Lost Wings

      words   she’d   spoken  mere  moments  ago  faded  away  the  moment  she  touched  her.   she  wasn’t  sure   why,  but  it  calmed  her  instantly.   the  fear  that  now  lay  dormant,  the  terror  that  maybe  she  wasn’t  as  she  seemed,  just  …..    fell  away.  it  was  alarming,  really.   but  she  wasn’t   in  any  position  to  turn  her  away.   she  was  genuine,  wasn’t  she?   she  should  know  better  than  to  trust  a  mortal,  but  the  brunette  wasn’t  just  any  ordinary  mortal.   she  was  a  former  divine  being.         ❛    you  may  help,     ❜    she  said,  her  tone  soft  as  she  said  it  before  she  backed  away  slightly,  her  arms  crossing  over  her  chest  to  act  as  a  slight  barrier.  zelda  felt  somewhat  raw  and  exposed,  hearing  this  woman list  off  the  things  she  was  feeling.   she  supposed  her  intuition  and  life  experience  had  her  tune  into  zelda’s  fears.    ❛    but  you  will  remain  with  me  at  all  times.   and  you  must  allow  me  to  be  the  one  to  tell  the  coven  what  you  are.   after  what  they  went  through…    they  could  think  they  know  better  than  me  in  this  situation.   ❜    would  they  attempt  to  overrule  their  high  priestess?   suggest  they  know  better  than  her?   she  didn’t  know.  but  she  did  know  ambrose  and  prudence  could  be  extremely  opinionated.   ❛   what  do  we  do  first?    ❜

“Good, well at least that’s settled” Mrs S smiled through her words, “And what you decide to tell the coven, and how and when you tell them...that’s up to you entirely, of course, I won’t interfere” She promised. The fact she’d been able to get this far was miracle enough. Understandably, neither angels or mortals were generally very welcome here...an age old discourse that was hard to put an end to, especially when one side lived for several generations longer than the other. 

“Well, first things first, you’ll need a power boost to be able to keep yourself protected. Enough to keep you going till you find something more permanent, at least,” Mrs S began, feeling confident in explaining things as she always did. This had always been her role, her place in the grand design no matter what her assignment might be; she was good at making people understand and she was good at organising, at seeing how things could play out in the long run, for good or for bad. 

“Now, I know your power did originally come from Lucifer, and he does this thing where he gifts it to you once you sign his book” A concept he’d stolen from one of the books up there. Lucifer had always been prideful, boastful, but never original. “I can’t get you a replacement angel, but I can get you one that might be able to let you borrow for a little while. Though, he might complain an awful lot” She paused in consideration, “But then he complains about most things. I don’t have to bring him here” Mrs Sheringham added in reassurance before Zelda could begin to protest, “I can take you, just you, to him, or I could go, and come back with what we need. That choice is yours. I want you to be comfortable with this” 

Flordeliza was now mixing the baking ingredients thoroughly inside the bowl, her eyes focused on it to make sure everything was mixed well. She wanted to make it perfect and well-baked like her previous pastries she have made before. Pausing herself to take a break and shake her hands, she glanced at the other to respond her question.

“It’s called puto, Mrs. S. You can call it steamed rice cakes, popular in my country.” She replied with a grin, then went to the kitchen cabinet to grab two bottles of food colourings, green and yellow, “They look better when they have this, that’s just me. Some people leave it as it is.”

“Well, bright colours always make things more appealing for most people,” Mrs S agreed, “You know there’s a reason the red and yellow bell peppers always get eaten first in my house” She added with a smile that was bright and warm and genuine, the kind that encouraged others to smile in return. 

“So, steamed rice cakes. Is the clue in the name? Rice steamed...or is there a secret ingredient in puto that you’re not allowed to share?”

         call   it   stubborness  or  maybe  past  experiences  that  have  led  nowhere  decent,  but  she  was  questioning  the  woman  in  front  of  her.  she  needed  to  put  her  coven  FIRST.   could  the  brunette  be  trusted?     ❛    i  hope  you  won’t  take  offense  to  my  next  question,  but  surely,  you  can  understand  my  reservations.   why  is  it  you  wish  to  help  us?   you  are  mortal.   you’ve   hidden  away.   you   could’ve  simply  fled  greendale  or  never  bothered  with  us  at  all.   why  help  us?   why  not  simply  ….    let  us  die  out?   ❜    the  redhead  wasn’t  used  to  people  simply  doing  things  out  of  the  goodness  of  their  hearts.   there  was  always  a  price,  always  an  ulterior  motive,  even  where  she  was  concerned.   it  was  what  made  the  world  turn  on  its  axis.          however,  zelda  couldn’t  help  but  think  about  how  quickly  she’d  shown  her  her  scars.  it  couldn’t  have  been  easy  to  share  and  if  zelda  were  in  that  position,  she  may  not  have  done  the  same.   no.   she  knew  she  wouldn’t.    walking  toward  her,  she  peered  into  the  woman’s  eyes  who  seemed  to  harbor  nothing  but  sincerity.   she  just  couldn’t  understand  why.    ❛    unless,  of  course,  you  mean  to  lead  other  angels  to  us.   ❜    a  brow  rose,  testing  her.    

“I understand them,” Mrs S nodded, “But they don’t have any founding here with me, I promise you. I do want to help. Just because I’m mortal doesn’t mean I’m happy to run away. And I don’t believe in letting anyone die out, especially those that don’t deserve it.  You’re people, you have lives, you have family...why should that be allowed to just disappear because of something beyond your control?” Perhaps it would be different if she was still actively working for Mountjoy, if she still had her wings, that this would count as intervening, messing with the order of things. But she was human, and humans had free will, they could interfere wherever they wanted. And Mrs Sheringham knew in her gut that it was right to help here. 

Mrs S did not back down when Zelda moved closer, she didn’t even step back or falter, but instead met her gaze, her eyes looking into hers in return. “The only angels I ever see these days have no more interest in destroying you than I do,” She assured her quietly, gaze still unwavering, her hazel eyes filled with sympathy and understanding, as she looked at Zelda closely, warmly “I know you’re scared, and without your powers right now I imagine you feel extra vulnerable. I know that feeling, of...seeming like everything’s out of your control because you can’t just snap your fingers and change it. Please, I want to help” Mrs Sheringham reached out and put her hand on Zelda’s shoulder. She might not be an angel anymore, but her touch still held a warm reassurance, “Let me help you”

Mrs S had always liked cooking, and she’d loved seeing how things changed over the centuries, every time she came back to earth there had always been something new, some exploration or technological advancement. Humans could do fantastic things with food...and sometimes it was effortlessly simple. Like ice cream. 

Some humans were more talented than others (Mrs Sheringham would call herself average, but she could do a great bacon sandwich), and Flor was definitely one of them. 

“What’s that your making?” She asked with genuine and warm curiosity, “Looks new"

       ❝ i knew you’d understand, ❞ the archangel smiled. it wasn’t exactly a common belief amongst their brethren. many of them felt the opposite, or at least felt like raphael was naive. the truth really was that she saw their human charges as the FLAWED, BEAUTIFUL CREATURES that they were. it was nice to not feel so alone. ❝ michael and gabriel, they think me naive or blindly ignorant, but i know they’re not perfect. that’s what makes them so fascinating. ❞

Mrs S smiled in genuine understanding, “Michael and Gabriel are....” She tried to think of a nice way to put it, “a wee bit removed. They find it easier to absorb themselves entirely in everything heavenly. It’s their world, they’re comfortable with that. Humans...they’re unpredictable, impulsive, flawed, complicated, secretive, emotional...we can’t fit them all in one neat box. That can make some angels feel uncomfortable” She reasoned.

 “Do you know what was the thing that struck me the most when I became human?” She asked, looking at Raphael with hazel eyes that still looked as if they were filled with universes of understanding and experiences, even though she didn’t have her wings anymore. “The emotions. We feel things as angels, sure, but...the way humans feel things....” Mrs Sheringham her head in disbelief, a smile on her lips, “It’s no wonder sometimes consequences are the last thing on their mind”

   Admittedly, Lucifer had always been curious towards other fallen angels. What their motives were, where their loyalties lied. She had even HELPED some of them — free of charge, of course, as Lucifer liked to think herself different from their estranged father. You didn’t owe Lucifer your undying loyalty, you didn’t have to go to Hell; just remember who was there for you when no one else was, when the time came. Gratitude was a powerful tool.

   If she was honest, she didn’t remember this one. Not even her name. Lucifer knew that these days, she went by Mrs Sheringham. A dreadfully human name, really. BORING.

   “I actually quite acquired a taste for coffee,” she responded. “Who would’ve thought you could create such a nice beverage from a couple of beans?” She smiled, setting down her cup. She leaned forward a little. “Not an angel, though, love. Haven’t been for many millennia. Perhaps you didn’t get the newsletter?”

“Neither am I,” Mrs S countered with a knowing smile, “But just because an old man isn’t a teenager anymore, doesn’t mean he wasn’t one once. Denying who we once were....it’s no different than denying who we are. Our pasts define us, all of us, even you” The waitress arrived and placed Mrs S’ coffee to go on the table, which she thanked her for, before continuing her conversation with Lucifer, “It defines us as much as our choices”

Even if some of those choices held deep regrets. Mrs S would never regret a single moment of her time with Billy, of choosing to be with him, but she’d always regret letting Mountjoy down, letting all the angels down, hugely. 

“But, if--” Mrs S paused, as she noticed a letter underneath her folder of work, “Oh no...that’s the second time this week I’ve forgotten to post that...” An uncomfortable reminder of, for the first time in her long, long, long existence, that she was actually getting older. And forgetful sometimes. “Come on,” She stood up, coffee, in one hand, folder in the other and walked over to Lucifer, standing at her table “You’re obviously not here for no reason; we both know there’s no such thing as coincidences. So...you get that” She gestured to the letter still on her own table, “and you can help me post it. There’s a post box down the street. Walk and talk?” She suggested. “We can get your coffee put into a to go if you like? You can even take it back to my place afterwards...where I have some biscuits. Chocolate ones. Very nice. Delicious, you might say”

             The door clicked closed, and Zelda turned to face her intriguing guest. An intriguing guest who appeared to know a great deal of her and her kind it would appear, she mused as she listened to the other woman yet still kept a step or three between them for caution’s sake. And what rules was this woman breaking, she wondered, almost amused by the notion that rules and guidelines and such triviality could have even the smallest foothold any longer.

             And then the air felt as if it were forcibly removed from her lungs and she was all too aware of her own heartbeat.

             “You’re a fallen angel?” She knew her voice was undoubtedly incredulous, but she could hardly be blamed for it. “You’re a fallen angel and you knew Satan. Well isn’t that.. Is it convenient? I’m not quite sure. Nor am I sure if I should believe you. Why do I believe you?” And she did. It explained the almost-purity that surrounded this woman, the purity of her natural aura, the clarity in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“I knew Lucifer,” Mrs S corrected, “Satan, ‘The Dark Lord’, all those names...they came a long time after. He always did like titles” She spoke like an older sister remembering the trials and tribulations of a younger brother, “His...tyranny came a long time afterwards too” He’d always been bossy, always been bold, prideful...egotistic, but never vicious, never cruel. At least, he hadn’t been when she’d known him in the Heavenly Realms. 

“And I’m not exactly fallen. It’s...well, it’s a wee bit complicated. Lucifer fell because he was punished. He’s still technically an angel, a fallen one, but an angel-- it’s why he’s able to live in Hell, why he could give you your powers” And why he was still a threat to the realms if he allowed his ego to take him places he wasn’t supposed to. One thing that had never changed was Lucifer never knew when to quit. 

“I’m....” It was hard to explain without getting too much into and Mrs S was very aware that time wasn’t on their side right now. Not with Pan at his usual tricks. “I didn’t fall. I asked to be human. I gave up my wings, they weren’t taken from me. I’m afraid I’m not here with powers or gifts...just with experience and advice. And I can help you, I promise...if you can trust me”

             𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, evangeline ––– evie, to her friends –– hadn’t had much luck in the friend department. having been raised in relative isolation, away from the internet and social media for most of her life, she didn’t exactly take to social interaction like a duck to water; her references were odd and out-dated, and the few dates she’d been on were awkward and embarrassing for both parties, with evie’s blunt honesty startling more than her fair share of suitors… women and men alike. 

mrs. sheringham was an exception, however. a kind woman who didn’t mind evie’s long stretches of silence, or her odd comments from time to time. her patience was a gift, and her choice in restaurant sushi a delight. ❝ please, do. ❞ she let her dog, gabriel, off his leash, watching him dash around for a moment or two before rounding back and resting his head against her thigh, doting eyes shining between the two women. a gentle, but energetic golden retriever, she’d had him for just about as long as she’d been living there. 

❝ it’s a beautiful day. I thought about doing some gardening, but I decided to close the shop early and come here. I’m glad I did. ❞ the ducks across the pond swam in little circles, a relaxing sight to focus her eyes on. ❝ mrs. sheringham, do you think everything happens for a reason? fate, destiny… do you believe in those things? ❞

As Mrs S sat down, she watched Gabriel take off with reckless abandon, as he simply enjoyed the freedom and delight of a mere park, carefree and unaware of any of the human woes and worries of the world. She really did love dogs. 

“Ah, the age old dilemma; how best to spend a sunny day” Mrs Sheringham said with amusement, “Do you spend it being productive, or do you just...drink in the good weather and relax?” Too often she saw humans feeling guilty for allowing themselves some indulgence, feel some need to make up for having one lazy day, as if the world only turned if they worked, that that was humanity’s only purpose; to be productive and constantly hard-working. It wasn’t true. The world was here to be enjoyed, not ignored from behind an office wall. People might need to work to live, to have money and a livelihood for themselves, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a day or two in the sun. 

“Ooh, big question for lunchtime,” She acknowledged, even as she opened the food she had brought for the both of them, making sure Gabriel wasn’t quite in reach of it. “But...yes, yes I do, actually. I don’t believe anything happens at random, I think there’s always a rhyme to everything in the end, even if we can’t always see it” She looked at Evie with sympathetic curiosity, “Why? What’s on your mind?”

“You should be proud of yourself, bringing them all together like that” Mrs Sheringham observed, leaning against the door jamb where only moments ago a collection of Hedge Witches had been gathered, planning together, after having answered a call Zelda and her coven had made. “Of course, someone told me they did want to kill you at first but....now they’re all working together. You should be very pleased with what you’ve accomplished” But she hadn’t come into the room merely to compliment the witch, “I heard back from one of my own contacts, about helping you, with your powers"

The three main rules for angels when on tour of duties on Earth are:

1. Don’t get emotionally involved with them. 

2. Don’t sleep with them. 

3. Don’t kill them,

And Mrs S definitely never did the third, but broke rules one and two fully and completely. And those important for-the-greater-good rules are important to her, and things like that only get broken when she believes it’s utterly necessary and vital, which just shows how much she fell in love with Billy. She’s absolutely ancient, old as time really, and one man in all those thousands upon thousands of people she had met over centuries and millennia, made her throw those rules out and just give it all up.

Mrs Sheringham’s name

Mrs S is/was one of the oldest angels (we’re talking old enough that she was born an angel, a created angel, back when the world was still being built) and with that comes an ancient, angelic name. 

Her name, however, is in a language that can’t be spoken by human tongues, just like with all the other angels. And like all the other Created Angels, her angelic name had a meaning; hers was ‘good heart, noble spirit’ (conversely, her friend Zak’s meant ‘Lively indulgence’), which is why whenever she was on earth, she took the name that meant the closest, which is Mona (an Irish name meaning ‘noble and good’). It also felt conveniently fitting considering her tours of duty on earth always had her involved with Ireland in some manner, be it directly or indirectly. This is a name that was used by her fellow angels when they’re on earth, because when on tours of duty, they are obviously in earthly form with earthly languages. Some angels even prefer the earthly version of their name. 

However, when Mona gave up her wings in order to become human and take her chances with the man she had fallen in love with, she felt that losing her wings also meant losing the right to that name, even the mundane version of it. Her husband appreciated her sentiment and never forced it, calling her by the nickname Birdie, but since his death, she is reluctant to use that nickname as well, because that was Billy’s and Billy’s alone.