She's a dainty little wisp. An angel. Just like the rest of you. You know she's sneaking down to them. Down to humanity. Down to the human she loves so deeply. You've never seen her so happy.
An angel shouldn't attach. An angel can only choose one human to guard. You all know this isn't what has happened. But you don't intervene. She's happy. You love to see her happy. There's so much discontent in the heavens, and it's reaching a peak. But at least Lilith can be happy. Your precious little sister. The youngest of the eight.
And then it changes.
Your Father intervenes. You remember the echo of his voice, the judgement, the power that can't be looked on directly. Lilith had disobeyed. Lilith, loving and stubborn and courageous and defiant Lilith, had seen her human suffering to what all humans would suffer with. The touch of disease. The knowledge of death.
She had intervened. Food from the Celestial Realm, is what the archangels say. Forbidden in the mouth of man.
She has sinned. And a sinner cannot belong in the space of your Father.
Lilith will be erased.
And that alone is the catalyst you all need to start a war.
---
You're not sure how long you've been fighting. You've always been known for your strength. A Cherubim, a guardian of the gates of heaven, now forcing your way through those you would have called brothers and sisters, snapping bows, parrying swords, tossing the angelic from their steeds. You are a protector. You are here to keep your own standing against what feels like the inevitable. It's your job, for them.
Behind you, you feel the presence of your second half. Your younger twin, Belphegor, who was never made for battle, but fights regardless. You feel his exhaustion, his bitterness, an echo in the back of your head, a telepathic connection.
And to your other side, you see Lilith. She fights regardless of all of the protests of her elder brothers. She circles back to the both of you often. The three of you have always been inseparable. Always. Always.
You advance in one direction. Belphie in another. Lilith, in a third.
And then you see the arrows.
It must be a final volley. They're pushing forward too fast now. But the bows are aimed, and you know you don't have the speed to stop it. Neither do your siblings.
One. Only one. You can make it to Belphegor. Or to Lilith.
...
The arrows shoot, and you run, grabbing your younger brother and pulling him to safety as the arrows fly, tumbling you both through the blood-scented air. He stays prone. But you...
You see her. She sees you. Her face drops, in disbelief, in pain, in anguish that bleeds over her face once the arrow hits her through the wings.
And like that, she drops from the heavens in a trail of blood.
You scream her name. You hear Belphegor in suit. But the two of you are both overwhelmed in your moment of grief, swords on top of you, bows pointed, hands grabbing at your shoulders.
And you fall.
Out of the light of heaven, past the reaches of earth, down until only darkness envelops you. It sheds your wings away like knives to the skin, twists at your bones, at the temples of your head, the crux of your shoulders, the center of your gut. A thorny, heavy grip. A changing of yourself, as the pitch-black ground approaches far too fast.
You have sinned.
You have lost her for it. You have protected nothing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WEEK 5 - TUESDAY
She's a dainty little wisp. An angel. Just like the rest of you. You know she's sneaking down to them. Down to humanity. Down to the human she loves so deeply. You've never seen her so happy.
An angel shouldn't attach. An angel can only choose one human to guard. You all know this isn't what has happened. But you don't intervene. She's happy. You love to see her happy. There's so much discontent in the heavens, and it's reaching a peak. But at least Lilith can be happy. Your precious little sister. The youngest of the eight.
And then it changes.
Your Father intervenes. You remember the echo of his voice, the judgement, the power that can't be looked on directly. Lilith had disobeyed. Lilith, loving and stubborn and courageous and defiant Lilith, had seen her human suffering to what all humans would suffer with. The touch of disease. The knowledge of death.
She had intervened. Food from the Celestial Realm, is what the archangels say. Forbidden in the mouth of man.
She has sinned. And a sinner cannot belong in the space of your Father.
Lilith will be erased.
And that alone is the catalyst you all need to start a war.
---
You're not sure how long you've been fighting. You've always been known for your strength. A Cherubim, a guardian of the gates of heaven, now forcing your way through those you would have called brothers and sisters, snapping bows, parrying swords, tossing the angelic from their steeds. You are a protector. You are here to keep your own standing against what feels like the inevitable. It's your job, for them.
Behind you, you feel the presence of your second half. Your younger twin, Belphegor, who was never made for battle, but fights regardless. You feel his exhaustion, his bitterness, an echo in the back of your head, a telepathic connection.
And to your other side, you see Lilith. She fights regardless of all of the protests of her elder brothers. She circles back to the both of you often. The three of you have always been inseparable. Always. Always.
You advance in one direction. Belphie in another. Lilith, in a third.
And then you see the arrows.
It must be a final volley. They're pushing forward too fast now. But the bows are aimed, and you know you don't have the speed to stop it. Neither do your siblings.
One. Only one. You can make it to Belphegor. Or to Lilith.
...
The arrows shoot, and you run, grabbing your younger brother and pulling him to safety as the arrows fly, tumbling you both through the blood-scented air. He stays prone. But you...
You see her. She sees you. Her face drops, in disbelief, in pain, in anguish that bleeds over her face once the arrow hits her through the wings.
And like that, she drops from the heavens in a trail of blood.
You scream her name. You hear Belphegor in suit. But the two of you are both overwhelmed in your moment of grief, swords on top of you, bows pointed, hands grabbing at your shoulders.
And you fall.
Out of the light of heaven, past the reaches of earth, down until only darkness envelops you. It sheds your wings away like knives to the skin, twists at your bones, at the temples of your head, the crux of your shoulders, the center of your gut. A thorny, heavy grip. A changing of yourself, as the pitch-black ground approaches far too fast.
You have sinned.
You have lost her for it. You have protected nothing.
It's your fault.]