ramielthemessenger-blog

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Yes, let's.

If everything is truly saved, what happens to the demons? Are they forgiven? Are we all back together again?

That is understandable, Ramiel. I, too, hope that particular problem has been solved.

Not to my knowledge. We may journey there together, if you wish.

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Gosh, I h-hope so. Truth be told, the Nether terrifies me.

Has anyone checked the entrance to Empyrean? If Father's here--n-no. Father will be there. I'm certain of it. Then we can finally receive the guidance and judgement we've been, uhm, seeking.

I suppose I was so confident in Father that I did not think of it that way.

If He truly has transported us here, I suspect that the Nether is taken care of, if it existed. Perhaps our ordeal on the submarine was a test, or perhaps we have fulfilled our duty to Him already. I cannot be certain until I speak with Him. You will let me know if you hear anything, yes?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Of course I do.

But if we're h-here, uhm, what does that mean of the Nether?

Why do you feel this way?

It must be God’s Will that we are back in this place. I can think of no other explanation, given the power it must have taken to bring us back to Heaven. Do you not trust Him?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

It makes me n-nervous.

You are correct, Ramiel.

Our wings have even been restored. Does this displease you?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

[/Ramiel forces a smile to his face. His wings rustle, and he forces them to be still. The muscles in his back ache already from so much use in so little time. He casts his eyes up at the bubbly demon.]

Hullo, S-Sitri.

Sitri is not one to waste chance gifts, and he skids to the ground from his hectic flight pattern with a grin. Boo! 

Ramiel! 

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

We're in H-Heaven.

Uriel. Heaven.

Does something ail you, Ramiel? Or is it merely our present situation which has disturbed your peace?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

I wish I kn-knew.

Any, uhm, theories?

Somebody want to tell me just what the fuck is going on?

Do you want to tell me how we got here, Ramen?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Uhm.

Looks like we're b-back. In H-Heaven.

Somebody want to tell me just what the fuck is going on?

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Oh my God.

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Fountains of Hope \\ drabble

Ramiel had Faith.

Not the lowercase faith, the sort of believe that gets one through a rainy night with no umbrella or a tedious lesson taught by a boring professor. That faith, the faith in things we know will come to pass, is accessible by all walks of life. It wasn���t even the faith in bigger, vaguer things; faith in morality, faith in the inevitable, faith in other people are all commendable, but also can be achieved by any person who possess the ability to contribute a marginal amount of effort.

No, no, the sort of Faith that glowed beneath Ramiel’s flesh was of an entirely different sort. It was the Faith in powers greater than him, a Faith in arching concepts that define the universe and life within it. Ramiel, from the moment he was born, was blessed with the unending belief that Father and Michael would always remain triumphant. When Jeqon rose, Ramiel knew without doubt he would be defeated. When Satan attacked, there was never even a remote possibility of their success. And when the impending arrival of this Thing, this Nether, was announced, Ramiel was just as confident that Michael—following Father’s plan—would save the day.

But a month underwater, surrounded by the Fallen, separated from prayer and Heaven and all fountains of hope, changed things.

The angel had always wondered what doubt would feel like. A nagging sensation in the back of his mind, perhaps, or the sour notes of a melody gone astray. In all his musings, however, he never figured that doubt would appear with the voice of a radio host, smooth and elegant (the way melted chocolate runs down a plate) and almost like a lullabye. It crept into his consciousness slowly, a choreographed dance of mistrust and questions. And now? Now Ramiel was lost, unsure of who to have faith in, much less who to have Faith in.

He sat on his bed, absentmindedly kicking his feet up to knock the underside of the bed frame with a rhythm that sounded somewhat like the Swedish national anthem. Behind his closed lids, he saw Michael, saw the flush of battle in his structured face, the flash of intensity in those blue eyes, felt the first tender kiss he took for himself and the second intense kiss Michael took for him. Perhaps they were cut off from everything that made them angels, but Ramiel couldn’t help but think that this was where he’d find his happiness.

If only they weren’t heading down towards It, and if only this nagging little voice would shut up.

“Little sweet Ramiel,” it said, “consider a puzzle for me, will you, dollface?” Ramiel said nothing in return. It would go away, this little game he played with himself would stop, if he just ignored it. “Forget Michael and Lucifer for a moment, huh? Why are you such a devout little angel? What has anybody ever done for you? Don’t you think it’s time, sweetcheeks?” Ramiel squeezed his eyes shut, thought of Michael, Michael, Michael’s eyes, Michael’s lips—

The voice did not give in: “I’m not saying Fall, now. You can stop panicking. We both know what you really want but that’s not what you need right now. Later, little duck, later. No, no, no. What do you really need, darling Ramiel? You can deny it all you like, you can imagine you and Michael playing house with a dog and 2.5 kids, but you and I both know you’re crumbling down here.”

Was it true? Was he deluding himself, was the boredom, the constant pressure, the ticking of the clock, was all of it too much? Ramiel was a soldier; this was not war, it was a waiting game. Was it driving him crazy? Was the Swedish national anthem the theme tune of his own building insanity? Deep down, he knew it was true. If it wasn’t Ialdabaoth and his come-ons, it was Abbadonna and the friendship that broke his heart, or Uriel and his near-neurotic guilting. If it was just Michael and him, just those isolated moments of tenderness that Ramiel never believed could even transcend fabrication, this boat would be a paradise. But that personal Eden only lived on in the mind. Here, in the reality that rose above all else, Ramiel was losing it.

Voices can’t smirk, and yet Ramiel could have swore he saw this one do it: “That’s right, kiddo. We know it’s true. How much longer can you go like this, a slave to the whim of children-playing-gods before you snap, hm? Let me tell you a little secret; you don’t have to.”

Ramiel stood and paced to the small porthole in the dark metal wall. He shook his head, to try and get the doubt and the urge to rebel to leave him alone. Perhaps he wasn’t happy, sure, but he hadn’t truly been happy in a long time. He’d survived all that, right? And if he could survive for aeons, what was another couple of years of military service? Maybe after this war he would buy himself an apartment back in Heaven, take a century or two to treat himself to the simple things. He’d go to the theatre. Maybe he could convince Michael to take it easy. Maybe they could…

“Come now, Ramiel my smoosh. Are you going to continue on pining after him for the rest of your life? We all know there’s no room in that damaged heart for anyone, and two kisses doesn’t change that. Open yourself up to the infinite possibility of you. Forget everyone else. They don’t matter. You are the universe, Ramiel.” I am the Universe. He mumbled it to himself, and something pricks in his chest. His eyes welled up with congested tears, and he turned his back to the wall and leaned against it. I am the Universe. “Yes, Ramiel, yes. You are the Universe. I am the Universe. We are the Universe.” The angel slid down the wall into a crumbled heap below the window.

Outside, unfeeling, the ocean continued out into infinity. “What is it you need, lovely little faithful? Tell me what you need. Let me help you.” Ramiel cried, hot wet oozing over his dry flesh. These thoughts were awful, painful, tearing him apart. Selfishness was a sin, everyone knew that, and selflessness was the purest virtue of them all. So why was he tormented, why did he urge to put himself first and screw everyone else? This was not Ramiel, this was not Ramiel, but if this was Ramiel, what he’d wish for is home. He’d want to go home. Ramiel wants to go home.

The voice smiled. “Home? I can arrange that, my precious. Allow me to help you, and all your woes will fade away like the surface so far above you. Let me in.” And Ramiel, a shudder tearing through his all-too-mortal body; Ramiel, the angel who never broke the rules; Ramiel, the angel who always asked what else he could do and went above and beyond; Ramiel, the angel who once was full of passion and now was full of death said yes. A wall in his mind collapsed.

The Nether roared in, and his brain exploded with colours.

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Something flows through Ramiel, some sort of yellow-edged nostalgia. He remembers the front line of that war so long ago, and the way that sword had felt when Michael handed it to him. Two little boys heading off to a fight they didn't understand. Or at least... a little boy and his older brother. Michael was never a child, not in the way Ramiel was. But that was back before death was a concept they held, and something changed--for all of them--after that. Still, though, before all that; life was grand and full of adventure. Full of Michael, and Shekinah, and Uriel, and Cupra. 

Now? Empty. Flashes of Michael. Shekinah long gone. Uriel distant and neurotic. Ramiel alone. Alone with his thoughts, his guilt, and Ialdabaoth.

And here was Michael, stepping in as the big brother once again. Two little boys heading off on their next adventure. He knew, rationally, it was long past the time that he ought to handle himself on his own, time to fight the monsters under his bed himself, but shit it was nice to have Michael take care of him once in a while...

He smiled at the archangel. "I know. Everything's going to be fine."

"Never fear, soldier. I am a certified banisher of monsters," Michael grins, and he feels oddly like a self he knew centuries ago. 

"It will be fine." 

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Yes. If Ramiel was nothing else--not a good angel, not a good friend, not a good person deep down--he would always be able to fall back on that. He was a good soldier, maybe even truly the best. A strange ember of pride flickered in his chest. "Michael, I--" but his words were cut off and he inhaled sharply as the archangel kissed him. Without a second thought he kissed back. The intensity of mutuality overwhelms the small angel, but after a moment he pulls away from Michael.

"Let's catch ourselves a monster."

"Good. You’re a good soldier, Ramiel." Michael pauses, and he sees the fear in Ramiel’s eyes. His response is automatic, near instinct. He remembers soothing the younger angel before and he doesn’t have the time to devise a new plan. He doesn’t have the time for much. "It will be fine." 

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

"S-something?" Ramiel stutters, as a million nightmare creatures parade through his mind. He meets Michael's eyes for a moment before looking down. "Michael, uhm, I'm a s-soldier. I will follow my orders.

"Anything for my general."

"There’s something on the ship, Ramiel." Michael says, turning back to him before they turn the next corner. "I need you to come with me, and you’ll follow my orders when I give them." He glances past him to check the corner before returning his gaze to Ramiel, hard and unflinching. "Every single one. Whatever this is is dangerous, and I can’t afford to lose you." 

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

"Michael--" Ramiel starts as he's dragged back by the lapel of his hoody. His cheeks burn bright as he remembers Michael's lips and then he shakes free of the memory. He turns to start running after the archangel, tripping over his feet and nearly sprawling out on the floor. "What's g-going on?"

Michael’s feet hit the sub deck with silent force, and his speed is near inhuman as he changes floors. He checks each corner as he passes and when he reaches another figure he grabs them by their collar and yanks them back. “There’s a situation.” 

"I need you in the central lounge. Now.”

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

I suppose so, yes.

…Why question it? We are what we are.

[ramielthemessenger-blog]

Which is?

How any of us do.