#renren-lore

Officer Sar/Sariel

As a half-Angel, Sariel had worked harder to earn the respect of their colleagues, going above and beyond in spite of the sleepless nights. Most of their work is repetitive, slow- administrative tasks no one else was bothered to get to. Sariel does it gladly, an excuse to shut himself inside of the archives, hands in every report and internal document. The notes he takes in those confidential meetings? Another copy wouldn't hurt to keep in his back pocket.

Others often describe Officer Sar as a brooding man, a reliable soul who unfortunately lost all faith in the world around him. They don't believe him to be religious in the slightest; not the type- they claim. They'd sooner see him at a local festival holding a plush toy he won from a booth. However, they couldn't be more wrong. Sariel's faith not only matched theirs- it transcended it. After all, he believed fully in his role as a sacred piece on the infinite board, his faith pre-determined by the One Above. He had seen it happen in the past, the glorious hand coming from the Heavens, choosing his amidst a crowd of his brethren. He had been chosen. No, was Chosen.

When the gaze of eternal Paradise met his, he knew there was no coming back from this. A path of dark, for the greater good. For survival.

"It is the last time these gears shall turn. As the clock prepares to strike for midday, no other path but forward for a man like myself.

The faithful shall witness a show like no other; a canvas painted by the Hand of a Savior, a gift to them. A gift to Him.

Each of my steps is guided by the notes of the organ, drawing me closer to an aisle of promise and salvation. As I glance at my peers, faces hidden under cloth, none of their hands reaches out to grasp at my sleeve, no voice is raised to interject to this ordeal. Almost impossible to notice, but my pace slows for just a moment, weighed down by a silent prayer- "Put an end to this."

And yet, it never comes.

Like a fish out of water. Or a kitten thrown in a river. A helpless struggle as a force of nature ravages through one's life. And I'm in the middle of it, suffocated by air, and so empty of it.

But in the end? The coldest of comforts, a stabbing embrace as the bells sing in my ears.

"It all haunts me. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it- all these decisions I had made, leading me to this one inevitable outcome. As much as I try to stop them, these thoughts cannot stop crawling back to all of the things I could have- no, should have done differently, making me feel the full sting of regret.

There was a part of me, much more hopeful than I actually was, that wished I had stopped him as soon as that nonsense plan had escaped his mouth. That's what people usually told their friends in that situation, right? "Don't do it. Please reconsider". But of course, I didn't. At the time, I could give him was a simple, grave nod.

Acceptance.

I knew he was being realistic - I had known the man for only a few months, and yet, I had quickly come to realize he would never use the word "Sacrifice" lightly. His last little lesson, I had carved it into my mind, echoing ever since I had heard it. "This isn't the best, but this is the best we can afford to have".

"My will. How does one evenstart a will? I doubt hello would fit the note...

For Genis.

I am addressing this will to the person who matters most in my life, my little brother.

First of all, I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for everything that's happened leading to this situation. I mean more than just this "fight", if anyone would even dare call it that. In my own words, I would have rather described it as "execution", for lack of a better term. Unfair, unprovoked. I can't bear to look at you in the eye, knowing I could have done more for you, even back then. I apologize for the cards that were dealt to you, the opportunity and life you missed on because of our upbringing- I wished to make it up to you, Genis. You, above everyone else, deserved a proper goodbye, something more than a crumpled mess hastily written on a small piece of dusty old paper, covered in splotches of ink and coffee. With how much my hands are trembling right now- it's a miracle I haven't dropped that fountain pen just yet. Still, I must write on.

To you, Genis, I specifically ask that you find fulfillment in this world, a place where you belong, surrounded by people who'll help you grow in my stead. There are so many things I wish I could write down for you, but deep down, I have a feeling you already know exactly what I might say. So, instead, I'll sum it up to just one piece of advice- "Do not drown in your guilt". No matter what, do not let it get in the way of your happiness. I'm watching over you, and I sincerely hope you'll live with pride, because you've earned every last bit of it in my eyes.

To you, Elyes, I ask you to take care of yourself firstmost. You've shown me your will to fight for what's right, and I'm confident you'll push through until the very end. I cannot ask you to take over for me as a mentor, as I believe it isn't a request I can ask of anyone, but if you can- make sure to keep an eye on Genis for as long as you stick around in the City. While I believe it was fleeting, our moments together gave me the comfort and friendship I was yearning for so long. I must thank you for bringing me this peace.

Back to Genis-

To conclude it all, as I look over the top of the envelope, I realize I haven't come up with a proper name for this. Is "My will" a little too on the nose? I can't tell. I'll go back to it in a few hours.

It's now been hours, and I still haven't figured it out. Our good demon friend advised me simply write down "For Genis", and sign with my name. Turns out he's better at writing wills than I am, surprisingly enough...

As one last note; Thank you again. I leave with no regrets. I wish you once again all the best, with my full blessing.

-Metrom

"Lord Zadkiel? If you ask me- he's the kind of person I'd rather interact with sparingly. While a few might feel relieved, or confident even, as they earn his favor, these calm waters deceive easily. The man is no sentimental, and holds no place in his heart for the past. A hundred years or an hour, they fall all the same.

In the end, the man would eventually stab them with the same proximity they proudly put on display, driving the stake cleanly between their ribs- all with the warmest of smiles, too.

Only a select few seemed to be the exception to this rule; his siblings, our leaders, were held to different standards. They were the only ones spared from being crushed under his boot, and yet, they still weren't free from the haunting. The pressure they endured was of a much different nature, driven by the need to perform on a forever stage, duty-bond till the end of times. Perhaps, had I had any pity to share for them, I would weep for their souls too, had they not let the hound run wild for as long as our people could remember. Instead, all I could hope for was for him to find others targets to entertain himself with.

As for his appearance, it has changed quite drastically over the years- hiding most of the marks decorating his body, and disposing of the gold he used to bear. When questioned about such a bold change, Lord Zadkiel's answer was cryptic enough:

"Shedding old skin, that's all."

Something didn't sit right with this choice of words, but nobody dared to ask him to elaborate at the time.

Zadkiel and Raguel

Two sides of the same coin, really. As Zadkiel's influence grew larger over the City, controlling each and every aspect of the Archangels' lives, Raguel swore to himself that he'd never follow into the footsteps of his brother.

No, he couldn't ever see himself behaving so impulsively or be so quick to put down others around him. He had seen the pattern, had been on the receiving end, even. Zadkiel had made the mistake of showing his cards much too early, and if he recalled correctly, it only ended poorly for him. Tragic, Raguel had not even feigned grief.

If anything, he learned that people could do whatever he willed them to without laying a finger on them, fueled by fleeting rewards and the deep-rooted need to please. Fear didn't do any good for his followers, Raguel knew that much. A single smile, and they'd gush about it for days.

Genis and Metrom

Just two angel brothers stuck repaying a debt that's not theirs to begin with. Most of their salaries every month gets yoinked out of their hands to pay it off, added to immense piles of cash nobody will ever touch.

As workers, they've often been antagonized by the other angels above them in the hierarchy, dealing with tantrums and abuse at their hand for years - centuries, even.

Nonetheless, they try to keep their head high, work hard, and play the part. At night though, they're out much later after curfew, ready to take back their own freedom. And so what if petty theft doesn't solve the bigger problem? At least, for just a moment, Metrom and Genis feel like they outwit these angels, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

And if they're found out, big deal. A few guards even turn a blind eye to their antics, letting them off easy with a slap on the wrist at most. They've all been there.