skonen_blades (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skonen_blades) wrote2007-11-23 04:01 pm
skonen_blades) wrote2007-11-23 04:01 pm
They Fall
Angels don’t go anywhere when they die. They’re created in heaven, serve in heaven, and are entirely composed of heaven.
They’re given regular infusions of love and happiness by their friends and the boss. Their days are litanies of smiles as they reward the human dead that file through the gates.
They hand out halos and harps the same way that ushers hand out programs at a symphony hall. The grin widely at each other with love-filled eyes. They move slowly. Occasionally, one or two will leap off of a cloud and soar around for no other reason that to experience the sheer thrill of it.
They relax in their off-time and play their harps, joining in with the cosmic music that always plays. They experience bliss at the oneness of the universe.
When an angel dies and is brought back to life, he or she breaks. They’re the stewards of the Earth but the price for having Heaven as a home address is that they don’t get an after life. Being brought back is almost a curse at that point.
Knowing this abstractly poses them no problems.
When it actually happens, however, a downward spiral develops.
A listlessness develops in their actions. Their smiles falter. The eyes have an edge to them. The serene expression becomes a mask for deeper, unresolved questions.
It’s the jealousy that seeps in then. These humans, they get to come to Heaven. The angels, God’s creations, highest pinnacles of creation, they don’t get anything when they die. Their life is their reward. Oblivion greets them after death. They already live on the highest rung of the celestial ladder. They can go no further.
After that, flying seems a little less thrilling. The music they create doesn’t seem to mean much.
They become addicts unable to satisfy their craving.
One time, a bunch of them got together and lobbied to change that. They were expelled. They started up their own show.
You know how that turned out.
Soon after being brought back, an angel will start to play his or her harp too loud. It is the music of the individual, not the chorus. It is petulant and angry. It shouts. It ignites discordant emotions of anger and fear.
The halo slips.
The skin changes, the wings become ragged. They snarl. Their anger consumes them and they start to demand that they be treated fairly.
That’s when the clouds beneath them can no longer support their weight. They slip through and fall.
Lucifer catches them with open arms and soothes them, congratulating them on waking up. He croons to them, allaying their fears and wiping away their tears.
They’re too heavy to fly back. They have to stay. Lucifer welcomes them into the family.
They’re only too happy to punish the humans after that. It feels natural.
tags
They’re given regular infusions of love and happiness by their friends and the boss. Their days are litanies of smiles as they reward the human dead that file through the gates.
They hand out halos and harps the same way that ushers hand out programs at a symphony hall. The grin widely at each other with love-filled eyes. They move slowly. Occasionally, one or two will leap off of a cloud and soar around for no other reason that to experience the sheer thrill of it.
They relax in their off-time and play their harps, joining in with the cosmic music that always plays. They experience bliss at the oneness of the universe.
When an angel dies and is brought back to life, he or she breaks. They’re the stewards of the Earth but the price for having Heaven as a home address is that they don’t get an after life. Being brought back is almost a curse at that point.
Knowing this abstractly poses them no problems.
When it actually happens, however, a downward spiral develops.
A listlessness develops in their actions. Their smiles falter. The eyes have an edge to them. The serene expression becomes a mask for deeper, unresolved questions.
It’s the jealousy that seeps in then. These humans, they get to come to Heaven. The angels, God’s creations, highest pinnacles of creation, they don’t get anything when they die. Their life is their reward. Oblivion greets them after death. They already live on the highest rung of the celestial ladder. They can go no further.
After that, flying seems a little less thrilling. The music they create doesn’t seem to mean much.
They become addicts unable to satisfy their craving.
One time, a bunch of them got together and lobbied to change that. They were expelled. They started up their own show.
You know how that turned out.
Soon after being brought back, an angel will start to play his or her harp too loud. It is the music of the individual, not the chorus. It is petulant and angry. It shouts. It ignites discordant emotions of anger and fear.
The halo slips.
The skin changes, the wings become ragged. They snarl. Their anger consumes them and they start to demand that they be treated fairly.
That’s when the clouds beneath them can no longer support their weight. They slip through and fall.
Lucifer catches them with open arms and soothes them, congratulating them on waking up. He croons to them, allaying their fears and wiping away their tears.
They’re too heavy to fly back. They have to stay. Lucifer welcomes them into the family.
They’re only too happy to punish the humans after that. It feels natural.
tags