|
|
Post by Gatekeeper on Mar 26, 2018 21:50:20 GMT -8
Arielle looks at her in despair, at this perfect creature, the embodiment of all that she's longed for, as she breathes laboriously and suffers.
{I understand. I will explain.}
Half of the room disappears in an image of a burning landscape, of towers aflame.
{In the aftermath of the Fall, the Watchers who remained attempted to teach Humanity how to strive again. They arrived piecemeal, for time was no object, but there was a core group who arrived first - Semyaza, Azazel, Araqiel, Kokabiel, Sariel, Shamsiel, and Baraqiel. This core group, coming together in the 5th millennium BCE by modern reckoning, attempted to teach Man the arts, sciences, and, of course, the ways of magic.
{They failed.}
They look out on the burning, the devastation. The chosen, those touched by the angels to be Proximi, left dead in the streets.
Horror beyond horrors, though, is the battle in heaven, in the skies, where titanic forces are wielded by barely-seen figures. One of them, they know in their heart, is Araqiel. Them.
Sariel falls, slamming into and through a tower, and then a terrible thing descends after her. An angel, but their eyes are blank gold, their body wrapped in chains. They raise a spear, and drive it deep into her side. It pulses with inhuman power, this very spear.
{The Exarchs sent their enslaved subsouls, their Ochema, to destroy and wipe them from the face of the world. Babel was an experiment that would never be again, and all was lost. The survivors hid - have been hiding - until very recently.}
{What about us?} Arielle asks. {Why... when, how did we come into being?}
{That is where Sariel comes in - the Sariel who gave birth to you, not the one you see before you. Unfortunately, I was not made privy to the secret discussions, for fear that the information could be taken from me, but suffice to say, it began here, when a young mage found this place by following rumors, and met with the angel whose name she'd taken - drawn by bonds tighter than Fate.}
Slowly, the giant woman stirs. She lifts her head, her long hair falling. She wasn't truly asleep - can an angel made of eyes ever really be said to? - but her peridot lenses focus on them instead of in general.
She moves slowly, aware of the weapon piercing her side, and looks down at them with a smile.
{Araqiel... both of you. So it worked - and so very well!}
|
|
