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Thread: [M] In Excelsis Deo [Ashen & Hannelorian]

  1. #11
    The Ashen One
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    Even with Genevieve insisting he had nothing to apologize for, Sam still battled the guilt eating at him. It was too new an emotion, too pervasive and unwelcome, and he didn’t know how to redirect it. Even if he had believed she was right, that he had no reason to be sorry—and he didn’t believe that at all, with how much of a burden he was already proving to be—he didn’t know how to quell the need for him to apologize. Not wanting to bother his hostess, though, he tried to silence it, bottling his emotions until he had time to unpack them later.

    Sam turned back to Genevieve, a question on his lips, but he swallowed it before he could make things even more awkward. She was saying his god had better things to worry about than her kindness, than him, and maybe she was right. Sam didn’t want her to be right. He wanted to believe his god still cared for him. He cares about all of his creatures, he had been told, a dogma recited since his very birth, and that had always included him. Until, perhaps, now. Wasn’t that why his god had banished him? So he no longer had to care about him? The guilt was returning, the regrets and the shame and the teary-eyed sadness, so Sam shook his head, trying to move on. He wondered if Genevieve could tell she was tormenting him, if she somehow was mentioning the home he could not admit to on purpose.

    When she suggested getting some rest for the night, Sam nodded absently, not realizing how tired he had been. He followed her gesture with his gaze to the spare bedroom, and once again he wondered who Genevieve lived with and why they weren’t here now. She couldn’t have lived alone… right? Such a lovely young woman unable to find someone to share a home with? That didn’t make sense. Perhaps, Sam considered, she just preferred the solitude. To have such a home all to herself, that was even more impressive, and he found himself wondering just what kind of person his hostess was. He bowed his thanks, then thanked her a couple more times, before going into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

    It was a cozy little room, with a soft bed and quaint furniture, and a window that let in a gentle nighttime breeze. Sam delicately climbed into the bed and burrowed under the covers, then stared blankly at the ceiling. As an angel, of course, he’d never needed sleep, but now, exhaustion consumed him, sagging his shoulders and shutting his eyes. He had wanted to stay up, use the solitude to better formulate a plan for his immediate and distant future, but that, he reasoned, could wait until tomorrow. For now, he had no choice but to give in to the night’s call.

    Dreams were such human things, and the unfamiliar bright colors and thundering sounds born of his subconscious mind startled him. He was in a field somewhere, perhaps the one just outside Genevieve’s house, and wolves sang all around him. He tried to run for his life, but his legs were fused together and turned to stone. One wolf approached him, dark and gigantic and maliciously smiling, and its face morphed into a different one, a human one, the face of a boy Sam had been supposed to protect, the boy Sam had killed. That was the face that tore into him, ripping his flesh from his bones and making quick work of his human body, until Sam jolted awake with tears streaming down his face.

    It was still dark out. He could see the moon from his window, bright and full, and he watched it while he struggled to find his breath. Such a horrid nightmare… Why had his god wanted him to see such a thing? Unless it hadn’t been god’s will at all? Did god’s will still extend to Sam? He shook the thought, not willing to work through his complicated emotions about his home and his father quite yet. Sam found his way to the bathroom, and when he finished up there, he wandered the house in search of Genevieve. Not finding her in the halls or opened rooms, he returned to the guest bedroom and planted himself on the bed.

    His human heart was beating too wildly for him to sleep anymore, so he forced his focus on what he would do now. It would take something colossal to get his god to reverse his decision about him, nothing short of saving the entire world. But Sam was just one person; he couldn’t do something so drastic, especially not now with his celestial blessings gone. What else could a god want…? To be rid of all his enemies, Sam thought. Demons. He had no idea where to find those, or how; he had a feeling he wouldn’t be sensing any auras in this form. He wondered if they could still sense him.

    As always, when Sam was trying to concentrate, his mind wandered without his consent, and eventually, it got too difficult to think about his plans anymore. His body ached with the need to move, to do something, so he again wandered the house, deciding to clean anything he found out of place. When the kitchen was finished, he fell into a chair at the dining table and heaved a proud sigh. Hopefully Genevieve would appreciate his work, too. The sun was beginning to rise, and he wondered what his day would look like. Maybe Genevieve could show him around town. Sam wondered if he might be able to integrate into this society any more fluidly than he’d ever belonged up there.
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  2. #12
    The Grey Lady
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    It was in the stillness of the night that it finally came together. Seele understood now more than ever, that Sam was a fallen Angel, cast down by the hand of God. It was his misery that above all had finally convinced her. Seele was gifted at many things, namely torture, pain, inflicting terrible suffering. This was her gift to those unfortunate enough to cross her path. She could sense it, misery, to her it had a scent, it had a taste and it poured out of beings, or more accurately to her it burst forth from them like geysers once enough pressure had built up beneath the surface. When it finally did break free, it was intoxicating to the demon, she thrived on it, truly thrived, it was more thrilling than anything she had felt in her centuries of existence. Each time it felt like the first time and it always left her wanting more.

    Now she could sense it, fresh, painful, but what could this little Angel have done? The stillness of the night was now broken as she could hear him pacing, walking through the small house to and fro, back and forth constantly. It was after a time he started to tinker with things. Seele could not help herself, she just listened to everything, every little sound as he attempted to battle whatever it was that had plagued his mind. There was such suffering, such incredible discomfort radiating outward from the poor creature, seeming so lost without his precious God to guide him. The ecstasy coursing through her was undeniable. The demon lay on the bed, giddy like a human child, she could hardly contain her excitement and enthusiasm, yet she had to, for she was not about to interrupt him and ease the pain of his burden with Genevieve's kind, caring eyes. No, not at all she would wait until morning.

    When the sun rose, so did Genevieve, she took her time this fine day basking the remnants of what she had felt the night before. She was all smiles as she gently brushed her hair and looked at her face in the mirror. How beautiful and delicate this body was, it was the picture of perfection and without a single flaw as far as Seele could tell. How rare it was find just a specimen. As the days went on what remained of Genevieve diminished ever further. If Seele were to release her now it was likely what remained would cause the poor girl to go mad. Of course, so would any memories of the horrific things she had done, yes, under possession of sorts, but still her hands. The demon didn't concern herself with such matters.

    Genevieve left her bedroom now, still in a delicate silk nightgown that hugged her figure all too perfectly, and emerged to a rather spotless home. So that's what he was doing all night. At least he had been productive in his suffering, one fewer thing for Genevieve to have to worry about. "Good morning, Sam." She called quietly to him as she moved with elegance and grace toward the table where he was sat. Standing behind him she rested her delicate hands upon his shoulders and squeezed ever so gently. "Everything looks wonderful." Compliments were another thing she hated, an absolutely useless thing they were. They did precious little for her but if it forced him to take another step in trusting her she would accept it. The choice not to dress before coming out was also intentional. Anything she could do to make herself ever more appealing had its advantages.

    "It would seem you had something of a restless night." She smiled softly and stepped aside to take the seat at the table next to him, she sat with legs crossed at the ankles and just watched him. "Thank you." She added "for cleaning." The place really did look quite good. Reaching her hand across the distance between them she moved to hold his. She would make every effort possible to speed this up, she was after all, a creature with finite patience. "I was thinking..." Genevieve began to say, taking a careful pause.

    "I have some errands to run in town, and I was hoping you would like to come with me." She smiled big, as big as she could, her eyes beaming as she gazed upon him. "If you want to... I think it might be good for you to meet some of the folks here. You never know who might be able to help you, or who might know you." She feigned optimism, no one from this town knew him, and even if they did there was nothing they could do to spare him now, to save him from her trap. He was hers, he just didn't quite know it yet.

    "Plus, you can get some air. It's bit a stuffy when you spend too much time indoors. You'll go mad." She laughed a little bit, as though she found herself not overly funny, but rather amusing. She needed to appear to be happy, carefree. She knew he would say yes, the temptation would great for him, and perhaps this was part of his plan, whatever it was now. He wouldn't see it through, either way. He would be dead once she extracted what she needed.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  3. #13
    The Ashen One
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    Sam could feel himself dozing off at the dining room table. The sun was awake now, and it was time to start the day, but the fatigue from a near sleepless night spent tidying was setting in, and Sam now struggled to stay awake. He cursed the uselessness of his body, the inconvenience of it, as he drifted between states of consciousness. It was only when Genevieve approached him, gentle as she was, that he startled awake. He took a minute to rub the sleep from his eyes before he even thought to respond, and he did so with a bow of his head and a small smile. “Hello,” he returned. He nodded softly, sighing. “A restless night,” he repeated. “Yes, you could say that.”

    He realized then that she was barely wearing anything. Lots of people slept naked, or in very little clothes, and he suddenly felt overdressed in the clothes she had given him that night. He silently laughed to himself at the thought. Genevieve looked so elegant in her nightclothes, so effortlessly beautiful, that he considered once more if she were coming onto him. He scolded himself for the recurring thought, pointing his thoughts to her hospitality as proof that she wasn’t the kind of person who would do that. He blamed his own humanity for the fact that his thoughts kept drifting back to that, to her, in that light. Sam wouldn’t even know how to handle something like that—someone who wanted him like that—and he didn’t know why he kept thinking of it, especially when he knew—thought—Genevieve wouldn’t lead him on on purpose.

    Sam shook his thoughts, and he let the promise of errands excite him. There was still so much to learn about his new surroundings, and making his way through town with destinations in mind would be more effective in learning about this town than whatever aimless wandering he would get up to alone. Even if Genevieve seemed hopeful, he knew no one would recognize him here, not in this body, but he nodded along anyway, wanting to look optimistic. He looked forward to meeting his neighbors, what they would be able to tell him, give him, and how he might be able to use them in his threadbare plan to return to heaven.

    “I’d be happy to join you,” he replied, cheery smile not the least bit faked. He got up from the table and looked out the window at the distant buildings. “I’m looking forward to seeing the town you call home. If the neighbors are at all like you, I think I’d get along with them fine.” This town, small as it was, still seemed bigger than the one he’d frequented as a guardian angel, and curiously, he wanted to know what differences existed between the two locations, too.

    All ready, he patted down his pants and soothed his shirt, then looked back up at Genevieve, expectant. He had no clothes to change into, so this was what he had planned to wear. His sleeves were slightly dusty from the cleaning he’d gotten up to, but he hardly seemed to notice as he waited for her to guide the way. Though as he looked at her, he realized she still needed to get dressed, and probably do whatever other things humans did to prepare for their errands. “Oh,” he said, more to himself than to her. He sat back down, checks coloring at his oversight. “I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

    When they did leave, Sam carefully took in his surroundings. With so many uncertainties and unknowns in his life, he wanted to at least make note of what he could. He’d be able to make it back if he somehow got separated from Genevieve, and though he didn’t know how long he was staying, he wanted to make sure he could run his own errands and find his way back if he needed to. Genevieve had been right; the fresh air was helping to clear his mind, too, though the negative emotions still lingered along the edge of his consciousness, ready to overwhelm him if he stopped thinking too long. So Sam kept focused on their trip, the buildings they walked by and the landmarks and the people, everything he could. He filled the time asking Genevieve about it all, mindless questions that were used more to keep her talking than to satiate his curiosity.

    He found the town quaint, with cozy little houses and interesting shops. The people he walked by greeted him with smiles and hellos, and Sam bowed his head in return. He had always thought himself better fit for a city, but for now, this gentle town would do as a temporary home. Maybe, if his plans didn’t work out, he could catch a train to the nearest city, settle down, carve a life for himself in the anonymity of the skyscrapers and the bustle, and—No, he thought, interrupting those thoughts. He would succeed. Sam wouldn’t think of a human life for himself, because no matter what his god thought, no matter how welcomed Genevieve was trying to make him feel, he did not belong here.

    He turned to his guide, smile ever-present on his lips, and asked, “So what’s our first stop?”
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  4. #14
    The Grey Lady
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    Seele in the guise of Genevieve would have been lying if she said she didn't miss the cruel agony with which the angel passed his night, this morning he was full of good cheer, like a wide eyed child on Christmas morning. It was further disappointing that he seemed to have little reaction to her charm, to her body, this was a harder task than she'd imagined it. Or she simply wasn't quite as beautiful as she had hoped. He was, however, eager and seemed intent upon staying, this seemed reassurance enough that while he may not be falling for her traps as she had hoped, he wasn't terribly suspicious of her true identity. It was the little things that kept hope alive, she supposed. What a funny little notion for a demon, hope.

    The walk to town was a relatively short one along open fields and dirt roads, there was little in the way of proper civilization. Seele supposed Genevieve enjoyed the isolation, being more at one with nature than one with her fellow humans. She could not fault this though, it was beautiful land, almost entirely undisturbed by the crushing horror that was man. The town itself was small, only a few hundred residents, most buildings no more than a story tall with the occasional one three or four stories tall. This was rural country, and everyone here knew everyone else. There was no real escape, no real ability to hide. This was the thrill for Seele, because they never even suspected her, humanity could be dreadfully dull.

    The town was with some charms though, a cafe or two, little shops that were mostly created for tourist season when the town would fill up with urbanites of all varieties longing to escape their everyday existence for a few days of quiet country living. All the while it seemed that silence was something uncomfortable for Sam, he had this truly bizarre need to ask question after question about nothing in particular, or rather about things so mundane that truly no one alive could care to know the answers. The people they passed smiled and greeted them, those who knew her --almost everyone-- would offer a kind "Hey Gen! or Hi Genny!" It left her wondering what was the point of having a name if people refused to use it and instead opted for cutesy little nick names or crude versions of what they had been given.

    Genevieve smiled at Sam just as he had done for her. The constant smiling, forcing it was more painful than she had remembered. "Well... if you're stuck here awhile you'll need clothes that actually fit you." As the two walked, a small crowd had gathered in the yard of a little blue house, there were whispers and sullen faces. Genevieve let her smile drop to force her next face, a concerned neighbor kind of look. "Oh Genevieve, there you are!" A voice called from beyond the gate, she immediately turned and looked, an older woman, eyes red from her endless crying. "Hey Sam... let's just make a quick stop here first, okay?" Turning to him she smiled briefly, and rubbed his shoulder with her right hand before pushing her way past the gate and moving to the assembled crowd.

    The closer one got to the house, the more it hit one, the stench. There was acrid stench of death, of rot and decay that seemed to be emanating from the house itself, it was almost overwhelming. Then again, Genevieve, or Seele rather never minded such things. "Oh God... is it? Are they?" Genevieve's voice was filled with human concern. "The Doctors... they don't know what's wrong with them. They're just rotting away..." The woman, who was another neighbor, named Mrs. Kensington, was often the recipient of surplus vegetables from Genevieve's garden. The couple she referred to, the inhabitants of the house were Jack, the man who visited her just last night already smelling of death and his wife. "How horrible... is there anything we can do?"

    Mrs. Kensington who was so caught up in her own grief had failed to notice Sam at first, but when she did she weakly waved. "Pray with us Genevieve..." The woman was practically begging and Genevieve nodded warmly. "Let us pray to God for his mercy upon these souls." Genevieve then for a few moments joined the group to offer up her prayers, though she meant none of it. Seele had cursed this family for some perceived slight or rude comment, a dirty look perhaps. So they would die and it would be her doing, and privately she was singing, screaming with joy as she stood bathed in the scent of her own work.

    After they spent what felt like hours (but in reality was just a few minutes) praying, Mrs. Kensington finally asked, "who's that young man with you?" Genevieve smiled and motioned for Sam to approach them if he hadn't already been close at hand. "Mrs. Kensington this is Sam, he's a friend of my late husband." That's right, Genevieve had been married and widowed, it was all terribly sad but Seele didn't really care for any of the details, it all seemed so unimportant. Genevieve had given him some kind of qualifier, a reason to be here, so she wouldn't just have to say he fell from the sky. "He's having a few issues with his memory and I thought the country air could do him so good." She concluded.

    "Ah, well any friend of Gregory is a friend of ours. He was a saint that man." Mrs. Kensington let out a gentle tut with her thin lips that was meant to convey her sadness at the memory. "It's nice to meet you Sam, I wish it had been under better circumstances." Genevieve then moved to give her neighbor a warm hug, before exiting the yard. and moving back in the direction of some of the town's shops. "Terrible thing that is... truly terrible." Genevieve lamented.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  5. #15
    The Ashen One
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    Though Genevieve answered his incessant questions about the town and its people with a pleasant smile, Sam still got the inexplicable feeling that he was bothering her. After a while, he fell into step beside her, unwilling to ask any more and risk angering her. Instead, he took in his surroundings and tried to find answers himself. He took note of the shops and especially the restaurants, hoping to sample the local cuisine later, when he found some money. Even if his stay was only temporary, there was nothing against enjoying his humanity—and his taste buds—while he figured out how to get home.

    He was surprised at how many people greeted Genevieve on their walk. Her neighbors seemed delighted by her presence, and Sam realized he had never had that effect on anyone before. In his earthen town, most of the adults regarded him warily as the troublemaker, and in his celestial home, his fellow angels never bothered to hide their displeasure around him. It must have been nice, he thought, to have people want you around, and he wondered if something like that could ever happen to him. Maybe even in this very town.

    Their errands took them to get him some new clothes, but Sam tried to wave Genevieve off. He offered her some excuse about not needing much because he didn’t want to burden her more, but before he could finish his thought, they noticed a crowd up ahead. The people gathered looked none too happy about something, and the older woman who greeted Genevieve looked like—had she been crying? Sam subconsciously held his breath, already getting a bad feeling. Whatever had happened couldn’t have affected him—and how could it? He didn’t know anyone—but still the dread crept up on him, as if whatever this woman had to say had been his fault. It was a feeling he had gotten used to without realizing it, evidently. He and Genevieve approached the house everyone was gathered around as nausea began in the pit of his stomach.

    He knew long before they got close what had happened. Sam hadn’t known these people, and he didn’t know how they’d died, but he knew they were safe with his god now. The size of the crowd here suggested they had been loved on earth, and Sam felt for them, for the people left without their beloved neighbors. As a few people gathered in prayer, Sam stepped forward. “I can help,” he announced, though no one seemed to hear him. He wandered away from Genevieve to enter the house, unaware of the eyes on his back, unaware of how weird this looked to everyone around him.

    Of course, Sam knew how to perform a funeral. Different human cultures had their different customs about sending off their dead, but angels had the power to bless the wayward souls and ensure their safe passage to the afterlife. Sam had never done it himself—he’d only held funerals for dead animals, and only for the benefit of the children he’d watched over since animals couldn’t go to heaven anyway. He was sure he remembered what to do anyway, remembered the words to say and the gestures to make. But it was only once he was inside the couple’s living room that he realized his magic was now nonexistent.

    Man and not angel, Sam was powerless in helping them, or in helping anyone. His cheeks flushed a dark red as he stepped back outside. He was quick to bow his head and offer his own prayers, hoping he didn’t look too weird to the crowd. After he blessed himself, he went back to where Genevieve was standing, avoiding her eye.

    She was talking about him with her teary-eyed neighbor. Genevieve introduced him as a family friend, and Sam made a note of her late husband. That explained a few things, he supposed. Poor Genevieve. He wondered what had happened, but now was not the time to ask. He offered his hand to her neighbor as well as a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah,” he added awkwardly, agreeing to Genevieve’s lie. “I’m sorry about…” He looked back to the house. Whatever apology he could offer just sounded fake, and he felt guilty for even trying. He hadn’t known these people. “…your loss,” he finished. “I know we’ve only just met, ma’am, but please, if there’s anything I can do, you can come find me, alright? It’s the least I can offer after I’ve been shown such kindness.”

    As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted how awkward they sounded. Sam cleared his throat and turned away, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. Without his angelic abilities, he felt useless and weird in the face of death, and he didn’t know what to do with the guilt that caused him. He’d ask Genevieve about these things later and hope she didn’t think him too weird for it, but for now, in the face of all these people, Sam couldn’t find it in him to fake whatever emotion they were expecting of him.

    He looked at Genevieve, scratching the back of his head. “If there’s nothing we can do for now,” he said, “maybe we should get going. Give the people space to grieve.” He paused, and with horror he realized they had been neighbors of Genevieve, too. How insensitive of him, to not even ask after her feelings. “Unless you’d like to mourn with them,” he added. If she did, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he owed it to her to try to be with them, if they’d have him, even if he felt like a fool in the way of other people’s lives.
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  6. #16
    The Grey Lady
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    The suggestion that the two leave was one that the demon found most amenable. In fact it may have been the closest to thanking God she would have been in some time. The misery of the grief stricken was cacophonous, horrid and grating. She could not understand why the people of the mortal realm were so overt with their feelings and insisted upon wailing as a means of expressing their discontent. Death, regardless of cause was the ultimate end to the cycle of life, at which point one had two ways to go. Up, or down, heaven or hell. Everyone in time would be judged at the gates for the measure of their life and would pay an according and exacting price.

    Of course the these two unfortunates were not dying of natural causes, but rather slowly being murdered, the life sucked out of them as they rotted from within. For the demon it was most glorious and in no way could life be celebrated higher than to be chosen and marked for such a fate. Cruelty had not crossed her mind, it was a concept as far away as heaven itself. It once been said that one should be absolved of sin, and go forth and sin no more. What better guarantee of this was there than death? The ultimate end of suffering on the mortal plain, and end to future sins and irrevocable bad deeds.

    "But of course, let us depart." Genevieve spoke in a kind and understanding tone as her face softened and head nodded ever so slightly to give the allusion that she understood deeply and intimately and in her own kindness would grant him this singular grace. The demon in guise of a beloved community member lurched forth and said her goodbyes, sending her well wishes and sincerest offers of help should it be needed. That is, after all, what humans did during times of great hardship and loss, when despair is entirely consuming and overwhelming. People helped one another or at the least made petty insincere offers to be there. Warm hugs, pats on the back, tight embraces were all exchanged before she moved to pull the fallen out of the house.

    "We need not mourn before they pass, for their souls are still with us on this plain." Genevieve commented softly with Sam in tow as she made her way down the garden path and back toward her own home. "We pray for their recovery, may it be swift and full of God's love and embrace." The notion was sickening, and pathetic. God could not save these souls now. Where was he? What was he doing to stop a demon from taking the lives of his beloved children upon the world he created? Nowhere, it was something of a joke if one thought on it hard enough. He cared little, and instead let his creation be lambs to the slaughter.

    "The kindness which you show strangers speaks volumes of character, Sam." She reminded him as they slowly meandered their way back toward the dwelling both temporarily called home. "Your willingness to join them in suffering, to ease their burden and offer the warmth of your company." She nodded affirmatively and stopped in her tracks to turn and look at Sam. "Your prayers are heard by God, you have done well to please him, and indeed to please all of this little town. To show up in the difficult times, those which prove hardest is a talent, a gift you bestowed. Kindness for the sake of kindness.

    While the Angel, now fallen from Grace was certainly awkward, she would work slowly to find out why, to make him as uncomfortable as she could while being the paragon of a kind and benevolent stranger. Everyone broke eventually. What he was doing here, interrupting her own little games and joys, that was the only thing on the mind of the demon deep within the body of Genevieve. They both hungered, but for different things. The soul of Genevieve for sweet death and the demon for answers and vengeance. "Fear not, we can serve them yet. But getting you settled, so you may remember should be our focus now. It may seem selfish, but it is not. Who knows, you might just be the answer to our prayers."
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  7. #17
    The Ashen One
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    Although Genevieve started walking away, sparing herself the misery surrounding the house of the dying couple, Sam lingered there, staring curiously at the door left open. Genevieve had said that these people were still alive, but that couldn’t have been right. It smelled so strongly of death, and all their neighbors seemed to think them functionally dead, what with the way they were mourning. Genevieve’s hope for their recovery felt insecure, somehow. Surely she saw the uselessness in wishing for such a thing. They were in the hands of their god; nothing else could reach them now.

    Medicine was another part of an angel’s curriculum, but Sam had never been good at learning, and human anatomy especially had never held his interest. He knew the basics, though, and he knew human doctors could help his charges if he ever forgot first aid. That was why the thought of doctors not understanding what was plaguing those people was so terrifying to him. As he followed after Genevieve, slowly and deep in thought, he wondered what would happen to him if he fell ill. Angels didn’t get sick; Sam had never had to worry about his health before. If he came down with something, something the doctors did not know how to treat… A shaky breath fell from his lips. Would his god look kindly on him then? He wasn’t inclined to believe so.

    His thoughts were interrupted when Genevieve spoke again. She was complimenting him, and Sam was once again made aware of the bottomless well of kindness she held in her heard. His cheeks colored. It was strange, being told he was a good person. He had been cast out of heaven for the exact opposite truth. He shifted his weight awkwardly, not knowing how to take her words. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “but I’m not as selfless as I might seem. It wouldn’t be wise for me to burn bridges here, not when I don’t know any of these people—and don’t know if they know me.” He punctuated his words with a grin, but it didn’t last long. Your prayers are heard by God. Genevieve was suspiciously good at saying exactly what made him most uncomfortable, and if the idea weren’t so farfetched, Sam would have thought she knew all about him. He sighed. Are they? he wanted to ask her, but he held his tongue.

    Resuming their walk, Sam tried to keep his attention on the buildings and people around them, but his thoughts were unsettled, warring, and they kept returning to what Genevieve had said. “I don’t think I’m the answer to anyone’s prayers,” he admitted, so quietly that he didn’t know if Genevieve would even hear him. It didn’t matter if she didn’t; he wasn’t talking to her. Still, he paused to consider such a silly thought. Sure, he had been an aloof troublemaker for the centuries he had been alive, and he couldn’t imagine anyone trusting him to be anything more than that, but… What if Genevieve was right? What if his god had sent him here in a mortal shell as a sort of test? Sam could help the people here, so much so that his god would see that he was good, and he’d be welcomed back to the heavens he so desperately wanted to belong to.

    Sam regretted passing out last night before he had a chance to offer his god a prayer. He had so many questions for his deity, and even though he doubted his god would answer him now, there was no harm in asking. He hoped. Sam made a mental note to prayer when he was next alone. In the meantime, he realized his extended silence was probably very weird-looking to his companion, so Sam shook his thoughts and tried to catch up with her.

    “You are very sweet,” he told her, because that was easier than acknowledging the things she had said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Sam was happy to let those thoughts settle in his mind, though. For now, they had other matters to attend to. “You’re right that I need to get back on my feet to best help other people,” he went on, “but until I get my memories back, I’m not sure where to even start.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the house of rot they’d walked past. “The people here seem to love you,” Sam pointed out as he thought of all of those who had greeted and freely spoken to Genevieve. “How did you come by such a reputation? Maybe I can do whatever you do.”
    Thanks to Craze for the beautiful Bravely set!

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  8. #18
    The Grey Lady
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    She had taken note that Sam had paused to linger, to look back and undoubtedly think endlessly boring thoughts about the nature of life and death and the dying. She would offer no reprieve for him, or for them. They would be shells, husks without souls by the time the sun had set. Her work would be done for now, settled and would leave her free to worry about other things, more pressing things like her Angel come to Earth. How meddlesome this was proving to be, but still, patience was something of a virtue that even she, a great demon was capable of, though she had only so much in reserve.

    When Sam spoke, there were traces of honesty in his words, he was indeed not as selfless as he seemed. She knew that, Angels like Demons were selfish creatures, each had their own agenda. That was to be divine. Each agenda of course was coloured by their duties to their respective masters and some varied. Though Demons seemed to have far more freedom than their kin in the heavens. This was a kind of infernal blessing that she was grateful for. Too many rules up above, rules that when disobeyed had dire consequences as they had for her own Lord. To be cast out of heaven, to fall to the fields of the earth, such a waste.

    "No one is entirely selfless." Genevieve finally admitted as the walk seemed to resume. "We all have needs and desires, and from time to time we can indulge ourselves. In moderation of course." Moderation was for the weak and the limited. Those who wanted to control their thirst and desires, those who conformed to the guidelines of the holy. It all seemed so fruitless. "But you'd be hard pressed to burn bridges in this small town. Kindness gets as it gives." She was full of smiles and quaint little sayings, things that made her seem wise and pious, like she had a heart of gold. It was really too easy to do this. Perhaps soon she should show a little more flare, do something dramatic.

    "Why not start at the beginning?" She asked almost rhetorically as she cast her gaze upon him. "Until you're yourself again, you have an opportunity to be anyone you wish. To do anything you wish, be the person you decide to be." This was a kind of freedom that most mortals would never get, an opportunity to start over, to quite literally forget themselves and their misdeeds, a clean slate. It was a privilege, well it would be if she was dealing with something so simple. But this was not simple. It was complicated, and that sort of thing filled the demon with a sense of dread. She did not want to spend forever on this case, but soon, soon she would tell herself he would reveal all.

    Then of course, there was the question she had not expected. How did Genevieve come to be so beloved by the people of this town? No, she would not dare probe the soul within her, held captive for more information. That seemed unnecessary and messy. Too much of a risk for it would only take one tiny lapse of judgment for the thing to burst through for just a moment and plead for help. One could not allow that sort of thing to happen. Most certainly not. "It is easier to love someone than it is to hate them." Genevieve, or rather Seele had finally settled on something to say. "The people respond well to me, because I take kindly to them. It's a small town, so we all support each other." She attempted to smile but seemed somewhat lost in a moment of thought. "If I have extra, I give it someone who needs it. The same is true if I were to need something."

    It was a rather simple place, and Genevieve indeed had been kind and welcoming, sweet and giving. She had few thoughts of herself, if ever. "It's not so hard, once you accept that you need others to survive. That one can't really go it all alone. When my husband died, the town rallied around me. Just as I do for them. Perhaps that is why they love so hard, so fiercely. Maybe it's just God's grace shining down upon a little place with not much to offer the world." As they approached Genevieve's house she looked at the man. "You should get to know them, the people here. You might just be surprised." Sweet and lovely Genevieve would shudder to know that Seele in her body had become the town murderer, and she was only just getting started.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  9. #19
    The Ashen One
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    The assurances Genevieve offered about the kindness in this village were as comforting as they were concerning. Sam had lived most of his life on Earth in a village similar to this one. He had been tasked with watching over such a place, and though interacting with his charges had been strictly forbidden, he had done so constantly. By doing so, he had learned firsthand how news spread in a tiny place like this. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if news of his arrival had already spread to half the folks living here. The thought unsettled him. Though it was nice to have people who had his back, he wondered how long he had before he messed things up, as he was prone to do, and the whole town shunned him. Maybe he really did belong in a city, where no one would care about him and he could blend in with the monotony around him. The thought just sounded so…lonely.

    Sam turned back to his companion, and he raised a brow at her suggestion. Start at the beginning… Hadn’t he been back and forth about that idea since he’d landed on Earth? Making a new life for himself was the logical thing to do. It was what his god wanted him to do. But something about that idea felt like cheating. Sam wanted to return to how things were, to prove himself to everyone who had doubted him. He wouldn’t do that by becoming complacent in his mortality. The more Sam weighed his options, the more his head hurt, until the pain got so bad he had to dismiss all thoughts of his life before and now. He had only been cast down yesterday; he still had plenty of time to figure things out, and lucky, he had a kind soul to help him through things, too.

    When Genevieve got to his question, Sam watched her with interest and nodded along with her answer. It sounded too easy, but he figured it was hard to hate the people you lived your whole life with. Many things were forgiven when the morning still brought the same faces to your markets. Sam let out a breath. Maybe he was worrying too much about his impression on these people. He could play nice, get along with everyone, and when he inevitably ruined things, he would find a way to make it up to everyone.

    But something Genevieve had said had given him pause. The way she spoke of her husband seemed odd, as if she did not miss him. Sam was overthinking this too, he thought, but he took her lax tone to indicate she wouldn’t mind talking about him. “What happened?” he ventured. “With your husband, I mean.” He glanced over his shoulder again, though the house they’d passed by was no longer in view. Was it possible the whole town was being eaten by such an infection? Was he safe? Sam shook his head and stopped stupidly assuming. “Does it ever get lonely?” he went on. “I can’t imagine having someone like that taken from you.”

    Angels didn’t have families, not in a way humans would understand. There was a level of professional separation between angels and their kin. Sam had found more meaningful relationships with the humans he had watched over than with his fellow beings. He had found humans so interesting, and he missed the ones he had used to know. He had altered their lives irreversibly, and not for the better. Sam could almost hear the screams over the crashing waves, and the snaps—

    He stopped walking and pinched his eyes shut to free himself from the images that sprang to his mind. Emotions suffocating him, and he had no names for them, let alone ways to quell them. He took a few breaths, trying to steady himself and the erratic beating of his heart, before continuing alongside Genevieve. Did humans really deal with such intense reactions to memories so often? It was exhausting. He hoped, somehow, Genevieve would help him process it all, if ever he found a way to ask her—that didn’t sound ridiculous. A grown man who didn’t understand emotions… He doubted anyone, even saintly Genevieve, would have the patience for that.
    Thanks to Craze for the beautiful Bravely set!

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  10. #20
    The Grey Lady
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    Genevieve stopped in her tracks when Sam had made a specific inquiry into her husband, or rather the husband of the woman whose body Seele now so richly inhabited. The emotions from within the real Genevieve had risen at such a mention and it was difficult for Seele to ignore, and to an extent Seele had empathy. To lose love was the greatest tragedy of all, to be left alone in a cruel world with no partner to guide and experience it with you. It seemed rather unfortunate, and at least at this one Seele herself had not been responsible.

    Now the challenge to was to remind oneself to respond as a human would, one that had deep feelings of love and loss, of pain and perhaps regret. To have a piece of oneself physically removed from the world. "Such things are rather painful Sam." Genevieve expressed, her face turning down to the ground, her look now carrying a profound sadness, and almost a discomfort that he had asked her such a personal question. But this was the nature of Angels, curiosity first and foremost. Though perhaps that should have been a clue, he did not seem to have an earthly idea of what became of the man.

    Genevieve sighed and turned now to face the man, the Angel. The demon within could not wait to see his reaction if she had twisted the knife further, would it be mere discomfort? Or would his sadness be genuine? "Last year, during the harvest." She began in a rather solemn tone, taking deep breaths as though forcing herself to get over her own feelings to be able to discuss such a matter. "He was murdered." Once more, a part of Seele, no matter how small felt overwhelmed by the sense of loss and pain emanating from within. "A kid, starving... tried to pick pocket him." She shook her head. "My husband figured it out, and the kid got scared, stabbed him." What Seele had difficulty accepting were the tears that seemed to form in her eyes, welling up, burning hot tears. Raising a finger tip to her eyes she wiped them clean.

    "I suppose he was lucky... he hit the right spot..." Genevieve started to walk forward again, her arms now folded across her chest as she ambulated rather slowly, somehow lost in thought. "Lonely?" Genevieve asked, casting a look in Sam's direction, now no longer even attempting to force a smile. "You are correct, you can't imagine it." Genevieve pulled ahead from the man, the angel, pushing forward until she had arrived at the small house where it had all began. At least one death in this village she was not responsible for.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

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