Thread: The Consequences of Falling [AngelicGrace & Bathos]

Midael knew, the way some men knew that winter followed autumn and clouds begat rain, that denying the Father's command was tantamount to falling and being cast evermore from His nourishing presence. He knew this, effortlessly and without doubt, yet when his brethren sought him out and told him about the task at hand, denial was his instinctive response. No, he said, and the wrongness of those words sent planets, yet unknown to Man, shattering into clouds of dust. His brethren drew back from him at once, and he sensed the collective, abject terror in their hearts. Gabriel was the only one who did not flinch away, but gathered Midael to his breast and whispered a song into his ear, the words of which were tender and soothing. When it was finished and Midael was slumped against Gabriel's tear-stained shoulder, he said to Midael, In all His infinite wisdom, my brother, He chose you. You must go. Midael turned his eye on the Earth then, and there was no song that could have eased the desolation he felt. To descend to the mortal realm, to cross the ephah and be made flesh, was a burden that had been suffered by many angels, both lesser and greater than Midael himself. There, they walked among humans, in all their sin and filth and ingratitude, and it was there that a small few had lost their way. For it was one thing to pledge to God an unyielding loyalty to Mankind, and it was quite another to witness firsthand their sacrilege and abominations, murders and greed and idolatry, and not feel envy and resentment in one's heart. That fear was only secondary, of course, to the great well of sorrow he felt, that he could not name so long as God was the Alpha and the Omega. Go, Gabriel said again, fiercely, as if the Metatron himself had lent his power to the command. And so it was, with a heavy heart, that Midael fell to Earth. His arrival was heralded by a storm, his celestial light concealed in a fork of lightning, the impact of his body against the sea swallowed by a clap of thunder. He sank limply beneath the surface, his new human eyes open and fixed upon the blustery sky, until unconsciousness stole away his torment. ----------- God, Midael later found out, would not suffer a fool, not even an angelic one. Naturally, he was fished from the water by a well meaning sailor, who expertly revived him and put him to bed without a single comment on his state of undress. For he was born unto flesh for the first time, and naturally was wearing what men called a birthday suit. Midael considered smiting the sailor for the inconvenience, but when he lifted his hand with intent, he found that his wrath was at once diminished. Instead, he thanked the man for his assistance and dematerialized before his eyes, which, in retrospect, was probably more cruel than simply ending his life. He appeared again in a store called Macy's, where he acquired clothes in the form of dark jeans, a soft, black sweater that reminded him of down, and black loafers. In the dressing room--where the sales assistant had ushered him wish a great sense of urgency after she'd spotted him--he spent long minutes transfixed by what he saw in the full length mirrors all around him. This is vanity , Midael reminded himself as he stared wonderingly at his human form, but he felt no pride over what he saw and knew that God would forgive him this one mild sin. His eyes were of the greatest interest to Midael, for these were, in his own estimation, the great downfall of Mankind. Their doubt, their inability to believe in anything that did not reflect spectral color, was born of their eyes. Midael studied his intently, noting the faint lines in the corners, the inky blackness of his lashes, the vivid, ocean blue of the irises. They were such a small thing, to cause such a catastrophe of faith. His nose led straight and narrowly down to a mouth, full of straight, white teeth. Beneath it, his chin was square and lightly stubbled, and it wrinkled when he concentrated very hard. So did his eyebrows, which were almost as black as his eyelashes, and just a few shades darker than his hair, which he considered to be the same brown as the freshly tilled earth. Not that he had ever witnessed moist soil first hand, but he found that he had all kinds of earthly knowledge stored away in his memories, and assumed it was gifted to him by God. For instance, he knew when he looked at himself that he was six feet tall, though he'd never before had any use for measurements of distance. He knew he was of average weight, though more physically fit than most, and that a man his size should be able to lift some two- to three-hundred pounds. He also knew he could lift that many times over. When he was dressed and finally ready, at last, to enter society, Midael left Macy's and appeared, within the same fraction of a second, on the sidewalk clear across the city, directly in front of a tall office building. Every floor, Midael noted as he tipped his head further and further back, appeared to be made of dark, reflective glass, and the building reached so high that all that Midael could see was in shadow. It blotted out the sun. With a heavy sigh, he headed inside.