lacrimosa

“Even our tears of repentance need to be washed in the blood of the Lamb.” ― Jerry Bridges

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

Logan smirked; it was a stupid point, and Julie was the farthest thing from a good debate – nothing like a certain professor that kept popping into his thought with alarming frequency – but it was fun to be right all the same. He took another bite of the pastry – only to nearly choke on it. “What?” It was more a cough than a question as Logan cleared his throat and tried to pretend he had not very nearly jumped out of his seat. “No, Julie, of course I didn’t! God,” his voice betrayed his discomfiture, his eyes leaving hers to focus resolutely on his laptop as his ears turned a light shade of pink. Like he could give his professor chocolates. …Should he have?

No. That was stupid. He glanced back at Julie and nodded. “Sure. You know I’ll take whatever you can think of.”

Julie blinked, not expecting him to suddenly choke at her question. She leaned forward, warning, “  —  careful, you shouldn’t take so many big bites.” Part of her had been to blame, of course, but even the former paralegal couldn’t help but poke at his little crush; after all, wasn’t it always lovely to have those fleeting feelings? Ones that hadn’t turned into pained memories, her mind almost distracting her with flashbacks of memories. 

NO, she needed to get over the past and move on. 

She had to . . . but would she?

Shaking her head, she smiled, insisting, “you should have. Everyone loves chocolate, and maybe so does he. Have you learned much about him?” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

No, Logan did not know Professor Hot Stuff – but oh, wouldn’t he like to. How, exactly, was still a point of confusion. Or rather, he was almost certain he knew how he wanted to know the professor, and that in and of itself was a cause of mild confusion. But that spark was undeniable, as was the fact he was the first person Logan met who’d ever truly kept him on his toes. 

His eyes followed the other as he made his way toward the store, Logan very nearly jumping up and following him inside. But that reeked of desperation – maybe he was desperate – and pride kept him rooted in place. That and the flash of headlights as a beat-up pickup truck pulled up to the gas station, coming to a stop alongside Logan’s car, between him and the convenience store. The driver’s-side window rolled down and any awkwardness Logan felt around the professor vanished as he slid off the roof of his car and moved to greet the other. 

“You bootiebootiepop?” The guy nodded. “You got the stuff?” Another nod as the guy reached for a small package in the passenger seat and then paused. He eyed Logan’s Tesla, a flash of idiocy in his eyes that told Logan he’d just had a very bad idea. Bad for him, at least; as if Logan hadn’t been hoping for that. As if he hadn’t been hoping for the guy to jack up the price, just so he’d have an excuse to flash him a razor-sharp smile, devoid of any of the humanity in his eyes he’d learned to mimic around other people. 

“You know this shit isn’t that hard to get, right?” Logan asked in a low voice. “So I want you to think about this real hard. You sure you want to ask me for more than we agreed on?” There was a flash of fear in the guy’s eyes that was more electrifying than the spark Logan felt around Hot Stuff – and then that defiance he’d known would follow. “Suit yourself.” 

Quick as a flash Logan’s hand was on the guy’s neck, a hollow laugh falling past his lips as he tried to pry Logan’s fingers away with both hands but to no avail. Logan didn’t know how or why, but he’d always been deceptively strong despite his slight stature, and this guy was hardly muscular himself; they were a pair of dudes who spent most of their time on the Internet, after all. 

That itch that always burned under Logan’s skin grew stronger as he squeezed, as he watched the fear blossom over the other’s face. It would be so easy to kill the guy – but then what? He’d be left with a mess, and it would be over so quickly. Logan nodded toward the passenger seat, the man feebly reaching out to grab the goods and offer them to Logan. He took them in his free hand, then leaned in closer to the other. “You’ve got an hour’s head start before I take your whole life apart,” he murmured, relishing the other’s fear for half a second before he finally let go and stepped back, leaving the other gasping for breath and slamming down on the gas to get away from the gas station as quickly as possible – and it was only then that Logan saw his professor standing outside the convenience store with his beers in hand. 

Oh.

“Hey there, Prof,” he greeted as if he hadn’t just been choking a guy, too much fire coursing through his veins to bother tempering his unhinged smile, and it was hard to say how much of that was from the act of violence with the promise of further destruction to follow, and how much was from the Professor himself. All he knew was that he was practically buzzing, the music still blaring from his car’s speakers a dull roar in the back of his mind. He leaned against his car, adrenaline making him smoother than he’d been the first time around – and making him bolder, too. “You need a ride? Lot of creeps out and about this time of night.” 

Uriel pulled the door open, stepping inside the convenience store ( that rush of cool air-conditioning greeting him immediately ). The cashier slumping against the register suddenly stood up straight, pretending as if they hadn’t been playing games on their phone. The angel merely nodded at the employee, making his way through the aisles. The store had been eerily quiet, despite the radio playing in the background.

But did white noise ever COUNT as sound? He had almost gotten used to the general splendor of things around town or on campus, as if humanity had almost grown on him ( key word: almost ). Instead, Uriel merely considered himself well-immersed into this world, into this . . . ticking time-bomb. And oh, how that sight would be from heaven once the chaos unfolded.

He reached towards the back of the store, trying to pick the best brand. The angel hadn’t been an expert on human alcohol, but with a motivated mindset, he could drink - and finish - almost anything. After a few minutes of browsing, he chose Heineken. Approaching the cashier once more, they exchanged few words as he paid for the product. Much to his surprise, his STUDENT still waited outside . . . but for WHAT?

The question hung in the air, the darkness settling around them. 

“Mr. Young,” he greeted, once again. It wasn’t wise to be caught with a student inside their car, however, they weren’t bound to regulations outside of campus. Nor would the other angels appreciate the amount of time spent walking back - not when they all craved the same poison. 

“ —  how thoughtful,” Uriel concluded, stepping towards the car. He reached into his bag and grabbed a random bottle of beer, tossing it towards his student, “I can’t reward you with extra credit but hopefully this’ll do.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

divinemanic:

Thea laughed, staggering back with the force with which Julie embraced her with, arms wrapping around her easily, familiarly. A rush of relief, a minute of comfort: she wasn’t lost, for the first time in a long, exhausting while.

“Hi, you,” she said softly, after Juliette pulled back. “It’s okay,” she giggled, almost ready to go in for another hug. “I’m excited to see you too, finally! I can’t believe that I just now came to Kansas,” she said in a rush, smiling, albeit drooping momentarily at the thought of why she was in Kansas in the first place. 

Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts, she admonished herself. “I should have come way earlier,” she stated. “Or you should’ve visited me,” she said, faux accusingly.

“I can’t believe you’re here, either! I would’ve let you stay at my place if I knew but this is such a nice surprise,” she reassured, stepping back so they could sit down and continue chatting. Juliette always wondered how it must’ve felt like - the feeling of constantly being surrounded by friends.

Based on very few minutes they had been together, she concluded that it had been very lovely . . . to be with someone that knew you. Someone that wouldn’t run away . . . or take things either. Nevertheless, she smiled, replying, “I wanted to. Being on the beach sounds like the perfect way to relax. Too bad work kept me busy and now everything is . . . well, a mess.” 

There was no point in hiding things from Thea, not when Thea had already known of the events and people that haunted her. 

“I’ve - I’ve hired someone to track him down. So I can get my research back, y’know?” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

Beer. Professor Hot Stuff, dressed down in a way that made the nickname all the more fitting, was at a run-down gas station in the middle of the night for beer. Logan squinted at him, painfully aware of the music playing too-loud in the background. Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb. But to turn it off would mean getting up and opening his car, and that felt a little too much like admitting he was embarrassed by his song choice. All Star was a classic, thank you very much. “Still would have pegged you for whisky guy,” he commented, leaning back on his elbows and hoping he looked a lot cooler than he felt under Professor Hot Stuff’s ever-assessing gaze. 

Suspicious, was he? A smirk twisted at his lips. You have no idea, he wanted to say. This is nothing. “Maybe my car just ran out of juice.” Only the Tesla wasn’t plugged in, nor would there have been anyplace for Logan to do so at an old gas station like this one. His smirk widened, eyes holding Hot Stuff’s gaze. “Or maybe I’m up to no good.” Only shooting stars break the mold.

His student made no move to turn off that obnoxious song while Uriel continued to ignore it ( not phased by the odd music choice ). He had heard much worse, and if anything, what else could be expected from a nephilim? Nothing but chaos and poor attempts. The angel smirked, replying, “keeping making assumptions, Mr. Young. The truth of the matter is: you don’t know me.” 

Uriel merely nodded, maybe his student had been here to fuel his car. Or continue with whatever sketchy plans he might’ve had waiting out here. For now, the angel had wanted beer and to return back to Laviah’s before the night ended. “Well, in that case, I wish you luck.” 

He continued walking, making his way towards the convenience store. 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

“Your stomach would not have eaten itself in a day,” Logan pointed out with amusement, arguing the point purely for argument’s sake. Would she care about his health if she knew he was – whatever he was? Not normal? He shrugged, taking another bite.”If you say so, but for future reference, I like stuff with chocolate in it.” As if he was helping her for the pastries. As if he was helping her for any reason other than he liked a challenge and the task she’d asked of him was proving to be a far greater challenge than anticipated from such a sweet, soft-spoken girl. It wasn’t the strain in her smile that bothered him so much as the thought that she might think he wasn’t capable of finding what she was looking for. And he hadn’t been so far, but – “I’m not quitting, though. I’m gonna find your shit. And your boyfriend,” he added, intentionally probing, hoping for some sort of reaction that might tell him more about what he was actually looking for in the first place. 

"Okay smarty-pants,” she joked, smiling. He had been smarter than her, it was apparent when she hired him to find her angel. Of course, things were proving to be difficult than originally planned; and sometimes, Julie thought that Logan remained more motivated than her during the entire search. “Chocolate? I’ll keep that in mind,” she mused, teasing, “speaking of sweet things, did you give chocolates to that one professor for valentines day?”

Julie blinked nodding slowly. “ . . thanks. I - if I remember something that might help, I’ll let you know.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

Logan felt it before he saw anything. That spark of electricity he could only attribute to one person, and Logan straightened up on the hood of his car and turned just in time to see him approaching. Only he wasn’t at all ready for the sight that greeted him. It was indeed Professor Hot Stuff, but the man didn’t look at all like a professor tonight. “Uh.” Logan blinked, dazed as he took in what he could of the other in the dim light, and then his eyes widened as he registered both the professor’s comment and the music that was blaring from his car. Fuck. “Oh, uh –” A flustered laugh escaped him before he could stop it, but Logan was quick to clear his throat. “What, um…” He squinted at the man again, considering for a half-second whether Professor Hot Stuff was actually bootiebootiepop6969 here to deliver what he’d ordered from the Dark Web, but Logan quickly discounted the notion; no way did Hot Stuff have it in him. “What are you doing all the way out here, Professor H–” Logan cut himself off; he really needed to pay attention to Hot Stuff’s actual name. He swallowed. “Breaking curfew again?” He added with a slight smirk, the first comment he actually felt good about as he called back to the first time he’d run into the professor late at night. It was a trend Logan could get used to, if only he’d known to put on better music and there wasn’t a sketchy dude from the Internet en route to meet him out here. 

Seems as if he had caught the nephilim off guard, the thought causing him to smirk. A quick trip to grab more beer suddenly shifted into something more . . . intriguing. Surely, Logan must’ve had hidden violent tendencies, something that he - the angels - could use to their benefit. And Uriel knew that he would have to keep prodding to find out. 

“Getting beer, actually,” he answered, approaching him, not bothering to speak over the blasting music. The song did not suit the conversation or the vibe, which made the encounter slightly amusing. Granted, Uriel didn’t really find it a SHOCK to run into another student during this time of night. The only coincidence was that it had been the same student. 

“I think the better question, Mr. Young, is what are you doing here?” 

“You look suspicious, being out here. Alone.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

Where: abandoned gas station ~5 miles outside of town When: 11 pm Whomst: anybody

Just as Logan suspected, there was no one outside the run-down Shell station that was just far enough outside of town (and on the way to nothing) to be forgotten by most residents. The perfect place to meet the guy from whom he’d ordered a rubber ducky and a keylogger on the Dark Web. Neither item was necessarily illegal, but Logan had learned it was best to keep these types of purchases off-grid. Even if that meant actually leaving his apartment for something other than class. At least the sun wasn’t up. He pulled up to a gas pump and parked his car, leaving the engine running – and Smashmouth’s All Star blaring from the speakers as he got out and perched himself on the hood. The black Model S Tesla was a graduation gift from his mom, or more like a ‘get the hell away from me, i’m finally free of you’ gift, and if it was perhaps a little too conspicuous for some of Logan’s shadier dealings, he couldn’t quite bring himself to part with something so cool.  So here he sat, swatting at a bug – the outdoors truly were horrifying – and shooting off a text to the guy he was waiting to meet. Logan wasn’t about to wait around if this dude decided not to show. 

The meeting had been going well, the angels all gathering to discuss their progress so far. Once the bible readings and serious discussions were out of the way, the had settled for a more calmer get together. Alcohol. Snacks. Music. Similar to how these humans spent their quality time, with the people they claimed to love. And if they could put on this charade, the angels could do it even BETTER. Uriel had left Laviah’s place for the sole purpose of getting more beer. The walk to the gas station hadn’t been too far, if anything, he liked to keep track of things on the way there. The people. The local stores. The sights. Details were important in this war. Even if some of them included that song and his student waiting idly nearby. 

“Interesting music taste, Mr. Young,” he greeted. 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

thunderousramiel:

His face softened, his smile crafted from amusement. The papers in that folder of hers interested him greatly. But a job application, at that time of all times? End of days without them knowing and still job hunting like nothing else. Humanity tickled him. A dull tickle, but the sentiment remained. He found her eyes with his own.

“Oh really? Then absolutely, water it is,” he said with a nod and a smile. Immediate with the professionalism. “Is this the first time you’ve been in? I’m usually pretty damn good with memorable faces.”

With a slow turn on his heel and a light laugh, he went to grab her water and something special for himself. Drinking on the job was frowned upon, but with enough practice…If it looked like water and smelled like water, who could judge. He was well and truly over judgment. To hell with it.

“I’m guessing there’s something like a resume in the folder? Maybe? I can take a peek at it now if you’d like,” he suggested as he offered her the water. “Or we can just chat. I’m easy.”

Juliette felt herself break eye contact, knowing it had been some . . .  time since she was regarded so closely - at least, professionally. She almost had to remind herself to keep her chin up, putting on a brave face for the sake of the job. She had done it before on many instances as a paralegal ( even if some cases left her feeling hallow ). Nevertheless, Julie found herself inching towards the bar stool, sliding herself into the seat, her elbows resting against the counter. 

“Yeah, first time visiting. I saw an advertisement online, I’m not sure if I qualify but . . I have my resume ready,” she insisted, pulling out a copy from her folder. She slid the paper towards him, hoping that she had something useful for the job. Juliette never thought she would even apply to work at a bar but . . . she was running out of options ( and she wasn’t being particularly picky either ). However, his next comment caught her off guard. 

“I’m easy.”

She blinked, immediately reaching for the glass of water, hoping to hide any sudden pinkness on her face. The former paralegal was probably reading TOO much into his comment, knowing it had been too long since she had socialized with anyone in such a setting. 

“I - we can chat. What would you like to know?” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

ofproseandmusing:

Coffee in hand and a notebook in the other, with a pen neatly clipped to it, she’d been scanning the shop for an empty seat that wasn’t near anyone. Finding none, she’d settled on on with the a girl who seemed like she wouldn’t a) be bothered by her presence and b) wouldn’t be an unnecessary bother to her; she had some reflecting and thinking to do about what she’d learned thus far about nephilim. She’d approached Juliette and been grateful to find her validated on both counts. “Oh, good. I didn’t want to intrude,” she said with a soft smile, before slipping into the chair, “but it seemed like there’d be something nice in some quiet company.”

Juliette offered the unknown girl a small smile, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. She didn’t mind some company, even if it had been with a stranger. In fact, part of her almost felt it was needed . . . especially after that breakup. She hadn’t been too social as of late. Then again, she also had been chasing his shadow. Her research. Everything.

 “ —  please, feel free to take a sit,” Julie insisted, making room on the table. 

“Sorry, I have so many things scattered. I’ve been here for hours, I’m . . . trying to find jobs in the area.” Her rent would be due soon, and she needed to find another source of income before all her savings evaporated. 

“I’m Juliette, by the way.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

thunderousramiel:

Ramiel didn’t look to churches with bright or clouded eyes. He looked at them with a clarity that only tragedy could bring. What real difference was there between a pew and a bar stool? Poor souls made their confessions, cried repentance, and at the end of it all, paid their dues for a ‘see you next Sunday’. They were relics whose bones and stained glass would be left to gather dust. 

His eyes and his vodka grin were knife points as he pushed into the front door. He had been torn into pieces and renamed disgraced, yet he could still feel that ugly hint of it that bled out from the towers. Ugly because it pressed heavy in his gut like a bad drink. 

Ugly because he knew them by name and had once looked to them with affection.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” His voice boomed through the silence of the church, cracking the sanctity of it. The doors shut behind him and took in the church with raised brows, false awe on his face. “Where are the swords and spears, Uriel? You should know He doesn’t give a holy shit about candles.”

His grin followed him as he pulled himself to sit on the back of a pew, boots dirtying the thin velvet that covered the wood. Elbows dug into his knees as he leaned forward. Across the expanse of the church, thunder looked into flame and went unmoved.

“Those who shall lose the war,” he repeated, lips taking a downturn and head a tilt. “That sounds a little defeatist. Want to talk about it? I’ve got a good ear, y’know. I’m worried about you.”

His head turned, his eyes glaring at the fallen angel who had walked into this church without any ounce of respect. It was shameful, seeing how little FAITH these betrayers seemed to have for their own God. The very God whose warnings they chose to ignore. Foolish decisions, really. 

If anything, he had wanted to tip the DIVINITY out of this particular angel himself. 

“You are damned,” Uriel clarified, wasting no time to erase any illusions. The fallen had been punished accordingly, the gates of heaven weren’t open for them anymore. “I don’t think you have the right to suggest what He does or doesn’t care for —  as for you, I don’t even need sword to fight you. You make it so easy, Ramiel. Like a cat walking into it’s own trap. Then again, you aren’t particularly clever, are you?” 

He watched his PREY take a sit, unafraid ( foolishly so ). Uriel remained in his spot, regarding Ramiel carefully. It had been a long time since they had been in each other’s company — then again, nothing about the reunion was meant to be heart warming. Ramiel didn’t work underneath the archangels anymore, and Uriel had no attachments left to those who committed crimes. 

They all got what they had deserved, and now they would play in this war. 

“Worried? That’s almost funny, especially since I don’t even think of you.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

ofproseandmusing:

It had been a while since they’d stepped foot in a church most of all because they no longer belonged in such spaces, and they knew that; it was hard to forget how the grace had been stripped from them, it was hard to forget that they’d taken to permanently occupying the person who’d damned them in the first place, if only to save themself. 

And yet, today, they’d felt drawn to it, perhaps because it had been a particularly hard day, and once, when they’d had hard days that were filled with a great deal of death, they’d found comfort in places like this. Faith had been comforting them, other people’s belief had been reassuring once that the role they played mattered, that it was worth something. 

Now, they were using the church for something else. It was a reminder that there were things worth fighting against, that death and vengeance were wroth pursuing if only to make amends for the loss. ( It was easier to blame those who still belonged here rather than accept any blame for themself ) 

For a moment, they ignored Uriel altogether, instead taking a match, and lighting a votive candle of their own, before murmuring to themself, “Para ti, mi amor.” Then gaze alighted upon Uriel and they said, “I didn’t think it was in good taste to light candles for oneself.”

Uriel continued to finish his prayers, quietly ignoring the traitor in the room ( if only for a short moment ). God had a funny way of gifting him things — and now he had Samael, or whatever remained of Samael. Disgraced angels had fallen so far, so hopelessly, it was almost TRAGIC to see their fate unfold. They were all warned, they all knew the consequences of betraying God for His own creations. 

Humans were not meant to be toyed with. 

Humans were walking in sin and delight, easily poisoned. Perhaps that’s why angels found themselves fascinated by the unusual sight. Although, in his opinion, it was pathetically stupid to find such creatures as being ‘attractive’. If only the others had felt the same way . . . if only they had been in their right MINDS. The thought caused him to smirk, his eyes darkening. 

“Samael  —  are you sure you ought to be lecturing me about one’s selfishness?” 

Out of the pair, Uriel had been the one with his divinity still in tact ( and his common sense ). While Zadkiel felt pity for those humans, Samael actually fell in love. And the angel almost wondered if it had been WORTH it; of course, there was no point in asking the damned question. Not when the answer lay obvious at the rather hilarious sight in front of him. 

A lover trapped inside their love’s body.

Pity Shakespeare never wrote such a thing. “And poor taste? Your reflection in the mirror will do.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

divinemanic:

There’d been exactly one good thing about her sudden uprooting to Kansas – and that was that she would finally be able to meet Julie; she wet her lips, steeling herself to push open the door. It was a generic coffee shop, packed with people, but they’d sent each other photos to know what the other looked like: she would recognize her penpal of so many years, right?

That wasn’t what she was really nervous about, though; what would happen if Julie didn’t like her in real life – and only liked talking to her through letters?

Excitement broke past the nerves and she walked to where the blonde was sitting, hovering a little, unsure of how to start, before taking the seat across from her at her prompt.

“Julie?” She asked, hands fiddling.

Today had been the day, the day where she would finally meet her first friend. Her only friend, to some regard. High school passed by with little company, but thankfully, the letters had never stopped. Amalthea never stopped being her friend, either. Countless times, Julie had poured her heart and soul into those letters, admitting things you would only tell your close friends.

Her struggle in high school. Her lack of confidence for law school. Her first day on the job. Her angel love story. 

It almost felt like confessions at a church, except ones she didn’t feel heavy about. Ones that she wasn’t judged for. And today, she finally got the chance to meet her friend. 

“Julie?”

She blinked, looking up. A smile quickly graced her face, her body reacting instantly, giving the pen-pal a warm hug. Juliette pulled away a moment later, admitting, “ - sorry, I got excited.” 

“I can’t believe it’s you, in the flesh.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

televangel:

Praise from Uriel in any form was its own sort of blessing and Laviah glowed underneath it, a single dimple flashing at her cheek before she pressed her hands to her face, amazed at the warmth of it. “I pray He is,” She murmured back happily, eyes suddenly narrowing in determination on the other angel’s face, dropping her hands to point at him, “ And don’t you discredit your own work, Uriel. I won’t have it.” 

The mention of irony sprouted a grin, Laviah shaking her head in near amazement, “I feel guilty sometimes, for the fun of it,” she confessed with a little shrug, “There’s so much we could say – far too much for any of them to handle.” And the darker underside of withholding the truth: the care the angels had to take in making sure they painted no targets on their backs for the humans and the damned who had taken extreme measures in fighting their useless campaign against heaven. 

It wouldn’t do to have herself singled out and expelled before her work was done. The tightrope on which Laviah balanced was a precarious one, ever heightened by the exposure of public works, but it was necessary. If she was to come to earth, she would not cower. “And those parasites are losing,” she said soothingly, “You know they are. They don’t have any other choice.” 

“Or really?” A mischievous light twinkled in Laviah’s eyes, “Since you’ve mentioned it, I think you and Zahariel in matching coats would cut two very striking figures on stage.” 

"My work has barely begun,” he teased. 

Uriel nodded in agreement, “we’re walking a very fine line. Although, I have no doubt that we’ll get to a point where all truth will be revealed.” Bit by bit, information would sink into the public, opening their eyes to the CRUEL future that lay ahead. It was time to sweep Earth clean of its sins, and they would do it, regardless of how many people aligned to their cause ( and judging by the numbers, they were in good shape ).

“Too bad there’s no consequences for not believing. Humans have afforded too many freedoms, it’s making them lose sight of things. They’ve even managed to create nephilim,” Uriel stated, shaking his head. 

“Speaking of which, there happens to be one in my class. Logan Young. Peculiar creature- he doesn’t even realize that he’s cursed. I was thinking about using him, besides, there’s something entertaining about it.” 

A nephilim that unknowingly fights for their cause; maybe even God would allow it. 

“Zahariel preaching in a lab coat? I thought we didn’t want to lose ratings?” he joked. 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

simeonayers:

Simeon flinched at the use of their former name — of the name that they’d cast aside when their divinity was ripped from them — the automatic lowering of their head when the other archangel ( the only archangel ) spoke. Words begging for forgiveness on their tongue burned in their mouth. “I have nothing to atone for,” their words were a lot less confident than they intended; they were spoken so softly that it was scarcely a whisper.

They didn’t take any steps toward or away from Uriel, mortal fear keeping their feet glued in place. But their eyes met with Uriel’s own. “My opinion matters more than yours. At least I don’t what is the right one; at least I’m not just parroting some sort of propaganda fed to me.” Their eyes stuttered down and away from staring at Uriel.

Their mouth opened to speak, “I—”

They couldn’t force anything out from their throat. They had missed Uriel — once knowing a camaraderie so strong that it’d made Zadkiel believe in something other than love for God — and they didn’t want to admit that to Uriel. Simeon didn’t want to admit it to Uriel because they knew that Uriel would simply laugh, or call them foolish, or lost.

“You should go back to heaven, where angels belong.”

“I have nothing to atone for,”

Uriel scoffed, finding such words to be insulting. Not only to him, but to their own God, the very same God that they had vowed loyalty to ( the one that Zadkiel had betrayed ). Actions like these were not be taken so lightly, nor could they have been forgiven. Uriel’s fingers reached forward, cupping the disgraced angel’s face ( almost disgusted by how familiar they felt, how THIS felt ). 

“Oh? Is that so? I hadn’t realized how selfish you were, Zadkiel.” 

Uriel glared at them, his fingers soon letting go of the traitor, almost pushing them back slightly. They definitely weren’t in heaven anymore, which meant affection and playful banter weren’t to be exchanged ( Zadkiel had LOST that privilege years ago ). Instead, a stranger stood in front of him, a person that he didn’t even recognize anymore.

Didn’t want to recognize  — because why waste such time on the disgraced?

“I’m not in heaven because of you.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

levimclaughlin:

Levi let out a long breath, fighting the urge to laugh, “Yeah, uh. I’ve noticed that too.” He could wish all he wanted, he could never just shed those beliefs, take them off like an extra coat and start brand new. The way this stranger talked about it, it sounded as if they had never experienced such doubts. Lucky. 

He found himself looking for the telltale signs of a priest again, but the man in front of him remained as enigmatic as any he’d ever seen. Eydie was still waiting on him, their dinner was getting cold. But…

But there was word again, war, the very use of it only heightening his uneasiness with the situation he’d steered himself into. It was too familiar. Their pastor had always preached that the flesh an angel had taken command of would have countless uses for the glory of God – war, it seemed, was implicit in those. He frustratingly couldn’t begin to imagine the implications. Just imagining a gun in his hands, blood on Judith’s, was foreign enough.

Levi ignored the alarm bells still ringing in the back of his head and did what he’d never let himself do within the confines of his congregation. He asked the question. 

But first, he did what the man had told him, sliding in the second pew. “What would a war like that even look like?” Levi leaned forwards and rested his crossed arms on the pew in front, a slackening of posture that never would’ve been allowed in the church, a small rebellion. “It can’t be… literal?” 

"Perhaps it’s not the habits we should be blaming. Maybe we should look at why we’re so desperate to leave them behind,” Uriel advised, knowing that faith couldn’t be weakened so easily. The stranger before him might’ve been struggling, but in reality, what mattered most was whether or not he chose to believe. And the angel merely needed to redirect him onto the RIGHT path, God’s path. 

Luckily, it seemed that the lost boy almost wanted guidance. Uriel watched him sit down, intrigued by the topic of war, not shaken by the holiness of the church. It made him smile - humans were almost TOO easily convinced. Which is why they had fallen pawns to the disgraced angels, claiming to love them ( to bore their children ). Unfortunately, it was time to atone for such things.

For such naivete. 

“A holy war . . . it surely must be a sight to behold,” Uriel started, leaning against the side of the church pew, “God’s angels touching the land, signifying His strength - can you imagine it? Can you imagine such grace and not being on the receiving side of it?” 

“We are merely humans, but maybe, we can be better. War is not easy for any party involved. Which is why preparing for it would be the smart idea.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

young-logan:

Church tends to be a place for solace. Logan had to bite back a sardonic smirk at that thought. Every time he’d set foot in a church – and granted there hadn’t been many of those – he’d found anything other than solace. “They’d miss me,” he retorted without missing a beat. “If I wasn’t there the discussions wouldn’t be half as interesting.”

Logan laughed the the professor’s insistence against a curfew, but when followed had him quirking an eyebrow. “So what brings you here, then? Always felt to me like chruches were a place for people who wanted to stay stuck in the past.” It was too personal a question, and likely offensive even if they weren’t currently standing in a church. But Hot Stuff was surely used to Logan’s straightforward and argumentative nature by now. He doubted anything he could say would shake the professor’s composure, but he couldn’t help the desire to poke and prod and test that out. 

As for why he was here?

“I’m not like your other students,” he shot back, a non answer but truthful all the same. Logan wasn’t like anyone, at least no one he’d ever met before. It was something he’d always done his best to conceal – but there was something in him that suddenly craved recognition from the professor. Not for whatever was wrong with him, but for how much better he was than the others. 

Uriel smirked, not finding it surprising that this nephilim almost preferred being in class. After all, didn’t it provide such creatures with everything they had desired; attention, importance and notoriety? His class would’ve gone well with or without Logan in attendance - but even the angel couldn’t deny that this certainly made things more interesting. 

“Might I remind you that the department only allows for a three-day unexcused absence policy. Missing anymore would hinder your grade - not that you would skip my class. I’m sure the students would feel incomplete with your opposing opinions.” 

Debates were always stimulating, especially when the opponent had been a nephilim. Of course, Uriel knew he had to do something about this discovery ( they couldn’t just LET danger roam so freely ). He chose to analyze the subject instead, aiming to pick apart his student’s brain. Logan hadn’t known the truth yet, so why not use that to his advantage? He could control everything- make things fall into place in a timely manner ( construct the perfect scenario for his unassuming student ).

Logan could be useful for the cause; otherwise they would simply have to get rid of the creature. 

His eyes gazed up at the high ceiling, appreciating the architecture of church ( of God’s holiness ). Frequent visits to churches always reminded him of their end goal: to spread the message, loud and clear, about the WAR that would wage in due time. 

“It’s beautiful,” Uriel stated, marveling at the sights before his eyes landed upon Logan again. “Given your argument, perhaps the past ought to be admired more. As for the correct answer, I came to pray.” 

“I’m not like your other students,”

A laughable statement, really. Nonetheless, the angel had not choice BUT to play along. “A rather bold statement, Mr. Young. You should know by now that I require evidence when contesting such claims.” 

[ofprophecies-blog1]

levimclaughlin:

She hadn’t even looked up, Levi thought a little desperately, there was still more than enough time to beat a hasty retreat before the recognition set in. He’d been prepared to walk away too, before she spoke up and nailed feet to the floor right on the edge of veering away.

It’d been four, five years at least. What if she didn’t recognize him at all? What if she did? Levi wobbled on the edge of self-preservation and good manners, hope and paranoia, entirely uncertain what the better outcome would be. 

Manners won the day. “If you –” The words got stuck, came out so quietly they were near-unintelligible, Levi clearing his throat before trying again, “If you’re sure. Thanks.” His heart hammered in his chest, face hot, itching for a newspaper or a book or anything to hide behind as he took the empty seat, clutching at his tea with both hands.

Eydie was going to kill him herself.

But he still had to try.

“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes still glued onto her documents, “let me know if I should move any of my  — “ 

The sentence remained unfinished, her gaze finally landing on the stranger in front of her. However, he hadn’t been a stranger. He had been a reminder of that case which had been suspiciously acquitted, the reason behind her continuous research, a constant memory of WHO needed to be helped.

Of how she needed to help them. 

Juliette froze, staring at him longer than intended, wondering if all the years had changed him. Wondering how he had managed to escape that cult. Wondering so many things in such a short span of time. She blinked, catching her breath, “ I - hey, hey how are you?” 

“Do you remember me?”