- May 26, 2010
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- US-Libertarian
It was a dark night at least, the street lights illuminating the sidewalks and the little one could see beyond them. Hardly anyone was out at this hour, save the few people staggering back to a dormitory from a fraternity or sorority house after their rides left them or someone rushing to the market to get last minute supplies for a party dwindling in effect. But three particular night walkers would strike the “normies” as especially eccentric.
The first exited a large chapel, a woman, the youngest of the three in appearance. Her long black hair went far past her shoulders, not shielding the ankh on her chest hanging from a necklace. She wore what could be seen as “gothic” clothes, though she certainly wasn’t aware of that subculture or didn’t attach it to her dress. She cast a wary glance up at the chapel, the moon shining behind the cross at the head of the roof. Her eyes glistened with a blue tint as she blinked a few times, a familiar face going through her memory, minute tears coming to her eyes. Shaking off her mild fear and brushing the sadness away with a quick motion, she started her journey to the meeting place they had agreed on.
The next left the bar, walking past two hoodlums that he had roughed up for disturbing his drinking in solitude in a quiet corner of the establishment. His hair was shorter and much more managed than the girl’s had been, neatly combed and parted, a platinum blonde contrasting with the otherwise dark night. His clothes suggested a place of formality, of importance, ironic considering where he was populating at this hour, but he, like the girl, seemed unaware or apathetic to the strange looks cast towards him occasionally as he walked through the corridor and finally exiting out into the night. Turning to look at the moon, he then faced forward, walking steadily towards the destination, his eyes glowering with something that frightened others away or paralyzed them in their tracks.
The final member of the trio exited the graveyard, carrying what appeared to a passerby as either an especially large shovel or, if her eyes were playing tricks on her, a scythe, the blade curving back to the figure’s shoulders from where it started a few feet above the figure’s head, attached to the staff. Stopping at the exit, the figure came into the light for a moment, a paler and more grim face, gaunt and thin, cheekbones visible. His, or her, one couldn’t be certain, hair was medium length, going past their ears and stopping before their shoulders, a deep color, glinting violet for a moment before reverting to brown. Blinking a bit and looking towards the intimidating “prop”, the androgynous form sighed and tossed the scythe away, disappearing without a sound into the darkness. Not even bothering to look at the moon, they walked towards the lake, the assigned spot for the three to meet.
The man was the first to arrive, tapping his foot a bit impatiently as he looked from left to right, wondering where his partners were. He didn’t expect the woman to be late, though the virtually genderless one was prone to much passive aggressiveness anyway. Waiting a few more minutes, he sighted the woman and the “other” behind her, though in a blink he sensed that the fool was behind him, mocking him with his excellence in motion that he himself didn’t possess in such excess.
“Enough, Azrael…you wish to start the meeting without Lucifel then, or do you prefer to dance around me until she gets here?”
“Don’t be a party pooper, Samael,” Azrael replied, his normally stolid face twisted into a manic grin that loosened into a painted grin, “Loosen up…Lucifel’s happy, cut a grin or a smirk even, c’mon,”
Lucifel appeared with a light step next to Samael, giggling a bit before looking up, an unusually bright smile across her face as she nodded.
“The meeting’s not supposed to be so darn formal anyway. We’re just discussing the upcoming Trinity voting. Isn’t it mostly set in stone now anyway? Mediator, Demiurge and Adversary are all standing right here, heh.” She spoke this last line with a bit of a nervous tone as Samael and Azrael seemed to both glare daggers at her as she turned away, continuing to speak, “Like I said, this is just so we can catch up. How’s the part time job, Azrael?”
“It’s a killer…” He responded, Samael scoffing at the ridiculous pun, Azrael procuring the scythe from before again as his face became stone cold again, pushing the blade in a circle, phasing through his neck and holding it threateningly at Azrael’s instead as the morbid seraph chuckled, the weapon poofing into smoke as the holder backflipped into the water, pausing a few inches above as he continued to skip across the air, Lucifel and Samael left alone.
“As you were inaccurately saying, Lucifel…” Samael spoke for the first time towards the subject, “It isn’t set in stone. Azrael may very well be the Adversary, but the Demiurge and Mediator aren’t so set in stone. It was similar with our successors, you know. The First Mediator and Demiurge could easily have reversed their roles since they both possessed the qualities necessary to perform both of the jobs. What’s to say that I, the proverbial Lucifer won’t trump the proverbial Yeshua and become the new Mediator after the period of a thousand years have finally passed?”
“Many things, to be fair,” Lucifel replied, becoming more serious and determined, her face showing it, which was quite comical to Samael, who began laughing sardonically at his seemingly much younger competitor, “And it’s not that funny. You know Elohim has said many times that this is as set in stone as it was for Yeshua, Lucifer and Satanel, even though Lucifer thought otherwise.”
“Ironic you can speak so ill of your teacher,” Samael said as he smirked maliciously for a moment as Lucifel continued to speak.
“He was your teacher more than mine. He was closer to a domineering brother than a teacher to me.”
“Again, it seems insulting to your elder to speak so ill of him. At least I respect our three successors equally.”
Azrael buzzed in disagreement as he stood upside down, peering at eye level with Samael, “Incorrect…I can speak accurately of your statements of resentment towards even Lucifer, the one you learned so much under. And don’t think I don’t have evidence to back this up, it’s quite easy to eavesdrop when one speaks so confidently and in the security that they supposedly aren’t being watched.”
Samael’s eyes narrowed as he made to attack Azrael, the cherubic grin disappearing for a moment as Azrael chuckled, the chuckling turning to a maniacal laughter for a few moments as Lucifel watched, trying to hold back her own giggles, Samael gritting his teeth as he turned to look towards the moon, the sphere glinting red for a moment as he turned back and spoke.
“We don’t have much more time…Or if we do, it would seem that we’ve been given a warning.”
“Chill out…” Azrael spoke again as he landed lightly on the ground as he motioned to the moon, “Red moon isn’t the end of the world. Black moon’s that little prophetic abortion the old man gave that paranoid maniac at Patmos, remember?”
“I’m still amazed you have gained your teacher’s impiety and irreverence so much, if not worse,” Samael noted, rolling his eyes for emphasis as he crossed his arms, “Call him Elohim or Adonai at least…never ‘the old man’. He’s not some doting grandfather.”
“But he sure as hell ain’t the stern judge so many make him out to be either. He’s getting senile, you gotta admit that, at least. Right Lucifel?”
“I’m staying out of this,” Lucifel replied, waving her hands of this whole incident, “Leave it to the boys to fight over daddy’s inheritance, not like it hasn’t been done a hundred times before.”
“I’m not fighting,” Azrael spoke as he appeared behind Lucifel, reappearing in front of her as he smirked, “I’m just pushing the stuck up archangel’s buttons…getting his goat…you know?”
“In layman’s terms,” Samael replied, “Trying to provoke me…”
“I prefer [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]ing you off, but that works too. Not that you’d really attack me, now, would you? Little old me?”
“Don’t test me, you fool…You know I possess enough skill to take you. I prefer not to waste it though until it’s necessary. I don’t squander it away like some children do…present company not excluded at all…”
Azrael manifested the scythe again as he twirled it for a second, “Really?” His tone was playful as usual, but maintained a serious level as he eyed Samael’s right hand, the one he always used to create a weapon of any sort,
“Like to have a little testing of the mettle as they say?”
It was a brief attack, but even Azrael was stunned as Samael leaped forward, holding out his right hand to generate the weapon, but swiftly, though not swiftly enough, attacking instead with a spear coming into his left hand. It narrowly missed impaling its target, though Samael’s energy was high enough that it managed to slice a significant wound in Azrael’s side.
Azrael shrugged it off as he snapped his fingers, slashing at Samael from behind, the scythe narrowly blocked by the spear stood up at the shoulder he was trying to slice. The responding stab was dodged, but not without a strike to the chest by the reverse end of the spear.
“Your tactics are definitely improving. If you can’t beat speed with power-“
“Beat it with ingenuity. So spoken by your master, if I recall.”
Lucifel stood in between as she sighed, bringing out her weapon, a bow with a seemingly infinite quiver of arrows that she shot to at least distract the two from dealing real harm to each other. She sensed someone was coming, though she couldn’t discern who or how many were precisely going to arrive in this space.
In a blink, there was a set of flashes, lightning crackling and a circle illuminated by a green outline manifesting in the lake as two shadows emerged slowly from the waters, turning to face the fighters. Both Azrael and Samael froze,
Azrael not nearly as frightened in appearance as Samael was, the latter appearing as a deer in the headlights before catching himself in his weakness.
The first exited a large chapel, a woman, the youngest of the three in appearance. Her long black hair went far past her shoulders, not shielding the ankh on her chest hanging from a necklace. She wore what could be seen as “gothic” clothes, though she certainly wasn’t aware of that subculture or didn’t attach it to her dress. She cast a wary glance up at the chapel, the moon shining behind the cross at the head of the roof. Her eyes glistened with a blue tint as she blinked a few times, a familiar face going through her memory, minute tears coming to her eyes. Shaking off her mild fear and brushing the sadness away with a quick motion, she started her journey to the meeting place they had agreed on.
The next left the bar, walking past two hoodlums that he had roughed up for disturbing his drinking in solitude in a quiet corner of the establishment. His hair was shorter and much more managed than the girl’s had been, neatly combed and parted, a platinum blonde contrasting with the otherwise dark night. His clothes suggested a place of formality, of importance, ironic considering where he was populating at this hour, but he, like the girl, seemed unaware or apathetic to the strange looks cast towards him occasionally as he walked through the corridor and finally exiting out into the night. Turning to look at the moon, he then faced forward, walking steadily towards the destination, his eyes glowering with something that frightened others away or paralyzed them in their tracks.
The final member of the trio exited the graveyard, carrying what appeared to a passerby as either an especially large shovel or, if her eyes were playing tricks on her, a scythe, the blade curving back to the figure’s shoulders from where it started a few feet above the figure’s head, attached to the staff. Stopping at the exit, the figure came into the light for a moment, a paler and more grim face, gaunt and thin, cheekbones visible. His, or her, one couldn’t be certain, hair was medium length, going past their ears and stopping before their shoulders, a deep color, glinting violet for a moment before reverting to brown. Blinking a bit and looking towards the intimidating “prop”, the androgynous form sighed and tossed the scythe away, disappearing without a sound into the darkness. Not even bothering to look at the moon, they walked towards the lake, the assigned spot for the three to meet.
The man was the first to arrive, tapping his foot a bit impatiently as he looked from left to right, wondering where his partners were. He didn’t expect the woman to be late, though the virtually genderless one was prone to much passive aggressiveness anyway. Waiting a few more minutes, he sighted the woman and the “other” behind her, though in a blink he sensed that the fool was behind him, mocking him with his excellence in motion that he himself didn’t possess in such excess.
“Enough, Azrael…you wish to start the meeting without Lucifel then, or do you prefer to dance around me until she gets here?”
“Don’t be a party pooper, Samael,” Azrael replied, his normally stolid face twisted into a manic grin that loosened into a painted grin, “Loosen up…Lucifel’s happy, cut a grin or a smirk even, c’mon,”
Lucifel appeared with a light step next to Samael, giggling a bit before looking up, an unusually bright smile across her face as she nodded.
“The meeting’s not supposed to be so darn formal anyway. We’re just discussing the upcoming Trinity voting. Isn’t it mostly set in stone now anyway? Mediator, Demiurge and Adversary are all standing right here, heh.” She spoke this last line with a bit of a nervous tone as Samael and Azrael seemed to both glare daggers at her as she turned away, continuing to speak, “Like I said, this is just so we can catch up. How’s the part time job, Azrael?”
“It’s a killer…” He responded, Samael scoffing at the ridiculous pun, Azrael procuring the scythe from before again as his face became stone cold again, pushing the blade in a circle, phasing through his neck and holding it threateningly at Azrael’s instead as the morbid seraph chuckled, the weapon poofing into smoke as the holder backflipped into the water, pausing a few inches above as he continued to skip across the air, Lucifel and Samael left alone.
“As you were inaccurately saying, Lucifel…” Samael spoke for the first time towards the subject, “It isn’t set in stone. Azrael may very well be the Adversary, but the Demiurge and Mediator aren’t so set in stone. It was similar with our successors, you know. The First Mediator and Demiurge could easily have reversed their roles since they both possessed the qualities necessary to perform both of the jobs. What’s to say that I, the proverbial Lucifer won’t trump the proverbial Yeshua and become the new Mediator after the period of a thousand years have finally passed?”
“Many things, to be fair,” Lucifel replied, becoming more serious and determined, her face showing it, which was quite comical to Samael, who began laughing sardonically at his seemingly much younger competitor, “And it’s not that funny. You know Elohim has said many times that this is as set in stone as it was for Yeshua, Lucifer and Satanel, even though Lucifer thought otherwise.”
“Ironic you can speak so ill of your teacher,” Samael said as he smirked maliciously for a moment as Lucifel continued to speak.
“He was your teacher more than mine. He was closer to a domineering brother than a teacher to me.”
“Again, it seems insulting to your elder to speak so ill of him. At least I respect our three successors equally.”
Azrael buzzed in disagreement as he stood upside down, peering at eye level with Samael, “Incorrect…I can speak accurately of your statements of resentment towards even Lucifer, the one you learned so much under. And don’t think I don’t have evidence to back this up, it’s quite easy to eavesdrop when one speaks so confidently and in the security that they supposedly aren’t being watched.”
Samael’s eyes narrowed as he made to attack Azrael, the cherubic grin disappearing for a moment as Azrael chuckled, the chuckling turning to a maniacal laughter for a few moments as Lucifel watched, trying to hold back her own giggles, Samael gritting his teeth as he turned to look towards the moon, the sphere glinting red for a moment as he turned back and spoke.
“We don’t have much more time…Or if we do, it would seem that we’ve been given a warning.”
“Chill out…” Azrael spoke again as he landed lightly on the ground as he motioned to the moon, “Red moon isn’t the end of the world. Black moon’s that little prophetic abortion the old man gave that paranoid maniac at Patmos, remember?”
“I’m still amazed you have gained your teacher’s impiety and irreverence so much, if not worse,” Samael noted, rolling his eyes for emphasis as he crossed his arms, “Call him Elohim or Adonai at least…never ‘the old man’. He’s not some doting grandfather.”
“But he sure as hell ain’t the stern judge so many make him out to be either. He’s getting senile, you gotta admit that, at least. Right Lucifel?”
“I’m staying out of this,” Lucifel replied, waving her hands of this whole incident, “Leave it to the boys to fight over daddy’s inheritance, not like it hasn’t been done a hundred times before.”
“I’m not fighting,” Azrael spoke as he appeared behind Lucifel, reappearing in front of her as he smirked, “I’m just pushing the stuck up archangel’s buttons…getting his goat…you know?”
“In layman’s terms,” Samael replied, “Trying to provoke me…”
“I prefer [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]ing you off, but that works too. Not that you’d really attack me, now, would you? Little old me?”
“Don’t test me, you fool…You know I possess enough skill to take you. I prefer not to waste it though until it’s necessary. I don’t squander it away like some children do…present company not excluded at all…”
Azrael manifested the scythe again as he twirled it for a second, “Really?” His tone was playful as usual, but maintained a serious level as he eyed Samael’s right hand, the one he always used to create a weapon of any sort,
“Like to have a little testing of the mettle as they say?”
It was a brief attack, but even Azrael was stunned as Samael leaped forward, holding out his right hand to generate the weapon, but swiftly, though not swiftly enough, attacking instead with a spear coming into his left hand. It narrowly missed impaling its target, though Samael’s energy was high enough that it managed to slice a significant wound in Azrael’s side.
Azrael shrugged it off as he snapped his fingers, slashing at Samael from behind, the scythe narrowly blocked by the spear stood up at the shoulder he was trying to slice. The responding stab was dodged, but not without a strike to the chest by the reverse end of the spear.
“Your tactics are definitely improving. If you can’t beat speed with power-“
“Beat it with ingenuity. So spoken by your master, if I recall.”
Lucifel stood in between as she sighed, bringing out her weapon, a bow with a seemingly infinite quiver of arrows that she shot to at least distract the two from dealing real harm to each other. She sensed someone was coming, though she couldn’t discern who or how many were precisely going to arrive in this space.
In a blink, there was a set of flashes, lightning crackling and a circle illuminated by a green outline manifesting in the lake as two shadows emerged slowly from the waters, turning to face the fighters. Both Azrael and Samael froze,
Azrael not nearly as frightened in appearance as Samael was, the latter appearing as a deer in the headlights before catching himself in his weakness.
