-tags-
#💫⚖️🍨 - just emojis
LeGaur/god’sjustice - anything to do with them
dishedoutjustice - helping people out
justicespeaks - regular posts and thoughts
xyresponds - answered asks
tales of Justice - lore

@theartofmadeline
Mike Driver

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
ojovivo
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

pixel skylines
will byers stan first human second

blake kathryn
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Kiana Khansmith

#extradirty
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
d e v o n
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
macklin celebrini has autism
AnasAbdin
Not today Justin
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Morocco
seen from Paraguay

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Switzerland
seen from Nigeria
seen from India
@balanceandasphodel
-tags-
#💫⚖️🍨 - just emojis
LeGaur/god’sjustice - anything to do with them
dishedoutjustice - helping people out
justicespeaks - regular posts and thoughts
xyresponds - answered asks
tales of Justice - lore
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
Not zaying you didn't mean it, I'm juzt zaying it certainly izn't zomething you're azking juzt for the zake of it.
*They briefly looked away, then back at the other.*
I know Abby contacted you and told you everything, you know. If I hadn't your letter would've made it pretty obvious. I cannot hide that, despite my contentness in seeing you once again, I am not quite as happy with the circumstances that led to it.
Ah. I see.
They looked guilty.
I would be coming to visit you more often, but I know you’re very busy.
I mean to check up on you a month or so back. I got my wing ripped off, though. I didn’t want to come to you looking like that and worry you. I’m sorry.
They rubbed their thumb over the sleeve of their cardigan.
I’m also sorry that I didn’t do this right the first time. I’m so, so sorry.
They flinched.
*Their eyes went a little bit wide, and they straightened themself in their chair ever so slightly.*
No, that'z. Not at all what I meant. You're right, I've been buzy.
I waz gonna zay I zshould've come to check up on you earlier on.
*Hearing about the wing thing their brows furrowed.*
You do know you can come here about zztuff like that, right? Nobody zshould be coming near your quarterz if not without maliciouz intent. Zomeone would have a field day making zure the one who did that never tried it again.
My.. izzue, it'z not your burden to fix. You did what you could, that waz more than enough.
You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown angel. And I can handle the visitors; I’m helping them.
As for your wings, they are my burden. My concern, more like. You were injusticed. I must make it right.
I fear it iz not your help they are after az much az it iz your pain, my friend.
*The demon knew that arguing with the other about how others's suffering was not his burden would have resulted in nothing productive, so they sighed, locked the door with a snap of their fingers, and took out their wings. The middle pair was just fine, glorious even. The bottom one looked a bit worn, but nothing that a good groom couldn't fix. The top wings... Well, they were a whole other story; although most of the blood and grime had been cleaned off by Abby they still weren't clean, the feathers were sparser than Raguel would have liked to see, and... Surely they were not supposed to bend that way.*
I wazn't injuzticed by anyone other than Her herzelf. Meddling in that rizkz only putting you in an even worze pozition.
*They spoke honestly.*
I am not afraid of putting myself in worse positions to do what must be done, Bù. You know what that’s like.
There was a slight shift in their demeanor once the problem area was exposed—like they were back in the field again, prioritizing more fatal cases over others. There was a sort of analytic coldness that dampened their warmth. Things were muttered under their breath; notes on the condition of different things, ideas on fixing them.
Of courze I know, doezn't mean I like it.
*They didn't even flinch at the familiar nickname, instead sighing once they noticed the shift in the other's demeanor and leaned back; spreading out their wings by draping them over the chair's back and grabbing a pastry off the plate to snack on.*
I can zee you itching with the impulze to take a clozer look, Raggy. You may, juzt don't do anything major without warning and don't do anything weird.
Thank you, frāter.
Soon, they were up out of their chair, observing the fused breaks and the damage. They weren’t alarmingly fast, but their movement was eager.
It was…bad. Almost none of the work they’d done to change the structure had stuck, as if the fixes themselves had been rejected. By what? Demons were, for the most part; no longer under the influence of Her will, and thus their corporations should not be conforming to it.
Maybe a Heavenly influence was causing it? Or might it be the remnants of who they used to be? Maybe the food desert in Hell was it—preventing growth via not having enough energy to do so. If it was the lack of food, maybe Beelzebub’s already endless hunger was part of it. Or maybe it was their work. The constant demands from the bureaucracy of Hell might be sapping enough of their energy that the wings on their head did not have the energy to grow beyond the way their ‘factory settings’ dictated.
As they hypothesized, they muttered under their breath, doing different things to adjust the way they were looking at the case. A few extra eyes were cropping up around their hairline, and a few of their smaller wings, near where their halo should’ve been, were undulating slowly, making a soft breeze and slightly ruffling Beelzebub’s hair.
*The demon leaned back further, adjusting their wings' position here and there to facilitate the other's inspection.
They kept chewing on their snack, looking at seemingly nothing while trying not to think too hard abot what Raguel was muttering and mumbling.
As the slight breeze from the other's wings ruffled their hair they didn't seem to mind at all; their dark hair was already anything but tamed, so it didn't make much of a difference or any at all if they had to be honest, and it wasn't usual for Hell to have any sort of slight wind that could ever be described as 'pleasant'.*
After a bit more observing, they drew back.
Okay, so…
They went to go sit back down in their chair.
As we both know, the last attempt I made failed. There’s clearly a reason that occurred. If we do not find the cause for that, any more attempts I make will also fail. I have a few hypotheses, and I’d like to get your opinion on them.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
Not zaying you didn't mean it, I'm juzt zaying it certainly izn't zomething you're azking juzt for the zake of it.
*They briefly looked away, then back at the other.*
I know Abby contacted you and told you everything, you know. If I hadn't your letter would've made it pretty obvious. I cannot hide that, despite my contentness in seeing you once again, I am not quite as happy with the circumstances that led to it.
Ah. I see.
They looked guilty.
I would be coming to visit you more often, but I know you’re very busy.
I mean to check up on you a month or so back. I got my wing ripped off, though. I didn’t want to come to you looking like that and worry you. I’m sorry.
They rubbed their thumb over the sleeve of their cardigan.
I’m also sorry that I didn’t do this right the first time. I’m so, so sorry.
They flinched.
*Their eyes went a little bit wide, and they straightened themself in their chair ever so slightly.*
No, that'z. Not at all what I meant. You're right, I've been buzy.
I waz gonna zay I zshould've come to check up on you earlier on.
*Hearing about the wing thing their brows furrowed.*
You do know you can come here about zztuff like that, right? Nobody zshould be coming near your quarterz if not without maliciouz intent. Zomeone would have a field day making zure the one who did that never tried it again.
My.. izzue, it'z not your burden to fix. You did what you could, that waz more than enough.
You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown angel. And I can handle the visitors; I’m helping them.
As for your wings, they are my burden. My concern, more like. You were injusticed. I must make it right.
I fear it iz not your help they are after az much az it iz your pain, my friend.
*The demon knew that arguing with the other about how others's suffering was not his burden would have resulted in nothing productive, so they sighed, locked the door with a snap of their fingers, and took out their wings. The middle pair was just fine, glorious even. The bottom one looked a bit worn, but nothing that a good groom couldn't fix. The top wings... Well, they were a whole other story; although most of the blood and grime had been cleaned off by Abby they still weren't clean, the feathers were sparser than Raguel would have liked to see, and... Surely they were not supposed to bend that way.*
I wazn't injuzticed by anyone other than Her herzelf. Meddling in that rizkz only putting you in an even worze pozition.
*They spoke honestly.*
I am not afraid of putting myself in worse positions to do what must be done, Bù. You know what that’s like.
There was a slight shift in their demeanor once the problem area was exposed—like they were back in the field again, prioritizing more fatal cases over others. There was a sort of analytic coldness that dampened their warmth. Things were muttered under their breath; notes on the condition of different things, ideas on fixing them.
Of courze I know, doezn't mean I like it.
*They didn't even flinch at the familiar nickname, instead sighing once they noticed the shift in the other's demeanor and leaned back; spreading out their wings by draping them over the chair's back and grabbing a pastry off the plate to snack on.*
I can zee you itching with the impulze to take a clozer look, Raggy. You may, juzt don't do anything major without warning and don't do anything weird.
Thank you, frāter.
Soon, they were up out of their chair, observing the fused breaks and the damage. They weren’t alarmingly fast, but their movement was eager.
It was…bad. Almost none of the work they’d done to change the structure had stuck, as if the fixes themselves had been rejected. By what? Demons were, for the most part; no longer under the influence of Her will, and thus their corporations should not be conforming to it.
Maybe a Heavenly influence was causing it? Or might it be the remnants of who they used to be? Maybe the food desert in Hell was it—preventing growth via not having enough energy to do so. If it was the lack of food, maybe Beelzebub’s already endless hunger was part of it. Or maybe it was their work. The constant demands from the bureaucracy of Hell might be sapping enough of their energy that the wings on their head did not have the energy to grow beyond the way their ‘factory settings’ dictated.
As they hypothesized, they muttered under their breath, doing different things to adjust the way they were looking at the case. A few extra eyes were cropping up around their hairline, and a few of their smaller wings, near where their halo should’ve been, were undulating slowly, making a soft breeze and slightly ruffling Beelzebub’s hair.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
Not zaying you didn't mean it, I'm juzt zaying it certainly izn't zomething you're azking juzt for the zake of it.
*They briefly looked away, then back at the other.*
I know Abby contacted you and told you everything, you know. If I hadn't your letter would've made it pretty obvious. I cannot hide that, despite my contentness in seeing you once again, I am not quite as happy with the circumstances that led to it.
Ah. I see.
They looked guilty.
I would be coming to visit you more often, but I know you’re very busy.
I mean to check up on you a month or so back. I got my wing ripped off, though. I didn’t want to come to you looking like that and worry you. I’m sorry.
They rubbed their thumb over the sleeve of their cardigan.
I’m also sorry that I didn’t do this right the first time. I’m so, so sorry.
They flinched.
*Their eyes went a little bit wide, and they straightened themself in their chair ever so slightly.*
No, that'z. Not at all what I meant. You're right, I've been buzy.
I waz gonna zay I zshould've come to check up on you earlier on.
*Hearing about the wing thing their brows furrowed.*
You do know you can come here about zztuff like that, right? Nobody zshould be coming near your quarterz if not without maliciouz intent. Zomeone would have a field day making zure the one who did that never tried it again.
My.. izzue, it'z not your burden to fix. You did what you could, that waz more than enough.
You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown angel. And I can handle the visitors; I’m helping them.
As for your wings, they are my burden. My concern, more like. You were injusticed. I must make it right.
I fear it iz not your help they are after az much az it iz your pain, my friend.
*The demon knew that arguing with the other about how others's suffering was not his burden would have resulted in nothing productive, so they sighed, locked the door with a snap of their fingers, and took out their wings. The middle pair was just fine, glorious even. The bottom one looked a bit worn, but nothing that a good groom couldn't fix. The top wings... Well, they were a whole other story; although most of the blood and grime had been cleaned off by Abby they still weren't clean, the feathers were sparser than Raguel would have liked to see, and... Surely they were not supposed to bend that way.*
I wazn't injuzticed by anyone other than Her herzelf. Meddling in that rizkz only putting you in an even worze pozition.
*They spoke honestly.*
I am not afraid of putting myself in worse positions to do what must be done, Bù. You know what that’s like.
There was a slight shift in their demeanor once the problem area was exposed—like they were back in the field again, prioritizing more fatal cases over others. There was a sort of analytic coldness that dampened their warmth. Things were muttered under their breath; notes on the condition of different things, ideas on fixing them.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
Not zaying you didn't mean it, I'm juzt zaying it certainly izn't zomething you're azking juzt for the zake of it.
*They briefly looked away, then back at the other.*
I know Abby contacted you and told you everything, you know. If I hadn't your letter would've made it pretty obvious. I cannot hide that, despite my contentness in seeing you once again, I am not quite as happy with the circumstances that led to it.
Ah. I see.
They looked guilty.
I would be coming to visit you more often, but I know you’re very busy.
I mean to check up on you a month or so back. I got my wing ripped off, though. I didn’t want to come to you looking like that and worry you. I’m sorry.
They rubbed their thumb over the sleeve of their cardigan.
I’m also sorry that I didn’t do this right the first time. I’m so, so sorry.
They flinched.
*Their eyes went a little bit wide, and they straightened themself in their chair ever so slightly.*
No, that'z. Not at all what I meant. You're right, I've been buzy.
I waz gonna zay I zshould've come to check up on you earlier on.
*Hearing about the wing thing their brows furrowed.*
You do know you can come here about zztuff like that, right? Nobody zshould be coming near your quarterz if not without maliciouz intent. Zomeone would have a field day making zure the one who did that never tried it again.
My.. izzue, it'z not your burden to fix. You did what you could, that waz more than enough.
You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown angel. And I can handle the visitors; I’m helping them.
As for your wings, they are my burden. My concern, more like. You were injusticed. I must make it right.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
Not zaying you didn't mean it, I'm juzt zaying it certainly izn't zomething you're azking juzt for the zake of it.
*They briefly looked away, then back at the other.*
I know Abby contacted you and told you everything, you know. If I hadn't your letter would've made it pretty obvious. I cannot hide that, despite my contentness in seeing you once again, I am not quite as happy with the circumstances that led to it.
Ah. I see.
They looked guilty.
I would be coming to visit you more often, but I know you’re very busy.
I mean to check up on you a month or so back. I got my wing ripped off, though. I didn’t want to come to you looking like that and worry you. I’m sorry.
They rubbed their thumb over the sleeve of their cardigan.
I’m also sorry that I didn’t do this right the first time. I’m so, so sorry.
They flinched.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
*Their presence was probably contribuiting to the other's inclination to eat since, even passively, their influence on others' mind and cravings was always there. They leaned back, letting the other get comfortable and grab a few snacks.*
*Their jacket was still sitting on their chair along with their sash, leaving them in their usual white(..ish, one could argue, seeing the various dried up blood spatters) button up and black trousers.*
I am az I normally am, I'd azk you the zame but I feel like that waz more of a queztion to get to the reazon of your vizit rather than courtezy.
Their eyebrows knitted together.
Why would I ask you how you’re doing if i didn’t mean it?
I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to know how my sibling is doing.
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*They sighed, not out of annoyance, more so out of recognition. The archangel had a feeling of familiarity to them that usually only meant something bad was going to happen, but without any of the risk.*
Come on in now, I took the liberty of putting out zzome znackz if you want to eat zomething.
*Beelzebub stepped aside, allowing Raguel to come in. The office was dark as ever, was that a new blood splatter on the wall? It really did fill up that empty wall. They pulled their chair from behind their desk, and put it in front of the small newly miracled table in the corner of the room (which had the previously mentioned treats sitting on top of it on an only slightly cracked plate), gesturing for the other to sit opposite to them.*
Oo, snacks…
They made their way over to the table, gently taking a seat and taking a thing or two from the plate.
An archangel, albeit Fallen, was eating.
Someone should go buy a lottery ticket.
They had sandals, flowing pants and a loose collared shirt, likely made of chiffon, and a wide-sleeved cardigan. They had their hair—wavy, the color of milk chocolate—down. They looked… comfortable.
How are you?
The faint smell of lavender and sea salt, with just a hint of magnolia, wafted through the air. There were three gentle knocks on the door.
*They looked up, shutting the drawer of their desk. The Prince sighed, preparing themself for the conversation that was to come, and walked to the door. As soon as they opened it they looked at the angel standing before them, and greeted:*
Raguel.
They smiled the sort of smile that made the eyes crinkle in the outer corners. It was the sort of smile that felt like feeling the warmth of the sun on a spring day. They spoke like a spring breeze, gently drifting across the face.
Beelzebub..!
They seemed to be visibly restraining themselves from hugging their sibling. They knew demons tended to get stabby when that happened.
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
I'm glad to have met you too.
*Praise is hard to come by in Hell, and she's almost glowing from glee.*
He's one of my brothers. Er, several of my brothers, I suppose. He's a Legion. You might know him as the Disposable Demon? Oh, or maybe Shamsiel?
They frowned.
They’re calling poor Shamsie ‘disposable’?
*She grimaced.*
He's been rather underappreciated over the millennia. The whole "Legion" thing means people tend to use him as a punching bag. We're working on it.
Mhh. The poor dear. :(
I suppose my help didn’t make things better after all. Mm.
They looked… disappointed.
Where do I fit into your plan with Beelzebub?
I'm sure you've been a great help. Hell is just...stubborn.
*She flips back to her many pages of notes.*
Well, like I said, I'd like your opinions throughout the treatment. Er, attempted treatment, really. Beelzebub has made it very clear that they reserve the right to bow out of all of this, most likely in a rather destructive manner. And I really don't like using the whole "ordering demons to obey" thing, it's just rude. Beelzebub folds after enough arguing anyway.
But, right, back on track. You have more medical expertise than I do, and I'm also...usually occupied with keeping Hell from running itself into the ground. I'd really appreciate your help in keeping track of the healing process of their wings, as well as adapting the demonic medicine.
I can certainly do that. Fixing things—fixing people—is my job!
Their smile brightened.
Do you have any specific place I’ll be treating them? Or will their office do?
Their office would probably be best. I doubt they'll want to come all the way here and give anyone the chance to wonder why. Which I suppose I understand.
*She grins back at them.*
I really can't thank you enough for helping. The Prince is one of my dearest friends, and I'm glad to be able to get them the help they deserve.
It’s no issue, dear. I love to make things as they should be, especially for my Fallen brethren.
Behind them, assorted items were floating about in their house. A bag of supplies was, seemingly, packing itself.
We should probably give them some notice. I know how they feel about surprises, especially surprises that involve anything with a halo.
They are aware this is happening, but yes, I think they'd prefer to know before you show up.
Alrighty. Hm…
As if on cue, a mourning dove fluttered in through their window and landed on their head. It cooed at them.
Hello, there. Thank you for trying to help, but I don’t think Hell is so technologically stunted that I need to send a message to Belze by pigeon.
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
I'm glad to have met you too.
*Praise is hard to come by in Hell, and she's almost glowing from glee.*
He's one of my brothers. Er, several of my brothers, I suppose. He's a Legion. You might know him as the Disposable Demon? Oh, or maybe Shamsiel?
They frowned.
They’re calling poor Shamsie ‘disposable’?
*She grimaced.*
He's been rather underappreciated over the millennia. The whole "Legion" thing means people tend to use him as a punching bag. We're working on it.
Mhh. The poor dear. :(
I suppose my help didn’t make things better after all. Mm.
They looked… disappointed.
Where do I fit into your plan with Beelzebub?
I'm sure you've been a great help. Hell is just...stubborn.
*She flips back to her many pages of notes.*
Well, like I said, I'd like your opinions throughout the treatment. Er, attempted treatment, really. Beelzebub has made it very clear that they reserve the right to bow out of all of this, most likely in a rather destructive manner. And I really don't like using the whole "ordering demons to obey" thing, it's just rude. Beelzebub folds after enough arguing anyway.
But, right, back on track. You have more medical expertise than I do, and I'm also...usually occupied with keeping Hell from running itself into the ground. I'd really appreciate your help in keeping track of the healing process of their wings, as well as adapting the demonic medicine.
I can certainly do that. Fixing things—fixing people—is my job!
Their smile brightened.
Do you have any specific place I’ll be treating them? Or will their office do?
Their office would probably be best. I doubt they'll want to come all the way here and give anyone the chance to wonder why. Which I suppose I understand.
*She grins back at them.*
I really can't thank you enough for helping. The Prince is one of my dearest friends, and I'm glad to be able to get them the help they deserve.
It’s no issue, dear. I love to make things as they should be, especially for my Fallen brethren.
Behind them, assorted items were floating about in their house. A bag of supplies was, seemingly, packing itself.
We should probably give them some notice. I know how they feel about surprises, especially surprises that involve anything with a halo.
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
I'm glad to have met you too.
*Praise is hard to come by in Hell, and she's almost glowing from glee.*
He's one of my brothers. Er, several of my brothers, I suppose. He's a Legion. You might know him as the Disposable Demon? Oh, or maybe Shamsiel?
They frowned.
They’re calling poor Shamsie ‘disposable’?
*She grimaced.*
He's been rather underappreciated over the millennia. The whole "Legion" thing means people tend to use him as a punching bag. We're working on it.
Mhh. The poor dear. :(
I suppose my help didn’t make things better after all. Mm.
They looked… disappointed.
Where do I fit into your plan with Beelzebub?
I'm sure you've been a great help. Hell is just...stubborn.
*She flips back to her many pages of notes.*
Well, like I said, I'd like your opinions throughout the treatment. Er, attempted treatment, really. Beelzebub has made it very clear that they reserve the right to bow out of all of this, most likely in a rather destructive manner. And I really don't like using the whole "ordering demons to obey" thing, it's just rude. Beelzebub folds after enough arguing anyway.
But, right, back on track. You have more medical expertise than I do, and I'm also...usually occupied with keeping Hell from running itself into the ground. I'd really appreciate your help in keeping track of the healing process of their wings, as well as adapting the demonic medicine.
I can certainly do that. Fixing things—fixing people—is my job!
Their smile brightened.
Do you have any specific place I’ll be treating them? Or will their office do?
*
sylvia plath
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
I'm glad to have met you too.
*Praise is hard to come by in Hell, and she's almost glowing from glee.*
He's one of my brothers. Er, several of my brothers, I suppose. He's a Legion. You might know him as the Disposable Demon? Oh, or maybe Shamsiel?
They frowned.
They’re calling poor Shamsie ‘disposable’?
*She grimaced.*
He's been rather underappreciated over the millennia. The whole "Legion" thing means people tend to use him as a punching bag. We're working on it.
Mhh. The poor dear. :(
I suppose my help didn’t make things better after all. Mm.
They looked… disappointed.
Where do I fit into your plan with Beelzebub?
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
I'm glad to have met you too.
*Praise is hard to come by in Hell, and she's almost glowing from glee.*
He's one of my brothers. Er, several of my brothers, I suppose. He's a Legion. You might know him as the Disposable Demon? Oh, or maybe Shamsiel?
They frowned.
They’re calling poor Shamsie ‘disposable’?
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!
*She grinned, practically preening under his praise.*
Thank you. I'm very proud of it. So far we haven't noticed any negative side effects, although I'm still working on bribing Eric into testing that for me.
And I've made a similar medication that is topical!
*She pulls out her personal muscle cream.*
Its an emulsification of Holy water and hellfire, so it's not safe for the general population, but it helps with my aches.
They clapped with their fingertips, giggling and almost hopping from foot to foot as the delight spread through them. Their eyes squinted from how wide their smile was.
You! You brilliant thing! Oh, you!
They clutched their hands together. They settled down a little.
I’m so glad I’ve met you.
…also, who is Eric?
*The King of Hell is not supposed to be nervous. And yet she is. She is fidgety and antsy as she stands on the front porch, trying to work up the urge to knock on the door.
She ought to have signed the paper. She really, really, really ought to have just signed her name, and avoided this whole misunderstanding. But she had been in a rush, hoping to get caught up on her paperwork, and had just stamped it with the royal seal and sent it on it's way.
And now she was here, in what was essentially a paradise, with a glass bottle in one hand and a letter addressed to her father in the other.
She knocked on the door, and waited, and hoped she wouldn't be too much of a disappointment.*
Zidkiyah heard the rapping on the front door. It was different than they were used to—heavier and a different rhythm. They opened it, soft smile on their face, looking at the space they expected Lucifer’s head to be, and saw-
…open air. Hm.
They looked down, and saw a red-headed woman with fire in her eyes and a crown on her head. They cocked their head, face contorting in. They tucked their lower pair of wings under their arms, curving them around their body.
Hello there, young one. I am Zidkiyah. Who might you be?
*Oh, that was the look. The look that said "You're not who I was expecting." Drat.*
I'm Abigail Morningstar. And...also...the current...King.
*She's initially very slow to get her words out, but as soon as she starts, she's on a roll.*
Dad hasn't really been in Hell in ages, he despised the place, really, and so I stepped in and took over and I didn't realize you didn't know, I didn't think to sign the note, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I was him, but I did want to talk to you so I hope you're not too terribly disappointed because like I said I really need to talk to you so can I maybe come in please?
*She says it all in one big breath and braces for the door to be slammed in her face.*
As she talked, sympathy spread on their face, replacing the confusion that used to accompany their smile. The poor dear had probably had to deal with their more… ill-mannered siblings before. Zidkiyah knew they could be a handful. They ruffled their wings, as one would crack their neck.
Oh, you’re quite alright. Life is too long to get caught up on mishaps.
An air of cheekiness crept its way into their face.
And, excuse me, but… did you say ‘dad’?
*She sighed in relief, all the tension leaving her stance as she straightened up.*
Oh, thank you.
Oh, uh, yes! I did. I'm adopted, it's great. He's a really good dad.
Joy bloomed on their face like the Netherlands in April, excitement barely contained. Little eyes peeked out from places all over their body.
I have a niece!!!!!
Zidkiyah advanced forward to hug her with great velocity, wrapping her first in their arms then with both sets of wings. Their giggling sounded like windchimes in a place one can’t quite remember anymore.
*She was initially taken by surprise, but very quickly hugged them back. (She likes hugs and no one else in Hell - or Heaven, really, anymore - likes them either.)*
You have several nieces and nephews, actually! Dad kinda has an adoption problem.
Several?!
They spun her around, hugging her as tight as could be. When they finally set her down released her from their arms, albeit not their wings, they had a smile that could outshine the sun. Some of the wings behind their head had peeked out and were casting a soft breeze as their undulated.
This is fantastic!! Not only is Brother alive, but he has children!
He has very busy children.
*She's smiling, but she did come here with a purpose.*
I was wondering if you could help me with something? As much as I like to poke around in my lab, I'm not really a...trained medical professional.
Zidkiyah let her go, releasing her from the very loose confines of their wings. They looked intrigued, and had returned to their mostly human appearance, complete with soft, pleasant smile.
I am also not a trained professional. However, I figure I could most certainly help you to some extent. It is my purpose, after all.
They tilted their head ever so slightly.
What is it you need, dear?
Well, you know more than I do, at least.
*She pulls out her notebook, crammed to the gills with notes, and flips to the most recent page.*
I want to help Beelzebub with their upper wings. They said you'd helped them in the past, and I was hoping you would be able to help me figure out a plan. I can show you my notes!
Although they were still smiling, their eyes squinted upon seeing the notebook. She was just like her father. Oh, dear.
Yes, yes, very impressive notes, dear, very expansive.
Their face shifted as they realized something.
Help Frāter Beelzebub with their upper wings? I- I fixed those. It was millions of years ago. They’re wrong again?
*She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to gently say it.*
They didn't stop breaking them. I only found out recently - they let their wings out, all of them, and I saw the state they keep their wings in. I didn't know.
They made a face like a parent at their beloved child’s third grade recorder recital, which is to say, pain barely concealed by ‘joy’.
I…see. Ah.
…they what?
*She grimaces and nods.*
It's horribly hypocritical of them, but, y'know - demon, Hell, it's par for the course. I mean, not that this is something normal, I just mean. You know.
They nodded back.
I am very aware.
They ran a hand through their hair with a sigh, eyes blinking into and out of existence as they did. Their smile came back after they did so.
How can I help?
*She pulls her notes out properly, showing them to Raguel.*
I want to start with observation, first, to get a baseline. I've asked Beelzebub to tell me when they feel the wings closing in on them again.
And my main idea is to use some kind of a brace, to try and get the wings to heal in a different direction. Maybe allowing the wings to heal on their own but controlling their aim will prevent them from creeping forward.
I was also hoping you might take a look at this.
*She hands them a vial of the demonic medicine.*
It's pain medication, made from Hellfire and samples of the Seven Sins. It's an oral medication right now, and I'm hoping to adapt it to be topical as well.
The brace might w- oooo…
Zidkiyah’s eyes—many of them, peaking out of the ether to marvel with them—sparkled, full of fascination, wide with wonder. They gently swished the vial back and forth, seemingly seeing the parts of it through the veil of reality. Their smile was youthful and free.
So, so clever. So innovative…
I never thought this could be made. I never thought… you’ve done it! And you did it by getting people to get along!!