#putrefacion

⅋. THE GILDED CORRIDORS OF HEAVEN'S INNER PALACE STRETCH INTO ETERNITY. One can go mad climbing stairwells and circling domed towers of the choirs for hours. endless spirals of sanctity, corniced with high columns reaching toward the skies. It all gleams with the might of heaven, a maze of holy halls. THE SHARP CUT OF HIS LIEUTENANT DOES NOT MOULD TO THE SHAPE OF HIS CHAMBERS. Beneath the dome which rises above, this architectural hollowed heart, a vast bowl of stone and light, the jagged edges of her are antithetical. His exorcists wear carnage like a second skin. They're brutal creatures, birds of prey built for war, and there is no absolution for monstrous things in a holy place. The remnant of violence staining Lute's uniform carnellian does not surprise him — he expects nothing less from her.

But as she stands at the threshold, a small flutter of judgment, her dictum stabs him with its admonition. The Commander's arms cross over his chest as he indulges her impromptu interrogation, composure at first tempered. ❛ Words from a demon’s mouth mean nothing. ❜ He scoffs, as if to dissuade her doubts. As if it were all part of some grand joke. They both know it isn’t. What he does in the Inferno is his private affair to keep — there is an understanding shared between the knight and the demon nobles. It is the etiquette of war, the treatise of politics; THAT THE REAL AGREEMENTS ARE MADE BENEATH THE TABLE. She does not back down, but neither does he. His tone is like glass left in a desert, collecting irritation as though it were heat. With a shrug, he pushes past her, stalking into his own quarters. ❛ The Rings know whose hand moves the sword when the decrees fall. It's simple. The Devil and all his court know it. Heaven knows it, too. ❜ Even if the wheels of bureaucracy would never recognise any of the dirty work done to oil its machinery. ❛ They just don't like acknowledging it. ❜

A KNIGHT IS A CUTOUT OF DUTY. His sword is pledged to St. Michael, and it speaks the language of bloodshed in God's name. In this, Adam has never faltered. Wing dipped in blood, he has never doubted any order or command thrown at him. EVERYTHING HE DOES, HE DOES IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN. It is not sin, he's convinced himself as he shakes hands with an Overlord. It is duty, he tells himself as he drafts terms with informants from across Inferno. It is simply necessary. ❛ Is that what you think this is? Well, fuck me. Maybe they would call it treason, but the High Council calls anything treason that doesn’t bend to their will. ( Commander stalks forth, grasping her jaw in one gloved hand; not hard, just reprimanding. ) Tell me, Lute — when did ledger-keepers last cleanse a pit of Hellspawn with their own fucking hands? ❜

She looks to him. Their eyes meet. Frustration crawls across his ribs, his essence, a caged monster wrought of centuries of service. ❛ We’re the ones getting down and dirty, gutting demons in the dark. Heaven sure does love its victories, but they can't stomach the stench of them. ❜ It is not an admission. She won't win that from him, not yet. It's a dangerous territory they venture into. What he asks of her goes beyond the purpose she was designed for, and for a flicker of a second, Adam's not quite sure her loyalty to him can withstand the erosion of his own values.

The television demon's familiarity with the Lemegeton and the Enochian language from his time in Pasadena was really coming in handy about now. The whole concept of actually binding an angel had been purely theoretical until now. As makeshift as this whole operation was - and as frustrating as the repeated failures to get through whatever defense systems kept him from her body's secrets - this was a triumph. There's a flash of blue light, and suddenly, a face is looming directly over Lute. Rather, a mockery of a face displayed on a television monitor. It smiles with jagged glass. It bleeds red blood from the edges, dirty blood, sinner's blood. "Careful. I'm not really... conventionally religious, but I'm well read enough to know arrogance is dangerous for your kind. Especially when I'm the best friend you could hope for down here."

How does Lilith view Heaven’s hand in shaping her — as betrayal, as indifference, or as a challenge to overcome?

What does freedom mean to Lilith? Is it independence from Adam, from God, or from the entire system? / homework time for you, Kotys!!

Does Lilith still see Adam as part of her story, or has she outgrown him entirely?

Outgrowing the past is inevitable when you're as busy as she is. There have been chunks of years, if not outright decades, where she didn't think of him at all as Lilith worked relentlessly to build a somewhat functional society that was in constant motion and fluctuation due to the consistent downpour of sinners in Pride. Adam would inevitably become mythologized in her mind, his physiognomy fragmenting into bits that she recognized in the sinners she encountered. She has never quite understood why some sinners tugged at her heartstrings more than others. Was it something in their gaze? The quirk of their mouths that looked familiar? Or mannerisms that brought her to a pause? In reality, Adam has never once left her story. He's always been there with her, "survived" (if you can call it that) through his descendants who have become her "children" too. As long as Lilith watches over the sinners, Adam will never part from her story.

How does Lilith view Heaven’s hand in shaping her — as betrayal, as indifference, or as a challenge to overcome?

She sees it for what it is - neglect, rejection and abuse. Once upon a time, she might've seen it as a challenge to gain their approval as she protested against their mistreatment, but the moment the spears were pointed at her and they declared they wanted her demise, all faith in Heaven dissipated. It betrayed her, abandoned her and tried to destroy her. The hands that shaped her only to reject her in the end are the basis for her bitterness against those inhabiting the upper realm.

What does freedom mean to Lilith? Is it independence from Adam, from God, or from the entire system?

Questions/Comments. @putrefacion

It was unwise to invoke her ire. Why ask such a thing? Did the other wish to see what the witch looked like when considering someone she held such contempt for?

The smile upon Mortem's lips didn't fade, but it ceased to reach her gaze. Black eyes stared, a small flicker in the energy around her. Why would you make her think about them? About him.

"Those I despise do not last long in this world. It is partly my duty to extinguish those that lack potential and make way for those that do." But there was more. The way her jaw set subtly and it takes her clasping her hands behind her back to not flex her fingers with the bone-deep fury she feels.

"But what is worse is when there is an exception." Him. It's him. "Someone with beautiful potential who knows the game, and yet I find I desire nothing more than to see their head at my feet. I despise when my purpose is warring with itself over another... and I'm left in suspense, unable to act, unable to be until something changes."

Who do you despise?

When he splits, does each half feel like the ‘real’ him — or are both equally incomplete without the other?

When humans or angels interact with him on Earth, do they sense they’re speaking to one being, or do they feel the echo of two? / homework time for you, Bug!!

🎨🎨 @putrefacion | some muse homework! And you said shots fired!

Does Estes see himself as his own being, or always as Metatron’s fragment? What does ‘self’ mean to someone who was never meant to be whole?

Behold, an incredibly complicated question to answer. Estes isn't Metatron's child, not in the way that so many of the other angels are. But he's also not just a fragment of Metatron-- it might be easier if he were. They're interlinked all the way down, but not the same either.

If he uses his whole name, it's Mizrael, or if he's split, Matariel. it's that same initial M sound, for Matariel, in a lot of ways, its just a half-shade to the left. And in fairness, it's rare that they use these names. And they chose Estes and Eved! Both of which are two of the many names for Metatron. So one one side, the E's are distinct! But they're not a step away from Metatron either.

Estes sees more behind the curtain than potentially anyone else, but he's also aware that he never wants to be Metatron.

He sees himself as an individual, there's no doubt of that, but there's the ever-present knowledge too, that he's not really like any of the other angels. He's the oldest child, he's the youngest, he's the one who's never grown up, and the one who chooses to stay, he's not Metatron's child at all. He's a bit of a sarcastic menace, but is it an equivalent to teenage rebellion or simply who he is?

When he splits, does each half feel like the ‘real’ him — or are both equally incomplete without the other?

The answer is somehow 'yes'. They exist as individuals, in some hazy grey area between a twin, a clone, and an alternative personality. They are their own connective tissue. They exist apart from one another, in theory, or at least, they can, but you also can't have one without the other. One cannot die, and the other survive. You can't choose which half you like, they're too connected.

Is Eved the wiser, more responsible half or simply the one that was tasked with continuing the record while Estes left to Earth? Is Eved a fragment of Estes, like he is of Metatron, or a second person that can fit inside the same skin? In either case, the separation is less... clear than with Metatron.

One of them is all blue, and one looks more like Metatron-- the same pale hair. But if one of them is also the glamour, then which of the faces is true? Is either of them?

It was different at the start too, but the familiarity with being apart has become part of it too. There's a certain discomfort that can come from being combined for too long too, the idea that it's too much person for one body. If they were fractions, then they're in the space between 1/2 and 1.

When humans or angels interact with him on Earth, do they sense they’re speaking to one being, or do they feel the echo of two?