accidental(ish) video; @angela

[hevenly]

[ There's a flapping of wings and the rush of wind. The video is obviously being taken from a point very high up. All that is visible is Angela, her silver armor with its golden wings gleaming in the sunlight, and the blue, cloud-dotted sky behind her. She holds the phone out, posing for the camera. Though she can't seem to settle on a good angle.

Is she...? Yeah, it looks kind of like she's trying to take a selfie. She must have hit record by mistake.

Oh well. Enjoy, Quarantine. ]

Comments

[hellicious]

In my quarters, but I can meet you at... ooh. There's that lovely little rooftop cafe. East side of the city. See you there in... five minutes?

[hevenly]

[ She nods and ends the video. Five minutes later, she'll be waiting at the rooftop cafe, an imposing figure at six foot two (taller if you count her bright red hair), clad in silver armor with golden wings folded. Notably, one of her arms ends at the elbow. ]

[hellicious]

[As she was kind enough to show her wings, he'd do the same, landing on the rooftop with white wings widespread, almost glowing in the light of the sun. He wasn't called the Lightbringer for nothing, Angela.

He'd posture for a moment, because really, there was no peacock that liked to preen more than Lucifer Morningstar, but after a quick flex and shiver of feathers, those wings would tuck themselves back into that space inside himself where they resided, making him look no more different than any man that strolled the streets. At 6'3, he'd match her height and shoot her a pleased smile, brows winging up at the sight of a missing arm.]

Well, that has to have a fun story to go along with it. I take it you're not immortal?

[hevenly]

[ The white feathered wings are so familiar to her, but seeing them on a male body is still strange. Her own wings, metal-tipped, will fold away as well. Just easier that way, neater.

She follows his gaze to her arm. ] A hunt gone poorly. [ There's more of a story to it than that, more context she could give, but she's not exactly a giving person. ]

Asgardians are not immortal, though they are very hard to kill.

[ Still "they," not "we." She accepts the fact of her birth but does not think of herself as truly one of them. ]

[hellicious]

[He's somewhat in the same boat himself, Angela. Angels are other, even though he started life as one. He's The Devil now. One of a kind. But still... He bears the mark of his divinity in those blisteringly white feathers.

Walking over to a table, he draws out a seat for her, gesturing for her to sit as one of the waiters tries not to stare.]

Anything good doesn't go without a fight. What would you like, mm? It's on me.

[hevenly]

Do they have iced cream?

[ Yes, he said drinks, but she hasn't had ice cream in a really long time. She takes a seat, looking over the menu and not really understanding it. ]

That is kind, but I must insist on doing something for you in exchange.

[hellicious]

I'd consider you gracing me with your presence and conversation enough, my dear. A little tit for tat. I believe... yes. They have milkshakes here. Floats as well, if that floats your boat.

[Wasn't he funny? He was hilarious. Admire him, Angela. He was looking all suave in his tailored suit and charming smiles. He didn't bother trying with drawing out her desires, and it was unlikely his magnetism would work on her as well. Deity immunity (or preference for another gender). But he did like to be admired, nonetheless. Even if he'd never follow through on anything anymore.]

Tell me all about why male angels with wings have you looking so confused. I'll have a scotch, please.

[The latter said to the waiter who'd finally come over once Lucifer had seated himself.]

[hevenly]

I shall have a float, then. [ The waiter nods and leaves to go fetch their orders. ]

Very well. In exchange for the drink, I will tell you of Heven. Or, at least, the Heven I know.

[ It might wind up being a long story. ]

In Heven, there are two types of beings. The women of Heven are Angels, with wings such as your own. They are ruled by a Queen who is strict but fair. The men are Anchorites, wingless beings who live their days in silent prayer for the souls of dead Angels, ruled over by the Hierophants. There are a hundred Angels to every one Anchorite.

[hellicious]

... Sounds a bit sexist, but do go on.

[Equality, Angela. He preferred it for all genders, races, and creature types. Even among the angels.]

Don't tell me you're all celibate as well?

[That had been the cruelest part of Heaven. It had been filled with his family only. He could hardly enjoy himself that way, could he? Ah, but Hell had demons and Earth had humans, and they were all sorts of fun.]

[hevenly]

[ Had Angela been her regular, two-armed self, and not this alternate version, she would agree with him. But this Angela never met Sera, and never learned to hate the oppressive structure of Heven in that way. ]

Angels know the pleasures of the flesh. They fall in love, pair off, form connections.

[ Angela never has. But then, she wasn't like the other Angels she was raised with. ]

[hellicious]

Isn't that a little... incestuous?

[Because really, in his world, all angels were from the same God and Goddess. He'd no sooner bump bellies with Azrael than Amenadiel.]

[hevenly]

[ She gives him a confused look. ]

Not if they don't fuck their relatives.

[hellicious]

Aren't they all related?

[Keep up, Angela.]

[hevenly]

[ No you keep up. ]

What? No. Why would they all be related?

[hellicious]

[No you.]

... Aren't they all from the same Mum and Dad? God and Goddess creating angels?

[hevenly]

[ She just slowly shakes her head. ]

There are no gods in Heven.

[hellicious]

That's a rather backwards Heaven, then.

[He hadn't quite gleaned that there was that much of a difference yet.]

And the... what, wingless male angels. You said they sit in prayer all day. Do they also get to partake of the fun, or are they following more in line with the Tibetan or Christian monks?

[hevenly]

Anchorites. [ She supplies. ] I have not been to Tibet, so I could not say what their monks are like, but yes, the Anchorites are quite monastic.

[ She takes a deep breath, and goes on to explain. ]

A long time ago, before even I was born, Heven was at war with Asgard. And Asgard was at war with the Vanir. The second war was brought to peace through the marriage of Odin All-Father and Freyja of the Vanir. They had a child, Aldrif. The Queen of the Angels stole Aldrif as punishment for the crimes of Asgard, and gave her to her handmaiden Loriel to raise.

In response, Freyja, furious over the loss of her newborn daughter, severed the realm of Heven from the world tree, Yggdrasil. But that was not enough to soothe her rage. Further still, she made a pact with Hela that when Angels die, they are not to have peace. They are to become Hela's slaves, to live out the rest of eternity in toil and want.

That is why the Anchorites pray. For the souls of all those Angels who, until recently, were doomed to an afterlife of slavery.

[hellicious]

... Right. So someone being snippy has made angels go to Hell and angelic males have to pray otherwise... what? Did it actually stop anything? Or did they just pray for centuries and keep themselves from having any fun until someone did something?

[Because that was the way of it, wasn't it? Prayer didn't do much of anything. Action did. You don't want to go to Hell? Don't be an evil soul.]

[hevenly]

Basically. [ Yes. That's actually exactly what happened. It was Angela who freed the dead Angels. Not this Angela, but an Angela still. ]

Freyja's anger over the theft of Aldrif was no mere hissy fit. It took millenia for her and Odin to have another child.

[hellicious]

Children are overrated. They should be thankful they had a thousand years of peace. But, it just proves that idly hoping that things change is idiotic in the best case. I always hated the idea of praying for something to change. He doesn't care if someone gets good grades, nor does He care for crops or cattle damage. If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself.

Case in point. You had the men of your Heaven sat praying for Dad knows how long for absolutely no reason. Pointless.

[hevenly]

I agree. I have always been a woman of action. I was the Leader of the Hunt until it was revealed I was Asgardian, and I was exiled from Heven.

[ She smiles, thinking back fondly over her many years as Leader of the Hunt. ]

[hellicious]

Mm, yes, you mentioned that. Pity. I don't see why they'd exile someone for doing what needed to be done.

[hevenly]

I was not exiled from Heven for what I did. I was exiled for what I am.

[ Just then, the waiter arrives with her drinks. Angela nods her thanks and takes a sip of her float, adding as an aside, ] I was exiled from Asgard for what I did.

[hellicious]

Exile's always seemed a bit harsh, but I suppose I'm a bit biased.

[He smiles at the waiter, sipping his own drink with a happy hum.]

So let me get this straight; you were in Heaven, but you weren't an angel and they knew that. Then you saved their souls from Hell and they kicked you out even though they were supposed to have accepted you as you are. Then where you're from kicked you out for trying to save the souls of those you'd grown up with as your own?

Seems incredibly cruel and designed as a no-win situation.