Molting

I stand in the hall, gazing up at the multitudes of paintings. There were these beautiful arrays, gold swirls for frames and vibrant lusters filling those spaces. From a particular spot, there was a missing painting. I painted it, Lady Eden had explained to me that it had to be taken away.  When I look up, it's like the night sky has grown more dim, like a star system had been snuffed. It isn't bad there were was a missing portrait, but it was bugging me horribly. It's like being erased from history, that's just--

You can't just take something away and pretend everything else is normal. Sure, you can, but it doesn't make it right.

---

By the time that my fleet made it to the planet, the grass was ablaze and the sky dimmed grey. It was all terribly unnatural, and of all things- the matter of fact of the land crashing and burning so soon after the events of Arcaia's collapse created a tightening coil in my chest. But what could I do but stand steady in that field and grip ahold of my staff, there was work to be done. The angels of my brother's fleet that was sent here before, by his side, were beginning to need backup. This is where I come in, and where was I to even begin. Where was the end to it? I could only make out grey loads, distant screams and roars of clashing. The fallen fought the flying, the flying were attempting to suppress the fallen, the fallen fought their own kind. Thank the gods and stars above that there were no humans in viscininty. Unfortunately- in the time I was able to make use of- I could make out broken, wooden frames of homes that had been reduced to rubble and charcoal. It could- so easily be fixed with a miracle, but it wasn't allowed. What already happened, happened.

Michael had informed me that something was amiss, like the backwater of those who provoked the destruction of the sanctuary was on the rise again. It showed through this work.

In how the smog filled the air, the sun was red- pink in hue with that halo ringing around it in orange, but it was early into noon, so this was so implausible. If angels had lungs, we could have all been choked out by now suffocating in this atmosphere. Whatever happened here- was provoked by pure rage alone. There was disarray in the battleground, this checkerboard. My group wasn't even too close to where this was all turning out yet, gods- I know I don't need to but I draw in a breath, feeling my chest expand and breathing out to let it deflate against where ribs should be. It burns, but it doesn't matter. I was called to help, I just have to do what I can. I just... hate to see more of us die, there were too many casualties at the sanctuary already, too many of everyone was lost. It doesn't matter from the color of blood that one dawns, it hurts to see them all go like that.

In partnering groups did I send off my fleet; they were to be sent in pairs so they could easily support one another if they were to become lost. I felt bad being so demanding, but time was of the essence and- Michael said I had to be firm because they were counting on me to be like Eden. Giving direction... To save grace of not being detected, I spoke with the motions of my hands- that could easily be told and not drowned out by the distant clashing. It would be better to not go detected too. I decided to go alone because- I can be a liability, but I can handle myself... although I would very much like that support from a partner. It's so easy to feel numb in a time like this, I can't feel afraid just yet- it's like it's being swallowed down and I can't help it.

The mission, on my team's behalf, was to heal and retrieve as many of our people and go. That's the plan. The situation was already awry, what Michael could do was investigate and cut back on what was happening- it was doing a good deal of silencing from what I could tell... but when I say there were screams and cries, those were sudden and sporadic. I don't know where they are coming from- it's like in every direction, and it's like something else is still waiting. I could tell some lurking figures ducking and resurfacing again like snakes in the water. To tell whether they were angel or fallen, it was indecipherable, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The fight was burning out. And to know where Michael was- that is for me to find out. He never told me, but he was still active from the eye can see.

Staff in hand- I was given a pass upon this instrument. It was particularly accustomed to cherubim only, but because I ah- I hate to embark on this achievement, but I was awarded a staff due to my support. It was to better direct my divination, as I was told. It is still odd to use but I don't mind it at all! I hope Lady Eden doesn't think of it like that, it's just different is all!

Leaning my posture down, and keeping low, the itchy blades rustled against my knees, every so often I would pause and survey. Pause, survey, walk. It was tedious, but along the way I would encounter a body, it wasn't uncommon. Most were charred beyond recognition. I don't think I would prefer to know who it was, or not be able to, but most were unable to be helped... revived.... others were slashed, purified, 'cured'. The affect of angelic divination upon those who have been severed have shown to become- hurt from this process, it's supposed to help them but it ends up just hurting instead, and I can't understand it just yet. The intention isn't to hurt! It never is! Gods above- this whole ordeal is messing me up in the head. Though, I was fortunate enough to come across some figures in the grass who were laid to catch their breath, those who were on the brink of... I'm not sure, but I helped where I could. As much as I could... eventually I should just- get used to this.

I could never admit to Michael that I was aiding some of those who provoked the fight too, they wore familiar faces. They were still like us! I just- don't understand why it had to be this way. Why it had to be so violent... in my opinion, they served their penance already, they deserve to live and let go. I can't say I got everything right, to tell apart blue from black was blurred at some points- I hurt a few of the fallen and I apologized- I hated seeing those faces of pain, betrayal and fear, most tried to get away from me. In my limited understanding of human healing... I am not supposed to fib, I'm an angel- I'm an ARCHangel now, it's wrong to speak falsely... I tore my robe to ribbons at the ends so they could be bandages for the fallen. 

I just didn't want to see them go, It'd kill me if I just left them there! And- there was a time where it actually DID get ripped up, I was helping this one in particular, and goodness- my guard was down. As soon as I turned tail, something came at me. 

I was trying to intently to work diligently on the knots, to ensure it was fastened in, I was checking around when I was helping- I suppose I let my guard down because the one I had just finished tending to had gone back to attack me. I suppose that I was not convincing enough in being ah-- good enough to trust. I can't understand why it would think of me that way- I didn't do anything wrong... I think? I don't think I did, I don't even understand why people were fighting! I guess- everyone is just tense. I'm glad I couldn't register it then, and I refuse to now, but it had the intention to stab me in the back.

Angels heal relatively quickly already, so I could have lived the tale if I HAD been stuck in a scuffle, but the hit didn't land. I didn't even realize it till I was scampering away.

As soon as I stood from kneeling for so long, just a few steady steps out, it was like the ground beckoned for me as I went crashing down. Pain was- weird. It was like a burn rubbed against the side of my whole, fleshy being. I was used to being all feathers and porcelain, but not human in this manner. It's more optimal for more bending and pull to this rubber like exterior- but it hurt! Grass is supposed to be soft, so why does it feel like it cuts you up like angry red ants? The rocks beneath really do act like cruel cushions. Gaze whiting out for a moment, as soon as it refocused, I was starring up at something that completely clouded my vision. It came back to me quickly, not quick enough actually, but its hair was strikingly raven black, and yet there were these piercing yellow eyes. It wasn't Michael, this was too small to be Michael, but it was as eager as his spirit. It looked down at me, a kind of annoyance in the air- snappy and sharp. Lethal actually- but not at me, not at me at all. The exchange of looks was momentary, but it felt like an eternity replaying who I saw and trying to make out what it was. By the time it leaped off of me, there were these awful sounds. I didn't register it before, for my senses were clouded, but the one I had just assisted sounded mortified. Regretful.

I didn't dare look back, for I ran away to find Michael in the haste of it all, but the air reeked more of the charcoal. The air got hotter.

There was black stains all over my robe after this catch and release process, and gathering as many angels as possible before returning back to the Ether so that Gabriel's fleet would survey the land. A full wrap up. I didn't realize that the place of where that one had leaped on me from, there were handprints in black and blue.

---

I didn't learn up until then that the blood of demons was black, as we have taken upon calling them demons as well. In mortal folklore their name derives from fire breathing reptiles called dragons, which was fairy interesting and... uh.... wrote off what some humans saw and could make of the aftermath before Gabriel cleaned up. I-I did what I could after Michael, and before Gabriel. It wasn't the best, next time should be better! And hopefully there IS no next time. But- right! Right... demon blood is black, opposed to angelic blood which is blue. If I had known that, the portrait that had gone missing would be fairly inaccurate. Lush pinks of sunsets tinted inky from being soaked like a sponge. But those buttercup yellow eyes always prevailed. Wherever Eden took that portrait, I hope the paints never lose their levity.

It's just so sad to see someone you can barely recognize anymore, gods- I didn't even get to say hello or anything at all. We were never friends, they were friends with Michael more than I. I had always heard good things about Samael, I had always seen them around and well- they were sweet as could be. Gentle and warm. Not blazing and vengeful like I had just experienced. Their decline in morale in The Ether was... visible, it still is a sore subject- within good reason. I don't get how someone would end up this way, or how Lady Eden could do what she had. She- She does what's best for us but that was so...

Whatever is left of Samael, they helped me, and I can't help but feel so torn because I didn't know it was them at all. Or why they would do that for me. I couldn't doubt that there was goodness in their heart, every face is a familiar one of an old friend. Samael is just so different now. So- Violent. I could tell what was off asides from- the fact that they were covered in ichor that was not of their own. In the blood that they were basked in, there was a desire for more of it that told in that expression of theirs. 

I think that's what shocks me the most. Then again, I never knew them personally... so maybe I shouldn't be feeling so hurt about this. I don't get it though, it's not hurt in that I feel hurt personally, I think I feel hurt for them. How does someone change like that, what makes them change like that. 

I wish we were friends so I could have understood you. I only painted you once, but I don't regret it.