Ineffable Interludes: Good Omens

The Loving Warrior

The Loving Warrior

PLAYLIST:

That's What Makes you Beautiful by One Direction

Breath of Life by Florence and the Machine

Lights by Ellie Goulding 

Raphael was young, as Archangels went, only eight hundred years old. He was four hundred years younger than Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and the rest. He didn't have much authority, but he didn't mind. Unlike them, his purpose was to create.

The Almighty had decided to make something new, another world with creatures called 'humans'. With the other archangels busy governing heaven and the other realms, she needed help. So she created Raphael and bid him to make the stars. She told him to create everything in the sky: galaxies, clouds that would eventually become planets and moons, stars to give light and warmth. And Raphael loved it. He devoted his existence to making, preferring to spend his time amongst the cosmos instead of with the other angels. Soon, he became known as The Starmaker.

The other Archangels were irritated by him, particularly Gabriel. He didn't understand how an angel of such power could hide himself away. So he insisted that Raphael put his work on hold to help train the younger angels. Raphael agreed, hoping that he could find someone to help him, who he could teach his craft to. It would be nice to have a companion.

He did not know that he would be training them to fight.

Gabriel was anticipating a war. Lucifer and his radical ideas were gaining followers. God had remained silent on the matter, but Gabriel was preparing for rebellion. Michael, the warrior angel, agreed with him and began to train the angelic host into an army. It was for this reason that Gabriel wanted Raphael: the agile Starmaker with his serpent staff and powerful wings would make a formidable soldier.

Raphael went along with it at first. He knew how to fight, of course; all angels did. But not like this. Gabriel and Michael's version of fighting was brutal and aggressive. Raphael only believed in violence to defend oneself, so that was how he taught. Gabriel was not happy. He wanted ferocity.

One day, there came an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes. His name was Aziraphale, and he wasn't like the others. He took to combat immediately—his flaming sword was a powerful weapon—but he didn't revel in it. His body was plump and soft, as though he was made for comfort rather than war. Unfortunately, he was classed as Principality, bound to be a Guardian of Earth once it was finished. It hurt Raphael's heart to imagine this bright, smiling angel taking part in war.

During a break in training, Raphael sat by himself, as usual. The other angels didn't talk to him, and he didn't talk to them. He tuned out the chattering of the group and focused on the tiny nebula he was creating in the palm of his hand. If it turned out nice enough, he planned to put it near the outer planets of the new solar system.

"Hi."

Raphael looked up in surprise. The new Principality had snuck up on him whilst he was working with the nebula. "Oh. Hello."

"You're always by yourself." The angel sat on the bench next to him. "So I thought I would come introduce myself. I'm Aziraphale."

"Raphael."

They shook hands, and Aziraphale smiled. "Are you the one they call the Starmaker?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Raphael said wryly. "And you're a Guardian?"

"Yeah. But I'm--"

"Everybody line up!" Gabriel's voice boomed out. "Michael has some new maneuvers for you."