Fic Pairing: Dewdrop/Fire Ghoul X Angel!Reader (gn)
Wordcount: 2.8k
Summary: Mary is going through it and the lore unfolds more and more- Aiming to what's about to come.
Warnings: (as mentioned above- Mary is having a moment and knows how to provoke) depiction of self-inflicted wounds
GIFsource: X by @oldonemaster
A/N: I came across a reel on instagram that made me go back to this unfinished chapter: "Do you leave projects unfinished because you rather have it undone, than imperfect?"
****
It’s the middle of the night and rather quiet than you’d expect during summer. Something shifted, changed, just a few hours ago. A tension that had been in the air for months, is now at ease.
A fire-ghoul and a fallen angel, dreaming side by side in the middle of a torn and almost forgotten chapel in the woods. A bed of moss under their naked figures, with blooming tulips and daisies -black and white in color, expanding further and further around them.
How they had lost and found another, remembered again; All ‘solved’ by a kiss of true love.
That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Even though it is not all that the fallen angel has to remember and solve; But it is for Mary.
The echo of shattering glass sounds even more brutal, as it pierces through the quiet and ease of night. The chapel right next to the abbey-building has a new and rather brutal opening now. The window is at the end of the chapel and shows a picture of Hell and Heaven in their constant fight: Torn open, burning earth below, a red lighting striking from within the flames, up into the white cloudy sky, while angels come down from Heaven.
Under the window, is an altar with a satanic cross made of silver. Candles, dried herbs and flowers at its stand- One undead standing right in front of it.
“I DID WHAT YOU ASKED!” screams Mary at the altar. Partly dried blood around their neck from a cut that disappeared shortly after Mary had sliced it.
Nothing. No response. Not enough, for Mary.
They step onto the altar and kick the cross to the ground. “ANSWER ME!”
Still nothing. No answer. How unsatisfying. And although they know it won’t do anything to themselves, they take the switchblade from their back-pocket once more; Blood from earlier still sticking to it, as they spill new on it.
“Get out of hiding--!” they hiss- spit with gritted teeth, and slash the blade along the inside of their arms “I know you can hear me-!” blood splashing and spilling and- stopping. The cuts are gone.
The knife falls to the ground, rather dull, with all the blood sticking and dropping from it.
The undead falls on their knees, cowering together, their voice, exhausted and little “I did everything I was supposed to do. Just let me leave…” before a sudden sleep falls upon them.
“You really want to die like this?” speaks a voice in their dream. Mary knows immediately- Finally. “Now? Without seeing them again, after they remembered?”
No. Mary cannot bring themselves to say it but they don’t have to.
“I gave you immortality on earth and you don’t want it anymore after a few decades? Such a long life ahead, and you have already become cold like the corpse you pretend to be.”
“I did what I promised. Let me leave, Satan, please. I’m ready for my end.”
“This not the end, Mary Goore.” a hand tenderly lifting the undeads chin “Or shall I say Jakobsson? Hm? No. This is only a beginning.”
“Beginning!” mocks Mary with an ugly chuckle. “I thought You are the beginning and the end.”
“I am not. I am just one of many. Did you not know?” the hand lets go of them. “Oh well- I suppose that is the cruelty of humankind- history- existence: Forgetting. Oblivion. All who came before me. All who are before and will still be, just as me; Forgotten, to a part and eventually- Gone in what is remembered of existence… Cruel, is it not? To exist and be forgotten. Am I, if others don’t remember me? If they don’t believe in me?”
“You think I believe in you?”
“You are the one who begs me for death.”
The undead regrets their words. “What do you want from me? They are together again, what else do you want from me?”
“Not every beginning has an ending, Mary.”
“What does that mean?”
“Existence. All is nothing without all. Without everything, in nothing.” The undead stays silent, confused. “Anyone who believes they are something has ceased to become something.” Satan recalls. “Gods ceased to become something else, the moment they felt what they could be- what they are. Arrogance I can not deny for myself.” Don’t we all want to be something-? If we don’t have the choice to be brought into existence, shall we not have the choice of what we want to be?
*
Hello dear follower of this tale. I suppose I owe you a little more to explain and understand. Or maybe I just hope you will understand me -the one you worship, better with what I will show you now and won’t judge my decisions too harshly. In the end, the loneliness catches all of us, while we try to run and escape from the mistakes we were burdened with. In the beginning, we are all just just a child- born with no explanation into a world that has already begun far far before us.
‘In the Beginning’ as it is passed on, never was the beginning. Existence is a tree. Branches growing, roots spreading, further and further in time and nothingness. With us, as its fruits. It’s children.
This existence- Humankind passed on, that it once was without any evil, not even death. Existing on earth, while the gods existed on their own -well aware and owning of evil and might.
Twelve great ones have done and endured evil just as good. Some of them more, some less. But none of them untouched. Like humankind. Even gods can be harmed and hurt, very badly, if one dares so.
Over time, one did. Blood of gods and titans, merged by force and born in a child. Prometheus, born of harm- Harming the gods as well, by stealing the element of fire and bringing it from the Olympus, down to the realm of humankind.
A treason, Zeus -the father of all gods, did not leave without punishment. He commanded Hephaistos -the god of fire, blacksmith and Vulcan's, with that punishment. With clay and water, a human body was formed; But not without gifts from the other gods.
Aphrodite gave it the pure beauty of a woman. Athene draped her in flowers. Hermes gave her the most enchanting voice, along with the name of what she was: the all-gifted, Pandora.
Just born. Just brought into existence with a body of beauty and feeling it decay and die, every moment passing by. Cruelty in miracle.
Pandora was brought to Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus. A beautiful woman out of nowhere, with a mysterious box in her hands, that she’d not let go off. Epimetheus was enchanted by her the moment he saw her. His brother Prometheus warned him, to not take gifts from the gods. Epimetheus heard his brothers warnings, but he couldn’t stop himself from falling for her. Couldn’t deny her beauty, her kindness, her voice, her tenderness and her diligence, with which she held onto and protected the box that should never be opened -as in her words.
They married. Loved another. Had a daughter, Pyrrha. Trusted another. Pandora trusted Epimetheus and believed with all naivety of a first life, that he would never betray her. But he did. The curiosity of mankind: What is hidden inside the box that should never be opened to the world? What gift, did the gods burden Pandora with?
Epimetheus had thought Pandora would be enough. Having her next at his dining table and in his bed; Having the love of the most beautiful and genuine woman- Living in her heart-! He thought it would be enough. But he couldn’t let go. He had taken a gift from the gods -Pandora, and had stayed unharmed although Prometheus had warned him. In fact, because of this gift Epimetheus had become the most blissful man he knew! So what else should be there to fear? How could opening a little box, hurt him? What beauty or even greatness must be inside, the gods didn’t want him to have? Something even greater, than Pandora-?
He opened it. He opened it and received the last gift. All evil, pests and vices escaped the box- taking the first it was met with -Epimetheus, before spreading over the whole world and humankind.
Am I this child? Am I Pandora? Am I even a child if I am? If I was made of clay and punishment-? Or am I Pyrrha? Am I Pandoras daughter? Am I my mothers mistakes? Did my mother die from a broken heart and I buried my parents in the same box with which she was brought down from the gods?
Or did I bury my child? Did I put her and my husbands bones into the box and walked the earth, in hope to find all evil and hold them again inside the box they were meant to rest in?
Did I walk on earth -through time and history, carrying the box always close to my heart, with all that remained of what I loved? What I hoped to bring back again?
That is what was left, isn’t it? It has been told through history, that all evil escaped, except for one. Hope had remained, as the most cruel of evil. Continuing with nothing but pain, through all endless misery, just because there is hope for good and better to be, no matter how small it shall be.
But even with all evil spread in the world, the humans adapted. They continued their lifes. Continued to love and fight. To sow crops. To hunt. To craft. To burn. To kill. To conquer.
Egos, rising atop, as it has always been. Not enough is anything for them. No god to fear, if you don’t believe in one.
Mankind lost to fear what was above them. Abandoned any believe- And the gods felt it. They felt so brittle, so anxious, so little.
What shall not fear, shall not believe.
What shall not believe, shall not serve.
What shall not believe, shall not remember-; One shall not, exist.
Over all passing of time, so many catastrophes happened on earth. Changed the landscape, history and believes. What was before was forgotten or reborn. A cleansing was the only possibility for the gods. Otherwise, they would die. together, they brought the greatest flood to be. It washed over earth, it cleansed from those you not believed.
Those who were lucky enough fled to the highest mountain. Those who had been still fearful of the gods, had build ships. With one of them, having the greatest ships, saving so so many.
You may call him Noah or Deukalion- It doesn’t matter now, that he is what he is. What he has been for so so long; Once he was just a man. A god-fearing man, who sailed to a place -hope in his heart, to start anew.
In the end, we are all believers in one thing still: Being alone.
May we search for others or run away from them- We fear it. Every soul fears it, no matter how much it convinces themselves to feel otherwise. Deep inside us we know, that we are not meant to be alone. That one heart is only half complete- Perfect only, with another.
How much can one endure? How much will one endure-? Do we even have a choice-? Why am I even asking, I know we don’t. None of us has- This runs long as time--
Every life… A soul, another fruit growing on the ever-being tree -so many names it has- every culture giving it its own name…
We live, we grow, we die, we fall from the branch, fall at the trunk- we decay and nurture the roots- nurture the next fruits, the next lives to grow with all of our souls, again and again and again…
… Am I her? Am I mother or her daughter? If I try to think of any of them, all I see is me. Only me, and that tree. Sitting at its trunk, surrounded by the richest garden. Every plant, every animal- even the smallest little fly…
*
“Awake.” the words graze at Marys ear- They jump up in such a hurry that they stumble down the two stairs, leading to the altar.
“FUCK-!” yelps the undead in pain. “Aaargh—”
“Don’t waste my time even more, Mary, now that I came here.”
She’s here-? Mary looks up and- there-! Frightening, proud, ever in a beautiful human form. Satan stands at the very altar that honors her. The undead blinks a few times. A part of them still wonders if she is really here.
“It really made you feel powerful, when you shattered a part of this-” she scoffs. Her gaze turning to the torn glass in the window behind her.
“It brought you here, didn’t it?”
Within the next moment, Mary flies through the room- Their back hitting the big metal engraved doors of the chapel; Satans voice hissing of them “Know your place, Mary, or you will-”
“I’m not afraid of dying.” they interrupt Satan with a choking laugh. Coughing against the cold stone they had fallen to.
“Oh Mary, I know you’re not afraid of dying.” almost sings Satan, soft and sweet, as her hand wraps tight around Marys neck- Pulling the undead back on their feet; Forcing them to look at her, smiling so sweet. “I know what you are really afraid of. Even more now, rather than meeting your old friend again.” she leans at Marys ear “And believe me, this kind of forever is worse than anything.” Mary doesn’t move a muscle, but they feel a cold, cold, threatening shiver running through their body. “I take that as, that you are listening, are you? Nod if you do.” The undead nods. “Very well.”
Satan lets go of them and turns around; One finger lifted- signalizing them, to follow her. They do. Both step back to the big window with that artistic metaphor of Heaven and Hell.
“I’m sorry I broke that window…”
“You should be.” Satans hand reaches out to the red lighting striking into the clouds that symbolize Heaven. Her eyes changing- Worry, even fear to spot in them. “It delivers one of the soon happening prophecies.”
The undeads head snaps around- stumbles back to take another -now actual look, at the scene of the window: The torn open earth, with the red lighting striking into the clouds in the sky, with angels coming down to earth.
“This will happen?” their words so quiet, so hesitant.
“When the lovers will be where it started, the next step in history will be made.”
“The lov-” Dewdrop and Angel?? Wait-! “This-!” Mary points at the windows “This will happen-?! More angels will come from Heaven??”
“They won’t fall.” Satan steps back, her eyes glued to the angels. “They will try to take what God wants back. What he needs.”
“Angel.”
She nods. “It must happen.”
“What?! Why!”
“This.” she points at the window earnest, urging “This must happen! Everything else, is dependent on you.”
W- Why- Whait-- “So the outcome can be- Angel not being taken back to Heaven-?”
“If you manage. But you must be prepared.”
“And how???”
“They must consume the blood of Eve and Lilith.”
Mary blinks perplex “And where the fuck is that supposed to be?!”
“At the roots of the tree of paradise- Avalon- Eden-Yggdrasil, whatever you may call it… It’s all the same.”
This cannot be. This can not be.
“No! No no no no no!” Mary cowers down- Face hidden behind their face “This is not real. No no no— ”
“It is as real as me. As you and the cuts in your skin, healing within a moment.”
Mary chuckles. Their breath hasty, shaky- A laugh growing with every breath, which eventually gets choked quiet by tears.
A soothing hand gets placed on their shoulder. So warm- Comforting. “Mary-”
“I just wanted to be a big Rockstar and play on the biggest stages in the world.” they mumble, rather to themselves “And where did that bring me?”
“We all wanted to be something once.” soothes Satan “Had hoped- still do.”I just wanted to be loved. I didn’t to be alone anymore.
“What is even left to hope?” they ask and look up to Satan, but she is gone. The chapel, empty again. “Shit—”
Marys head feels like it is about to crack. Their thoughts rushing and rushing all over the place. They wish they would have attempted to call Satan to appear; How are they supposed to solve all this? What does it mean, that Angel wasn’t forced to leave Heaven- That God even wants them back! Or how are they supposed to find the Garden of Eden? Eves and Liliths blood? What did they bleed for? How shall there be even just one drop left, after thousands of years?
*
I still see his face. It used to be rare, but now that we come closer to what was meant to happen for years and years- It’s so vivid. His voice haunts my dreams-; I must admit, when I feel lonely, I remember his words and believe them. That what was done to me was cruel. That the gods should pay for it. That he loved me. That it was all for me…
Am I her? Am I my mother, or a daughter burdened with the same mistakes? All I see is me- When I think of the mother and her daughter. All I see is me.
*****
A/N: I guess, it has been a while since uploading. I honestly didn't think a whole year would pass. In fact, like 70% of this chapter was sitting in my docs for way too many months. I just didn't know how far and where to go. There is much more lore to unfold, but it felt too much to write all of it now.
It's a rather short chapter and our protagonists are only mentioned. I hope it was still fun and interesting.
I had a lot of fun with Satans part and her lore. There is still more to tell for her.
As for me, it's good to have some distance to this blog. I needed that and still do. I'm not completely inactive on Tumblr and I won't shut this blog down, but there is still so much that I need to focus on outside here. I'm still trying to find a solution for all this.
I can't get this reel out of my head (which is no nowhere to be found now...) "Do you leave projects unfinished because you rather have it undone, than imperfect?" is something I'm struggling a lot with regarding my writing and specifically this blog. Or this fic--
I want to write on this one, but also get back at my original stuff. All while finally fully arriving in adult-life and adapting to it.
I know I'm distant, even with the A/N. I'm really sorry. I want to figure this out and find a solution for me and this blog, my fics and my writing. Because I just can't leave it as this. Writing is a part of me- I've done it since I could hold a pencil. I wrote letters without knowing what they meant and then said what it told- And before that I was drawing and coloring all the fucking day- making up stories in my head…
Oh dear reader, I am glad you are still around. Thank you for that. I really do appreciate it! <3
I hope you had some wonderful holidays and will have a happy new year.
"Mafuyu, I like your sound. I was trying to give you a little push, but before I realized it, you were the one pulling me up. Ever since you showed up, my sound’s been scattered, disconnected, and warped… It’s just a mess. But I’m having so much more fun now than when I was just playing the chords I was told to play.” ~ Uenoyama Ritsuka
