divinity live

“You’re doing more than contributing, you’re doing good, Laviah,” Uriel reassured, letting her finish her prayer first. She had attained resources and collected a loyal gathering, making their mission more feasible by each passing day. “You’ve spread the message loudly and continuously – God must be proud.” 

“Reality with angels. I suppose the irony will be a clever inside joke amongst us angels,” he noted, grinning. Humans barely knew anything, and yet, they were the center of this war. While it was important to convince them to join the proper side - their side - it almost got tiring to repeat the same information over and over again ( like a broken record ). This debate would allow for more exploration, more insight into their moral cause. 

And frankly, these humans weren’t READY for a reality with angels. It was the sole reason why they were harboring the body of prophets, blending into society seamlessly. “May there be a day where the world is truly free of doubters. Instead they’re parasites, sprouting at the slightest ripple of disbelief.” 

“No fighting? Well that’s boring,” he joked, “but we’ll have to put on the best impression for the cameras. Maybe get Zahariel a good makeup crew.” 

Uriel scoffed, shaking his head upon hearing the statistic. No wonder the world had been on the verge of COLLAPSE. These humans had strayed too far away from faith, grown to comfortable with modernity ( none of which could save them from the war ). “I’m not wearing a lab coat, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” 

Praise from Uriel in any form was its own sort of blessing and Laviah glowed underneath it, a single dimple flashing at her cheek before she pressed her hands to her face, amazed at the warmth of it. “I pray He is,” She murmured back happily, eyes suddenly narrowing in determination on the other angel’s face, dropping her hands to point at him, “ And don’t you discredit your own work, Uriel. I won’t have it.” 

The mention of irony sprouted a grin, Laviah shaking her head in near amazement, “I feel guilty sometimes, for the fun of it,” she confessed with a little shrug, “There’s so much we could say -- far too much for any of them to handle.” And the darker underside of withholding the truth: the care the angels had to take in making sure they painted no targets on their backs for the humans and the damned who had taken extreme measures in fighting their useless campaign against heaven. 

It wouldn’t do to have herself singled out and expelled before her work was done. The tightrope on which Laviah balanced was a precarious one, ever heightened by the exposure of public works, but it was necessary. If she was to come to earth, she would not cower. “And those parasites are losing,” she said soothingly, “You know they are. They don’t have any other choice.” 

“It’s sacrilegious to interrupt prayers,” he responded, smiling. The company of angels had  always been welcomed, especially within the church of God. It was almost like heaven … almost. Instead, they were bound to prophets and mimicking human life. Then again, it could be worse, they could have been disgraced. Fallen and forgotten, ready to be hunted. 

He supposed that was half the fun, the chase. 

“A debate? Which non-believing scientist have you convinced to join us?” he asked, turning towards her. His tone had been playful, even if the insult against all naysayers had been obvious. “It’s a tempting offer, Laviah.”

Gathering a crowd, enforcing the propaganda. It would be another way to get their message to spread. Not to mention, the minds on campus ( even the doubtful ones ) could at least open their eyes to the inevitable war that lay ahead. “Perhaps I’ll even give my class bonus points for attending. Urge them to join us.” 

There was more power in numbers, more voices spreading the overarching message. “Hopefully faces of our enemies. Maybe we should have Zahariel watching the audience, picking them out.” 

“I’m not interrupting, I’m contributing,” Laviah said matter-of-factly, sparking her lighter and holding the flame until the wick of her candle caught. The prayer was an easy one to call up, one for the angel beside her, for the ones throughout the city and throughout the world. They had no easy task, but, she reminded herself, it was the one that mattered more than any other. 

“That’s the best part,” There was a little flair of victory in her voice, but Laviah did her best to tamper down any unnecessary pride, “We’re past debating existence and on to what it means: ‘the moral implications of a reality with angels’.” She recited the title with a satisfied lilt. It was, on paper, a rhetorical debate, but to see the discourse move from proving their own presence to identifying what it meant was a positive shift. “Even the ‘opposing’ side is free of doubters.”

The image Zahariel skulking about backstage made Laviah laugh, the angel shaking her head, “I’d like to have you both there, as long as you don’t pick fights. We’re recording, remember?” 

location: general coffee shop time: is a societal construct availability: everyone x

It wasn’t late per se; it was just late for her, considering the number of hours she’d slept in the last 24 hours – at least less than 3 hours, by her own estimation – after the 12 hour shift she’d just gotten off of. The coffee shop was buzzing with people gearing up for a full day; she caffeinated for the sake of routine, daydreaming idly as people brushed by her table by the window. She should’ve been sleeping, to be perfectly honest, but the sun was shining, and energy was too high for her to manage it: Azrael was leaving to her own devices.

Hand guided by precision borne of anatomical charts, she watched as the coffee crowd inched forward towards the register, doodling on the napkin next to her, likenesses of everyone popping up in every form on her napkin. The crowd swelled; her hand did not: noticing suddenly the object of her focus wandering closer (either on purpose or by chance she did not know), she crumpled the napkin in her fist, blood rushing to her face.

“Sorry,” she murmured softly, laying her head down on her arm, simultaneously embarrassed and tired, low enough to be dismissed; loud enough to be counted as a reasonable apology. “If I was staring,” she clarified.

Laviah had never taken to coffee strongly, the bitter taste was overwhelming and the sugar required to cover it up was just as much so. But Susanna Castillo had. This body had once consumed a triple shot cappuccino religiously every morning and so Laviah carried out the old ritual with zeal, even if ‘Susanna’s’ choice to go freelance meant she wasn’t under the scrutiny of the woman’s old coworkers any more.

She’d only just smilingly asked the cashier for her regular when that little muffled ping of recognition went through her, like the vibrations of a fingernail flicked against a crystal glass, Laviah craning her head immediately towards the source. Aha! Bent over a napkin, scribbling madly away -- she knew that face and the two heads that lay behind it. What fun it was to engage, regardless of which there was to meet. 

location: church open: anyone that wants to deal with him

It had been late – or getting late. The sun had set, the wind was picking up, and winter finally filled into the crevices of the town. Most people ( humans ) were probably cozy at home, relaxingnafter a busy day of work. However, angels didn’t have that alleged privilege - they were always working, always sacrificing for God. 

And why wouldn’t they? His word had been the only one that mattered.

And right now, their job had been WAR. Slowly, but surely, churches like these would be filled with fanatics. All of them demanding for the holy war, practically begging for it. The world had been plagued with sins for too long ( and it was time to set it ablaze ). 

Stepping forth, he approached the votive candles, all while hearing someone else enter the empty church. It would be silly to think he was the ONLY one praying ( no, no they would soon have an entire army praying ). 

“They say you light candles with the thought of someone in mind, praying for their soul.”

“So, here’s to those who shall lose the war.” The holy war, disgraced angels and fickle minded humans alike. 

And there he was, silhouetted against his candles, always going for the dramatic effect. Laviah’s painted-red smile was genuinely fond as she walked up the long aisle to join the other angel, heels clicking on the floor and her coat carefully folded over her arm.

“Yes, Uriel, you sound very frightening,” She said warmly, hand resting just a moment on his shoulder, brushing her lips in a barely-there kiss against his cheek before she’d retracted her touch again, “I’m sure if I was any other hapless creature off of the street, I would be prostrated before you this very moment.” 

Laviah turned her head to admire the other votives scattered around the church in their little holding-stairs, a hundred prayers and wishes flickering their golden light against the walls. She’d stopped in this church before, and in countless others in this city, to say prayers of her own and revive herself in the holy space. The streets outside would always swarm with humans, but it wasn’t so within these walls. To see the people still come and give praise warmed her heart, though she knew inevitably the efforts of the faithful few couldn’t save them. 

In the darkness, Laviah thought, nearly wistful, it was always a gift to see even the tiniest glimpses of light. 

“I’m moderating a debate at the university this week,” she said, head cocking curiously to the side as she turned back to him, reaching for her own unlit candle, “Do you think you’ll join the masses this time? There could be a few faces you might recognize... ”