Talking to the Moon

Michael is the ruler of the Order of Virtues, Chief of the Archangels, Archangel of the Sun, Prince of the Presence, Prince of Sarim, Prince of the Seraphim, and Angel of Repentance. The more he served as the angel of death, as messenger, visiting Earth and the humans, the more he began to feel the strain, feel those own questions arriving in his head, and anger he hadn’t felt before. Michael was losing his peace, he was crying less easily for humankind, and hardening, understanding why they were doing what they were doing. ((Independent RP account. Can play with anyone Part of the Solomon's Ring storyline. Please look through the important or information section. This Michael is closer to angelic lore than Spn, while I do play him as a spn character.))

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Night The Stars Fell

[crossroadsbitch]

“Except,” she began, choosing her argument on the fly, “there is no such thing as perfect. Surly you have noticed this over the centuries.” She shook her head and sighed. “Truth is seldom so cut and dry. It is mostly perception.”

The demon turned from the window, unable to watch anymore. “That is no fault of yours. I know you are not going to like what I am about to say, but just listen. This is no fault of yours. Your father made the choices that set this in to motion knowing full well what would happen. Perhaps this is His way of granting freedom. As painful as that may be.”

She lingered there for a moment, debating on whether or not to follow. “Michael, you are not alone in this world. You have made a life here, you have emotion. That is something so many would give anything for. Do not forget that.”

[deathonsunday-blog]

"I once would have argued with you on that statement," Michael stated, his laugh low.  "And I could not tell you when I realized father was not perfect.  Somewhere along the line, it was lost." 

He listened for a long moment, each step taking him away from her, each step carrying him and his rattling feathers, almost smirking as he turned.  "Sometimes emotion is not a good thing, Cordae." The reply was soft, almost echoing in the room despite the fact.  "I was everything father wished for in a servant, and I'm here, I am falling with the rest of my siblings.  If this is his mercy, I am afraid I would rather have his wrath." 

He paused, his eyes landing on hers.  "I was created to be a servant, and nothing more.  I am useless once my feet touch the ground, without Heaven to run.  What do you suggest I do in my madness?" It was rhetorical, his eyes dark on hers, daring her to suggest something for a light to do.  "I will fade out over time without Heaven and Father."

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Night The Stars Fell

[iacchos-deactivated20150303]

The rumour mill was running wild among the gods and other celestials. Heaven was falling apart they said, but Iacchos hadn’t believed it. Everyone knew how immortals liked to talk. Anything to fill their long and now rather empty existences with any kind of drama. Heaven may have been in fractions, but falling apart? That couldn’t be. If it had stood the test of time, then how could anything possibly change now? Even the Greeks hadn’t fallen apart and if Iacchos was brutally honest- his family was far more twisted with it’s plots and ploys than any. If they were still standing strong- then the others should have been just fine. 

It wasn’t till the God heard the first cracks in the skies as angels began to fall. He had been on the balcony of his home, wine in hand when the first streams of flames began to light the night. He could feel the graces burning, see the wings snapping off. This was impossible. This had to be some kind of joke, a nightmare even. The angels were falling. The sky was a blaze and those rumours were holding true. How could this possibly be? 

It was terrible and beautiful all at once. The streaks of flames that light the sky were breath taking in their beauty if one didn’t know what they were. But the God could do nothing more than stare in horror as angels crashed to the earth, flames surrounding them. What would become of them? The answer was one Iacchos knew well. Some would become human, he’d see it happen before. Others… Well others would become twisted and corrupted by the darkness that would seep in as the light of their graces vanished. He’d seen that fall take place before too. 

He had to figure out what was going on. A panic began to creep into him as he thought of what would become of his dear ones now. He had to find them all, ensure their well being. Try to help. Anything. This was a disaster. This was the start to their end.  He had seen many terrible things happen in his life, but this was one he never expected to happen. 

Who could have even been capable of such a terrible thing. There was no way all the angels rebelled at once. There had to be something, someone. The moment the God reeled himself in from the shock of it all he set off to find Michael. The grace was diminishing, but he had just enough time to lock his senses. Within a moments notice he teleported to where the, now fallen, angel was. 

“Old friend…” He said as he appeared in Michael’s presence  “The angels… This… How?”

[deathonsunday-blog]

There seemed to be a circle of feathers around the angel from where he stood watching, cold, distant.  Hands in his pockets as he had learned to do, he said nothing for a long moment.  It took awhile for his eyes to even meet Iacchos' in the reflection of the window, the smile slow and sad.  

"Metatron." It was a soft statement, soft and simple.  He was keeping it together for as long as he could, though he could feel the fire going out.  An angel was light, was pure god's reflection.  A piece of the crystal, and part of the heat.  Without the grace it was cold and dark,no longer seeing the world lit up by your own existence.  "Metatron and Castiel.  I left before the fall.  I would not wish to repeat another crash, whether into the cage or onto Earth."

It was calling to him again.  That cage, that dark yet light, burning cold heat, the flames that froze your bones, and it wasn't here.  It wasn't here, and it was.  He could feel that cold creeping in from his grace fading- and yet, and while it wasn't the cage, it felt such as damning.  "My Father does not seem to care for Heaven or his children anymore.  I knew of this, but this- this is our damning moment."

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Night The Stars Fell

[crossroadsbitch]

The tone of his voice was off and that worried her. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the sight of the angels falling or the sight of her friend in such a state. “I understand,” she replied softly, resting a hand on his arm to keep him from fidgeting. “I’ve seen what can happen when beings dark side and it is never pretty.”

“Hush. There will be none of that, Michael,” Cord chastised. She gave him a firm look before sighing and following him to the window. It was a terrible sight and she couldn’t help but hate the blissfully ignorant that just saw the beauty of the lights.

“You were doing what you thought was correct at the time, my friend. Everyone makes mistakes, no matter who and what they are. You cannot blame yourself for the past nor the present. Is there any chance of anyone surviving this?”

[deathonsunday-blog]

"Mm, we were created to be perfect, Cordae, you are aware of this fact," His hands behind his back, he turned to look at the demon, giving a faint smile.  "I am fully able of blaming myself.  I have heard it said by another fallen angel that when you fall, you see the truth.  I think that statement may be more true than I would like to believe." 

Putting his hand so close to the glass he almost touched it- and yet not- a few more feathers fell.  "We were created to listen to Father, and we started on our own direction.  Falling has been a punishment, and not truthfully to be away from father, few of us ever saw him.   The true punishment was removing the veil from our eyes and seeing what we truly are."

He turned to watch the siblings fall, noticing it was finally slowing.  "Falling is a reminder that you are not the creator, not made to think or be, you are made, simply, to serve.  If you are unable to accept that, if you are unable to do as you were created to do, you will become something else.  You will be put into a new position, into a new way to serve or exist."

A weak laugh escaped the angel.  "We are tools of the lord, an extension of his hand, sent to do as he deemed fit.  Yet this many of us falling will upset the balance."  Giving the other a grave look as he turned, he walked away from the window.  "I do not look forward to these coming days."

[fireandragearchive-deactivated2]

[deathonsunday-blog]

They looked so pretty, just like the comets that whizzed through space without one care. So when the Doctor looked up and saw them, actually saw the so called shooting stars that everyone on the street were pointing and standing in awe from his stomach dropped. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Eye catching and exhilarating. It was— It was something unnatural.  “Rassilon’s sake…”And the Doctor couldn’t help but stand there in awe, his stomach feeling hollow, his hearts racing faster and faster. His undying need to follow one of them down and figure out exactly what they were growing with every second. With every tick of time. “What is going on…?”

At first, Michael didn't intend to approach the odd man, even though he could feel the power. He was strong in his own way, he was old.  He wasn't human in any form.  But he was important, he could feel that much.  His steps rang out, the soft padding of the leather shoe simple and neat, the suit and jacket close to his body.  "You are witnessing the fall of Heaven," It was simple, it was cold, he could feel things shift within him still, the battle of light and dark, the feathers that simply couldn't stay- that were changing hues faster than he could blink.

Soon he wouldn't be the Michael he had tried so hard to be.  To learn from all this lessons, he would backtrack.  "My Father's favorite has finally inherited the throne, and shunned the rest of his siblings.  I believe Father said the meek shall inherit the Earth." He sighed, glancing towards the sky.  "I believe he may have had the wrong home in that line." 

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Night The Stars Fell

[crossroadsbitch]

Even though she was a demon, she knew what was happening. She had seen it in the eyes of the angel she had been gifted with a time ago. The sight of them falling like that broke her heart more than she was willing to admit out loud.

Finding Michael wasn’t difficult. Over time, Cordae had picked up on some of his habits and where he tended to linger. She couldn’t imagine him being on his own.

Although everything served it’s purpose, even she was unsure what the meaning for this event was.

“Hello Michael,” she whispered, sliding beside him and casting a worried look at him.

[deathonsunday-blog]

"Cordae." The word was out of his lips before he even turned.  He was changing, there was no doubt about that.  A slow and gradual decent, without the physical fall.  "I was not going to wait for my  fall to Earth.  I had my descent into the cage, and I had must admit I had no interest in following my brothers flight pattern." He gave a faint smile, fixing his sleeves as he did.  

"I suppose I should have, perhaps I would have become human and passed away on impact and saved many a fallen angel of power." His hands shifted behind his back as he took a few steps towards the window.  They were still falling, and he couldn't look away.  He couldn't stop his eyes following each jagged line, being able to spot every feather.

"I caused many to burn up in this fashion, in the original war of the angels," He murmured.  "I could not stop watching them either.  It is not pride, it is- respect.  Mourning the final moments within God's grace, while they cannot.  The pain is too great."

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Night The Stars Fell

He had heard the whispers.  Metatron was spotted, Castiel was striking back.  The scribe who had disappeared, the scribe who God had taken so close, pushing the angels away. Pushing the ones he'd given power, such as Michael - and had taken that time to step away.  No matter what Naomi chose to do, no matter what she would feel was necessary, the fact that he wasn't in the cage was a secret.  The fact that he was on Earth now- something closely guarded.

The fact that he walked away from Heaven - something he kept to himself.  Lingering on Earth, he could feel the burn.  The pull at his wings that caused a panic, and a long tired sigh from his lips.  There was a darkness creeping in as the light faded.  As his essence started to change.  "Castiel." The word was both forgiveness and damnation, a frustration unspoken.  The day they had told him to watch over the Winchesters, had been the day they damned heaven and themselves.

As every moment passed, his wings grew heavier, knowing there were feathers starting to linger, and he could feel it.  The pain that clenched at in very being, that pulled at him, making him grimace, closing his eyes tighter.  By the time he opened them again, the sky was bright with those fallen siblings as they sailed towards the ground as comets.

It was the old regime once more.  It was when they had rounded them up and threw them out- yet so much worse.  There were so many more- and though his tears were quickly drying as he could feel something start to change - they were genuine.

Home had fallen, at the hands of a member of the secretarial pool.

[rozadragomir-blog]

[deathonsunday-blog]

It seems I'm needed out of my vacation

[asilvertippedmidnight]

I wish I could have let the illusion last. But she was so afraid and asking so many questions, it just didn’t feel right to lie to her. Trying my best for her though. Kid means the world to me.

[deathonsunday-blog]

Not everyone will agree, but I do feel that being honest with the child is best.  You will have more trust from that child for that reason, I believe.

[tincanwithanarchive-deactivated]

Mock? No, never. I may speak sarcasm strongly, but never in an instance like this. I’m honestly curious. I want the truth, not the fluffy wings and golden harp story that most people hear about. Well, in that instance, you’re the one in charge. Although, just so we’re on the same page, what exactly is it you’re doing? I highly doubt it’s following in the family’s name, taking over the business and proceeding to completely change the direction of the company.

[deathonsunday-blog]

I do not think that completely meets the intents of my actions.  I seek to take my place in Heaven, as my father intended before he caused Enoch to rise into an angel, and lead my brethren to a place of free will.  Where we are no longer as we are.  I have hopes it will lead to less death in our civil war we have been fighting since the creation of humanity.  We have become personally involved in your battles, and it has driven us to even more distance and war between our own kind, and is time we step back and take care of our own, before we attempt to even touch our other father's creations.

As for my kind, no, we do not have harps and our wings are rather rough to the touch, and only show when we are on Earth.  I am not sure of the reasons father designed us in such a fashion, but while within Heaven's boundaries, we are light, only light.  *licks his lips and seems to think on how best to say this* Before Earth existed, before the universe, my brethren and I were created by my father.  It was at once, a creation of a Heavenly host and servitude was to be our aim.  There are countless numbers of us, and yet, we are merely heat and light.  We are the reflections of my father's light and apparent love, existing to follow his every order and whim.  It lasted only until our first questions were voiced.  We were created to be warriors.  We are not peaceful, we are not kind and gentle.  We destroyed whole cities, our nephellim, the children of angels and humanity, caused the flood Noah struggled to survive, from the simple reason that they were sheer monsters that were pure violence and blood lust.  It is rumored one survived.  

We are the soldiers of God, and much of humanity has adapted to the idea that this means we care.  While that is partially true, it is the same element of how humanity cares for the insects in it's garden.  While you are aware they exist, and you are aware that they may be able to harm you, even kill you in the right sense, they are hardly of import over all.  

I apologize if any of this offends, it is merely clearing the air of the misinformation that has accumulated.  

[procuringartifacts-deactivated2]

So it is. I do tire of it from time to time. If I play nicely, will you stop lecturing me about my humanity? Will you be ever so kind to keep the hunters away from me for the time being?

[deathonsunday-blog]

I cannot keep the hunters from your trail.  I do not wish to be in their presence myself.  We do not get along well.  However, if you, as you put it, play nicely, I will have no reason to keep my eye on you.

[toseeanew]

deathonsunday started following you

[toseeanew]

Arthur sad carefully in his seat, his eyes moving about the room and taking in the structure. They were in a rather stark area, the walls tall and white with little no decoration either then the pieces being brought in to be sold. 

Most of the art passed by without Arthur raising his hand, nothing keying in as interesting as him. He wasn’t looking for anything grand, a small something to hand or put up in his apartment. There were a few pieces that passed though that he wished he had room for in his own home; some of them far too large or extravagant  to go with his modern decor.  The brunette ended up buying some hand carved book ends as well as a few small framed pictures, leaving with less then he had wanted, but feeling he had helped the church sufficiently with his own donation. After everything was said and sold there was a banquet behind the art show, something Arthur wasn’t interested in going to, and instead moved to the backroom to write his cheques and claim his art.  “Arthur Darling,” he said with a light nod at the door, “I purchist the book ends and Voltain 1, 2, 3 and 7.” The doorman nodded at him and let him wonder the maze of art for a moment, the point man coming across a man who was standing by one of the beautiful statues that had been sold earlier.  “Are you the buyer?” Arthur asked, coming up beside the man and offering a smile, “it’s a beautiful piece, no?” 

[deathonsunday-blog]

Michael glanced up to the greeting, unable to help the soft laugh that escaped him.  "No, not the buyer, just...an admirer." It was almost a lie.  It was like looking in the mirror, at another angel, but he did appreciate their form.  It spoke of home.  Looking to the other, he gave a nod.  "It is definitely a lit piece, though I think it would lose a lot of it's...body if the light was to be turned off, and the reflections were not there." 

Catching himself, he put his hands behind his back, quickly veiling the drawbacks he found in the piece, where he'd gone wrong, where the limitations of human supplies held him back.  

"I have to ask, though, out of curiousity, what do you think of the piece?" It was almost amusing to the angel, that of those he'd asked so far, they found it to be a modern art piece, meaning to represent something- and yet, it was really portraying something older than the earth itself.

[frightenedbythecrowdarchive]

+ deathonsunday

[frightenedbythecrowdarchive]

“Well, I don’t recall doing anything to warrant the attention of one such as yourself … Obviously I’m referring to recent events, here.”

[deathonsunday-blog]

You are living once more, that warrants attention.

[hopethatcallswolfy-deactivated2]

deathonsunday started following you

[hopethatcallswolfy-deactivated2]

It could mean a whole bunch of other things. Never one specific meaning to a phrase. I’m alright. Been bored lately.

[deathonsunday-blog]

I have never considered the many possibilities.  I may have to be far more careful when I speak.

[asilvertippedmidnight]

Up until she popped up, she was under the impression she was solely human. I think she’d like you though.

[deathonsunday-blog]

There are many under that impression for some time who are not.  Sometimes, it is a mistake to let them know.  However, at a young enough age - at least she has good guardians.

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Change || Iacchos

[iacchos-deactivated20150303]

“That’s true”, replied the god with a slight chuckle of his own. The chuckle was one of observation, not of amusement. The souls in Elysium would just have to adjust to the influx of souls coming to join them. And as for Tartarus, those there deserved their punishment and if it was cramped then so be it. The god took a breath and thought about how worn the transfer would leave him. But it was worth it. Not only was he aiding Michael with something, he was helping all those souls. 

“I will speak with Hades”, he said softly. “Tartarus will have room and employment for demons with the increase in souls entering. The Erinyes can’t possibly look after the big of a number all on their own. Though my nieces are great at their job.” Iacchos smiled faintly.  ”I know how the demons of Lucifer’s making were formed. Unlike ours, who were born like that…  They were turned into it… I know…” Iacchos took a deep breath. 

The sadness felt by the wine god on the whole situation was clearly displayed in his eyes. Tears stung the corner of his eyes as he listened to the angel speak of replacement. “After all these centuries I see you again, only to find out eventually I’ll lose you forever. Gods, what a reunion.” The god’s voice shook and his lower lip trembled as he spoke. 

[deathonsunday-blog]

"As long as one can keep the demons busy," Michael stated softly, glancing towards the other.  "You have time with my kind around Earth, but most of the higher levels of angels, from the powers up, have not leave Heaven for any reason.  Our foot soldiers, the weakest of them, have disappeared.  Soon Earth will be without our protection, though, I am not sure if this is a bad thing." 

Pausing to let his gaze linger on the other, his hands still behind his back, he gave a small twitch of a smile, reaching up to brush away one of the tears.  "Do not cry, old friend," He stated softly.  "All things have their time, and I suppose as do the angelic kind.  Perhaps Father will return and bring us back as we were one day, and yet, I hope not.  It would be a large step back, unless he restored us to what we were as we are now.  Our time will pass, it has passed." 

[deathonsunday-blog]

The Change || Iacchos

[iacchos-deactivated20150303]

Iacchos smiled brightly in return at Michael, oh how he’d missed him.  Iacchos wanted to walk right up to him and pull him close. But it had been a long time and he didn’t expect Michael to be as human as he was before their parting. The angel had been among his brethren a long time and Iacchos away from his.  The wine god took a breath and watched his old friend. He could tell how Michael had aged, his eyes reflecting an age seeming even older than Iacchos. They’d both been through their share of troubles, but Michael had to deal with much more in the past eons than Iacchos did. 

Iacchos looked down and laughed a bit himself. “You don’t have to pick it back up, you know”, he replied, his own speech much more like the mortals than it used to be. It was a result of snubbing the majority of his pantheon and almost all other pantheons. He’d made a life for himself away from the other, keeping up his duties while avoiding all those that weren’t vital to his existence. Iacchos slightly tilted his head up and smiled at Michael, but his smile soon faltered.

 Iacchos listened to Michael speak and took a deep breath. Long ago he had been told that something like this could happen, but he had hoped and prayed it wouldn’t. It seemed that not even the pleas of a god could change what fate had decided. The wine god listened carefully taking in every word and committing it to memory.  “I’m here when ever you need me, old friend. As always, I’m forever at your service.”

 When Michael spoke of the levels of Heaven fading is when the god went completely silent. What was he supposed to say to that? He had no words. He knew Michael was speaking of the angels. After a few moments Iacchos forced his attention back to the souls. “I- uh, yes, of course. I can help with that. Elysium and Tartarus have lots of room.”

 Iacchos took a breath and then stepped forward to Michael and placed a hand softly on his vessel’s cheek. He looked the angel in his vessel’s eyes as he spoke. “Does this…” He started off. “Does this mean…” Iacchos couldn’t even finish the sentence as his emotions crashed over him. The wine god pursed his lips to hide their trembling. He continued to breath deeply as he just stared. 

[deathonsunday-blog]

"Elysium and Tartarus began having room when Father insisted on going his own way," Michael commented with a low chuckle.  There was no praise of his father in that comment, and yet, it was void of the anger he had so long ago.  There was some level of Michael that understood his father, even if his heart was breaking that the God had left his angels to fade into nothing.  

The souls had to be taken care of, far before the angels were concerned.  It was their duty.  They had watched over them, and sadly, hell would be involved as well.  "Hell will go cold as well, leaving the demons, who are not related to myself, the ones that- that were created by my brother, will live on.  I'm afraid it is up to your kind to take that burden.  They are human souls- twisted and changed-" He sighed, looking to the grass, for a moment, the sky, and stopping-

Shifting his gaze to look the wine god in the eyes, he gave a slow sad smile in answer.  There was no need for words, despite the light within the vessel, there was only a limited time left in Michael's existence.  "I have appointed that a seraphim or cherubim is to take my place in Heaven, one that will be around for longer than an archangel will."