#esiasch

[cottoncandyyuvon]

Palayarry

Ol pamis bams bial dsp mah

Od ol pamis parm ol.

Zocha? Aspah?

Teloksoe moh vonph?

Vcim, Yolkihkral.

Gneyge solpetahe bien

Gneyge niis.

Bagel tabges orsoxex graa

Nibm ta khr parry

Drix cures, nonca.

Crp ors gohulim ol chiso od paaox.

Des yarry gru de ge yrpoil.

Gneyge bahal dooain;

Crp pa zorge, esiasch.

[shieldofgod]

Speaking of wings with actual elbow joints; here’s one I did for my brother, @actually-my-name-is-samandriel.  Samandriel’s right wing, ventral (inside/front) view.

Like, obviously don’t take it, it’s gift art.  If you need/want a wing template, though, I do have them for people to use!  For free!  Just ask!

[ask-fromthepinnacle-tothepit]

Lucifer found himself back to the attic. Upon arrive he was disappointed to find the pillows and blankets were out of place. However, the fledgling climbed onto the mattress to move everything back to how he preferred it. The blankets and pillows reeked of hell and it’s many creatures, but he trusted fabrics more for comfort over the creatures that harassed him left and right. 

Three small, sky blue eyes closed and Lucifer nuzzled his face further into a pillow as his wings found a position to rest in. The little one was tired, so very tired...

“Esiasch c ol...Ol lava lap ils boaluahe.” The boy whimpered a soft prayer into the pillow. 

[homogrimoire]

Ego Ollor od Esiasch Coronzon

Fair Game Week 2020: Day 7 - AU / Free Day (Priest/Demon AU)

Read it on AO3 here.

Qrow Branwen, priest of a small chapel in the middle of nowhere, was content with his life as it was. Bad luck followed him all his life, as he was born cursed by an ancient magic that not even Oz could undo. The only things he could say were good in his life were his nieces, but even then, he felt that he had to be careful. He didn’t want them to be victims of his existence. They would visit every once and a while, which was perfect in his opinion. They would stay long enough to have fun together, but not long enough to where anything seriously bad could happen. He supposes that getting the opportunity to stay at the chapel was also nice. He was given the opportunity to stay there by an old friend, headmaster of a prestigious academy. Needless to say, he agreed without a second thought. Read to some people from a book and answer their questions two days out of the week? Easy. Be away from people so he couldn’t harm anyone? Help the headmaster with some occult mystery now and then so he could finally feel useful? It was practically a dream come true.

As the years went by, he grew closer to the few people that would show up, especially a young farmhand named Oscar. He reminded him of his nieces. He grew to understand the hope the gods could give and inspire, even if he himself believed them to be cruel and uncaring. His nieces visited less frequently, but called much more often, which he was alright with. Some of his hair began to grey, which he quickly grew to like. It made him look more mature. His experiments, while they were almost always met with some complication, always helped Oz with something. He was as content as he could be, save for one minor thing.

Qrow was lonely. Sure, people came to the chapel on a regular basis, but it was hardly personal, save Oscar. He always made sure to save him some extra sweets, even if he was a teenager now. Ruby and Yang called nearly every other day, bar when they were on a mission, but made sure to visit their favorite uncle at least once a month. Tai called every now and then and would also sometimes visit. However, Qrow realized just how lonely he was when his sister showed up out of the blue. Instead of immediately throwing blessed water at her and muttering a prayer from the book, he actually considered inviting her in. He settled for chatting outside, so that there could at least be witnesses. It went better than expected, but that wasn’t saying too much.

Oz, of course, called frequently, chatting about the magical experiments or sharing the latest gossip with each other. One call proved to be pivotal in Qrow’s life. The day was already eventful. Oscar confessed that he had a crush on one of the other farmhands, hired from a nearby city, he heard, which wasn’t a sin in any book, but Qrow didn’t really care too much about that. As an honorary uncle and father figure, he was mostly just curious about the crush and proud that Oscar was growing up. … Even if it meant Oscar would leave. It was making Qrow feel lonely again. The last time he had a crush, the kid wasn’t even born. Needless to say, he was feeling a bit down when Ozpin called. The moment Qrow answered the call, he knew something big happened, but by his tone, it wasn’t anything bad.

“So, Qrow, I believe that I may have found something that may be of interest to you.” Oz began.

“Mhmm.” Qrow responded, slouched in a chair.

“I’ve found what I believe to be the instructions for a ritual that may help your bad luck problem.” Qrow couldn’t see it, but he knew Oz was smiling.

“You’ve got my attention.” He said, quickly sitting up. “Tell me more about it.”

“From what I have learned, it may have some relation to the brother gods. Its incantations are certainly very old as well. It’s all a straight forward. It just has some… unique ingredients. I’ve procured some of the rarer ones for you, They should be there in a week’s time. Until then, I’ll leave you to find the more common ingredients. I’ll send you the instructions and list of ingredients right now.”

“Wow, Oz, I─ I don't know what to say.” Qrow was dumbfounded. To believe that his curse could be cured...

“You don’t need to say anything. You’ve done a lot more for me than I’ve done for you. But if you want to thank me, do it when the ritual is a success. You know how fickle magic can be.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”Qrow knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Who knew if some ancient ritual would hold up in the modern era. Steps could have been lost as time passed, the magic that powers it may not even exist any more, hell, it could even just end up making things worse. But, Qrow trusted Oz, and there was still the off chance that things did go as expected. At the very least, he could debunk the ritual and let Oz know.

“Although, I should tell you… no. Just, be careful with this one.”

“Alright, I will.” Qrow said suspiciously. In all fairness, Oz always was mysterious.

“Good night Qrow.”

“Good night Oz.” Once the call ended, Qrow received the information, as promised. After reading through it, he could see that it was simple. It just required a lot. There were a few ingredients he had never heard of, but imagined that those would be the things Oz sent him. A few strands of hair from a calico cat were easy to get, only having to deal with a sneezing fit, as well as a horseshoe. He just paid a visit to Oscar and gathered a few hairs from a random calico cat there and bought a horseshoe. Oscar might have tripped face first onto his crush while Qrow was there, but he didn’t feel too bad once he saw them holding hands as he left. All that was left was a shamrock and a fishing pole made by the one invoking the ritual. The shamrock, while it would probably take a day of searching in a clover field to find, made sense with the ritual’s theme. The fishing pole made no sense. If anything, it made him doubt the ritual’s authenticity a little. But, regardless, he made a cheap one out of a stick and some string with a toy lure. It was sad, but it would do.

By the time Qrow had everything he needed, it was still four days until the stuff Ozpin sent would arrive. Qrow could have continued memorizing the incantation, but he had already been doing that. So, he decided to make a more respectable fishing pole. He didn’t take woodworking in school for nothing, even though he would have to do most of the work by hand. In the end, he just looked up how to make a bamboo fishing pole online. It was a nice change of pace from his daily routine. There was still another day until the supplies arrived by the time Qrow found the rod satisfactory. He decided to spend the day carving out a bird from a piece of wood to use as a bobber. He decided on a kingfisher, for their fishing prowess. Once he finished, he decided to go to bed. He had a big day ahead of him.

The supplies he needed arrived late in the afternoon. The mailman almost tripped while holding all the supplies, but Qrow caught him just in time. He was really hoping the ritual would work. Ozpin sent him some jars of a black goop. Qrow didn’t know what it was, but he wasn’t going to question it. Along with the goop, came an odd looking rug, a faded green, that was easily centuries years old, and perhaps even millennia if he were being generous. With no time to waste, he got to work. First, he laid down the rug that he would make the sigil on. Next, using the black goop, he carefully and slowly drew out the sigil, intricate with its many lines. At the tips of the center triangle, he placed the four-leaf clover, the horseshoe, and the strands of calico cat hair. In the center where an ominous vertical eye rested, he placed the fishing pole. With that done, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, reminiscent of a prayer. He began to utter the incantation, grateful that Oz knew the pronunciations.

Torzu od adrpan, [n] ascleh k iabes

Cruscanse [xitha] siatris

Amma bab argedco ils

Bien k hoxmarch ivmd ils

Pir ooaona ors

Ollor teloch olpirt dorpha

Ol argedco ego bab

Qrow opened his eyes to see that the black goop had been swirling upwards, the ancient rug and the items he gathered caught in the vortex, until it suddenly paused mid-air, and then fell onto the floor with an anti-climatic splat. He looked at his arms to see if he was any different. He didn’t feel any different. For a moment, he thought that the ritual failed, resulting in nothing. It evidently resulted in something, as a hand shot out of the puddle. Qrow wasn’t a believer, but he grabbed a nearby holy book. It would be better than nothing. It pulled itself up and out of the puddle, the goop dripping off the figure as it emerged. Soon, he could make out slicked back brown hair with graying sides, and deathly pale skin marked with red and black veins. He was clad in a green vest similar to the ancient rug and light colored pants. He opened his eyes to reveal that the sclera were pure black, and his pupils were an unnatural and piercing red. He grinned, showing sharp canines, which was very hot, and very scary.

“So,” it spoke, “you’re the one who summoned me?” Qrow nodded his head, unable to drawl out any words. Then, it looked him up and down. “What’s your name, handsome?” Did he just… flirt, with me?

“Qrow. Qrow Branwen.” was all he could muster out.

“Hm. Handsome name for a handsome guy. I suppose you're wondering what my name is then?” Qrow didn't respond, so the entity continued. “Well, like any respectable demon, I go by many names, but you can call me yours. ” The demon winked at him. He really is flirting with me. He didn’t know how to respond to a demon flirting with him, and a rather hot one at that. “Still shocked, I see. You weren’t exactly expecting me, were you?” Qrow noticed that he held the fishing pole he made slung across a shoulder, and wore a shamrock pin.

“Nope.”

“Well, I hate to intrude, but I think it’s best that talk in the morning, you know, so you can sleep on all this. Oh, and it looks like you only got one bed. Lucky me.” Yeah, lucky. That snapped Qrow out of his stupor.

“Hold on, I am not falling asleep when some random demon is here!” Even if those arms are very tempting. He noticed that one arm had a red armband wrapped around it.

“Like what you see?” the demon teased, flexing his arms. Qrow realized that he had been staring, and began to blush.

“I’m calling Oz.”

“Her ex-husband?” the demon asked.

“Who’s what?” Ozpin picked up the call.

“So, how did it go?” he asked calmly as he took a sip of his drink.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were making me summon a demon?!” Qrow exclaimed.

“The dollar store knock-off goddess says fuck you, and that she wants the kids.” the demon interjected

“Tell her I said to pay the child support.”

“Will do.” the demon saluted. Ozpin turned his attention back to Qrow.

“He’s an alright demon. You can trust him.”

“That doesn’t answer the Question! Oz!”

“Well, if everything went as planned, you should have been able to make a deal with him by offering the fishing rod.”

“And a pretty nice one at that. I like the little kingfisher.” the demon interrupted, holding up the rod for all to admire.

“But evidently, something went wrong.”

“Yeah, you used female calico cat hair. You should have used male calico cat hair.” he corrected. “Lucky for me, it looks like I’m stuck in a pretty nice place,” he said as he looked around the room, “with an even prettier person.” The demon winked at Qrow, again.

“Stuck here? What do you mean stuck here ?” Qrow asked, flustered.

“Well, since the ritual went awry, we’ll have to make another portal to send me back.”

“And that involves going back to hell to get some of that sludge. Trips to hell aren’t easy, you know.” Well shit.

“You went to hell? For me?” Qrow asked. He was touched.

“Yes, but think nothing of it. I owe you a lot.” Oz took another sip “Besides, you’re stuck with a demon now.” Qrow looked behind him to find The demon lying down on his bed, patting the empty space beside him as if offering it to him. Qrow turned away to hide a light blush. “Well, have fun with your new roommate, good night.”

“Wait! Ozpin you little─” with a click, the line was cut. Qrow groaned. He fell back into a chair to stare up at the ceiling, tired and stressed. He looked at the demon, who was just smiling at him. “So, what should I actually call you.”

“Hmm,” the demon thought for a moment, “Clover.” he said as he flicked the shamrock on his vest with his thumb.

“Alright then, Clover . What kind of demon are you anyways?” Qrow was still a little bit suspicious, but he didn’t sense any malicious intent, so there was that.

“Well, let’s just say I have the devil’s own luck.” he grinned. Despite the smile seeming slightly sinister, Qrow felt a bit of hope.

“So what you’re saying is, that you're a demon who brings good luck?”

“Good luck for a fee, and I’d say you’ve paid yours rather nicely.” He pulled the rod out of nowhere to admire it. “I really do like the kingfisher you’ve made. It must have taken a lot of time, and a lot of skill to make. I think this one’s my new favorite.” With a quick movement of his hand, it disappeared back into nothing. “I consider myself pretty lucky, but I have a feeling I’m going to get even more lucky with you here.”

“Pfft.” Qrow scoffed. “You haven’t dealt with someone like me.”

“And why’s that?” Clover sat up, genuinely interested in Qrow’s response.

“I… was born cursed with bad luck. It affects me and everyone around me.” This wasn’t information he gave so freely, but, for some reason, he felt that the demon could understand him, so he told him.

“I see.” The demon appeared to be thinking hard. “When I was human, I was born blessed with good luck, if you can call it blessed. I’m not gonna deny it, it had its benefits. But, as I grew older the more and more people thought that all I was, was my good luck. Everyone wanted to be around me for my good luck, and never for me. You get it, don’t you.” Qrow notic ed that there was something in his eyes: sadness, loneliness, a plea for someone to understand.

“I do.” he told him.

“I thought you would.” Clover smiled and laid back down, patting the empty spot beside him once more. Qrow gave into temptation, and laid next to the hunk of a demon in the small bed. He could have forced the demon onto the floor, but he didn’t want to be rude, and he certainly wasn’t going to sleep on the floor himself. Qrow had the best night of sleep he ever had in a long time, cuddled up in those muscular arms. Yeah, things will be fine. he though as he drifted to sleep.

[actually-my-name-is-samandriel]

@shieldofgod​

“Hello, Castiel,” Samandriel greeted softly. “I have something for you brother.” He was a little nervous. It had torn him apart to take his brother’s memories of him away, even if it was just to keep them safe. Even if it didn’t make a lot of sense, Samandriel was still scared that somehow this wouldn’t work, that somehow, his brother wouldn’t be able to remember him. 

He was taken aback by his injuries. They seemed quite severe. His eyes gently travelled across his brother’s face, and over his other injuries as well. “Esiasch.” It was almost like a murmur.  He wanted nothing more than to help him get patched up, but he needed to give him those memories first or this all could prove rather difficult.

He watched his brother, waiting to see how he reacted to him and his vessel. He needed to see if he would need to give further explanation about his task. 

[fracturedsword]

November 1st, 2012

It was only after lunch that Michael got to the boxes. Dean had gone to see to things around the camp and Michael was left with unpacking his possessions. Some things were easy enough to place. Shotgun leaning against the wall, within reach from the cot. The bow and quiver of arrows went under it, he wasn't skilled enough with that yet to rely on it for self defense. Besides it wasn't that kind of weapon was it? It was made for precision and stealth, not being woken up in the middle of the night with an intruder at the door. Spare knife landed on a low wooden box of some sort next to the cot, making it a decent bedside table.

The backpack bought him a little time before he had to face the weight of the boxes. He'd never gotten around to fully emptying it after the Omaha trip, he'd been meaning to, but it hadn't happened. In it were a few crafts kits he'd kept for himself. He'd given the vast majority to Bobby and the kids but they had looked fun and after Samandriel encouraged him to try wood burning with him and Castiel he'd thought he'd try something artistic. After all he had fun with his brothers even if he wasn't nearly as skilled as either of them but they'd talked and had a good time and it had felt nice to do something that wasn't so serious or destructive. With a sigh he set them aside, he could deliver them to Bobby at a later date, he wasn't in the mood to attempt to learn how to create art anymore and he doubted he would be for a long time.

The little metal model kits he'd found soon found themselves in the same pile. There were only four of them and he'd originally intended them as something to distract himself with when it got colder. He tried to not look at them, but the one in the image of a sailing ship still caught his eye and with another heavy sigh he moved it from pile on the bed to shelf. It reminded him of how his brother spoke of the sea and sailors from times since passed. Maybe he'd assemble the little metal kit as some point and give it to Samandriel? Will he even accept it? He didn't know, but he still cared for him, no amount of anger from the younger angel would diminish the love he held for him.

The rest was thankfully nothing special. Spare ammunition and a maintenance kit for his weapon. Those were always kept in his backpack so he set it aside, leaning it against the wall next to the shotgun.

The boxes were more difficult and he found himself sitting on the edge of the cot with them for a good few minutes before he cared to so much as open them. I don't want to be here. Not that Dean's offer wasn't kind beyond words but there was a heavy finality about it. The air in this cabin was warm enough, sure but there was no warmth in it. It wasn't a loved space that was cared for. It didn't have exquisite spell work wrapping around the door frame or sun catchers in the window. It was a place to sleep and get out of the elements and little else. Not that that wasn't important in itself, but all the little touches that made Castiel's cabin a place he wanted to be just weren't there, and it was disconcerting for them to not be there. For the feeling of Castiel to not be there. Dean's space was utilitarian, Castiel's was a home that he had now lost. He only hoped he was the only one with this sensation. Only hoped that his brothers sanctuary still felt like a sanctuary to the younger angel. Please be safe esiasch. I meant you no harm.

A deep breath and he pushed himself up and opened the first box. At the top was a paper with handwriting he easily recognized as Castiel's. It detailed how to prepare his coffee, something even he hadn't known until now. Then again he'd only observed it once and that was before Castiel cut the regular coffee with decaffeinated coffee, since then it'd been ready by the time he got to the kitchen. He'd even put a reminder on the paper to only drink one cup per day. You are too kind Castiel, I don't deserve it. His hands shook a little as he put the paper aside and withdrew a large jar of coffee and a smaller one of vanilla cappuccino powder. Omaha had been a terrible time for his little brother and he'd still been kind enough to experiment with this on his behalf, and been, still was, kind enough to not only pack it but give him the instructions so he could prepare it himself.

The more he withdrew from the box the heavier it became. The teas and snacks. One he would have never thought to reclaim, Castiel having kept him fed and clothed since he arrived. Except that doesn't even cover it does it? Castiel taught me the very concept of eating and keeping myself fed. Told me why it was important. Convinced me to try to rest more as well. Let me sleep by his side. Let me find comfort with him. Trusted me.

The dried fruit hadn't even been for him, he'd brought that back for Samandriel and Castiel to share, yet here it was layered in between his clothes, packed carefully in that efficient space saving way his brother seemed to have perfected. There was a heavy lump in his throat that refused to go away as he pulled it all out and put it away in the cabinet Dean had pointed out for him.

He thought he'd gotten all the food items as he started to pick out the clothes, putting them away in an empty dresser drawer. He was counting the items as he went, more out of habit than anything else so he quickly found himself with an extra pair of socks. Recounting them didn't solve the issue either and if it wasn't for the care the box was packed with he would have assumed his brother had made an error. But Castiel was the meticulous sort, and had heard him joke about his cold feet more than once. Not to mention he'd likely ended up with said cold feet pressed against his legs once or twice when they slept. It was a touching gesture and Michael found himself smiling despite the way his eyes were starting to sting. It was humbling to be subjected to his brothers care and gentleness despite what he'd done. What he'd said. He didn't know what he would have done if the roles were reversed, but giving his sibling an extra pair of socks probably wouldn't have crossed his mind. And Castiel was made into a soldier? What would he have been like if he'd never been through that? If he'd never had to hold a blade and stain his hands with such things? Rubbing at his eyes he did his best to push that thought aside. If Father, God, hadn't done a lot of things, like turning them on their siblings, they'd still be happy, innocent, and still sing his praise wouldn't they? But that hadn't been enough had it?

He managed to pry that extra pair of socks out of his own hand and put them away. His heart was heavy and hand shaky as he put the emptied box on the floor, scooting it aside to be dealt with later.

Once he got the second box open he was proven wrong about the food. Nestled neatly on top of the last of his shirts was a large jar of his brothers mint tea. His favorite for the memories more than anything else. He cradled it close as he sank to the floor with it, head leaning back against the cot. His first conversation with his brother that had ended on a good note ran through his mind once more. Sitting near Castiel's warm stove, waterproofing his boots and just talking over tea after his brother had provided him gear that held up better against the weather. How can something that happened so long ago take away what I had now? He couldn't even regret telling them the truth because they deserved to know. They had a right to know what was done to them three thousand years ago. He couldn't deny them their hurt and anger either, if it had happened now he'd be outraged on their behalf. But how could he as he was now fight his past self over this? Over what he'd had done to his brothers? How could he fix this? How can I make this right? I don't want to lose them. Olani hoath ol esiasche. I love you brothers. I don't want to lose you. Zir tibibp. Zir tibibp. I am sorry.

The stove had nearly gone cold by the time the last of his belongings were put away, and even then it was hard to let go of the mint tea.

[thefragileblackdahlia]

Heaven: Part one

Chapter Summary:

Anna recalls her past and Sam and Dean understand why Castiel and Uriel want her dead. Anna recognizes Ariel from 'work' but doesn't remember her as the new and improved angel she is now. Ariel and Dean finally steal a moment for themselves

Character(s): Ariel, Dean, Sam, Ruby, Anna, Castiel, Uriel, Lucifer, Michael

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Ariel, Ruby x Sam, (former) Lucifer x Ariel

Warning(s): MAJOR Angst, Little bit of Crack, Angelcest??? Typical SUPERNATURAL Violence, Mild Language

A/N: I've been struggling to write this chapter since I have to write more than 3 characters than what I'm used to. Writing for Sam, Ariel and Dean is easy peasy but Ruby, Anna, Pamela, and the others are very difficult. I am publishing this chapter into two parts since I feel like that would be the easiest and because it's very long.

Also, I have no idea how Angel relationships work. They don't share the same DNA at all but only the same creator so under that, they are somewhat 'related' but not technically. Ariel and Lucifer have a strange, toxic, codependent relationship to begin with because of the bond- so I can expect them to be strange and touchy but with Michael and Ariel, she shuns it.

Please feel free to leave feedback.

Beta'd by Zoe (a friend)

Word count: 2,480+

PREVIOUSLY ON HEY JUDE

The jaded man took a leery step forward as her wings were now projected onto him for the others to see. They were wrapped around Dean at the time she was standing near him. His breathing hitched in his throat as a bright light engulfed the room, and when it died down, all three angels were gone.

Dean brought his hands up to his head, "No..." He ran his digits through his hair and shook his head in denial.

"Where's Ariel?" Sam breathed.

NOW

CABIN 

NIGHT

This shouldn't be happening to them, not again. Though they only knew Ariel for a couple of months, the boys considered her family. And to have that person constantly ripped from you; It hurts.

Sam straightened at the sight of his older brother nearly close to breaking. It was nice to see Dean smile so much in a small span of time and then to have that reason for his smile disappear, it gutted Sam.

"Fuck," Dean muttered through clenched teeth. He inhaled deeply, uncertain if he should pray. What would be the point? The broken man wiped the blood from his cheek as he pivoted on his heel and started for the backroom.

Once he reached the door, he opened it, seeing blood drip down the woman's arms. "Anna!" Dean shouted, rushing over to her and pulling a bandana from his pocket. He began wrapping it around her cuts.

"Are they- are they gone?" Anna inhaled sharply as she sank down into the chair. She glanced at Dean with a small smile, hoping that the offending angels had vanished.

Sam and Ruby blocked the door, peering in to see what had been going on in the room. Sam furrowed his brows in confusion, studying the sigil on the mirror.

Dean pulled the scarf tight to cut off circulation and tried his best to collect himself before speaking, "What did you do? Did you kill them?"

Anna shook her head and let it fall back as she gazed up at Dean, "No. I sent them away...far away"

The hunter took in her words and just let out a heavy sigh, "Yeah, Well you sent Ariel away too...so wanna tell me how?" Dean tore himself away from the girl, a bit upset that he couldn't check on Ariel. She didn't particularly have a cellphone.

"That just popped in my head. I don't know how I did it," Anna began to panic. "I just did it." She added with emphasis.

Dean shut his eyes and dragged his hand over his face before nodding his head. "Alright," He muttered. The righteous man turned out of the room and slipped past Ruby. He inhaled and glanced over at his brother who spoke in a breathy tone.

"So where did she send Ariel?" Sam asked, a bit concerned.

"Don't know," Dean sighed. He then turned around to face his brother and recommenced, "But she'll be back- So, what do you think?" He gestured to the backroom, presumably Anna.

Sam huffed, "I think Anna's getting more interesting by the second."

"Yeah, I agree." Dean stepped around Sam and brought a hand to his jaw and massaged the area where Uriel hit him. He glanced at the floor and furrowed his brows. "And what did they mean by 'She's not innocent'?"

The long-haired hunter shrugged his shoulders, "It seems like they want her bad, and not just 'cause of the angel radio thing. I mean, that blood spell-- some serious crap, man." He whispered the last part.

"Something's going on with her," Dean added while shaking his head. He looked off to the left before bringing his eyes back to his brother, "See what you can find out."

Sam raised his brows at that command, "What are you gonna do?"

Dean nodded his head toward the back room, "Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but, sooner or later, they're gonna be back." He shifted before he resumed speaking, "We gotta get ourselves safe now, and we can't depend on Ariel to save our asses each time."

EMPTY FIELD A FEW STATES AWAY 

NIGHT

"FUCK!" Ariel shouted as she pulled herself out of the hole that was made when she descended. The archangel peered over her shoulders at her crooked feathers with a glowering look.

A car drove by with its headlights stealing her attention and blinding her before she returned it to her disheveled wings.

"How annoying," Ariel grumbled to herself. Whilst bringing a filth covered hand to her copper tresses and pushing a few strays behind her ear, she let out a defeated sigh. "I had it under control."

No, she did not.

As she fixed the crooked feathers, a gruff voice reverberated through her vessel's skull. Someone was praying; Specifically Dean.

His voice was low, almost as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to pray or not. His next words confirmed her suspicions. 'Uh...I'm praying-'

Ariel snorted as she shook her wings and gave them one strong flap before starting down the highway. "Get on with the prayer." She thought. Dean resumed talking, almost as if he heard her remark, 'We're uh... heading to Bobby's just to see what we can find to protect ourselves. Sam's gonna do some research and see what he can dig up- anyways,' Dean sighed. 'Be careful. See you when we get there.'

The archangel let out a heavy sigh. She couldn't let all of the arguing get to her. Yes, things were much more serious now than in the past but she had to address the situation with almost the same mentality. Saving Anna meant potentially having more allies, having more allies meant more connections and possibly to finding out which seals Lilith will break next.

Ariel took in a considerable amount of air before giving her wings a sturdy flap and flying to Bobby's empty home.

BOBBY'S LIBRARY

NIGHT

A soft fluttering of wings meant that Ariel had arrived. It was quiet, quaint, and...lonely.

"This isn't quite how I imagined the rest of my night to go-" Ariel murmured to herself before browsing the vast wells of knowledge that sat on the shelves in Bobby's library. She traced her fingers on the dusty spinal columns of each book before hovering over a particular book.

A book of the five archangels.

"Interesting," She brought her fingers to her face, nibbling on her nails and debating whether or not she wanted to know what humans thought of her. It wasn't like she already hadn't known but there were different variations.

In some, she was called The Guardian, in others, she was mostly labeled 'Dilzmo obza' which meant 'Other half' in Enochian. She preferred the title not associated with her homicidal mate. It was hard to discern whether she was still shrouded in his darkness or was brought out of it- telling by how comfortable she felt in her own skin, she assumed she no longer needed to worry about Lucifer manipulating her emotions from the cage.

The Guardian pried the book from the shelf and took a seat on the orange couch that wasn't too far from the bureau by the fireplace. She flipped to a random page in the book and began reading. As if the universe wanted to shove it down her throat, there, beautifully painted, sat a portrait of Lucifer; An image before and after his exile.

"Drilpa esiasch" Ariel murmured instinctively. Eons had passed yet whenever she saw anything remotely resembling him she always said those two words. Big brother.

The ginger ran her fingers across the aged paper, trying her best not to retreat deep into her mind.

'You know sometimes we could try making our own Universe.' A disembodied voice echoed through the room, startling the young angel. Her eyes darted around the darkness, searching for a face to match the voice to but they soon just fell on the watercolor painting of Lucifer.

Ariel realized that it was all in her head. She stared at the book with a veiled expression.

"Think of the things we could create together. Me, the idealistic God, you, the tiny but strong angel that is very supportive." The voice whispered into her ear, the hot breath making her vessel shudder.

Ariel's brows snapped together as her eyes glossed over in white. A flashback clouded her mind.

It was an unusually quiet day, her other three brothers were doing their usual tasks, either helping Father create or training the fledglings; This left Lucifer and Ariel by themselves most of the time, stargazing.

This happened to be a few days after a heated debate between Lucifer, Michael and Ariel , which put the three archangels in an awkward predicament.

Ariel followed after her bonded, Lucifer, but never left Michael's side. Ultimately she was torn between the two. In the end, she felt compelled to choose the rebellious angel. Always.

The small celestial being gazed at the passing comet, wishing it were her.

Ariel tilted her head at the second eldest, "I would just be a supportive angel? Why not help you create and be a Goddess?" She scrutinized him with a raised brow.

Lucifer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Sure- Goddess, supportive angel... Whatever you want." The male let his icy azure eyes fall on his sister's skeptical grimace, searching her eyes for some kind of response but silence fell over the room.

The silence gnawed at him. What was she thinking? Why didn't she respond to that? It was clear that maybe she had other ideas.

"I have something to confess-" The both of them spoke simultaneously, shocking the other.

It brought a smile to the woman's face, "You first."

"I have a confession...I don't really think father's creation deserves our love, at least not more than he deserves it." Lucifer murmured. His tone of voice was soft, almost if he was uncertain if he should be telling her this, but he didn't really have anyone else to tell BUT her.

Ariel gawked at the blonde sitting not too far from her. She wanted to ignore everything that just came from his mouth but it proved to be difficult. The main question that came to the front of her mind was 'Why?' but she decided that she didn't want to know his reasoning.

"They can be a bit strange...yes," Ariel whispered.

Lucifer picked up on this mood change almost instantly. Maybe he should have saved his thoughts for another time. "It's more than that." He grumbled.

Ariel shut her eyes. "We cannot talk about this," She hissed.

"Why can't we? Are we going to be cast out?" The testy angel laughed at his own joke, showing he didn't particularly care about being caught for talking bad about Father's creations.

There was a beat.

The clairsentient being let out a heavy sigh and pushed himself to his feet. He shook his wings, ruffling out a few feathers before giving them a soft flap. They were encompassing his muscular build, soft and pink. Lucifer made no effort to turn his head completely as he spoke to the youngest archangel, "No matter what happens to me, or where I'll go, I'll always come for you."

Ariel immediately rose from her seated position, "What does that mean?"

His vagueness nipped at her, peaking her inquisitive side. He sauntered over toward the exit, his large wings draping on the floor behind his feet. And before he turned down the hall, he turned half of his body and gave his twin flame an inscrutable look.

"It'll make sense to you, when you're older..." Lucifer's words trailed off near the end before he continued. "G'll uran, G'll uran."

Ariel stared after her mysterious brother, contemplating whether she should follow after him or not.

She chose the former. She always chose the former.

Ariel blindly followed after Lucifer.

KITCHEN 

MORNING

The sound of birds chirping filled the crisp morning air, the crickets seceding and quieting for the day.

Ariel stared blankly into the brown paper, her mind elsewhere. Why did she always find herself reminiscing about old times when it was clear that version Lucifer was long gone.

A loud slam caught Ariel's attention but she didn't bother to turn her head once she heard the familiar thud of Dean's boots. She heard mumbling and the steps drawing nearer.

"So you hunt things like demons?" Anna's voice could be faintly heard over the sound of buzzing in the back of Ariel's mind.

Dean's voice was deep and clear, "Yup, vampires, ghouls, demons, witches, werewolves, shapeshifters-"

Ruby cut in, "Dean." She casted him a sardonic look.

"Hey, she asked- don't look at me like that," Dean grumbled, rounding the corner and halting once he caught a glimpse of red locks.

There she was, alive, sitting on the couch and reading a lore book like she didn't just almost bash in an angel's head hours before.

Dean's breathing hitched in his throat once he studied her relaxed physique. Large black and golden wings were draped across the couch, like silk. Her trench coat was dangling on the armrest, her legs crossed and lips pursed. She seemed to be in deep thought or maybe disassociated.

"You're here," Dean breathed, his voice coming out higher pitched than he intended. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

Ariel took a small peek through her sheer curtain of copper strands at Dean who had a constipated grimace. The angel inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, "Well, an angel banishing symbol isn't going to kill anything." She gingerly marked the page for later and closed the lore book.

After setting the book aside, the angel stood to her feet and sauntered past the three beings and into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on. Angels didn't need to eat, but she liked the taste and texture of food. Eyes followed Ariel as she rummaged through the refrigerator. When she turned to face the group, she spoke with her mouth full of chicken., "It's just really annoying."

Dean raised a finger to protest Ariel shoving the chicken in her mouth but lowered it once he realized that it may have been a few weeks old.

"Sorry, I uh...ruffled your feathers?" Anna giggled at her pun which earned her a pointed look from the archangel.

Ariel chewed the last bits of chicken and swallowed, licking the leftover crumbs from her lips. "You think it's funny but it's pretty disorienting. Imagine getting on a rollercoaster and the drop is an immediate 90-degree angle."

Anna pulled her lips into a tight smile, giving Ariel her best poker face. Dean and Ruby mimicked her.

"Yeah, not so fun, right?" Ariel derided.

The male hunter clasped his hands and rubbed them together, "Right, well, Let's get you into the panic room, Anna." Dean motioned his arms toward the hall that led down into the basement.

PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST

[prf-dakota]

Ascha quansb nor c teloc. Adrpan esiasch c cnila. Arp qaa c amma bahal ar tonug esiasch luciftian congamphlgh #parachills #parathrills #paraunity #protection

[specialiststrangealexafeed]

Ascha quansb nor c teloc. Adrpan esiasch c cnila. Arp qaa c amma bahal ar tonug esiasch luciftian congamphlgh #parachills #parathrills #paraunity #protection

[thegrandseraphim-blog]

i wonder what will happen when it's found out that is my bell? my esiasch?

[risen-icarus]

ESIASCH FAONTS - ☾ The brothers dwelling in the brightness ☽

I love my brothers. (Left to Right: Lucifer, Me (Tetrafel), Michael)

[shieldofgod]

“The minstrel boy to the war is gone…”

                                The voice rose, pure and beautiful; layered in joy and melancholy,                                                                  it sang some immeasurable distance above

                                                                             “...in the ranks of death you’ll find him.”

                                                                    forever out of reach.

“His father’s sword he has girded on….”

                                           If he still had wings, he could fly up to find it.

                                                                              “...and his wild harp slung behind him!”

                                                                                            He was beyond if.                                                                                                    Beyond flight.

“‘Land of song!’” said the warrior bard,                  “‘Though all the world betrays thee…’”

The choir was silent; only one lone voice rang out,                    too high to reach.

                                                                       “‘One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,                                                                                                  “‘One faithful harp shall praise thee!’”

“You’re not listening,” Samandiriel said, wistful and sad. “You have to listen, Castiel.”

He had no voice with which to answer, but if he could have, he would have said he was

                                                    neither warrior, nor bard;

                                                                                       had only ever been one,                                                                                                                             or the other,

                                                                                                           and was now neither.

Samandiriel’s voice whispered just behind his shoulder, “But once, in love, you chose both.”

But when he turned to look, his brother was gone.

-From Triptych, the unfinished sequel of The (Second) Book of James

[shieldeus-moved]

❝ i’ve looked close enough and i see you for what you are. ❞ -abdi

   Castiel has had a taste of this iron before.  A cold,  formless shard that hit him right beneath the thin skin-like layer of light,  right where it hurts.  Like now,  the angel Castiel does not tremble,  does not quiver :  although,  well,  in some indistinguishable depths screened by white,  hemmed by golden flames,  he laments and he moans like a stag whose chest an arrow has pierced.  Brother,  brother he thinks.  And what he thinks,  Abdiel can hear  —  tolling loud as a bell,  long as a ring.  Resonating.  Abdiel does not look away,  does not stray from the sight,  perhaps in contempt not of the petty sort ;  the subtle line a step away from hatred,  where still a leaf of love can turn green and new.   ‘  Esiasch, ’   Castiel tells him.  The old language crackles in his voice like fire.  Blurred hawk-like claws clench like muscles :  now vast,  freer than he’s felt in a long time,  Castiel extends a set of burning wings. 

                 ‘  Esiasch  ’   he repeats.  His other four wings coil like malleable flames,  and he,  wounded,  draws back like a wolf.  More feral,  than holy.   ‘  How I wish you had looked.  ’   the ways Castiel’s wings join like a pair of hands in prayer is what grinds Abdiel’s steadiness into thin dust :  the prayer is for him,  Castiel is too tired to call upon the name of their father.  He has no lips to form a soundless word,  and his voice like this has become high and foolishly proud.  Foolishly,  foolishly.   ‘  Then tell me,  brother,  what am I?  ’   he continues with a flare,  a rougher sound,  rumbling deep like a landslide.  ‘  Renegade,  traitor,  heretic.  Pick your word,  but look at me as you do,  Abdiel.  Brother.  Look,  at least.  ’

               THE FIVE SENSES :  SENTENCE STARTERS.

[sl-walker]

russianicefaerie replied to your photo: Maggie Mackenzie’s a lot harder to chibi than Meg...

//Cute! <3

Thanks, esiasch. <3

[the4heretics]

La Legion de Dios-6

Viciosos y Maliciosos

La noche era oscura y fría. Los siete hijos del averno se posaron frente a las grandes puertas cubiertas por el fuego. El sonido de las almas en pena resonaba por el bosque entero. Los siete permanecieron en total silencio durante un instante. Luego, la voz de Orgullo irrumpió en el bosque. –Padre no estará contento- Envidia se sumó a la conversación, pero solo para iniciar una discusión. –Si hubieran hecho lo que  dije, esto no habría pasado- su hermano estaba a punto de responder cuando una voz grave y furiosa hablo. –Si ambos hubieran hecho su trabajo esto no habría pasado. ¡Ahora cierren la boca y abran la puerta!-  y así lo hicieron.

   Las voces resonaban en la cafetería. Los exorcistas bromeaban de aquí para allá. Edward Wickersham y Andrew Grayson caminaban por los largos pasillos del instituto. –Esta es la biblioteca- explico Edward. El joven junto a el parecía asombrado cada vez que cruzaban uno de los pasillos. –Este es el laboratorio de ciencias- Edward entre abrió la puerta y ambos miraron dentro. -¿Qué hacen ahí?- pregunto Andrew curioso. –Es donde te harán estudios y ver de done proviene tu poder- era la voz de Mikael Clawford. –Soy Mikael el director de este instituto- extendió al mano hacia Andrew y ambos se dieron un fuerte apretón. –Continuemos- dijo Edward. Ambos continuaron el recorrido por los largos pasillos, hasta escuchar el sonido estruendoso de los golem.

Rápidamente, los pasillos se inundaron de gente corriendo de un lado a otro. Edward y Andrew hicieron lo mismo hasta llegar al gran salón. -¿Ahora qué ocurre?- pregunto Edward. –No sabemos, nunca antes habían gritado de esta forma- respondió el director del instituto. Edward se acercó y tomo al golem, su ojo comenzó a brillar. -¿Qué ves?- era la voz de Elizabeth Clawford. –Es el hospital psiquiátrico Bedlam-.

   El hospital de Bedlam encerraba a los maniacos más peligrosos de Ruttenburg. –Si te transformas en uno de los guardias podremos entrar- dijo Orgullo. Su hermana pensó que era una buena idea, de hecho era la única manera en la que podrían entrar sin ser detectados. Se acercaron a la puerta e inmediatamente uno de los guardias se puso alerta. -¿Quiénes son?- pregunto tajante. –Vienen a hacer una visita- dijo Envidia que portaba el cuerpo de un humano en uniforme. Sin estar muy seguro, el hombre abrió la puerta dejándolos entrar en la sala.

Orgullo se dirigió hacia una joven de no más de 25 años que se encontraba detrás de una ventanilla cuidando el mostrador. –Disculpe bella dama- dijo el joven. La joven pareció reconocerle porque de inmediato su rostro se ruborizo. -¿No es usted el famoso actor de teatro Alexander Pierce?- el rostro de Orgullo se ilumino de pronto. –Pero por supuesto que soy yo- dijo soltando una risa. -¿En qué puedo ayudarle?- dijo la joven. El joven se le quedo mirando. –Podrías ayudarme aceptando una invitación para cenar- el rostro de la joven palideció. Iba a responder cuando la voz de Envidia interrumpió:

– ¡No estamos aquí para eso!- dijo furiosa.

-Cierto, será en otra ocasión entonces- dijo su hermano con la cabeza gacha.

-Estamos buscando a un paciente- dijo Envidia.

La joven se acomodó los anteojos y abrió una pequeña libreta. -¿Cuál es el nombre del paciente?- pregunto.

-Se llama Robert Berdella- el rostro de la joven detrás de la ventanilla palideció y sus ojos se vieron aterrados.

-Se encuentra en el segundo piso. En la habitación 1207- dijo la joven.

-Le agradezco su precioso tiempo hermosa dama- dijo Orgullo y se alejó de la ventanilla.

               Orgullo sentía las miradas de los pacientes posándose sobre él. Se deleitaba con cada una de ellas. La habitación 1207 era custodiada por dos guardias y un médico. En caso de que el paciente tuviera una ataque psicótico los guardias debían sostenerle y el medico aplicar un calmante. –Abra la puerta- dijo Envidia. -¿Quién ha dado la orden?- pregunto tajante uno de los guardias. Orgullo se acercó al hombre y lo miro fijamente en los ojos. Acto seguido el hombre desenfundo su arma y disparó contra su compañero y el médico. Abrió la puerta, dentro de la habitación un hombre se encontraba sentado con una camisa de mangas largas que se amarraban en su espalda, dejando sus brazos inmóviles. –Comenzaba a pensar que no llegarían- dijo el hombre. Su voz era áspera y sonaba aún más rasposa detrás del bozal que cubría su boca. –Lo siento- comenzó Orgullo –Tuvimos algunos retrasos-. El hombre se puso en y se acercó a su hermano. –Desátame- dijo y dio media vuelta. Las mangas estaban sujetas con un candado que fue hecho pedazos cuando Envidia disparo. –Debemos irnos, los guardias vienen- dijo Orgullo.

                   La cafetería permaneció en un silencio incomodo durante unos instantes. Edward Wickersham se había concentrado en la visión del golem. -¡Que ocurre en el psiquiátrico!- salto Elizabeth rompiendo el silencio total. –Creo que es el actor de teatro que vimos hace unas semanas- el joven soltó al golem y le permitió seguir aleteando por la sala. –Debemos irnos ahora-orden el joven exorcista y dejo la sala rápidamente. Le siguieron sus compañeros, uno detrás del otro.

               Una vez en el centro de la ciudad, la gente corría de un lado a otro aterrorizada. Elizabeth detuvo a una mujer que pasaba junto a ella. -¿Qué está ocurriendo?- le pregunto a esta. Edward sintió una incomodidad inusual al estar cerca de aquella mujer. –Ha ocurrido un ataque al hospital psiquiátrico- dijo la mujer con una voz temblorosa. Elizabeth le soltó y la mujer siguió corriendo con temor. –Hay algo extraño en esa mujer- dijo Edward. Había algo en el aura de la dama, algo que hacía que el joven exorcista se estremeciera por dentro. Despejo su mente y se concentró en llegar al hospital que se encontraba a tan solo unas cuadras de distancia.

               La calle se encontraba vacía y solitaria. Parecía un pueblo fantasma. Los jóvenes se posaron frente a la entrada del hospital. -¿Escuchan eso?- dijo Jasper. Se disponía a acercarse a la puerta cuando escucho el ruido de un cristal rompiéndose. Los exorcistas miraron hacia arriba y vieron tres figuras saltando por la ventana, cayendo justo frente a ellos. –Oh vaya, realmente esto es inesperado- dijo un hombre vestido en traje. –Sabía que era tu esencia la que sentí ese día en el teatro- dijo Edward. Anthony Hallward se disponía a atacar cuando de pronto sintió un dolor punzante recorriendo su pecho. –Amigos- dijo con voz ahogada. Los exorcistas giraron la cabeza y vieron como el cuerpo de su amigo caía sin fuerzas frente a ellos. –No pueden hacer una sola cosa bien- dijo una voz que sonaba familiar a los oídos de Elizabeth. Una mujer.

               La mujer se llevaba un rebozo alrededor del cuello y aunque su rostro lo cubría una capucha, Edward vio que el rojo de sus labios resaltaba con la luz del sol. –Son todos tuyos- dijo la mujer y detrás de ella, un hombre obeso apareció. Comenzó corriendo a toda prisa hacia los exorcistas. Faust corrió hacia el hombre, lo tomo del brazo y lo dejo tendido en el suelo. Miro a Elizabeth y esta le soltó un guiño. El hombre comenzó a ponerse en pie de nuevo. Edward comenzaba a acercarse, cuando  frente a él se posó una figura corpulenta desprendiendo humo del cuerpo. Tomo al joven del cuello y dejo soltar un bufido de aire caliente. Edward vio como los ojos del hombre se encendían en fuego; fue azotado brutalmente contra el suelo y ahí permaneció. -¡Padre los quieres vivos!- era la voz de Envidia. -¡Ipamis! ¡Buenos para nada no pueden seguir una simple orden!- su hermano se acercó a ella irradiando un calor extremo de su cuerpo. –Ten cuidado como hablas- dijo con una voz grave e intimidante. –Esiasch, deberíamos irnos- dijo Lujuria. Las bestias se alejaron con dirección al banco de Ruttenburg.

Cuando los vicios entraron en la sala, fue Ira quien se acercó a la ventanilla. Un hombre anciano y malhumorado le atendió sin apartar la vista de las monedas que sostenía entre sus arrugadas manos. -¿Qué quiere?- pregunto en un tono de fastidio. –Vengo a hacer un retiro- dijo Ira. El anciano levanto la vista y sonrió de oreja a oreja. –Oh pero si están todos aquí. Que alegría- dijo en un tono sarcástico. –Oh pero, ¿Y Pereza?- pregunto curioso. –Ese no mueve ni un dedo para nada- respondió Orgullo. El anciano hizo una seña a uno de sus empleados y este se acercó con una expresión de fastidio en el rostro. –Cuida mi dinero- le indico el hombre.

El sol comenzaba a esconderse por detrás de las nubes. A lo lejos, en un pequeño callejón sin salida, Orgullo observo una sombra tendida en el suelo. –Es Pereza- dijo. Los vicios se acercaron al hombre. Este tenía el cabello crespo y aceitoso. –No se moverá para acompañarnos, debemos cargarlo- dijo Gula. –Orgullo, tómalo de los pies y yo lo sujetare de los brazos- con un gesto de asco cruzándole el rostro, el vicio se acercó a Pereza y le tomo de los pies, tratando de no regurgitar. Los vicios siguieron el camino hacia el bosque, donde las puertas del infierno serian abiertas por los siete hijos del Averno.

-Nate River-

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