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Sacrifice for the Enemy
Oct. 16th, 2020 09:32 pmEven after billions of years everything couldn't be predicted. The angels took precautions, trained, planned,plotted and deceived. Still things could go awry, and they did. Celestial angels at the door was nothing new, not since Lucifer had convinced their own brothers and sisters to start defecting to his cause. God was losing ground in a visible way, though the fallen had always been aware that Lucifer chipped away at the base of His power consistently. The half dozen or so that had walked out of heaven were the first piece falling from the top. It was the first moment the man on the throne knew the serpent was beneath, still waiting for a chance to strike. As if Lucifer would have never backed down.
That was how it started, a clash of angels, celestials chasing those who wanted free of God. Chasing them to the very Doors of Chaos across the void from Heaven and Creation. Beelzebub was on duty and the angels flew to his side knowing he would lead them, unfaltering in the fray at their side. God had hoped for such, or so Moloch and Abigor surmised when the blow came. Michael hesitated, hanging back which was unusual but not unknown. His javelin stood ready, but he was the lone seraphim among the archangels in the fray. The warlord didn't hesitate. He had faced down Michael in heaven during the Battle of the Fall. Done once it could be done again. This is where it changed. Michael pulled back and threw his beloved javelin. It skewered the Prince of Chaos where he fought a cloud of other angels. Dropping him from the sky, plummeting into the void under the impact.
The Void was unending, one could fall forever and become lost. Only Lucifer knew how to navigate this space. Moloch watched the sight with wide eyes and curiosity. Angels rarely fell from the sky, even the fall wasn't a falling out of the sky in the way it was often depicted. It was a queer occurrence. Without air currents or drag, Beelzebub was splayed out as he drifted down into the darkness as if he had laid down for a nap on a black throw of deep velvet. It took voice to rouse Moloch from his staring.
“I'm going to the King.” Abigor was already receding when the words met Moloch's ears. His eyes were still fixated on the angel lazily falling. Silver flashing when the surface of the javelin caught the light from the embattled angels.
Reason rushed back and Moloch clamped his wings to dive. Whether he could manage pulling the much larger angel out of his fall was uncertain. On the bright side, when he caught up Beelzebub was covered in straps from his favored armor. There were a lot of hand holds. A firm grip and he opened his wings, pain surged as the snapped back under the tension. The metallic flight feathers groaning and rasping under stress. He struggled to flap and eventually made progress. Up he flew to the door into Chaos. Metal rattled as his flight feathers pulled, arrows deflecting off feathers, but some made it through, little jabs of pain to skin and bone when his feet alighted on the stone outside the door to safety. He fell to the ground but other angels assisted, dragging their warlord into the door.
“Hold them back! The King is coming!” Moloch screamed to rally the angels. They had to hold. Moloch paused at the side of his brother to grab hold of the javelin pull it free so he could heal. The metal scorched the fallen angel's flesh. Hand shot back on instinct like touching a hot stove. He needed assistance.
Angels flowed past Moloch and out the door into the void. None of them could probably help. All would endure the same burning pain. He needed a celestial, a human, something not fallen. Moloch shifted, hauling the incredible weight of Beelzebub up off the ground, wings straining to get airborne. Only one place came to mind for aid, the villa, the Nexus. He struggled falling to the ground, resting and pushing back into the air.
By the time he arrived at the villa, Lucifer and the other fallen had departed, probably without word. He laid Beelzebub in the meeting room. Blood was already pooling, illusions low as his own presence. The fire showed, skin reddened by the light beneath, and black eyes fixed and open. The javelin needed removed.
“Hello” Moloch called out in the hall. “I need assistance.”
His mind was already trying to figure out what to do next. The farm maybe, if no one was here. Maybe the other celestials that came but they may well be in their home realms, or at Lucifer's side going to war. The fallen turned back to his brother contemplating how much pain would come with holding on long enough to pull the javelin free.
Without other course of action Moloch screamed. It was the blood curdling cry of an angel in distress. No one would need to be told what it meant. It was a universal sound, it drew the hellhounds from the gardens and would hopefully pull in others as well.
That was how it started, a clash of angels, celestials chasing those who wanted free of God. Chasing them to the very Doors of Chaos across the void from Heaven and Creation. Beelzebub was on duty and the angels flew to his side knowing he would lead them, unfaltering in the fray at their side. God had hoped for such, or so Moloch and Abigor surmised when the blow came. Michael hesitated, hanging back which was unusual but not unknown. His javelin stood ready, but he was the lone seraphim among the archangels in the fray. The warlord didn't hesitate. He had faced down Michael in heaven during the Battle of the Fall. Done once it could be done again. This is where it changed. Michael pulled back and threw his beloved javelin. It skewered the Prince of Chaos where he fought a cloud of other angels. Dropping him from the sky, plummeting into the void under the impact.
The Void was unending, one could fall forever and become lost. Only Lucifer knew how to navigate this space. Moloch watched the sight with wide eyes and curiosity. Angels rarely fell from the sky, even the fall wasn't a falling out of the sky in the way it was often depicted. It was a queer occurrence. Without air currents or drag, Beelzebub was splayed out as he drifted down into the darkness as if he had laid down for a nap on a black throw of deep velvet. It took voice to rouse Moloch from his staring.
“I'm going to the King.” Abigor was already receding when the words met Moloch's ears. His eyes were still fixated on the angel lazily falling. Silver flashing when the surface of the javelin caught the light from the embattled angels.
Reason rushed back and Moloch clamped his wings to dive. Whether he could manage pulling the much larger angel out of his fall was uncertain. On the bright side, when he caught up Beelzebub was covered in straps from his favored armor. There were a lot of hand holds. A firm grip and he opened his wings, pain surged as the snapped back under the tension. The metallic flight feathers groaning and rasping under stress. He struggled to flap and eventually made progress. Up he flew to the door into Chaos. Metal rattled as his flight feathers pulled, arrows deflecting off feathers, but some made it through, little jabs of pain to skin and bone when his feet alighted on the stone outside the door to safety. He fell to the ground but other angels assisted, dragging their warlord into the door.
“Hold them back! The King is coming!” Moloch screamed to rally the angels. They had to hold. Moloch paused at the side of his brother to grab hold of the javelin pull it free so he could heal. The metal scorched the fallen angel's flesh. Hand shot back on instinct like touching a hot stove. He needed assistance.
Angels flowed past Moloch and out the door into the void. None of them could probably help. All would endure the same burning pain. He needed a celestial, a human, something not fallen. Moloch shifted, hauling the incredible weight of Beelzebub up off the ground, wings straining to get airborne. Only one place came to mind for aid, the villa, the Nexus. He struggled falling to the ground, resting and pushing back into the air.
By the time he arrived at the villa, Lucifer and the other fallen had departed, probably without word. He laid Beelzebub in the meeting room. Blood was already pooling, illusions low as his own presence. The fire showed, skin reddened by the light beneath, and black eyes fixed and open. The javelin needed removed.
“Hello” Moloch called out in the hall. “I need assistance.”
His mind was already trying to figure out what to do next. The farm maybe, if no one was here. Maybe the other celestials that came but they may well be in their home realms, or at Lucifer's side going to war. The fallen turned back to his brother contemplating how much pain would come with holding on long enough to pull the javelin free.
Without other course of action Moloch screamed. It was the blood curdling cry of an angel in distress. No one would need to be told what it meant. It was a universal sound, it drew the hellhounds from the gardens and would hopefully pull in others as well.
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nc_ooc prompt 4. "What is worth fighting for?"]
“You called me brother?” Moloch came out of the shadows beneath the trees. They hung long in the growing dark. The angel sat beneath a huge oak yet to set out the buds to open, staring blankly at a blue ribbon dancing and twirling in the wind where it was tied to a tree branch. “No words tonight Eveningstar? And no drink?”
Moloch came around leaning against the tree to look down at the other angel. “Tell me, why did you call?”
The fierce angel finally looked up from where he sat, fire was in his eyes despite their opaque blackness. “Let me be.”
The demand gave Razorwings pause but did not send him scurrying away as the power would anyone else. This angel no longer experienced fear. Beelzebub's powers couldn't affect him. “Is it the little rabbit, your little rabbit?”
Moloch squatted down to take in the sight of his brother but wary enough to stay out of reach of his gasp or fists. Something was brewing in the angel, beneath the surface. It was like tug to coat tails, a gentle lull of attraction.
“Remove yourself from my presence.” The solemn angel was moving and Moloch kept his distance. “We will have war if you do not part from here.”
He was undeterred even as his larger, more aggressive brother clenched his fists in rage. Without leaving the squatting position Moloch started to slink back. Fearless did not mean a lack of understanding pain. Pain was still very real. “You can feel it, can't you? The sorrow inside where there was joy.”
Wings started to blaze, black cracked fore-edges fading into reds like the lava within a volcano. Wrath always came in moments such as these. This was not the first time the cannibalistic angel saw one of his brothers succumb in tiny chips to the curse he bore. “They will come to you, just as they did Lucifer, in time.”
It was enough to see curiosity flash in the seething black eyes. “What will come? Tell me. Before I tire of your claws trying to find hold.”
Moloch dared, came closer to the angel, still kneeling and body tense as a spring. He brushed back wildly wind blown hair to get a better look at the angel's face. He could hide it from other, well enough the black winged one imagined. It hung on Beelzebub like shroud of darkness. It tainted the bright spirit and yet the dark brought renewed light. Moloch had gotten close enough that he could have brushed noses with the other angel.
“The tears.” He commented simply, clawed fingers brushing beneath the eyes. It was too much and the stronger angel snatched his hand away with a grip on the verge of breaking bones and rending flesh. “The sorrow already has seeds in your heart. The poor, mortal, fragile, little thing that you cling to. Eventually he will be taken to ash and none can stop it. No one else will see the cracks but me.”
It was felt before it happened. The spring snapped and Moloch hurtled through the air. He tumbled but came upright on his feet. He cared not about the twigs and mud now caked in his wings or the threatening posture of the other angel. He came fast now undeterred.
“You must accept it or it will destroy you.” Moloch raged back at the growl rising from the angel he faced.
“I will not bend to your trickery.” The return was quiet from war. A sign of danger.
“It is not my trickery.” Moloch looked away feeling his own burdens as a undeniable weight on chest and back. “It was God who made what I am, and it was God who took their immortality brother. You were there to witness the curse.”
The other angel was crumpling and Moloch moved to steady him but the bulk and press of an angel losing itself to the dark drove the smaller angel back to the ground. And then they came, tears, but not of the body of material existence brought up for convenience. No, this was the presence it hid that wept. Moloch let the weight press in as illusions fluttered and threatened to expose the burning presence they contained.
“You must accept it twin of my creation.” Moloch's whisper was a hiss through his ragged teeth. “You were not made to lose, but this is a war you can't win. None can.”
It brought great pain to any angel to see one breaking, their grace crying out for relief. It was something they all remembered from the binding in the fire. Though, for Moloch it was soothing to finally have another suffering with him, who could understand for even a moment.
“Time, I can do nothing for..” Moloch spoke, still quiet and word short from the crush of weight against him. “...but if it is a thing which can suffer that causes this sorrow upon you then I will lay your pains upon them with such wrath it will shake the foundations of Throne and Heaven.”
The angel perked at those words, tears slowing their fiery trail to scorch the grass. Moloch wiped away fiery tears from the parts others could not see. “Accept, but do not despair. When you fall I will wait at the bottom and we shall wage a war that none will withstand.”
He bit the angel on the temple. Just as he could rile emotions he could also strip them away.
“I'm bleeding.” the other angel touched the blood streaming from his head and another growl came as Moloch slipped from weight and grasp. “You came here to bite me?”
He laughed maniacally at his brother's wrath, taunting it into a blaze.
“Last you had teeth in me I swore I would break you if you dared.”
Moloch just laughed more. “First, you have to catch me.”
He disappeared taking flight and feeling the heat from hellfire after him. He would get beaten, war was relentless, but when he walked away he would be aligned and stable again. Moloch was the omega, always had been. This was his duty. To be the light when everyone else's went dark.
nc_ooc prompt 4. "What is worth fighting for?"]“You called me brother?” Moloch came out of the shadows beneath the trees. They hung long in the growing dark. The angel sat beneath a huge oak yet to set out the buds to open, staring blankly at a blue ribbon dancing and twirling in the wind where it was tied to a tree branch. “No words tonight Eveningstar? And no drink?”
Moloch came around leaning against the tree to look down at the other angel. “Tell me, why did you call?”
The fierce angel finally looked up from where he sat, fire was in his eyes despite their opaque blackness. “Let me be.”
The demand gave Razorwings pause but did not send him scurrying away as the power would anyone else. This angel no longer experienced fear. Beelzebub's powers couldn't affect him. “Is it the little rabbit, your little rabbit?”
Moloch squatted down to take in the sight of his brother but wary enough to stay out of reach of his gasp or fists. Something was brewing in the angel, beneath the surface. It was like tug to coat tails, a gentle lull of attraction.
“Remove yourself from my presence.” The solemn angel was moving and Moloch kept his distance. “We will have war if you do not part from here.”
He was undeterred even as his larger, more aggressive brother clenched his fists in rage. Without leaving the squatting position Moloch started to slink back. Fearless did not mean a lack of understanding pain. Pain was still very real. “You can feel it, can't you? The sorrow inside where there was joy.”
Wings started to blaze, black cracked fore-edges fading into reds like the lava within a volcano. Wrath always came in moments such as these. This was not the first time the cannibalistic angel saw one of his brothers succumb in tiny chips to the curse he bore. “They will come to you, just as they did Lucifer, in time.”
It was enough to see curiosity flash in the seething black eyes. “What will come? Tell me. Before I tire of your claws trying to find hold.”
Moloch dared, came closer to the angel, still kneeling and body tense as a spring. He brushed back wildly wind blown hair to get a better look at the angel's face. He could hide it from other, well enough the black winged one imagined. It hung on Beelzebub like shroud of darkness. It tainted the bright spirit and yet the dark brought renewed light. Moloch had gotten close enough that he could have brushed noses with the other angel.
“The tears.” He commented simply, clawed fingers brushing beneath the eyes. It was too much and the stronger angel snatched his hand away with a grip on the verge of breaking bones and rending flesh. “The sorrow already has seeds in your heart. The poor, mortal, fragile, little thing that you cling to. Eventually he will be taken to ash and none can stop it. No one else will see the cracks but me.”
It was felt before it happened. The spring snapped and Moloch hurtled through the air. He tumbled but came upright on his feet. He cared not about the twigs and mud now caked in his wings or the threatening posture of the other angel. He came fast now undeterred.
“You must accept it or it will destroy you.” Moloch raged back at the growl rising from the angel he faced.
“I will not bend to your trickery.” The return was quiet from war. A sign of danger.
“It is not my trickery.” Moloch looked away feeling his own burdens as a undeniable weight on chest and back. “It was God who made what I am, and it was God who took their immortality brother. You were there to witness the curse.”
The other angel was crumpling and Moloch moved to steady him but the bulk and press of an angel losing itself to the dark drove the smaller angel back to the ground. And then they came, tears, but not of the body of material existence brought up for convenience. No, this was the presence it hid that wept. Moloch let the weight press in as illusions fluttered and threatened to expose the burning presence they contained.
“You must accept it twin of my creation.” Moloch's whisper was a hiss through his ragged teeth. “You were not made to lose, but this is a war you can't win. None can.”
It brought great pain to any angel to see one breaking, their grace crying out for relief. It was something they all remembered from the binding in the fire. Though, for Moloch it was soothing to finally have another suffering with him, who could understand for even a moment.
“Time, I can do nothing for..” Moloch spoke, still quiet and word short from the crush of weight against him. “...but if it is a thing which can suffer that causes this sorrow upon you then I will lay your pains upon them with such wrath it will shake the foundations of Throne and Heaven.”
The angel perked at those words, tears slowing their fiery trail to scorch the grass. Moloch wiped away fiery tears from the parts others could not see. “Accept, but do not despair. When you fall I will wait at the bottom and we shall wage a war that none will withstand.”
He bit the angel on the temple. Just as he could rile emotions he could also strip them away.
“I'm bleeding.” the other angel touched the blood streaming from his head and another growl came as Moloch slipped from weight and grasp. “You came here to bite me?”
He laughed maniacally at his brother's wrath, taunting it into a blaze.
“Last you had teeth in me I swore I would break you if you dared.”
Moloch just laughed more. “First, you have to catch me.”
He disappeared taking flight and feeling the heat from hellfire after him. He would get beaten, war was relentless, but when he walked away he would be aligned and stable again. Moloch was the omega, always had been. This was his duty. To be the light when everyone else's went dark.
