Arch Healer

“Sir…” Hazel enters the office where he was sure he’d find Raph, his hands behind his back as normal but one hand holds his other wrist tight to the point it shakes. He’s doing his best to hide his anxiety and fears of what rumors were being passed around from one guardian to another.

Hazel was a smart man, always has been, and to a point it was a flaw of his. Trusting intellect over feeling, but this time around he couldn’t trust his thoughts as his gut was much louder and steadfast than the other. A game a telephone between angels was dangerous, especially those who were far apart while down on Earth.

His mouth opens and he finally speaks. “….Where is Sister Lute?”

Raphael, archangel of Healing looked up from his paperwork to see a Guardian Angel walk in. It wasn't unusual to see such individuals come into his clinic due to the nature eof their work, but it was uncommon for them to seek Raphael directly. However, what he could see of the angel's body language meant that whatever it was was of great importance.

He set aside his pen and folded his hands in front of him in the desk to give his full attention. The question though caught him slightly off guard, but it should not have been too surprising in some regards. Raphael had been a key witness to the events and knew wmore than most. Though from what he had been told, the Guardians had been fairly isolated from Lute and her charge. Perhaps he had been incorrect in this assumption. It wasn't going to be easy, but considering what all had happened, he had resigned himself to the understanding that he may have to tell this tale many times. He gestures for Hazel to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

After a moment's pause, the archangel sighed. "Yes and no. There is not a place here to mourn Lute specifically. She rests in Adam's domain. Though it is only for those she considered family. That said, we are currently in the process of creating a space to memorialize the Singers. We were unable to under Phim."

He knew it would be difficult to understand why Lute's body would be in Hell, it seemed counterintuitive at best for an angel to be there in death, especially since she never Fell.

"Phim was... the reason for Lute's death. The compromise had been that after Adam died, that Lute's fate afterward would be decided. I was a fool to think that Phim would be fair in his conduct. However, the moment that Adam passed through the Pearly Gates, he was ushered into his new home while Lute was taken to the courthouse. The only reason I was able to get there at all was because her remaining sisters sensed her presence in Heaven. I immediately retrieved Adam as he was a necessary witness."

Raph's hands squeezed together, not of self-guilt anymore but a rare anger. It only showed in the strain in his expression. "When we arrived, Phim put up a barrier to prevent us from interfering in Lute's extraction. It was too strong for us to breach. However, unlike the extractions I had conducted, Lute's exploded upon removal, killing the guards around her. The barrier came down as all of us were shocked. Adam advised that I leave as he attended to Lute. I did so to make sure I could try to protect my girls if I had to. As such, I only heard about what happened afterward from Adam, but I trust his account."

His grip loosened with a sigh. More tired than anything else. "That said, it seems that the attempts to describe in a precise manner how exactly it occurred have been difficult, but the results are the same. Father gave Adam the power to hand down His judgement onto Phim, and as such, he did not Fall like Lucifer and his followers, but utterly destroyed by the souls of the Singers he ordered killed."

“Sir…” Hazel enters the office where he was sure he’d find Raph, his hands behind his back as normal but one hand holds his other wrist tight to the point it shakes. He’s doing his best to hide his anxiety and fears of what rumors were being passed around from one guardian to another.

Hazel was a smart man, always has been, and to a point it was a flaw of his. Trusting intellect over feeling, but this time around he couldn’t trust his thoughts as his gut was much louder and steadfast than the other. A game a telephone between angels was dangerous, especially those who were far apart while down on Earth.

His mouth opens and he finally speaks. “….Where is Sister Lute?”

Raphael, archangel of Healing looked up from his paperwork to see a Guardian Angel walk in. It wasn't unusual to see such individuals come into his clinic due to the nature eof their work, but it was uncommon for them to seek Raphael directly. However, what he could see of the angel's body language meant that whatever it was was of great importance.

He set aside his pen and folded his hands in front of him in the desk to give his full attention. The question though caught him slightly off guard, but it should not have been too surprising in some regards. Raphael had been a key witness to the events and knew wmore than most. Though from what he had been told, the Guardians had been fairly isolated from Lute and her charge. Perhaps he had been incorrect in this assumption. It wasn't going to be easy, but considering what all had happened, he had resigned himself to the understanding that he may have to tell this tale many times. He gestures for Hazel to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

"I do not know if you were present for the Great Rebellion. Samael, or now Lucifer, I suppose, and his followers waged great battle against the very citizens here in Heaven. A civil war. Angel against angel before he and his compatriots were condemned to Fall. There was so much loss of life and Heaven was nearly destroyed. The idea was that the Singers, who all survived, were to help in rebuilding Heaven. After all, they provided the power for Creation itself. It was only natural. However, Phim grew paranoid because they held thoughts and feelings of their own. He sought an... Alternate path."

Raphael's hands clasped each other tighter. He couldn't look Hazel in the eye when he spoke next, filled as he was with deep shame.

"Hell called it repurposing, but it was really mass murder. The Silencing, to harvest their energy by ripping out their life energy. I... I knew that if left to Phim, it would be done efficiently but cruelly. So I... I did it myself to spare them as much pain as possible." He didn't know if the guardian angel was aware of his power or that it meant taking on that pain himself, but it wasn't the import detail here so he declined to mention it.

“Sir…” Hazel enters the office where he was sure he’d find Raph, his hands behind his back as normal but one hand holds his other wrist tight to the point it shakes. He’s doing his best to hide his anxiety and fears of what rumors were being passed around from one guardian to another.

Hazel was a smart man, always has been, and to a point it was a flaw of his. Trusting intellect over feeling, but this time around he couldn’t trust his thoughts as his gut was much louder and steadfast than the other. A game a telephone between angels was dangerous, especially those who were far apart while down on Earth.

His mouth opens and he finally speaks. “….Where is Sister Lute?”

Raphael, archangel of Healing looked up from his paperwork to see a Guardian Angel walk in. It wasn't unusual to see such individuals come into his clinic due to the nature eof their work, but it was uncommon for them to seek Raphael directly. However, what he could see of the angel's body language meant that whatever it was was of great importance.

He set aside his pen and folded his hands in front of him in the desk to give his full attention. The question though caught him slightly off guard, but it should not have been too surprising in some regards. Raphael had been a key witness to the events and knew wmore than most. Though from what he had been told, the Guardians had been fairly isolated from Lute and her charge. Perhaps he had been incorrect in this assumption. It wasn't going to be easy, but considering what all had happened, he had resigned himself to the understanding that he may have to tell this tale many times. He gestures for Hazel to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

“Gone…?” The word comes out like a ghost, not able to believe its existence unless he was there to experience it.

Shaken hands lay upon his lap as he tries to straighten, remain proper as best he could but there is such a noticeable slouch that it’s a question to why he tries at all. Perhaps… he was feeling denial.

His voice turned soft. "My apologies. I am so accustomed to seeing different reactions and answers to that question. I should have used more tact in giving you the news. Lute was unique in more ways than one. In fact, she was not supposed to even be a Guardian. It is possible that you may have gotten a sense of that in your interactions with her."

The archangel figured that, at minimum, Lute was recognized as unique among the Guardians, even if he didn't realize her nature as a Singer wasn't known. It was actually helpful here since perhaps he could tell their story to truly fresh ears for the first time.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

Was he healed? Somewhat. Certainly better than he had been for quite some time. While it was colloquially known that there were five stages of grief, Raphael's experience there was at least one other. Two in technicality, though in his opinion they were so conjoined they might as well be one.

Catharsis and Blunting. They would follow depression and precede acceptance. After the whole process of negative emotions, the outbursts, keeping it in, the festering, catharsis was the release of all of that. The pressure valve that let the system stabilize. Then the following blunting or emotional numbness allowed for clearer thoughts. An emotional reset to finally make way for acceptance of fate.

Last night was the Catharsis. Now was the Blunting.

With a sigh, he unfolded his lab coat, smoothing out the creases as he navigated it through his wings and wrapped his stethoscope around his neck, lost in thought. He wondered what compelled that dream or hallucination last night to be now of all times? Sure he had been exhausted from the latest suite of miracles, but there wasn't some anniversary of Lute's upcoming. Neither for the Silencing. Perhaps it was nothing more than overdue. Waiting for the chance that he was vulnerable enough to keep from sticking his finger in the dam.

As he turned, he saw the tongue depressors on his desk. At first it was curious since he wasn't in the habit of leaving such things out, but he saw the names burned upon them. Handwriting that was distinctively not his, nor any of his girls'.

Hm.

Quietly, he collected them and stuck most of them in his pocket. They weren't to stay there, but instead to be deposited and squirreled away in the places he might need them the most. The one labeled as The Sisters was in the conference room he had his weekly staff meeting with his girls. The one bearing Adam's name would go in the Embassy into the desk he occupied and conducted ambassadorial work. He was tempted to put Phim's in the trash but it ended up in a crevice at the courthouse instead. Each one tucked away into one place or another. Even though he never told anyone their purpose or origin, he had a feeling that they wouldn't be removed by a well-meaning passerby.

His own ended up in his office desk drawer.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

Her fingers ran through his hair as she sat back down on the little stool she’d been playing with previously, guiding his head to rest upon her lap. She shook her head softly, soothing his tears and guilt with gentle strokes on his head.

“And Raphael would have been destroyed like those who had killed her. How can Raphael withstand the power of Lute’s soul, part of Father’s soul? If not for Phim’s barrier, those behind it would have not been spared. Raphael is needed elsewhere. He took Lute’s sisters’ pain away and that is what Lute wanted the most. Lute does not judge him. Sisters do not judge him. Raphael can rest.”

This was good for him, to admit his fear for her judgment and release everything he had bottled up inside. She was happy her sisters had prayed for his well being and that Father had allowed her to answer those prayers.

“Lute thinks Raphael is a good man. He has always tried to help, he ensured Lute’s sisters did not die in pain or fear, he saved the sisters he could and takes good care of them, Lute knows how badly he wanted to save Lute too. Raphael did as much good as was possible. Lute appreciates this. Sisters care so much for Raphael, they want to see him let go of such feelings.”

It was such an odd and unfamiliar situation for such an archangel himself to be soothed like a child who believed he had done something wrong. The older sister role coming naturally to her as the First Born, her voice was soft and she continued to stroke his hair to calm him and assure him that he had no reason to feel ashamed or expect punishment from her.

Logical.

Rational.

Mature.

Empathetic.

Strong.

These he has always been and always will be. But in this moment, when the last logical argument was kindly refuted, his final wall crumbles and he let himself just... Let go.

His tears finally became active sobs as he wrapped his arms around her. His wings, all six of them, wrapped around them like a cocoon. Was it a vestige of protection he hadn't given her in life? Did he want a moment of privacy when his heart lay bare and bleeding in her hands? Or perhaps a bit of both? He held Lute close as if he was holding onto the last shred of sanity. In a strange way, he was. For if he held onto his guilt much longer, he may well have gone mad.

The sadness would never go away. Those scars on his heart ran too deep to ever truly mend. But at least some pain, this pain, can be released.

He wasn't sure how long he remained like that. Wordlessly expressing his grief for not just Lute, but for her Sisters and all the souls he couldn't save. The ones destroyed by the plagues he made. Those whose mental health he couldn't remedy, though the similarity wasn't lost on him. They may have all been part of Father's plan, but he felt every drop of blood on his hands. They would never be cleaned of their stain, but their burn would be that much dulled. It all spilled out at once.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

It wouldn't last for long.

Of course she knew everything. Especially this version of her that lives in his mind. This manifestation of guilt saw all of his sins. She saw all that he was and is. There was no hiding from her.

"I... Always assumed that it either wasn't my time to be judged or that at the very least, if I already have been, it simply wasn't enough to be cast out or destroyed. But that doesn't mean I don't still need to atone." He had to have some kind of punishment.

He felt his pulse quicken as she burrowed under his skin. He... Did trust Father. It was himself he didn't trust. Right? Raphael dipped his head forward into his hands, running his fingers into his hair. His pretense of composure gone as his mind raced. Though he caught himself and thought aloud. That was part of this metal breakdown, was it not?

"It isn't as if I didn't trust Father. I... I felt that I failed Him. Feel. I always fail. But I am meant to fail. A healer always loses, even if not now. All humans. All life in Creation is meant to die. Even the angelic beings are meant to die when Father decides that it is over. Every single soul and entity I save now will ultimately perish and slip through my fingers when Father sends Azrael to collect us all. All I can do is delay and beg and plead and hope and pray. All is in His plan, but I never know if I failed to meet even those meager expectations."

Raphael's mins ran faster than his mouth. He thought of his failures and his role in the universe often. Though he has never connected that with his efforts with the Singers before. Maybe he had doubted Father when he doubted himself. That by the same hand that doubts the outcome, he doubted the one who let it run. In which case his sins ran far deeper than he realized. What kind of archangel was he to doubt Father's authority on the matter? Or resent His decisions for it.

That sounded like heresy.

“Raphael is so very close!” She announced at the end of it, her carefreeness a stark difference against the seriousness of his self loathing. She began lining up the flat wooden sticks along the edge of his desk, floating them carefully next to each other. “It’s true, Father despises when others speak for him, especially in the name of cruelty but that is not entirely it. Humans do this also, their punishment resides in Hell. Phim did something even greater than this.”

With a flick of her hand she labeled the sticks:

Eden

Samuel

Raphael

Sisters

Lute

Phim

Adam

Redemption

“Phim did not just speak for Father. He tried to change Father’s Will. Phim tried to destroy part of Father Himself.” She let her aura fill the space, the air around her rippling like heat waves and in those waves was the image of god standing behind and within her form. “Phim decided that Lute was to be contained, subdued, instead of her rightful place above him.”

She must admit that the horrid past high seraphim did a very good job in compelling others to believe his lies. Lies even Lucifer would not be able to tell so convincingly, and that was just another reason she was here: to put down those lies that he still believed, to claim her rightful place and prove to him that his actions were necessary despite the pain it caused him to do so. If her sisters were unable to relieve him of this guilt, the only one who could was the person who started and ended it all.

“Raphael feels like failure is inevitable because he sees death as only a failure and nothing more. What if this is not true? Death hurts. Death is hard. And Lute’s death hurts many very much. But death is not failure. Death is necessary. Sometimes death is freedom. Death for humans is a second chance as they live another life in Heaven or Hell.” She tips the first stick, it falls slowly into the one after it and the next and the next as she continues to talk. “Father has to see many things, many avenues and possibilities of how to get to the ending needed. Sometimes ones in the middle are hard and hurtful, but it is the ending that is best for all beings. Adam creates redemption for humans in Hell, Adam has to kill Phim to fall to Hell, Lute has to die for Adam to agree to kill Phim, sisters have to die for Phim to be arrogant enough to kill the Will of God…”

She magically reset the sticks and let them fall again and again until he understood that his actions were part of the plan.

Most of what she said were things he knew, but they felt different coming from her, especially now. He knew that there was a plan, Father's plan, and that He had His reasons for specific paths, even if they were painful. It was a major principle that drove Raphael's actions with humans, after all. Of course it would be the same here. What were angels if not simply Father's previous creations? Why wouldn't He interact with them much the same way?

"I may not control death, but I control pain." More tears were evident as they dropped. But he wasn't a sobbing mess. His face wasn't even scrunched. If not for the tears themselves, it would be hard to tell that he was torn asunder. It was like a cup overflowing with water. His heart was so full of emotions and tears that they had nowhere else to go but spill over.

The archangel stood from his chair, a slight shake in his body as he moved around to the side of the desk where Lute stood. He fell to his knees. Not like a faithful man in prayer, but tired at the end of his rope.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

It wouldn't last for long.

Of course she knew everything. Especially this version of her that lives in his mind. This manifestation of guilt saw all of his sins. She saw all that he was and is. There was no hiding from her.

"I... Always assumed that it either wasn't my time to be judged or that at the very least, if I already have been, it simply wasn't enough to be cast out or destroyed. But that doesn't mean I don't still need to atone." He had to have some kind of punishment.

He felt his pulse quicken as she burrowed under his skin. He... Did trust Father. It was himself he didn't trust. Right? Raphael dipped his head forward into his hands, running his fingers into his hair. His pretense of composure gone as his mind raced. Though he caught himself and thought aloud. That was part of this metal breakdown, was it not?

"It isn't as if I didn't trust Father. I... I felt that I failed Him. Feel. I always fail. But I am meant to fail. A healer always loses, even if not now. All humans. All life in Creation is meant to die. Even the angelic beings are meant to die when Father decides that it is over. Every single soul and entity I save now will ultimately perish and slip through my fingers when Father sends Azrael to collect us all. All I can do is delay and beg and plead and hope and pray. All is in His plan, but I never know if I failed to meet even those meager expectations."

Raphael's mins ran faster than his mouth. He thought of his failures and his role in the universe often. Though he has never connected that with his efforts with the Singers before. Maybe he had doubted Father when he doubted himself. That by the same hand that doubts the outcome, he doubted the one who let it run. In which case his sins ran far deeper than he realized. What kind of archangel was he to doubt Father's authority on the matter? Or resent His decisions for it.

That sounded like heresy.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

How interesting. Adam had known it was a dream, Belial assumed she was a reaper, now Raphael has called her a hallucination…

“Raphael is asleep.” She answered, though what was a hallucination but a waking dream? “Lute wanted to check on him. Sisters are very worried.”

She watched them do their best, but there was no erasing the guilt for what he’d had to do before saving them… and what he couldn’t do to save her. She watched Raphael sit in the Embassy in Hell alone while her sisters visited with her, unable to allow himself to accompany them or see her for himself.

She spun in the chair again, her feet only reaching the metal bar underneath it instead of the floor. Upon her circle back she examined him with her searing golden eyes, though they held much more compassion than when she had stared into Belial’s soul.

He also couldn't deny himself the selfish indulgence of being able to talk to Lute, even if he was sure that it was his mind's conception of her. Still, he sat straighter and folded his hands in front of him on the desk to give her his full attention as if she was truly in front of him right now.

"They are worried?" It was something he had noticed consciosuly. The way they gave their reports as of late, quick and efficient then trying to move into more comforting subjects. Though he knew that if his subconscious was reaching out to him in such a drastic manner, it couldn't be over something surface level. "Am I to assume it is simply not the recent miracles that drained me that give them cause for concern?"

Though it seemed that his question was answered by hers before he could get his own out.

Ah. That explained why this hallucination took the form it did. He leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few moments. Not to avoid answering but to give proper consideration. He knew there would be no tricking his own mind, though it wasn't like he would ever purposefully lie to Lute anyway.

"I suppose there are a few reasons. The first is that I want to give the girls the space to mourn in the way that feels best for them. I have never been connected to another as the girls are to Singers. It is a far more profound a loss than it was to lose my colleagues during the Rebellion. From my understanding of what has been explained to me, it is as devastating as losing a piece of one's soul. I wish not to intrude on that.

"Second, as important as you and yours have been to my life, we did not converse much, if at all. I know that we spoke when I was initially tasked overseeing the health of the Singer's, but I was not allowed interaction beyond that. All of my work on your behalf has been beyond your knowledge. As such, I did not consider myself important enough in your eyes to make such a pilgrimage. That I was simply some other archangel to you."

She was listening but he talked a lot of things she wasn’t here for. The rolling chair moved to his jacket and stethoscope that he had discarded to sit at his desk, putting them on. Yes. She was the doctor today. She didn’t really know what they did but it felt like they fixed people and she was here to help fix him for her sisters. She wanted to look the part.

The jacket almost swallowed her it was so large and she didn’t really know what the stethoscope did other than go in her ears. She closed one eye and tried to look into the bottom of it. No… it wasn’t for looking… she tried to remember what her sisters did with it and she tapped it in thought. OH! It was for listening! She jumped as the taps sounded loudly in her ears.

By this time Raphael had paused in his excuses and she was putting the stethoscope on various inanimate objects to “listen” to them. Finally. There it was. That’s why she was here. She scooted closer to him, putting the listening end of the stethoscope on his forehead. She wondered if one could hear someone’s thoughts through it. That would be helpful.

“Yes. This is why sisters are worried but does not know why Raphael feels this way. Raphael did his best. Does he thinks Lute blames him? Or that sisters blame him for failing Lute? Why is Raphael unworthy?”

It was true he didn’t know her very well. He only knew her through the stories of his assistants and their first interaction where she was guarded and cautious, driven only by the protection of her sisters and not herself.

It also made his heart break knowing so many of the others who never got to find their calling. Or even if his girls would have preferred something that wasn't medical. Raphael had tried to give them as many opportunities to find what drove their passions, but there were so few places where he felt they would be safe enough.

He should have expected her question once he mentioned his guilt. It was reasonable. He sat straighter as if to brace himself.

"I... Am unsure that I have done my best. I acknowledge that everything I did was indeed my best when taking Phim's potential retaliation into account. I was afraid that if I acted too drastically that it would harm the Singers who remained. That if I fought harder, he would prevent me from allowing what little kindness I could afford to you and your Sisters not only before, but... At..."

He paused. He has talked about the Silencing before, to Adam so he could understand the immense pain the Sisters went through. But to say it to Lute of all people was different.

"Did you even ever find out everything that I did?" Raphael whispered almost to himself. He knew there was a circular logic to this. The conflict of his subconscious trying to get him to confront difficult subjects and knowing that this was the case. It wasn't like she was actually here. Actually real. He knew that. But she was so lifelike in front of him.

He supposed that if his mind was manifesting things in such a manner, he should embrace it and try not to think too hard about reality for just a moment. His clasped hands in front of him gripped perhaps a little too hard.

Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.

On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.

“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.

@danger-tits-lute

Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.

It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.

Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.

At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.

"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."

It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.

The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.

How interesting. Adam had known it was a dream, Belial assumed she was a reaper, now Raphael has called her a hallucination…

“Raphael is asleep.” She answered, though what was a hallucination but a waking dream? “Lute wanted to check on him. Sisters are very worried.”

She watched them do their best, but there was no erasing the guilt for what he’d had to do before saving them… and what he couldn’t do to save her. She watched Raphael sit in the Embassy in Hell alone while her sisters visited with her, unable to allow himself to accompany them or see her for himself.

She spun in the chair again, her feet only reaching the metal bar underneath it instead of the floor. Upon her circle back she examined him with her searing golden eyes, though they held much more compassion than when she had stared into Belial’s soul.

He also couldn't deny himself the selfish indulgence of being able to talk to Lute, even if he was sure that it was his mind's conception of her. Still, he sat straighter and folded his hands in front of him on the desk to give her his full attention as if she was truly in front of him right now.

"They are worried?" It was something he had noticed consciosuly. The way they gave their reports as of late, quick and efficient then trying to move into more comforting subjects. Though he knew that if his subconscious was reaching out to him in such a drastic manner, it couldn't be over something surface level. "Am I to assume it is simply not the recent miracles that drained me that give them cause for concern?"

Though it seemed that his question was answered by hers before he could get his own out.

Ah. That explained why this hallucination took the form it did. He leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few moments. Not to avoid answering but to give proper consideration. He knew there would be no tricking his own mind, though it wasn't like he would ever purposefully lie to Lute anyway.

"I suppose there are a few reasons. The first is that I want to give the girls the space to mourn in the way that feels best for them. I have never been connected to another as the girls are to Singers. It is a far more profound a loss than it was to lose my colleagues during the Rebellion. From my understanding of what has been explained to me, it is as devastating as losing a piece of one's soul. I wish not to intrude on that.

"Second, as important as you and yours have been to my life, we did not converse much, if at all. I know that we spoke when I was initially tasked overseeing the health of the Singer's, but I was not allowed interaction beyond that. All of my work on your behalf has been beyond your knowledge. As such, I did not consider myself important enough in your eyes to make such a pilgrimage. That I was simply some other archangel to you."

It was their normal visiting time, the five sisters coming to see the First Man and their lost sister. Of course Adam would escort them to the room where they may tell her all about the current happenings in Heaven or what they were up to themselves.

While they gathered and spent their time with her, Adam would keep his hands within his robes, fingers playing with a ring made from tempered steel sourced from the heavens above. A question had been on his mind for… too long. He wanted to give them space as he normally did, let them have their time but he… couldn’t wait.

The girls for their part had a routine of their own. They tended to their elder sister as if she was merely resting. They knew she was gone if course, but in their mind, it was payment in mind for all the care she'd shown them.

Curette and Suture preened her feathers, carefully carding their fingers through and smoothing them out. Sure, they weren't growing and none needed to be removed, but it was important to them to check nonetheless.

Leech and Forceps tended to the flowers around their sister. They worked carefully to tend to the wildflowers that sprang up spontaneously. There were plants that were considered by some to be weeds, but they were beautiful in their own right and cared for like any other. Though they were prevented from choking out other plants.

Stethoscope meanwhile brushed Lute's hair. Gently pulling the comb through immaculate white hair. Sometimes she braided it in one style or another. Other times she simply let it settle over Lute's shoulders.

But all throughout, they sang. Nothing in particular, but there had to be a song of some kind. Whether it be hymns, folk tunes they learned from deceased in Heaven, or even just ones they conjured themselves. It always gave the room a gentle hum of constant energy. It was only a small taste of their true power as Singers and why Phim had insisted on trying to control them.

Her hands shook as she tried to chop the little bits of roots and dried meat, cutting herself and healing it, trying again and again to make some kind of broth. She wasn't as good as him no matter how hard she tried. It had been many days since he'd been sick and Lute was fearing the worst. Their food stores were low without him to trap or fish and she knew in her soul Azrael was not far away. Still she tried, at least making him tea while she worked on some kind of sustenance for him.

"Adam? Please drink this." She helped lift him up, putting the warm liquid to his lips. He felt hot and weak in her hands and she held back tears, calming herself so she could keep it steady for him. "Lute is try to make Adam food, okay? Please rest."

She put down the cup and wiped his face with a cool, damp cloth, leaving it on his forehead to give him any reprieve she could from his temperature. The season had begun to turn cold, not yet even reaching the winter again since she had been sick. Though thankfully it was not yet cold enough to drop the heat within the house, her fire was low and had been difficult for her to light. She just wasn't very good at human things. She wasn't good at the things he needed her for now. She felt like she should be better; she should have learned more so that she could help him.

But she was a failure.

She hurried to catch the fire before it went out again, putting the water, vegetables, and meat in the pot they used to cook with like she had seen him do, and praying that she was stoking the flames correctly. A single sob made it through her barrier, but she tried not to let him hear. As long as he was resting, she could try to do everything else. She could even try to hunt or forage if she needed to. She would do anything for him.

He wasn't enough.

He knew that that scream was. While those he had his hands in never made that scream because he took their pain, he felt it in his soul. It didn't stop his efforts of course, but he knew that it was too late.

When the barrier was broken, he stumbled, but didn't fall. But what he saw wasn't what he expected. It was almost worse. Lute was lying there in much the same way he had seen her hundreds of sisters before her. However, there were two very important differences.

Not only was Lute's essence nowhere to be seen, but the guards and executioner were nothing but dust.

His soul was in agony. Not only did the extraction lead to nothing since it was... presumably used up the moment it was taken, but there were three additional lives lost. Four lives extinguished and for what? Ego? Dare he say pride?

The angel was silent. Shaking in a mix of anger and sorrow, both inconsolable in their own way. But, ever the healer, he was well-versed in setting his emotions aside, at least temporarily to attend to the task at hand. Though what that task was, he couldn't say. After all, he'd been too late. He dared not approach Lute. For despite having much care for her, Raphael knew this was Adam's place. Not his.

So when Adam commanded him to leave, he did as told. Besides, that tone meant that he was planning... something. Something that he was being warned not to be a part of. He would mourn in his own way.

Her hands shook as she tried to chop the little bits of roots and dried meat, cutting herself and healing it, trying again and again to make some kind of broth. She wasn't as good as him no matter how hard she tried. It had been many days since he'd been sick and Lute was fearing the worst. Their food stores were low without him to trap or fish and she knew in her soul Azrael was not far away. Still she tried, at least making him tea while she worked on some kind of sustenance for him.

"Adam? Please drink this." She helped lift him up, putting the warm liquid to his lips. He felt hot and weak in her hands and she held back tears, calming herself so she could keep it steady for him. "Lute is try to make Adam food, okay? Please rest."

She put down the cup and wiped his face with a cool, damp cloth, leaving it on his forehead to give him any reprieve she could from his temperature. The season had begun to turn cold, not yet even reaching the winter again since she had been sick. Though thankfully it was not yet cold enough to drop the heat within the house, her fire was low and had been difficult for her to light. She just wasn't very good at human things. She wasn't good at the things he needed her for now. She felt like she should be better; she should have learned more so that she could help him.

But she was a failure.

She hurried to catch the fire before it went out again, putting the water, vegetables, and meat in the pot they used to cook with like she had seen him do, and praying that she was stoking the flames correctly. A single sob made it through her barrier, but she tried not to let him hear. As long as he was resting, she could try to do everything else. She could even try to hunt or forage if she needed to. She would do anything for him.

As the Angel said, their time was run out, but Adam wasn’t going to let that stop him as he would go to any lengths to stop this even if it would humiliate him in the end.

Gold wings spread with a great wingspan that stretched and displayed a golden glow of light.

“As the First Son of God I demand our voice to be heard! Stop this madness at once!”

One step, then another and before he could even think of his actions, The First Man was sprinting towards her.

When he began to run to her she pulled against her captors, her own body struggling to meet him but it was for naught. A translucent magenta field around the middle of the courtroom appeared, blocking him from her. That little sparkle of hope remained, despite the pain from not being able to touch him, to have him wrap his arms around her and shield her… protect her.

His words were so commanding, she thought just maybe, he could reason with Highness Phim. His closeness to her is what saved her last time, and he wasn’t even there, could he save her again? She turned to the high seraphim in anticipation. Please…

—

Phim sighed, raising his hand to separate the foolish first man from the Lesser. What a disaster. Raphael will be punished for this. In the meantime, he laughed. “The first son of God” is making demands his first day here?! He is going to learn a very hard lesson very early in his afterlife.

“Adam. I commend you for your bravery and I understand you may have had some authority on earth. But you are no more “God’s Son” than any of us… and there is a hierarchy here for a reason. You. Are not on it. Raphael has done a disservice to you by bringing you here.”

Raphael, a pacifist at heart, surged forward, only for his path to be cut off by the barrier, nearly losing a wing in the process. He instead collided painfully with the barrier. Not only was it a hard material, but just touching it was like electric knives racing up his skin. The archangel grunted in pain as he staggered back. Lute was in danger though. He had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands together as if in prayer and a green sharp point sprouted from them. Without hesitation or fear of the pain, he stabbed into the barrier to pierce it, giving enough room to grip the barrier on each side of the incision he made. Raphael started trying to force an opening into it. But it was tough work. Phim was a more powerful being and the pain was immense. More than any he had taken on before. Magenta lines scoured his skin as he heaved with all his might to make very little progress. He threw his whole being into it as he struggled to make even the small hole that he had. Not even big enough to fit a head through. He just begged. Pleaded with Father, mumbling in pained prayer that it would be enough.