Random muses and prompts

The Fall (1)

Respect

     Time did not exist. If it did, this was the time I lost respect for the only institution I had ever known. Heaven was the most lovely thing in existence. In truth, it and its beings were the only things in existence at all. There was an unique quality to Heaven--one that no other realm could offer--you could never fully experience anything there. This lack of fullness created, in some angels, a desire for fullness with Him. In others, it left a metallic taste in their mouths.

     The floor was made of clouds. It had always been clouds. When I didn't look at my feet, or what could be referred to as such, I could feel the tendrils of misty air curling up my body and drifting by me. They left chilly streaks across my skin. When I did pass a glance downward, the feeling of the clouds faded, and replacing the gentle touch of clouds was the firm feel of steady ground. The clouds below were always thick and full.

     The clouds drifted a certain way. Everything, from the feeble manifestations of greenery, to the clouds, to the way light shifted, pointing to Him. He was everything life could imagine, He was the only thing to point to. Angels never got lost, see, for they needed only to listen to a breeze or feel the clouds below and know exactly where the only point of Heaven that mattered was.

     I was moving away from that point. Never, in my millions of years of existence, had I left His side for as far or as long as I had right now. Heaven was full of His glory, yet it hurt to not face Him. Was glory itself not enough to sustain me? Did I have to look at Him after what He said to me?

     I was distracted by an angel fluttering by, ignorant of my presence. She was a lovely thing. She had two sets of translucent wings, one which ruffled in a delicate manner as she strode across the empty cloud plains, the other set covering her face. She was fiddling with a spherical compass, which was spinning wildly. She glanced behind herself, towards Him, and murmured, "Shall I follow where it goes?"

     He was a bit frustrated today, because of me, and if He responded to her, it was curt and not a very godly reply. Her wings curled around her, and she made a soft, disappointed sigh. Through the thin veil of her wings I could see thousands of chains, dials, and other astronomically useful trinkets.

     "A Dominion, then?"

     She turned. There was little to be surprised by in Heaven, and so the furthest extent of her reaction was ruffled feathers. Her face-wings tilted her head to the side. "Indeed; of Dawn. And the Moon, as it will be called."

     "As it will be called by whom?" There was a teasing smile playing on my lips. The delicate, airy wings tilted away from her face, revealing two large, dark eyes amidst a glowing face. Those were the only notable features of it.

     She was confused. It made me so happy to make other angels ponder new things. "By...you? You are human?"

    I shook my head pleasantly, "Not in the slightest, my dear." I called upon the pressure on my back, and springing from it was two sets of wings, much like her own. From my chest, another set opened.

    My wings were nothing like hers. The wings meant to cover my face were not feathery and beautiful, but made of the hottest fires. The additional set, pulled from the caverns of my chest, were similar, forged from the same smiths that made the cores of stars. They glowed and burned like freshly exposed magma. My flight wings were the only ones she could've related to–massive and full of long, soft feathers. "Although I do quite like those creatures."

    I shook off the glamour which stuck to my skin, feeling the warmth of a thousand suns cascade from me. When I glanced back to the little Dominion, she had fallen low, wings spread wide in a simple genuflect. It was out of respect, of course. Could an angel fall down in worship to another angel, when He was right there, behind me? Deep down inside me, there was a curling feeling. It had tendrils that reached like those clouds. It kissed my ankles and brushed against my neck. It whispered that, perhaps, I deserved to be treated with such respect.