Negotiation (Mythklok, Chapter 27)
Jan. 26th, 2011 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Negotiation (Mythklok, Chapter 27)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sariel recuperates whilst The Littlest Angel manages Dethklok
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking cessation, drug use, omg angel sechs
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
capslokdethklok.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also put together a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A recap of recent events: those darned angels have been at it again! Last time, one of them tried to start an all out war between the Legion and the earth. Fortunately, Our Heroes were on the job, and war was averted! Yay! Sadly, the events have sparked an angelic Civil War, which may well lead to Unfortunate Consequences. Oops! Oh, and Charles has been parted from his One True Love: cigarettes. But, hey, who’s been minding Dethklok while he’s recuperating?
Negotiation (Mythklok, Chapter 27)
Somewhere far far away….
Cherubim are the bureaucrats of the angelic universe. Consider them the DMV workers of the upper realms. Though this, combined with a natural tendency towards gossip, does not tend to make their breed beloved, their function is essential. At least, if you ask them.
So it was not surprising to find a flock of Cherubim gathered around their water cooler in the middle of their working day (it was a golden water cooler, equipped with three splendid fountains, but these are angels we’re talking about). They dropped crumbs from their slices of a sheet cake on the beige carpet as they endlessly hashed over the recent promotion of a typically mediocre colleague.
What was unusual was to have their nattering interrupted by a pair of fiercely fighting Seraphim warriors.
Being an angelic structure, the office was, fortunately, furnished with ceilings that may have seemed to human eyes extraordinarily high. Therefore the two battling angels had plentiful room to swing their flaming swords beneath the ornate, candle-decked chandeliers. They had not, however, such free reign beneath their massive feet, and thus soon caused the collapse of a great number of cubicle walls, not to mention the smashing of several slightly outdated computers as well as the crushing of the fussy copy machine.
The flaming swords set off the sprinkler system, so now in addition to the grunts of battling monsters there were alarms and flashes of light.
And then the water pooling on the beige carpet was stained red, as the victor fatally stabbed his opponent through his mighty angel heart. The unlucky combatant toppled to the floor, taking out the rest of Accounts Receivable.
As the victor stood trying to catch his breath, a Cherubic office manager strode out before him. She put her hands on her hips, and waited for the panting Seraph to turn his attention.
"What?" grunted the Seraph.
"Who intends to pay for all this?" she snapped, wagging a finger. "I suppose you have a budget number!"
"A what?" rumbled the bloodied warrior.
"A budget number. What is your budget number?"
The Big Seraph grinned. Her head came off with one easy flick of his still hot sword. He raised the bloody blade to the huddled office workers and grinned. "Here's my budget number."
Well, they were Cherubim, but they weren’t stupid.
The rest of the office abruptly dropped their coffee cups, True Formed and fled.
Right here, right now….
"OH MY GOD, NATHAN! Can you help me?"
"Sure, uh, Your Majesty or whatever."
"Sariel left this beautiful stack of pencils on his desk, and I knocked it over, and now I can't stack it back!"
Nathan smiled indulgently. Raz was such a weird little chick. Though, she was married to Wotan, and he was an OK dude. Plus she had nice tits. Though, he wondered if it was OK to think that about a pregnant lady? Maybe it was weird? Huh. What was he thinking about again? He had come to the office for something urgent. Oh, to help Raz stack pencils!
He had actually sort of been expecting Ganesh dude to be sitting here. He had come down a couple times to check on them, and he was cool, especially if he had been smoking with Pickles first. He said he couldn't smoke at home anymore because Charles would totally bust him, which was kind of the funniest thing ever, Mr. Marlboro turning into a fucking nanny. Nathan wanted him to get back so they could bust his balls about it. But, not because he missed him or anything too gay.
"Hey, why does the phone keep ringing?" Nathan wondered.
"Oh, I dunno, some guy keeps calling. His name sounds like Butter-brickle-son? Anyway, he was pretty rude, and it's not nice to be rude to a pregnant lady!"
"Yeah, what douche," Nathan agreed, idly trying to remember if there was somebody whose name sounded like butter brickle? Mmmmm. Ice cream.
"I think I need ice cream! Can I go now?" Nathan asked impatiently.
"Oh, sure Nathan! But, can I call you if I have another problem?"
“Sure, Raz, any time!” And the door slammed behind him.
Raziel looked at Nathan’s neat pyramid of pencils. She grinned and poked at it, sending it toppling over.
Ganesh kicked off his shoes and thumped down on the couch, stretching out his long legs next to Pickles and gesturing with a hand. Pickles smiled and handed over the joint.
"Bad day, dood?"
"All of them are bad days,” Ganesh sighed. “NEVER head your own religion."
"Heh. I'll remember dat."
"And how fares our patient?"
"He's OK. He started tryin' t' teach me finance an' I t'ink bored himself to sleep."
"So you sneaked out for a smoke?"
"Don't knock it!"
"I'm not." Lord Ganesh exhaled and passed the joint back to Pickles. "Did you want to get back home for a while?" he breathed, his voice slightly harsh.
"I'm OK up here fer now. Lady Raz is holdin' da fort at Mordhaus today."
"That I should like to see! Your band mates are quite mischievous. As can be the queen."
"Mischievous? I guess dat's one way t' put it." Pickles drew his legs up underneath himself. “So, yer brudder Skanda is gone?”
“He has been sentenced to live out the remainder of his life as a human. To my people, this is the worst that may befall one.”
“Huh. Set’ is an asshole, but I don’t t’ink da dood ever tried t’ actually kill me.”
“To be completely fair to my brother, I once before slew him, so we are, in that sense, even.”
“Uh, what dood?” Pickles asked. Ganesh leaned over and snatched back the joint.
“He once stupidly challenged me to a duel, and I bested him.” Ganesh’s smile was more than a touch malicious.
“Whoa. And, den he just kinda popped back?”
“It is what we do, my people. That is, until it is our time to move on.”
“An’, dis wasn’t yer time?”
“I didn’t feel so. Although I had a rather lively debate with Great Brahma regarding this matter. I simply refused to be parted from Sariel.”
“Dat’s pretty feckin’ romantic, dood,” Pickles said, exhaling. “I mean, feck.”
Ganesh shrugged. “I can be stubborn. When I feel it is warranted. In addition, recall, I was up there alone for quite some time. One tends to grow pretty fucking horny.” Pickles nearly spit out the joint when he laughed, and soon they had both dissolved into happy stoned giggles.
"Some guy, Rikki-tikki-tavi?" Raziel told Skwisgaar. He had asked why her email inbox kept chiming.
"I ams not knows hims," the Guitarist mused.
"Well, thanks a bunch for these Swedish meatballs from IKEA," she noted, spooning one into her mouth.
"Ams no problems. I ams goes to gets more lamps for Charles' comings homes parties.
"Good lighting! It's essential!"
"Ams goods lightsings!"
"Well, I don't want to keep you or any of your lovely ladies waiting!" she called, and he departed the office. Lucky he had come by when he did! Though, he thought as he strode down the hall, he couldn't quite remember what he had come to talk about. Ah well....
Pickles couldn't remember when he'd had such a pleasant time. No, he could remember. It was the last time he'd hung out with Ganesh. Here he was, like the head god dude of his whole thing, and he could kick off his shoes and just enjoy a good buzz.
Maybe some of this could finally rub off on fucking Charles.
Pickles frowned at the joint in his hand. Fucking Charles....
"Is something troubling you, my friend?" Ganesh asked.
Pickles seemed to be considering something. "Uh. Yoo know, Gannish? I missed yoo too, when yoo were gone."
Ganesh plucked the joint from the other man and leaned back, smiling. "That is a kind thing to say, my dear friend."
"Is dat what I am?"
"Have I caused offense such that you would not consider yourself my friend?" Ganesh inquired.
Pickles leaned forward, as if to catch back the joint. But instead, planting one hand firmly on Gaesh's thigh to steady himself, he leaned over and kissed the god, who, maddeningly,
did neither anything to discourage nor encourage him, but rather simply let himself be kissed, and then studied Pickles in an agreeable manner whilst taking another long drag.
"The question, I think, is this," Ganesh said to him. "Is it genuinely me you wish, or do you too regret parting from Sariel?"
Pickles blinked, having no idea how to answer.
"YOU GUYS ARE SMOKING!"
Pickles jerked around to see Charles standing in back of the couch, wrapped up in oversized pajamas beneath an oversized bathrobe, silvery hair impossibly mussed, blinking blind and silvery without his eyeglasses. He was trying, and failing miserably, to look angered, but instead looked like he needed exactly what Pickles did next, reaching over the back of the couch to pull him close. Pickles then capped this gesture with a rather enthusiastic kiss, which very quickly turned perhaps a bit too enthusiastic, considering one of the parties was ill and groggy, and the other just a bit high, causing Pickles to lose his balance and pitch over backwards, first onto the couch beside Ganesh, who wisely pulled his long legs out of the way, and thence to the floor, dragging a surprisingly cooperative Charles all the while on top of him.
"Ow," said Pickles, though it could barely be heard over gales of delighted laughter from Ganesh.
"Come on," said Ganesh, after he had recovered somewhat. "Bedroom," he continued, pulling up the still strangely unprotesting Charles. Pickles lay there for a bit, feeling annoyed and frustrated, until he felt himself being tugged up as well.
"I said, bedroom," Ganesh repeated, smiling and handing Pickles back the joint.
"Oh my god, thank you for the help with the butterfly stitches, Toki," Raziel gushed. The guitarist smiled. She was such a dreadfully knitter! He had had to pull out almost everything she did and start over. Lucky he'd thought to come to the office! Though, he couldn't quite remember now why he'd come to the office.
"Why ams da videophones keep ringsing?" Toki asked.
"Oh, some guy named something like Snickers-son."
"Mmmm, Snickers!"
"He wanted to talk, but he had such tacky shoes! Why would Sariel even deal with someone who wears such terrible shoes?"
“Oh, he does not has da tastes sometimes! Ams you cravin’ da candies?”
“Oh, I’m always craving candy! I’m eating for three! Wanna go get me a chocolate bar?”
"Ja! I ams gets more candy!" Toki promised, dropping his knitting in the chair.
Raziel waited until the door was closed, and the stole over to Toki's knitting project and quickly unraveled it.
Ganesh, his mind still floating on whatever had been in Pickles’ joint, glowed with anticipation: a night with two beautiful men. The afterlife had been so tiresome, that oaf Brahma poncing about with his pink Financial Times under his many arms. Had they honestly expected Ganesh to fly off beyond the universe when there were still so many delicious men to be had here on earth? Unsupportable. How he had ached for sex, the delightful feel of another's skin, the rich smell of sweat, the glorious entangling of bodies....
And then to return to such a frightful mess, his beloved city in ruins, Shiva in a half mad state, and Sariel.... Well, he didn't care to think of what may have come to pass had Brahma delayed him even a single day longer. And now Ganesh had been forced to take over ceremonial leadership of the family business as well as its operation. He had long wondered at his father's bad moods and snappishness; now he understood.
But he must push aside such cares, and stay in the moment. As if by some unspoken agreement, he and Pickles were silently removing Sariel's clothing. The angel seemed... How could he term it? Almost serene this night. It was unusual, as Sariel could be so skittish about being touched. Perhaps it was the restful nap out in the sun. He seemed to be getting plenty of sleep, which was encouraging, although he still needed to be coaxed and cajoled to eat. Ganesh had even put aside a longstanding prohibition to allow Lady Raziel to bring a cooler full of Wotan's supposedly irresistible steak sandwiches to Gamesh's residence for him, and Pickles had carted up some equally tasty looking pies. But it was all frustration: nourishment simply seemed a queer alien concept to the angel. His breathing had much improved, but he remained frightfully thin.
Ganesh frowned. His thoughts were drifting away to cares and worries again. Now was not the time. He had already extended an extra pair of hands, which seemed to cause Pickles a moment of consternation. But lust will do as it will, and after Ganesh had pulled Sariel up into his lap, wrapping firmly around him and gently brushing his lips along the angel's neck, the drummer had soon recovered himself sufficiently to slide nearer the bottom of the bed and, kneeling there, attend to Sariel's growing erection with his tongue and mouth. Ganesh felt the angel in his lap slightly arch his body and emit a very soft moan. Such a beautiful way to unwind, slowly and gently. He extended an arm around Sariel’s chest, the angel’s soft chest hairs brushing along his arm. He was growing half mad with desire.
And then Ganesh saw it, the flash brightening of the aura. It went white hot. He had never beheld such a thing.
He should have been terrified. But the bright angel was so kind with them. He could have broken them, either one, with a thought, but there were only murmurs in the sweet angel language and thrilling caresses. It was amazing. Ganesh had been snapped out of his moody reveries and back into the delights of his body. And when it was over, Lord Ganesh felt himself sung to sleep on the softest bed of silvery angel feathers. He had never felt so warm and loved.
“Oh, thank you so much, William!” Raziel said, removing her ear protection. “I was having a terrible time deciding between the Glock and the Kel-Tec!”
Murderface hit the button, and the target retriever brought the head and shoulders silhouette whizzing back to him, bullet holes scattered fairly randomly about it. “I would usche the Kel-Tech for conschealed carry!” he counseled.
“Oh, yes, sadly, I never could get the hang of your human firearm thingies,” she tutted.
“Why isch your schell phone ringing like that?” the bassist wondered.
“Oh, some guy named Sticklebuns or something like that keeps interrupting me."
"Schticklebunsch, huh? Hey, do you think Picklesch may have left behind any of hitch schinnamon bunsch?"
"If you run to the kitchen, could you pick up some for me too? I'm eating for three!" Raziel called, but Murderface was already out of Mordhaus' shooting gallery and down the hall.
Raziel re-donned her ear protection. She drew the Glock and squeezed off six quick shots.
She grinned and hit the retriever button, eagerly snatching off the target. Just one hole, straight through the middle of the silhouette's forehead. She grinned a happy angel grin, and formulated plans to challenge Lord Wotan to another round of Zombie Slayer 3.
Gamesh awoke with a sneeze. He frowned into his hair, which had settled into its customary spot of repose, in his face. He twined a hand into his bangs and plucked out a single silvery feather.
Well, he thought, twirling the shiny feather between fingers, that answered the question as to whether it had all been a dream. Or a drug vision. He saw a foot resting on the pillow next to him. A quick glimpse beneath the bedclothes revealed Pickles splayed out, upside down and dead to the world, on the other side of the bed, but no sign of Sariel. Well, other than the wing feather.
Ganesh pulled on a robe and, still fingering the feather, wandered out to his residence.
He found Sariel in the dining room, with one of the servants. The table was chockablock with steaming pots and plates, and Sariel was enthusiastically helping himself to a bit of everything. He was in fact so intent on eating that he was actually up kneeling on the chair, presumably to gain a greater range of motion with the place setting. He wore only his loose pyjama pants. Ganesh wondered if he was still in angelic Form when he awoke, and had gone padding around the house winged, scaring the sweet bejeesus out of the poor servants.
The servant rose, looking apologetic as Ganesh entered.
"I ax 'er t' siddown, Gansh," Sariel said around a mouthful of chickpeas.
"What?"
Sariel swallowed. "I asked her to sit down an' talk so I could work on my Hindi."
Ganesh grinned and made a gesture, and she gratefully departed the room while Sariel stuffed a bit more food into his mouth.
"Why haven't we had this before?" the angel asked, holding up a dish.
"Because you don't like them!" Ganesh told him.
"Oh, well, that's dumb." Sariel laughed around another mouthful of food and tossed the dish aside. "I got so hungry, and I couldn't remember all the names of this crap, so I asked your cooks to just make one of everything."
Ganesh departed and returned holding his medical bag. He extracted his stethoscope and held it to Sariel's back. "Do you think you could kindly cease chewing for one minute so you could breathe in and out for me."
"Hey, you wanna play doctor?" Sariel grinned, greedily licking his fingers.
"Yes, I am playing doctor."
"Didn't dying invalidate your medical degrees?" Sariel asked.
"Quiet."
"I thought you said to breathe?"
Ganesh sighed and listened to the angel's lungs. He wrapped the stethoscope around his neck and sat down. "Are you experiencing any more pain? When you breathe?" Sariel put down his spoon and held his side as he puffed in and out experimentally.
"Hum. I guess not."
"I do not have an X-ray, but I should imagine, if I took one, the shadows on your lungs are probably gone too. Do you remember anything about what happened last night?"
Sariel smiled and shook his head. Ganesh noticed for the first time that the angel's hair had returned to its Court Form brown this morning. All except for a splash of silver over his left eye.
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet this morning?"
Another shake of the head. Sariel rubbed his face. "Why? Do I need a shave?"
Curious, Ganesh leaned over and pushed down the tinted eyeglasses.
One eye was back to Court Form green. The other, his left eye, remained silver.
"Dude! That is the most metal thing ever!" Nathan bellowed.
Charles had attempted to make his reappearance at Mordhaus low key, which, upon reflection was probably a fool's errand. Ganesh had made it abundantly clear that he was on something the mad god had probably just invented, “medical probation,” until he gained five kilograms, to which he had asked if he'd need to avoid American food so he didn't gain pounds by mistake. Then the natty god had insisted he wear a brand new suit. He was forced to admit that his old clothes probably needed to be taken in, but Raziel had then obtained a ridiculous Caraceni number that was probably at least two centuries too young for him.
Then Ganesh and Raziel spent an endless time that morning fussing over tying his tie, Ganesh behind him tying a Windsor which Raziel, on tip toe in front of him, re-tied into a four in hand with the complaint, "He's not going to meet the fucking queen!" "But he might meet Dick Knubbler," Ganesh rejoindered, to much snotty giggling. Then they were clucking like parents sending their only child off to kindergarten, Raziel telling Charles to stab anyone who tried to steal his lunch money, which he did agree was fairly solid advice.
Thus he hadn't time to change to anything a bit more comfortably anonymous prior to the band meeting, and then on the short walk from his office, as he was distractedly skimming the Daily Variety article on the bidding war that was evidently raging regarding Dethklok’s recording contract, he was tackled and nearly knocked from his feet by a typically enthusiastic Toki greeting. He reflected that their rhythm guitarist was rather less well behaved in some aspects than the Asgard wolves, although, happily, he did not shed on what he continued to think of as Raziel’s suit. But this meant he was already a bit frazzled by the time he reached the meeting room.
The real surprise had been encountering Nathan's massive embrace, which actually had taken him completely off his feet for a brief moment before he was released, along with Nathan's admonishment to the other guys to make certain the meeting did not quickly become "too gay."
The hug had knocked his tinted glasses askew, and this had caused the awed reaction from Nathan.
"I dunno what happened," Charles apologized, adjusting his eyeglasses and quickly taking a seat. "I'll try and figure out how to fix it."
"You can't fix it, it's AWESOME!" Nathan fumed.
“It’sch acschually pretty brutal, Ofdenschen,” Murderface agreed, stabbing the meeting room table with his knife.
There were surprisingly sincere nods from Skwisgaar and Toki, and an evil grin from Pickles.
"So, uh, recording's still going OK?" he asked.
"Uhhhhhhh..." Nathan reasoned.
"Pffft. It ams goings fines until Nathan's ams deletes it," Skwisgaar sighed, strumming the Gibson.
"Again," Murderface grumbled, stabbing for emphasis.
“That’s fine,” he told them.
“What?” asked Nathan.
“We’re working that out with the record company. Just don’t worry about that one. Leave it to me.”
Nathan looked genuinely baffled.
"Anything else?"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Skwisgaar emitted a tired sigh. "Da lavas? Nat'ans?"
Nathan looked guilty. "Soooo, Pele kind of introduced me to her sister, Hi'iaka."
"Which Hi'iaka?" Charles asked.
"What?"
Toki exhaled noisily. "All of Pele's sisters ams named Hi'iaka! She ams gots thirteens!"
"Pffft. Goddess chasers," sniffed Skwisgaar.
"Oh, I ams sees you with Devasena, Skwisgaar! You ams not learned your leskons with Parvatis!"
"Devasnea ams not a goddess no mores, smarts guys!"
"Oh, but she ams still married to a jealous guy!" Toki shot back.
"Toki, dood," Pickles protested. "Skanda's a wimp. I can beat da dood wit' a drumstick."
"Guys!" Charles pleaded. "Nathan, could you tell me what's happening with Hi'iaka?"
"I, uh, didn't know there was more than one Hi'iaka chick," Nathan muttered.
"They ams nots even looksing alikes!" Toki protested.
"Da one Hi'iaka ams fills his room wit' da lavas when he ams dates da others Hi'iaka" Skwisgaar snickered.
"It getsch everywhere," Murderface complained.
"Ams masking da guitars all goes out of tunes," Toki grumbled.
"IT GETS CONFUSING!" Nathan protested. "All the names sound alike anyway, and I like 'em both, and Toki's dating two chicks."
"All right, all right, Nathan. We still have Surtr on the payroll. What if I ask him how to clean it up?"
"Uhhhhhhh, well I dunno. Could he like maybe make it into an awesome lava fountain in my bedroom instead?"
"Waits! If Nat'ans ams gets da lava fountains, I ams wants ones too-"
He was still on the phone with Surtr, listening patiently to his sibilancy, when he reached his office. Annoyingly, Raziel had already made herself at home in his chair, so he plopped down in a guest chair and hit the button to bring up the video phone.
He had just hit the red END CALL button to Surtr’s final hiss when Roy Cornickleson appeared on the video screen. At first, it looked like Pickles had been messing with the color controls again, as the record company executive's skin was bright red.
“Duke Berith,” Sariel said courteously.
“Charles,” Cornickleson said irritably. “Can you please get your sister to take off her ring?”
“It’s my wedding ring,” Raziel supplied, not looking up from her knitting, “and I never take it off. Unless I want to conjure some wolves, that is.”
“Oh, dear,” Sariel told her. “You don’t think those wolves would appear by mistake in Duke Berith’s office?”
"Please don't use that salutation!" Cornickleson whispered. "I'm trying to keep my identity quiet. As I'm certain you must understand."
"I can be very understanding," Sariel grinned. "Too bad the record company can't return the favor when we're a couple days late delivering product."
"A couple days late?" Cornickleson/Berith seemed to grow even redder. "More like a couple years late."
"Eh. You're immortal."
"Sariel," Berith whispered, "What the fuck do you want?"
"I might be more favorably disposed towards you if you could let us know who's putting the screws on?"
"I could get in trouble...."
Sariel unfurled his Daily Variety. "Sounds like we're nearly signed to another record company."
"That was a good article," Raziel agreed. "But you look a little pale in the photograph, Berith."
"Word is out that Nathan is singing in ... an ancient language," Berith said carefully. "Someone ... in the military ... doesn't think it's funny."
"Trust me, that particular individual has other things to worry about at present," Sariel told him.
"Such as?"
"Civil war."
"Then the rumors are true?"
"You didn't hear it from us. But nobody,” he pointed up, “is gonna give a shit about a death metal album."
"Please." Berith was scratching his horns now. "Tell me they'll release the next version. I'm getting shit from all sides: angels, demons, even the humans."
"Nathan is a man with very high standards. As you know, I make it my practice not to interfere with his creative process."
"Creative…? It's three fucking chords, Sariel."
"And how many billions for you?"
"Just.... Please get the job done."
"We all want the same thing, Berith."
The record company executive grunted, and his image winked out.
"I'd suspected something like that for a long time," Sariel mused.
"Lucky my husband has a thing for magic rings."
“I need to tell you something,” he said, flicking his hand at the door. It closed and locked.
“Secrets?” she grinned.
“But, you gotta get out of my fucking chair.”
“Can I knit?”
“Only if you promise not to show it to me.”
She smiled and hopped off the chair and thence up onto his desk. He happily retook his chair, and then leaned over, so he could speak softly.
“You remember what I told you about what happened after your Yule party?” he asked.
She nodded, winding some yarn about her needles. "Hee. We were all a little jolly."
“Well, that sort of thing happened again. Uh, with Ganesh. And Pickles. The other night.”
She pointed to her own left eye. “Oh, is that the reason for…?”
“Yeah.”
She gave an evil grin. “Was bound to happen, with the three of you hanging around together up there.”
“It’s just…. I don’t remember a lot. It was like I was in some kind of trance of something. But I think I went to True Form.”
Oddly, she didn’t speak, but just nodded somberly.
He tried again. “Look, have you ever…?”
She was silent for a while. “Well, it would have been pretty ridiculous in my Seraph Form. But, in the smaller Form….?” She trailed off.
He sat back, annoyed. “Raziel? You’ve always told me everything, including a lot of things I would rather forget. What?”
She had stopped even pretending to knit. “I think I got pregnant in that Form.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“Yeah. I was.... Yeah."
"What were you thinking?"
"Oh, like you've never had crazy drunken sex, Mr. Threesome!"
"I wasn't drunk. Though they were pretty high."
"Anyway, as soon as Ganesha came back to us, I ran and told him everything.”
“You told Ganesh before you told me!”
“You wanted more upsetting news, when you were already sick? Guess what, Sariel, I'm going to have crazy mutant babies, just like you warned." She had dropped the knitting needles and was twisting the yarn through her fingers, producing a complicated cat’s cradle type spider web between her hands. “Anyway, you were saying...”
"After it happened.... The next day, my lungs were suddenly all clear."
"Wait. What?"
“That’s just it, I don’t fucking remember! I woke up, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten in a month….”
“You hadn’t.”
“But my eyes were all fucked up and...." He pointed to his hair. "Can I fix this shit with hair dye?"
"Temporarily. It just reverts when you True Form."
"Fuck. It's annoying."
"It looks kinda chic!"
"I don't wanna look chic!"
“Did Ganesh have any ideas?”
“He told me to keep my sunglasses on inside.” He reached over and grabbed the yarn from between her hands and produced another more complicated web between his own hands.
“That’s useful,” she grinned.
“I am beginning to doubt that guy's medical qualifications! So, what did he tell you? About the babies?"
“Everything is OK so far.” She grabbed the yarn from his hands, twisting it, and produced something that resembled a very complicated snowflake strung between her hands. “The auras are fine.”
“Auras! You don’t really believe that new age crystal crap, do you?” he scoffed, pulling the snowflake off her hands and twisting to produce a lovely 17-point star.
“Mr. New Age Crystal Crap has managed to keep you away from your fucking Marlboros.” She grabbed the yarn and produced a Jacob’s ladder with real arcing lights.
He unbuttoned a cuff and rolled up his sleeve.
“Wow,” she said, wadding up the yarn and tossing it onto his desk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many nicotine patches on one person!”
“He had someone – I think it was fucking Murderface, but I don’t know – go through the whole fucking house and take all my packs.”
“You have packs hidden? What the hell for?”
“I used magic with some of them! I think Murderface and Knubbler took them.”
“Hey, so, what’s going on between William and Samael?”
He sighed. “Do you really wanna know?”
“Well, maybe not.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“So, has Ganesh cleared you to go on a Walk with Pickles? I mean, to see Aaron's vision? Our Father hurting that woman?"
“You know, I don’t need to ask permission!” he grumbled, buttoning his sleeve. “But, yeah.”
"Do you think it's-"
But they were interrupted by an insistent banging on Sariel's office door, capped by Pickles' sudden appearance within. "Dood! Ya gotta see what's goin' on downstairs! It's like a security situation or somethin'!"
"Uh, security? We're hundreds of feet up in the air."
"Look out yer window, dood!" Pickles sputtered, gesticulating like a two-armed Shiva.
Sariel and Raziel approached the window.
Down in the garden below, there was a gathering of angels.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sariel recuperates whilst The Littlest Angel manages Dethklok
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking cessation, drug use, omg angel sechs
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to
capslokdethklok.Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also put together a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.A recap of recent events: those darned angels have been at it again! Last time, one of them tried to start an all out war between the Legion and the earth. Fortunately, Our Heroes were on the job, and war was averted! Yay! Sadly, the events have sparked an angelic Civil War, which may well lead to Unfortunate Consequences. Oops! Oh, and Charles has been parted from his One True Love: cigarettes. But, hey, who’s been minding Dethklok while he’s recuperating?
Negotiation (Mythklok, Chapter 27)
Somewhere far far away….
Cherubim are the bureaucrats of the angelic universe. Consider them the DMV workers of the upper realms. Though this, combined with a natural tendency towards gossip, does not tend to make their breed beloved, their function is essential. At least, if you ask them.
So it was not surprising to find a flock of Cherubim gathered around their water cooler in the middle of their working day (it was a golden water cooler, equipped with three splendid fountains, but these are angels we’re talking about). They dropped crumbs from their slices of a sheet cake on the beige carpet as they endlessly hashed over the recent promotion of a typically mediocre colleague.
What was unusual was to have their nattering interrupted by a pair of fiercely fighting Seraphim warriors.
Being an angelic structure, the office was, fortunately, furnished with ceilings that may have seemed to human eyes extraordinarily high. Therefore the two battling angels had plentiful room to swing their flaming swords beneath the ornate, candle-decked chandeliers. They had not, however, such free reign beneath their massive feet, and thus soon caused the collapse of a great number of cubicle walls, not to mention the smashing of several slightly outdated computers as well as the crushing of the fussy copy machine.
The flaming swords set off the sprinkler system, so now in addition to the grunts of battling monsters there were alarms and flashes of light.
And then the water pooling on the beige carpet was stained red, as the victor fatally stabbed his opponent through his mighty angel heart. The unlucky combatant toppled to the floor, taking out the rest of Accounts Receivable.
As the victor stood trying to catch his breath, a Cherubic office manager strode out before him. She put her hands on her hips, and waited for the panting Seraph to turn his attention.
"What?" grunted the Seraph.
"Who intends to pay for all this?" she snapped, wagging a finger. "I suppose you have a budget number!"
"A what?" rumbled the bloodied warrior.
"A budget number. What is your budget number?"
The Big Seraph grinned. Her head came off with one easy flick of his still hot sword. He raised the bloody blade to the huddled office workers and grinned. "Here's my budget number."
Well, they were Cherubim, but they weren’t stupid.
The rest of the office abruptly dropped their coffee cups, True Formed and fled.
Right here, right now….
"OH MY GOD, NATHAN! Can you help me?"
"Sure, uh, Your Majesty or whatever."
"Sariel left this beautiful stack of pencils on his desk, and I knocked it over, and now I can't stack it back!"
Nathan smiled indulgently. Raz was such a weird little chick. Though, she was married to Wotan, and he was an OK dude. Plus she had nice tits. Though, he wondered if it was OK to think that about a pregnant lady? Maybe it was weird? Huh. What was he thinking about again? He had come to the office for something urgent. Oh, to help Raz stack pencils!
He had actually sort of been expecting Ganesh dude to be sitting here. He had come down a couple times to check on them, and he was cool, especially if he had been smoking with Pickles first. He said he couldn't smoke at home anymore because Charles would totally bust him, which was kind of the funniest thing ever, Mr. Marlboro turning into a fucking nanny. Nathan wanted him to get back so they could bust his balls about it. But, not because he missed him or anything too gay.
"Hey, why does the phone keep ringing?" Nathan wondered.
"Oh, I dunno, some guy keeps calling. His name sounds like Butter-brickle-son? Anyway, he was pretty rude, and it's not nice to be rude to a pregnant lady!"
"Yeah, what douche," Nathan agreed, idly trying to remember if there was somebody whose name sounded like butter brickle? Mmmmm. Ice cream.
"I think I need ice cream! Can I go now?" Nathan asked impatiently.
"Oh, sure Nathan! But, can I call you if I have another problem?"
“Sure, Raz, any time!” And the door slammed behind him.
Raziel looked at Nathan’s neat pyramid of pencils. She grinned and poked at it, sending it toppling over.
Ganesh kicked off his shoes and thumped down on the couch, stretching out his long legs next to Pickles and gesturing with a hand. Pickles smiled and handed over the joint.
"Bad day, dood?"
"All of them are bad days,” Ganesh sighed. “NEVER head your own religion."
"Heh. I'll remember dat."
"And how fares our patient?"
"He's OK. He started tryin' t' teach me finance an' I t'ink bored himself to sleep."
"So you sneaked out for a smoke?"
"Don't knock it!"
"I'm not." Lord Ganesh exhaled and passed the joint back to Pickles. "Did you want to get back home for a while?" he breathed, his voice slightly harsh.
"I'm OK up here fer now. Lady Raz is holdin' da fort at Mordhaus today."
"That I should like to see! Your band mates are quite mischievous. As can be the queen."
"Mischievous? I guess dat's one way t' put it." Pickles drew his legs up underneath himself. “So, yer brudder Skanda is gone?”
“He has been sentenced to live out the remainder of his life as a human. To my people, this is the worst that may befall one.”
“Huh. Set’ is an asshole, but I don’t t’ink da dood ever tried t’ actually kill me.”
“To be completely fair to my brother, I once before slew him, so we are, in that sense, even.”
“Uh, what dood?” Pickles asked. Ganesh leaned over and snatched back the joint.
“He once stupidly challenged me to a duel, and I bested him.” Ganesh’s smile was more than a touch malicious.
“Whoa. And, den he just kinda popped back?”
“It is what we do, my people. That is, until it is our time to move on.”
“An’, dis wasn’t yer time?”
“I didn’t feel so. Although I had a rather lively debate with Great Brahma regarding this matter. I simply refused to be parted from Sariel.”
“Dat’s pretty feckin’ romantic, dood,” Pickles said, exhaling. “I mean, feck.”
Ganesh shrugged. “I can be stubborn. When I feel it is warranted. In addition, recall, I was up there alone for quite some time. One tends to grow pretty fucking horny.” Pickles nearly spit out the joint when he laughed, and soon they had both dissolved into happy stoned giggles.
"Some guy, Rikki-tikki-tavi?" Raziel told Skwisgaar. He had asked why her email inbox kept chiming.
"I ams not knows hims," the Guitarist mused.
"Well, thanks a bunch for these Swedish meatballs from IKEA," she noted, spooning one into her mouth.
"Ams no problems. I ams goes to gets more lamps for Charles' comings homes parties.
"Good lighting! It's essential!"
"Ams goods lightsings!"
"Well, I don't want to keep you or any of your lovely ladies waiting!" she called, and he departed the office. Lucky he had come by when he did! Though, he thought as he strode down the hall, he couldn't quite remember what he had come to talk about. Ah well....
Pickles couldn't remember when he'd had such a pleasant time. No, he could remember. It was the last time he'd hung out with Ganesh. Here he was, like the head god dude of his whole thing, and he could kick off his shoes and just enjoy a good buzz.
Maybe some of this could finally rub off on fucking Charles.
Pickles frowned at the joint in his hand. Fucking Charles....
"Is something troubling you, my friend?" Ganesh asked.
Pickles seemed to be considering something. "Uh. Yoo know, Gannish? I missed yoo too, when yoo were gone."
Ganesh plucked the joint from the other man and leaned back, smiling. "That is a kind thing to say, my dear friend."
"Is dat what I am?"
"Have I caused offense such that you would not consider yourself my friend?" Ganesh inquired.
Pickles leaned forward, as if to catch back the joint. But instead, planting one hand firmly on Gaesh's thigh to steady himself, he leaned over and kissed the god, who, maddeningly,
did neither anything to discourage nor encourage him, but rather simply let himself be kissed, and then studied Pickles in an agreeable manner whilst taking another long drag.
"The question, I think, is this," Ganesh said to him. "Is it genuinely me you wish, or do you too regret parting from Sariel?"
Pickles blinked, having no idea how to answer.
"YOU GUYS ARE SMOKING!"
Pickles jerked around to see Charles standing in back of the couch, wrapped up in oversized pajamas beneath an oversized bathrobe, silvery hair impossibly mussed, blinking blind and silvery without his eyeglasses. He was trying, and failing miserably, to look angered, but instead looked like he needed exactly what Pickles did next, reaching over the back of the couch to pull him close. Pickles then capped this gesture with a rather enthusiastic kiss, which very quickly turned perhaps a bit too enthusiastic, considering one of the parties was ill and groggy, and the other just a bit high, causing Pickles to lose his balance and pitch over backwards, first onto the couch beside Ganesh, who wisely pulled his long legs out of the way, and thence to the floor, dragging a surprisingly cooperative Charles all the while on top of him.
"Ow," said Pickles, though it could barely be heard over gales of delighted laughter from Ganesh.
"Come on," said Ganesh, after he had recovered somewhat. "Bedroom," he continued, pulling up the still strangely unprotesting Charles. Pickles lay there for a bit, feeling annoyed and frustrated, until he felt himself being tugged up as well.
"I said, bedroom," Ganesh repeated, smiling and handing Pickles back the joint.
"Oh my god, thank you for the help with the butterfly stitches, Toki," Raziel gushed. The guitarist smiled. She was such a dreadfully knitter! He had had to pull out almost everything she did and start over. Lucky he'd thought to come to the office! Though, he couldn't quite remember now why he'd come to the office.
"Why ams da videophones keep ringsing?" Toki asked.
"Oh, some guy named something like Snickers-son."
"Mmmm, Snickers!"
"He wanted to talk, but he had such tacky shoes! Why would Sariel even deal with someone who wears such terrible shoes?"
“Oh, he does not has da tastes sometimes! Ams you cravin’ da candies?”
“Oh, I’m always craving candy! I’m eating for three! Wanna go get me a chocolate bar?”
"Ja! I ams gets more candy!" Toki promised, dropping his knitting in the chair.
Raziel waited until the door was closed, and the stole over to Toki's knitting project and quickly unraveled it.
Ganesh, his mind still floating on whatever had been in Pickles’ joint, glowed with anticipation: a night with two beautiful men. The afterlife had been so tiresome, that oaf Brahma poncing about with his pink Financial Times under his many arms. Had they honestly expected Ganesh to fly off beyond the universe when there were still so many delicious men to be had here on earth? Unsupportable. How he had ached for sex, the delightful feel of another's skin, the rich smell of sweat, the glorious entangling of bodies....
And then to return to such a frightful mess, his beloved city in ruins, Shiva in a half mad state, and Sariel.... Well, he didn't care to think of what may have come to pass had Brahma delayed him even a single day longer. And now Ganesh had been forced to take over ceremonial leadership of the family business as well as its operation. He had long wondered at his father's bad moods and snappishness; now he understood.
But he must push aside such cares, and stay in the moment. As if by some unspoken agreement, he and Pickles were silently removing Sariel's clothing. The angel seemed... How could he term it? Almost serene this night. It was unusual, as Sariel could be so skittish about being touched. Perhaps it was the restful nap out in the sun. He seemed to be getting plenty of sleep, which was encouraging, although he still needed to be coaxed and cajoled to eat. Ganesh had even put aside a longstanding prohibition to allow Lady Raziel to bring a cooler full of Wotan's supposedly irresistible steak sandwiches to Gamesh's residence for him, and Pickles had carted up some equally tasty looking pies. But it was all frustration: nourishment simply seemed a queer alien concept to the angel. His breathing had much improved, but he remained frightfully thin.
Ganesh frowned. His thoughts were drifting away to cares and worries again. Now was not the time. He had already extended an extra pair of hands, which seemed to cause Pickles a moment of consternation. But lust will do as it will, and after Ganesh had pulled Sariel up into his lap, wrapping firmly around him and gently brushing his lips along the angel's neck, the drummer had soon recovered himself sufficiently to slide nearer the bottom of the bed and, kneeling there, attend to Sariel's growing erection with his tongue and mouth. Ganesh felt the angel in his lap slightly arch his body and emit a very soft moan. Such a beautiful way to unwind, slowly and gently. He extended an arm around Sariel’s chest, the angel’s soft chest hairs brushing along his arm. He was growing half mad with desire.
And then Ganesh saw it, the flash brightening of the aura. It went white hot. He had never beheld such a thing.
He should have been terrified. But the bright angel was so kind with them. He could have broken them, either one, with a thought, but there were only murmurs in the sweet angel language and thrilling caresses. It was amazing. Ganesh had been snapped out of his moody reveries and back into the delights of his body. And when it was over, Lord Ganesh felt himself sung to sleep on the softest bed of silvery angel feathers. He had never felt so warm and loved.
“Oh, thank you so much, William!” Raziel said, removing her ear protection. “I was having a terrible time deciding between the Glock and the Kel-Tec!”
Murderface hit the button, and the target retriever brought the head and shoulders silhouette whizzing back to him, bullet holes scattered fairly randomly about it. “I would usche the Kel-Tech for conschealed carry!” he counseled.
“Oh, yes, sadly, I never could get the hang of your human firearm thingies,” she tutted.
“Why isch your schell phone ringing like that?” the bassist wondered.
“Oh, some guy named Sticklebuns or something like that keeps interrupting me."
"Schticklebunsch, huh? Hey, do you think Picklesch may have left behind any of hitch schinnamon bunsch?"
"If you run to the kitchen, could you pick up some for me too? I'm eating for three!" Raziel called, but Murderface was already out of Mordhaus' shooting gallery and down the hall.
Raziel re-donned her ear protection. She drew the Glock and squeezed off six quick shots.
She grinned and hit the retriever button, eagerly snatching off the target. Just one hole, straight through the middle of the silhouette's forehead. She grinned a happy angel grin, and formulated plans to challenge Lord Wotan to another round of Zombie Slayer 3.
Gamesh awoke with a sneeze. He frowned into his hair, which had settled into its customary spot of repose, in his face. He twined a hand into his bangs and plucked out a single silvery feather.
Well, he thought, twirling the shiny feather between fingers, that answered the question as to whether it had all been a dream. Or a drug vision. He saw a foot resting on the pillow next to him. A quick glimpse beneath the bedclothes revealed Pickles splayed out, upside down and dead to the world, on the other side of the bed, but no sign of Sariel. Well, other than the wing feather.
Ganesh pulled on a robe and, still fingering the feather, wandered out to his residence.
He found Sariel in the dining room, with one of the servants. The table was chockablock with steaming pots and plates, and Sariel was enthusiastically helping himself to a bit of everything. He was in fact so intent on eating that he was actually up kneeling on the chair, presumably to gain a greater range of motion with the place setting. He wore only his loose pyjama pants. Ganesh wondered if he was still in angelic Form when he awoke, and had gone padding around the house winged, scaring the sweet bejeesus out of the poor servants.
The servant rose, looking apologetic as Ganesh entered.
"I ax 'er t' siddown, Gansh," Sariel said around a mouthful of chickpeas.
"What?"
Sariel swallowed. "I asked her to sit down an' talk so I could work on my Hindi."
Ganesh grinned and made a gesture, and she gratefully departed the room while Sariel stuffed a bit more food into his mouth.
"Why haven't we had this before?" the angel asked, holding up a dish.
"Because you don't like them!" Ganesh told him.
"Oh, well, that's dumb." Sariel laughed around another mouthful of food and tossed the dish aside. "I got so hungry, and I couldn't remember all the names of this crap, so I asked your cooks to just make one of everything."
Ganesh departed and returned holding his medical bag. He extracted his stethoscope and held it to Sariel's back. "Do you think you could kindly cease chewing for one minute so you could breathe in and out for me."
"Hey, you wanna play doctor?" Sariel grinned, greedily licking his fingers.
"Yes, I am playing doctor."
"Didn't dying invalidate your medical degrees?" Sariel asked.
"Quiet."
"I thought you said to breathe?"
Ganesh sighed and listened to the angel's lungs. He wrapped the stethoscope around his neck and sat down. "Are you experiencing any more pain? When you breathe?" Sariel put down his spoon and held his side as he puffed in and out experimentally.
"Hum. I guess not."
"I do not have an X-ray, but I should imagine, if I took one, the shadows on your lungs are probably gone too. Do you remember anything about what happened last night?"
Sariel smiled and shook his head. Ganesh noticed for the first time that the angel's hair had returned to its Court Form brown this morning. All except for a splash of silver over his left eye.
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet this morning?"
Another shake of the head. Sariel rubbed his face. "Why? Do I need a shave?"
Curious, Ganesh leaned over and pushed down the tinted eyeglasses.
One eye was back to Court Form green. The other, his left eye, remained silver.
"Dude! That is the most metal thing ever!" Nathan bellowed.
Charles had attempted to make his reappearance at Mordhaus low key, which, upon reflection was probably a fool's errand. Ganesh had made it abundantly clear that he was on something the mad god had probably just invented, “medical probation,” until he gained five kilograms, to which he had asked if he'd need to avoid American food so he didn't gain pounds by mistake. Then the natty god had insisted he wear a brand new suit. He was forced to admit that his old clothes probably needed to be taken in, but Raziel had then obtained a ridiculous Caraceni number that was probably at least two centuries too young for him.
Then Ganesh and Raziel spent an endless time that morning fussing over tying his tie, Ganesh behind him tying a Windsor which Raziel, on tip toe in front of him, re-tied into a four in hand with the complaint, "He's not going to meet the fucking queen!" "But he might meet Dick Knubbler," Ganesh rejoindered, to much snotty giggling. Then they were clucking like parents sending their only child off to kindergarten, Raziel telling Charles to stab anyone who tried to steal his lunch money, which he did agree was fairly solid advice.
Thus he hadn't time to change to anything a bit more comfortably anonymous prior to the band meeting, and then on the short walk from his office, as he was distractedly skimming the Daily Variety article on the bidding war that was evidently raging regarding Dethklok’s recording contract, he was tackled and nearly knocked from his feet by a typically enthusiastic Toki greeting. He reflected that their rhythm guitarist was rather less well behaved in some aspects than the Asgard wolves, although, happily, he did not shed on what he continued to think of as Raziel’s suit. But this meant he was already a bit frazzled by the time he reached the meeting room.
The real surprise had been encountering Nathan's massive embrace, which actually had taken him completely off his feet for a brief moment before he was released, along with Nathan's admonishment to the other guys to make certain the meeting did not quickly become "too gay."
The hug had knocked his tinted glasses askew, and this had caused the awed reaction from Nathan.
"I dunno what happened," Charles apologized, adjusting his eyeglasses and quickly taking a seat. "I'll try and figure out how to fix it."
"You can't fix it, it's AWESOME!" Nathan fumed.
“It’sch acschually pretty brutal, Ofdenschen,” Murderface agreed, stabbing the meeting room table with his knife.
There were surprisingly sincere nods from Skwisgaar and Toki, and an evil grin from Pickles.
"So, uh, recording's still going OK?" he asked.
"Uhhhhhhh..." Nathan reasoned.
"Pffft. It ams goings fines until Nathan's ams deletes it," Skwisgaar sighed, strumming the Gibson.
"Again," Murderface grumbled, stabbing for emphasis.
“That’s fine,” he told them.
“What?” asked Nathan.
“We’re working that out with the record company. Just don’t worry about that one. Leave it to me.”
Nathan looked genuinely baffled.
"Anything else?"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Skwisgaar emitted a tired sigh. "Da lavas? Nat'ans?"
Nathan looked guilty. "Soooo, Pele kind of introduced me to her sister, Hi'iaka."
"Which Hi'iaka?" Charles asked.
"What?"
Toki exhaled noisily. "All of Pele's sisters ams named Hi'iaka! She ams gots thirteens!"
"Pffft. Goddess chasers," sniffed Skwisgaar.
"Oh, I ams sees you with Devasena, Skwisgaar! You ams not learned your leskons with Parvatis!"
"Devasnea ams not a goddess no mores, smarts guys!"
"Oh, but she ams still married to a jealous guy!" Toki shot back.
"Toki, dood," Pickles protested. "Skanda's a wimp. I can beat da dood wit' a drumstick."
"Guys!" Charles pleaded. "Nathan, could you tell me what's happening with Hi'iaka?"
"I, uh, didn't know there was more than one Hi'iaka chick," Nathan muttered.
"They ams nots even looksing alikes!" Toki protested.
"Da one Hi'iaka ams fills his room wit' da lavas when he ams dates da others Hi'iaka" Skwisgaar snickered.
"It getsch everywhere," Murderface complained.
"Ams masking da guitars all goes out of tunes," Toki grumbled.
"IT GETS CONFUSING!" Nathan protested. "All the names sound alike anyway, and I like 'em both, and Toki's dating two chicks."
"All right, all right, Nathan. We still have Surtr on the payroll. What if I ask him how to clean it up?"
"Uhhhhhhh, well I dunno. Could he like maybe make it into an awesome lava fountain in my bedroom instead?"
"Waits! If Nat'ans ams gets da lava fountains, I ams wants ones too-"
He was still on the phone with Surtr, listening patiently to his sibilancy, when he reached his office. Annoyingly, Raziel had already made herself at home in his chair, so he plopped down in a guest chair and hit the button to bring up the video phone.
He had just hit the red END CALL button to Surtr’s final hiss when Roy Cornickleson appeared on the video screen. At first, it looked like Pickles had been messing with the color controls again, as the record company executive's skin was bright red.
“Duke Berith,” Sariel said courteously.
“Charles,” Cornickleson said irritably. “Can you please get your sister to take off her ring?”
“It’s my wedding ring,” Raziel supplied, not looking up from her knitting, “and I never take it off. Unless I want to conjure some wolves, that is.”
“Oh, dear,” Sariel told her. “You don’t think those wolves would appear by mistake in Duke Berith’s office?”
"Please don't use that salutation!" Cornickleson whispered. "I'm trying to keep my identity quiet. As I'm certain you must understand."
"I can be very understanding," Sariel grinned. "Too bad the record company can't return the favor when we're a couple days late delivering product."
"A couple days late?" Cornickleson/Berith seemed to grow even redder. "More like a couple years late."
"Eh. You're immortal."
"Sariel," Berith whispered, "What the fuck do you want?"
"I might be more favorably disposed towards you if you could let us know who's putting the screws on?"
"I could get in trouble...."
Sariel unfurled his Daily Variety. "Sounds like we're nearly signed to another record company."
"That was a good article," Raziel agreed. "But you look a little pale in the photograph, Berith."
"Word is out that Nathan is singing in ... an ancient language," Berith said carefully. "Someone ... in the military ... doesn't think it's funny."
"Trust me, that particular individual has other things to worry about at present," Sariel told him.
"Such as?"
"Civil war."
"Then the rumors are true?"
"You didn't hear it from us. But nobody,” he pointed up, “is gonna give a shit about a death metal album."
"Please." Berith was scratching his horns now. "Tell me they'll release the next version. I'm getting shit from all sides: angels, demons, even the humans."
"Nathan is a man with very high standards. As you know, I make it my practice not to interfere with his creative process."
"Creative…? It's three fucking chords, Sariel."
"And how many billions for you?"
"Just.... Please get the job done."
"We all want the same thing, Berith."
The record company executive grunted, and his image winked out.
"I'd suspected something like that for a long time," Sariel mused.
"Lucky my husband has a thing for magic rings."
“I need to tell you something,” he said, flicking his hand at the door. It closed and locked.
“Secrets?” she grinned.
“But, you gotta get out of my fucking chair.”
“Can I knit?”
“Only if you promise not to show it to me.”
She smiled and hopped off the chair and thence up onto his desk. He happily retook his chair, and then leaned over, so he could speak softly.
“You remember what I told you about what happened after your Yule party?” he asked.
She nodded, winding some yarn about her needles. "Hee. We were all a little jolly."
“Well, that sort of thing happened again. Uh, with Ganesh. And Pickles. The other night.”
She pointed to her own left eye. “Oh, is that the reason for…?”
“Yeah.”
She gave an evil grin. “Was bound to happen, with the three of you hanging around together up there.”
“It’s just…. I don’t remember a lot. It was like I was in some kind of trance of something. But I think I went to True Form.”
Oddly, she didn’t speak, but just nodded somberly.
He tried again. “Look, have you ever…?”
She was silent for a while. “Well, it would have been pretty ridiculous in my Seraph Form. But, in the smaller Form….?” She trailed off.
He sat back, annoyed. “Raziel? You’ve always told me everything, including a lot of things I would rather forget. What?”
She had stopped even pretending to knit. “I think I got pregnant in that Form.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“Yeah. I was.... Yeah."
"What were you thinking?"
"Oh, like you've never had crazy drunken sex, Mr. Threesome!"
"I wasn't drunk. Though they were pretty high."
"Anyway, as soon as Ganesha came back to us, I ran and told him everything.”
“You told Ganesh before you told me!”
“You wanted more upsetting news, when you were already sick? Guess what, Sariel, I'm going to have crazy mutant babies, just like you warned." She had dropped the knitting needles and was twisting the yarn through her fingers, producing a complicated cat’s cradle type spider web between her hands. “Anyway, you were saying...”
"After it happened.... The next day, my lungs were suddenly all clear."
"Wait. What?"
“That’s just it, I don’t fucking remember! I woke up, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten in a month….”
“You hadn’t.”
“But my eyes were all fucked up and...." He pointed to his hair. "Can I fix this shit with hair dye?"
"Temporarily. It just reverts when you True Form."
"Fuck. It's annoying."
"It looks kinda chic!"
"I don't wanna look chic!"
“Did Ganesh have any ideas?”
“He told me to keep my sunglasses on inside.” He reached over and grabbed the yarn from between her hands and produced another more complicated web between his own hands.
“That’s useful,” she grinned.
“I am beginning to doubt that guy's medical qualifications! So, what did he tell you? About the babies?"
“Everything is OK so far.” She grabbed the yarn from his hands, twisting it, and produced something that resembled a very complicated snowflake strung between her hands. “The auras are fine.”
“Auras! You don’t really believe that new age crystal crap, do you?” he scoffed, pulling the snowflake off her hands and twisting to produce a lovely 17-point star.
“Mr. New Age Crystal Crap has managed to keep you away from your fucking Marlboros.” She grabbed the yarn and produced a Jacob’s ladder with real arcing lights.
He unbuttoned a cuff and rolled up his sleeve.
“Wow,” she said, wadding up the yarn and tossing it onto his desk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many nicotine patches on one person!”
“He had someone – I think it was fucking Murderface, but I don’t know – go through the whole fucking house and take all my packs.”
“You have packs hidden? What the hell for?”
“I used magic with some of them! I think Murderface and Knubbler took them.”
“Hey, so, what’s going on between William and Samael?”
He sighed. “Do you really wanna know?”
“Well, maybe not.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“So, has Ganesh cleared you to go on a Walk with Pickles? I mean, to see Aaron's vision? Our Father hurting that woman?"
“You know, I don’t need to ask permission!” he grumbled, buttoning his sleeve. “But, yeah.”
"Do you think it's-"
But they were interrupted by an insistent banging on Sariel's office door, capped by Pickles' sudden appearance within. "Dood! Ya gotta see what's goin' on downstairs! It's like a security situation or somethin'!"
"Uh, security? We're hundreds of feet up in the air."
"Look out yer window, dood!" Pickles sputtered, gesticulating like a two-armed Shiva.
Sariel and Raziel approached the window.
Down in the garden below, there was a gathering of angels.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-28 08:28 pm (UTC)So, was being True Formed the reason Raziel got pregnant, or could she have in Court Form as well? I know True Formed is more magic, and that's why she's worried, but now I'm pondering angel biology a bit...
Raziel could have (and probably SHOULD HAVE) gotten pregnant in Court Form. I've touched on this before, but I'll have more bits about it in the upcoming chapters: it's a crapshoot when you mix magic and pregnancy, or magical beings and pregnancy. You sometimes get a halfling like Skwisgaar, who's got some cool magical powers, or sometimes you'll turn up with Aaron, who's a cool person who had to deal with a lot of physical disabilities when he was alive. I've implied there's something analogous to FAS that happens when human mothers are using a lot of magic when they're pregnant. And the Nephilim were half angel/half human, so Raziel (and Wotan, as it turns out) is a bit more nervous about this than she's been letting on.