Fallen

Chapter One

The tension in the room was heavy, as though a weight pressed down on everyone inside. It was almost a tangible thing, something that could be touched it was so thick in the air. It had remained this way since the moment both sides entered the large, cold space almost an hour before.

And yet there had been no change. Despite the words, the promises and the assurances, no headway had been made, which only seemed to intensify the feeling that something was about to erupt. Like the subtle shake of the ground, which warned you before the eruption of a volcano, the eerie silence that had befallen the group was almost ominous.

Both sides faced each other, seated opposite along the long, wooden table in the center of the room. The table was the only real fixture in the space, lined on each side with ten chairs. It was a thick, warm, ancient wood that was only used for these meetings. Otherwise, the room was left barren and unused. Otherwise, the cold gray brick walls and high, barred windows left it feeling like a jail.

The jail like description had been noted by more than one member on one side of this table often over the years. Of course, this was never mentioned aloud to those occupying the opposite side.

To onlookers, if there were ever allowed to be any for this type of gathering, both sides would seem the same. A mixture of men and women, varying ages from young adult to graying haired veteran, of various races and airs of authority. The only noticeable difference in the two sides was their clothing.

On the one side, the occupants were dressed in suits, all varying shades of white and pale gray. They appeared immaculate, as though no soil or stain could touch them. Their expressions were all impassive, completely unmoved by the pleas and promises they had been listening to over the last hour. It was enough to make some of the younger in attendance wonder if they were even listening at all.

The opposite side wore the clothes of modern days. Still considered presentable and official, and yet, with the colors of black, dark blue and gray, the contrast between the lightness of their opponents was almost striking. The influences of humanity were obvious, as some bore the marks of tattooing, piercings and other body modifications. Their expressions, unlike their counterparts, were not calm and emotionless. Some looked angry, others looked afraid. Some, however, controlled their appearance better than others, attempting to appear just as indifferent to the conversation as those opposite them. But of course, this had come with years of practice, and experience in this type of setting. It was easy to see who fit this bill, against those who had never been granted admittance before.

Sera turned her eyes to her neighbor, a silent communication passing between them, before she turned forward again. Her pale blue eyes, so light you would swear they had no color at all, met the man immediately across from her.

"I feel as though this conversation is going in circles," she said softly, her voice almost musical. "Despite everything exchanged, I feel we are no closer to an understanding."

The man opposite her remained composed, although the slight tension in his jaw was notable as she finished speaking.

"I agree we seem to be at an impasse, Madam Messenger, but I fear it is because we are not being justly heard."

Sera turned up a corner of her lip. A subtle gesture, but considering the usually stoic expression of her kind, it spoke volumes. She reached forward, placing her hands on the table, folding them together. She could feel all eyes in the room on her, and again, the weight that had been heavy since stepping inside seemed to surge.

"Very well," she nodded. "What is it you fear we are not hearing from your side?"

If Jonathan Caison was thankful for the opportunity to repeat his case, it wouldn't have been evident on his face. If anything, the fact he was being forced to yet again make his plea seemed to anger him.