Angel update
Sep. 3rd, 2004 05:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessI go on record as being frustrated with this one - it wouldn't work the way I wanted it to. Not at all... Gaaah, don't you just hate bad fic days? Not writers bloc per se which is really inspiration/muse bloc - but actual wrioters bloc when you just can't put down what you mean/
Time off.
The very idea was alien. Time off?! We don’t even have overtime because the idea that any of us would ever NOT be working seemed ridiculous. And what's with all the congratulations for things I haven’t done? Yeah, it could be a bureaucratic error (perish the thought! The bureaucracy being wrong!). That sounded right... right?
No, not right. After all, if it was an error, that would suggest that SOMEONE somewhere had done theses things and had earned the time off... not likely, right? Maybe the All High had just been reading another book on management. Yeah, that'll be it, it’ll be the ‘my door is always open’ thing all over again. A full two weeks of communication problems with bands of Angels swarming over the Earth to open doors. Then two months picking up the pieces, I know more than one bank was severely pissed about their vault doors being opened every night.
But giving time off? Now? I mean that Evangelist guy’s supposed to be here for a month, maybe even longer. I’d only covered his landing in Heathrow, he’s not going to stay tired forever. And the other firm was involved...
Still... it’s not like I’ve got loads of time off, right? I mean, he's bound to be zonked for the next six hours, right? And Sam can hold down the fort until then.. it’s not like things are going to get any worse than they already are. Right? And after all, I have REALLY earned a break - even if it wasn’t for the stuff they think it was. I’ve been working bloody hard you know. I deserve it. Right. Just basic recognition. Of course. Naturally.
Which leaves the next problem, exactly what does an Angel do with his night off? It’s not like I have time to develop much of a social life. Or much of any life really. Ok, I’ve got some learning to do. I know what humans do for fun, lets take it from there.
First to London. Well, just because. After years of writing reports I’ve come to the conclusion that you just can’t describe London. You just can’t. It just IS. It’s ancient and brand new, modern and conservative, it’s full of character yet has no overarching character, it’s so huge that the mere press of humanity can make you break down in panic, yet you can find places so lonely it feels like man has never touched them, that the buildings rose whole from the land around them. Everything is in London, every nation, every country, every culture. If you can’t find it in London, it doesn’t exist, and even if it doesn’t exist, you've got a damn good chance of finding it there if you really look. It's not a city, or even really a place. It’s a country, a culture, a massive alien entity that controls more than is controlled by the denizens within it. Age, creation, energy, power, change, constancy, life and death, it’s all there, all the time. I don’t think anywhere else really matches it.
And you try getting that across in two lines on an A5 sheet of paper.
Ok, now to a bar. Seems to be what most humans do. Meet some people, have a good time - you know, drink for fun and social reasons rather than just to ignore how bad everything is.
Four drinks later and I realise it just isn’t working. I’m making pleasant conversation with the locals but exactly how much small talk can a celestial make? ‘Hi, I’m Esrazel, a creature of the divine’ hardly goes down well. How do you make friends?
Of course that just shows you how out of touch I am. With a minor miracle my wallet bursts with money (yes, completely immoral, unethical, blah, blah, blah, I’m on holiday, remember?) A word with the bar man later and the drink is flowing freely, in all directions. And some of it is ‘special’ brew - anyone whop wastes their time turning water into wine (a rather poor cheap hock, at that I might add) has clearly never had absinthe, single malt or marguerita and tequila shots... Then things began to blur...
“Drink drink drink DRINK!!” the crowd chanted madly as I ran along the row. One glass, two glass, three glass... c’mon, keep the rhythm, he's lagging well behind, sixth glass, seventh glass, eight glass, oh I am so winning this, third guy in a row. Am I king or what? thirteenth glass, fourteenth glass, fifteenth glass - winner! “WINNER!” The crowd roared in approval as the last treble vodka went down. Tony, the huge guy who’d stepped up to challenge me was passed out on the floor...
I’m on the floor, but that’s Ok, I’m still conscious and so are the three girls who are crawling around with me. It’s hot, and we've lost a lot of clothing. Their skins are incredibly hot, and so very smooth... and firm. It tastes nice as well. Oh, very very nice... They seem to love it too - ever heard the one about being driven so far to ecstasy you can hear the hallelujah chorus in your head? Well, it’s not in your head babies, oh no, definitely not in your heads - though all the screaming nearly drowned it out. Oh yes, YES! That’s it, the minute I get back, I’m striking lust from the deadly sins list...
God, I’m brilliant. The microphone dances between my fingers, I can easily forget it, here, on stage with all these people just loving me. It’s supposed to be karaoke; but I’m just too perfect. I sing out the words and watch the people cry and scream at their glory - at my glory, because I’m looking easily as fine as it sounds. “I get up from the ground in the morning, up from the ground in the middle of the evening, up from the ground in the middle of the night, OOOOOHHHH, I Testify!” Not even Meat Loaf himself could have matched my voice right then. I was the best...
“Bastard!” The smack of fist on flesh was masked by the rolling, now incredibly riotous crowd. I laughed as he fell, serves the git right! Sore looser. I roll back into the arms of one of my many admirers, hitting the crowd with a stare that knocked any other hecklers to the heels...
“Doing well, Esra.” I turned groggily to a guy at the bar. He was incredibly well dressed, his clothes must have cost more than the entire bar, and that includes selling all the patrons into slavery. He had this incredibly smug smile and hair that probably cost more than his suite. I glared at him.
“Whoa, there Angel boy. Going for the full set?”
I shook my head, clearing a few fumes. It wasn't enough., I sighed heavily and pushed aside some of the alcoholic stupor... how bad was it... God, how much did I drink and what was it and what factory was it smelted in?! “Ansekaril. ‘Ril. What are you doing here?”
“Same as you... on break. So, going for the full set?”
“Full set of what?” Daemon must have been drinking as much as I was.
“Sins, of course. Let me see,” he pulled out a palm pilot. “We got lust - four hotties at once? Nice, Esrazel, who’d have thought you had it in you or do they do the blue pill in heaven?” He ticked a point off with his stylus. “Next up we got ourselves gluttony. Honestly, angel, been I thought 37th vodka was excessive - especially considering what else you drank. Whatever else you can do, you’re certainly good at bladder capacity, I can tell you.” Another point ticked. “Wrath, oh yes., What did the guy do anyway? Never mind, probably not important. He’s alive by the way, thought you might want to know.” I grimaced, trying to sort out my memories “And lastly, my personal favourite. Pride. Gotta love the performance there, Esra. The crowd REALLY loved you. Not nearly as much as youy loved yourself, but still, you were a hit. Definitely one for Pride - Old Morning Star’s favourite as well you know.” His look had certainly turned suggestive... “Now... ack...”
“I’m willing to visit Wrath again.” I growled angrily, my flaming sword was inches from his throat. Y’know what? The old ways do work best sometimes. Of course half the room was poanicking but after what they've drunk I'd be surprised if they were all alive tomorrow, let alone in any condition to remember anything.
“I thought we were businessmen...” he gave me a hurt look.
“We’re on holiday, remember?” I knew my smile was a little evil. But I am on holiday. What else is a paragon of virtue to do on their day off?
“Ok, no more corruption.” He held up his hands helplessly. I actually believed him, he was a daemon, but he didn't need this shit either.
“What’s going on ‘Ril? Too many screwy things have been happening, me having time off for one. Good deeds being done without me doing anything about it... The bosses being reasonable - I mean, i believe in miracles but there are limits!”
He gave me an ambiguous, mysterious smile. I hate that. “We have to come up with cunning plans to corrupt Angels these days.” Which, since he didn’t say it outright, could mean he caused it all, or caused none of it. I’m betting on the latter or he’d be lording it over me. Still... you never know...
“Must have been very hard, getting you time off in the middle of a case - you know, the Evangelist? Is your new boy handling that one?” He stepped back, I think because I’d forgotten about the flaming sword.
Damn, the Evangelist was still; here, still causing trouble. We chucked him out of Heathrow but that doesn't mean he’s going to keep quiet... and they gave me a day off?
What the He- err, Heaven is going on?! I turned and stormed out of the club, leaving the daemon confused and relieved.
“Wow. When these repressed types let go they pull out all the stops.”
Time off.
The very idea was alien. Time off?! We don’t even have overtime because the idea that any of us would ever NOT be working seemed ridiculous. And what's with all the congratulations for things I haven’t done? Yeah, it could be a bureaucratic error (perish the thought! The bureaucracy being wrong!). That sounded right... right?
No, not right. After all, if it was an error, that would suggest that SOMEONE somewhere had done theses things and had earned the time off... not likely, right? Maybe the All High had just been reading another book on management. Yeah, that'll be it, it’ll be the ‘my door is always open’ thing all over again. A full two weeks of communication problems with bands of Angels swarming over the Earth to open doors. Then two months picking up the pieces, I know more than one bank was severely pissed about their vault doors being opened every night.
But giving time off? Now? I mean that Evangelist guy’s supposed to be here for a month, maybe even longer. I’d only covered his landing in Heathrow, he’s not going to stay tired forever. And the other firm was involved...
Still... it’s not like I’ve got loads of time off, right? I mean, he's bound to be zonked for the next six hours, right? And Sam can hold down the fort until then.. it’s not like things are going to get any worse than they already are. Right? And after all, I have REALLY earned a break - even if it wasn’t for the stuff they think it was. I’ve been working bloody hard you know. I deserve it. Right. Just basic recognition. Of course. Naturally.
Which leaves the next problem, exactly what does an Angel do with his night off? It’s not like I have time to develop much of a social life. Or much of any life really. Ok, I’ve got some learning to do. I know what humans do for fun, lets take it from there.
First to London. Well, just because. After years of writing reports I’ve come to the conclusion that you just can’t describe London. You just can’t. It just IS. It’s ancient and brand new, modern and conservative, it’s full of character yet has no overarching character, it’s so huge that the mere press of humanity can make you break down in panic, yet you can find places so lonely it feels like man has never touched them, that the buildings rose whole from the land around them. Everything is in London, every nation, every country, every culture. If you can’t find it in London, it doesn’t exist, and even if it doesn’t exist, you've got a damn good chance of finding it there if you really look. It's not a city, or even really a place. It’s a country, a culture, a massive alien entity that controls more than is controlled by the denizens within it. Age, creation, energy, power, change, constancy, life and death, it’s all there, all the time. I don’t think anywhere else really matches it.
And you try getting that across in two lines on an A5 sheet of paper.
Ok, now to a bar. Seems to be what most humans do. Meet some people, have a good time - you know, drink for fun and social reasons rather than just to ignore how bad everything is.
Four drinks later and I realise it just isn’t working. I’m making pleasant conversation with the locals but exactly how much small talk can a celestial make? ‘Hi, I’m Esrazel, a creature of the divine’ hardly goes down well. How do you make friends?
Of course that just shows you how out of touch I am. With a minor miracle my wallet bursts with money (yes, completely immoral, unethical, blah, blah, blah, I’m on holiday, remember?) A word with the bar man later and the drink is flowing freely, in all directions. And some of it is ‘special’ brew - anyone whop wastes their time turning water into wine (a rather poor cheap hock, at that I might add) has clearly never had absinthe, single malt or marguerita and tequila shots... Then things began to blur...
“Drink drink drink DRINK!!” the crowd chanted madly as I ran along the row. One glass, two glass, three glass... c’mon, keep the rhythm, he's lagging well behind, sixth glass, seventh glass, eight glass, oh I am so winning this, third guy in a row. Am I king or what? thirteenth glass, fourteenth glass, fifteenth glass - winner! “WINNER!” The crowd roared in approval as the last treble vodka went down. Tony, the huge guy who’d stepped up to challenge me was passed out on the floor...
I’m on the floor, but that’s Ok, I’m still conscious and so are the three girls who are crawling around with me. It’s hot, and we've lost a lot of clothing. Their skins are incredibly hot, and so very smooth... and firm. It tastes nice as well. Oh, very very nice... They seem to love it too - ever heard the one about being driven so far to ecstasy you can hear the hallelujah chorus in your head? Well, it’s not in your head babies, oh no, definitely not in your heads - though all the screaming nearly drowned it out. Oh yes, YES! That’s it, the minute I get back, I’m striking lust from the deadly sins list...
God, I’m brilliant. The microphone dances between my fingers, I can easily forget it, here, on stage with all these people just loving me. It’s supposed to be karaoke; but I’m just too perfect. I sing out the words and watch the people cry and scream at their glory - at my glory, because I’m looking easily as fine as it sounds. “I get up from the ground in the morning, up from the ground in the middle of the evening, up from the ground in the middle of the night, OOOOOHHHH, I Testify!” Not even Meat Loaf himself could have matched my voice right then. I was the best...
“Bastard!” The smack of fist on flesh was masked by the rolling, now incredibly riotous crowd. I laughed as he fell, serves the git right! Sore looser. I roll back into the arms of one of my many admirers, hitting the crowd with a stare that knocked any other hecklers to the heels...
“Doing well, Esra.” I turned groggily to a guy at the bar. He was incredibly well dressed, his clothes must have cost more than the entire bar, and that includes selling all the patrons into slavery. He had this incredibly smug smile and hair that probably cost more than his suite. I glared at him.
“Whoa, there Angel boy. Going for the full set?”
I shook my head, clearing a few fumes. It wasn't enough., I sighed heavily and pushed aside some of the alcoholic stupor... how bad was it... God, how much did I drink and what was it and what factory was it smelted in?! “Ansekaril. ‘Ril. What are you doing here?”
“Same as you... on break. So, going for the full set?”
“Full set of what?” Daemon must have been drinking as much as I was.
“Sins, of course. Let me see,” he pulled out a palm pilot. “We got lust - four hotties at once? Nice, Esrazel, who’d have thought you had it in you or do they do the blue pill in heaven?” He ticked a point off with his stylus. “Next up we got ourselves gluttony. Honestly, angel, been I thought 37th vodka was excessive - especially considering what else you drank. Whatever else you can do, you’re certainly good at bladder capacity, I can tell you.” Another point ticked. “Wrath, oh yes., What did the guy do anyway? Never mind, probably not important. He’s alive by the way, thought you might want to know.” I grimaced, trying to sort out my memories “And lastly, my personal favourite. Pride. Gotta love the performance there, Esra. The crowd REALLY loved you. Not nearly as much as youy loved yourself, but still, you were a hit. Definitely one for Pride - Old Morning Star’s favourite as well you know.” His look had certainly turned suggestive... “Now... ack...”
“I’m willing to visit Wrath again.” I growled angrily, my flaming sword was inches from his throat. Y’know what? The old ways do work best sometimes. Of course half the room was poanicking but after what they've drunk I'd be surprised if they were all alive tomorrow, let alone in any condition to remember anything.
“I thought we were businessmen...” he gave me a hurt look.
“We’re on holiday, remember?” I knew my smile was a little evil. But I am on holiday. What else is a paragon of virtue to do on their day off?
“Ok, no more corruption.” He held up his hands helplessly. I actually believed him, he was a daemon, but he didn't need this shit either.
“What’s going on ‘Ril? Too many screwy things have been happening, me having time off for one. Good deeds being done without me doing anything about it... The bosses being reasonable - I mean, i believe in miracles but there are limits!”
He gave me an ambiguous, mysterious smile. I hate that. “We have to come up with cunning plans to corrupt Angels these days.” Which, since he didn’t say it outright, could mean he caused it all, or caused none of it. I’m betting on the latter or he’d be lording it over me. Still... you never know...
“Must have been very hard, getting you time off in the middle of a case - you know, the Evangelist? Is your new boy handling that one?” He stepped back, I think because I’d forgotten about the flaming sword.
Damn, the Evangelist was still; here, still causing trouble. We chucked him out of Heathrow but that doesn't mean he’s going to keep quiet... and they gave me a day off?
What the He- err, Heaven is going on?! I turned and stormed out of the club, leaving the daemon confused and relieved.
“Wow. When these repressed types let go they pull out all the stops.”
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-05 06:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-05 10:12 am (UTC)Oh and *tags you*
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-05 11:32 am (UTC)