was standing outside of the front door to the apartment that backed up against his. He then knocked on the door and made his presence known.
Several minutes passed between the knock and the slow turning of the handle. The door was pulled back a short way and a pair of eyes with sculpted, feminine eyebrows looked at him from just under the chain. “Yeah?”
“Hello,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I just took occupancy in the apartment behind yours, and I wanted to let you know that I'd heard you just now.”
The eyes squinted, and a faint tinge of pink flushed across the bridge of the woman's nose. “Sorry. There hasn't been anyone in that apartment for a while. We kind of got carried away. It won't happen again.”
Araqiel didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. It was a peculiar feeling, being noticed. He'd been topside on the planet more times than he could count, but no one had ever looked at him before. It carved a very distinct place for him into the universe and shoved him into it almost immediately. It was a constraining feeling, being looked at, studied and summed up, by a person. He understood, suddenly, why Seraphiel had warned him to avoid all relations with humans in the past.
“Is that okay?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes, quite,” Araqiel said. She closed the door in his face.
He had no other recourse than to return to his apartment. He couldn't bring himself to lie down again. The knowledge that he was was too much to add to the already buzzing sensation of thought. He resumed his sentry at the bedroom window, looking up at the stars. How different they seemed, now that he himself had a body and they didn't.
