The Sacred Lotus (Mythklok, Chapter 29)
Feb. 5th, 2011 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: The Sacred Lotus (Mythklok, Chapter 29)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angels and onions
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking
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 written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
What’s been happening, dude: Charles now has Cherubim working down in the Accounting Department and Teenaged Goddesses wrecking havoc up above. Pickles took him to see some scary vision about the Creator, then Wotan let him smoke a cigar, and he would have gotten totally busted, only he figured out Lord Ganesh needs to dance out his relationship issues.
The Sacred Lotus (Mythklok, Chapter 29)
"Leg," ordered Ganesh.
"Is this really necessary?" Sariel grumbled. Nevertheless, he hiked up his robe so Ganesh could see the ragged scar running down his thigh. The angel defiantly crossed his arms. "Personally, I think it's kind of sexy!"
"Yes, jaanu," Ganesh replied, distractedly kissing Sariel on the top of his head. "Everything is sexy on you. We shall perhaps purchase you a nice new sexy bow tie instead." He held up a small jar containing an odd-smelling ointment, and carefully smeared some of the gooey concoction along the scar.
"Smells like onions."
"Onions are an ingredient." He gestured again. "Robe, please."
Sariel sighed and pulled open his robe on top. Ganesh carefully dabbed at a few of the older scars on the angel's chest.
Sariel sniffed. "And garlic too?"
"That's correct."
"You're not treating my scars! You're basting me so you can cook me!"
"Firstly, despite other changes in my physical manifestation, I remain a vegetarian. Secondly, there is no meat to speak of on your bones anyway."
"I like my scars."
"You will still have them. Most are quite old, so treatment will not eliminate them, it will simply fade them a bit, as well as reduce the pain and stiffness you were describing. Now, kindly turn the fuck over."
"That doesn't sound terribly professional," Sariel laughed. He turned over onto his belly (or lack thereof) and Ganesh carefully tugged his robe off his shoulders.
"Namaste Ganesha!!"
"Namaste, Lady Raziel!"
"Raziel, don't you ever fucking knock?" Sariel protested.
"Ah, nothing I haven't seen before," she grinned.
"You do not need the washroom?" Ganesh inquired. "Has your stomach settled a bit?"
"Naw, unfortunately, it's gotten worse. I can't keep anything down other than your mom's tea. But I already had a lot of errands this morning so I'm pretty much barfed out."
Ganesh sighed. "I've advised you to minimize your jumping from place to place if it irritates you so."
"Yeah, especially you might wanna keep outta other people's bedrooms during intimate moment!" Sariel groused.
"What intimate moment?" asked Raziel. "He's obviously just basting you to cook you!"
"See?" Sariel demanded.
"Not a good idea," Ganesh insisted. "He would be quite stringy."
"With a biting aftertaste," Raziel giggled.
"I would be delicious!"
"Perhaps later, dear," Ganesh promised.
"Oh, and be sure and get that one! It's a doozy," Raziel noted, pointing out an especially vicious scar along Sariel' side.
"It seems a rather grievous injury!" Ganesh agreed, gently dabbing the old wound with his ointment. "Was it from ... that horrible angel?"
"No," Sariel muttered.
"Then ... from warfare?"
"He came that way!" Raziel supplied.
"I'm sorry?"
"He's always had it," she told him.
"Sariel was Created with a scar?"
"Evidently," Sariel said forlornly.
"We always joke that he must've fallen off Our Father's workbench reaching for some smokes!"
"It seems most odd," Ganesh mused.
"Did you come up here to relive the good times, Raziel?" Sariel asked her impatiently.
"Ohhhhhh! I almost forgot! LOOK!" She extracted an item from her purse and held it up triumphantly.
Sariel snatched at it. "Raziel? This is a library card."
"Yes!" she agreed.
"Yeah. I'm about to die from excitement."
"Sariel! This isn't a library card! This is THE library card. We're going to see the librarian!"
"It sounds like the plot for a really bad music video. Didn't Dr. Rockso...?"
“No! The Lady. Tzaphkiel.”
“Zap what? Is that a Scrabble answer?” Sariel wondered.
“Oh, I find I quite like Scrabble,” Ganesh grinned.
"The other female Seraph! It turns out, when she went away, she took a job at our library. The Library."
"So, we'll go see her?"
"That's the plan! You don't have any overdue books, do you?"
"Naw. I'm just, you know, Fallen and cursed for life."
"That should be fine. Dress appropriately!" she grinned, vanishing.
"Whatever did she mean by that?" Ganesh wondered.
"Oh, I think I know. Are we done here?" Sariel asked, shrugging back into his bathrobe.
"One more thing," Ganesh told him. He indicated a pot that was steaming over on the bureau.
"Yuck! Smells worse than the fucking ointment."
"I simply wished you to inhale a bit of the steam,” Ganesh told him, heading for the washroom. “Should help clear the lungs."
"I thought my lungs were clear!"
"It will help with any scarring. Internally," Gamesh shouted over the sound of running water. "Do this for me and we shall talk about you getting a cigar."
"I don't wanna talk about cigars, I wanna smoke one!" Sariel declared, leaning over and inhaling deeply from the pot.
"Anyway, you will need to let it steep for a few minutes more...." Ganesh informed him as he returned to the bedroom' wiping his hands on a towel.
Sariel was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
"Oops," said Ganesh.
Sariel was in a garden with no idea how he'd gotten there.
It was a pleasant garden. It smelled really nice, like spices and rare flowers.
Oddly, he wasn't terribly upset to find himself in this predicament.
There was a guy walking by, whistling, pink Financial Times tucked under one of his many arms. He noticed Sariel and stopped. He had bright red skin - much brighter red even that that of Duke Berith. He was also dressed in flowing robes of the brightest red.
"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" offered Sariel by way of greeting.
"Hmpf," the red being replied. "This is my garden. Maybe you ought to answer me first?"
"I'm Sariel."
The being appeared to be taken aback. "You're Sariel? The angel?"
Sariel scowled. And then he True Formed, making sure to spread his wings in a most obnoxious manner. "Yeah, I'm Sariel the angel."
Oddly, the being appeared more impressed than offended by such indecorous behavior. "Well, I'll be. So you are! That's an impressive aura. I apologize, I wasn't seeing it when you'd got it all tucked away like that. That's a neat trick."
"You're into that aura crap too?"
"Well, yes. I do apologize. I am Brahma. Welcome to my garden, Sariel the Angel. I knew Shiva had brought you into the organization, but I wasn't expecting you to pop up so suddenly."
Sariel blinked, remembering. "I think Ganesh might have drugged me."
"Ah, that boy!" Brahma shook his red head and crossed a couple pairs of red arms. "He was up here visiting me last month, did he tell you?"
"Uh, yeah, I think I heard about that."
"Well, since your time might be limited, let us walk and talk a bit. You wouldn't mind putting away the wings, by the way? I know the gesture is supposed to be offensive, though I've never found it particularly so. But, you never know who else we might run into on one of my constitutionals!"
Sariel shrugged and Court Formed, and began to walk with Brahma.
"Ganesha. Is he still into all that vegetarian nonsense? You look like you're just skin and bones!"
"I've been sick."
"Well, next time, try and give us some warning before you pop in and I'll have Sarasvati cook you up a lovely sacred cow. My dear one is the best cook in all the heavens!"
"OK."
"Here is the pool where Ganesha would go and meditate," Brahma told him. Sariel paused. It looked very quiet and peaceful, just the kind of place Ganesh would favor.
"He meditated for an entire month. An entire month, would you believe it?" sighed Brahma. "He is one stubborn little madarchod, I'll give him that."
"He told me you were trying to get his soul to pass on."
"WHAT?" fumed Brahma. "Of all the.... Little fucker is lucky I didn't send him back as a newt! Lord Gaesha’s spirit is not ready to pass on! Not by a longshot!"
"Wait. Then why did you tell him...."
"I had to test his will, that's my job. You've got to go through the proper steps with this sort of thing, else you'd have every Tom, Dick and Sanjay up here, claiming to be separated from a true love, just because they wanted to get back to their cricket match, or some nonsense. I thought he would at least debate me: Shiva spared no expense sending that one to law school! Too much to hope he'd do something really exciting, like challenge me to a bare knuckles fistfight. No, always the passive aggressive nonsense. 'I'm not going anywhere without my angel, you great windbag, so fuck off!'"
"Uh, is that what he told you?"
"Sure!"
"Huh. It was a little different in the version he told."
"I've told Lord Shiva time and time again," and here Great Brahma started to gesticulate so enthusiastically he nearly dropped his Financial Times, "that is no life for your son, living always in your shadow! You must allow him his own path, or step aside! This is what I have told him!"
"Well, Shiva's stepped aside now."
"Yes, after nearly bankrupting the EEC!" Brahma waved his newspaper. "And getting us entangled in a war with those fucking angels! No offense."
"I'm Fallen."
"Probably to your betterment. Headquarters is a dreadful place. At any rate, Lord Ganesha needs to correct his path! He is too damned solitary, always keeping himself apart, like he thinks he is some kind of bodhisattvah in training. I have told him to change his ways, to live instead the life of a man, with great friends and cruel enemies and brave deeds and fine lovers and many amusing stories. This is the life of a man!" With the last sweeping gesture, The Financial Times finally gave up its purchase under Great Brahma’s arm, and sections scattered like pink confetti to emphasize the god's last declaration.
"And, uh, your job is to basically sashay around, reading a newspaper?" Sariel asked. He was, to be fair, a bit high on Ganesh's concoction.
Brahma blinked round the bits of flying newsprint. Then he roared with laughter.
"I like you, Sariel the Angel! You are a riot! You will promise to return? My Sarasvati is the best cook in the heavens. We will concoct a feast for you, fatten you right up again." He emphasized this last with a series of enthusiastic pokes to Sariel's stomach.
“Uh. Sure.”
“’Tis quite an honor, to welcome such a high born to the family! Ganesha has chosen well, I’ll give him that, to pick the first of the New Ones….”
“OK, Brahma? Can I stop you there? What makes you think I’m the first of the New Ones?”
“Hmpf! What did that great ass in the sky tell you of your origin?” he asked, pointing upwards.
“You mean Our Father? Well, he never actually told me anything. I just heard the stories.”
“You can’t tell me you believe angel gossip!”
“That’s sort of been all I’ve had to go on.”
“Hmpf!” Brahma tutted again. “Headquarters! Such nonsense. All that is known is that you showed up one day, and the Creator then fucked around trying to duplicate you, and as is typical for him, failed in a most miserable fashion. Such a great pest, the Morningstar!”
“Lucifer came up with that nickname, himself. Morningstar. Did you know that?” Sariel sat down, as he was feeling a bit light headed.
“No, I did not know that! That’s terrific! Little ox turd. What has he been up to, anyway?”
“Well, Wotan got annoyed with him when he tried to invade Asgard and disrupt his wedding, so Wotan ended up pushing him out and taking over Hell.”
“Well, Wotan will definitely do a better job of it. Oh, and he is now married to your sister? I unfortunately refused the invitation. I find wedding ceremonies tiresome.”
“I usually agree, but this one was pretty exciting, as these things go. Anyway, yeah. She’s pregnant. Did you know that?”
“Ah! That one works quickly. I suppose they will want family blessings for the baby. You tell Wotan I will expect a name in return!”
“Uh, OK.” Sariel’s vision was getting blurry.
“I see you are fading my friend. Until our next visit, Sariel the Angel, remember, you are always welcome in my garden! Oh, and tell Ganesha he is a great asshole!”
"Sariel!” Ganesh was sitting on the bed, next to him. “Are you all right?"
"Great Brahma says you're an asshole."
"Great Brahma can come suck my dick!" Ganesh frowned at Sariel. “You dreamed an encounter with Great Brahma?”
“Yeah.”
Ganesh sat back. “How did he seem?”
“Big red guy,” Sariel recounted, sitting up. “He stomped around in his garden, raving and waving all his hands and pretending to read a Financial Times.”
“Well. That was definitely Brahma. Oh, you can go and wash off my ointment now, if it would please you to not walk around stinking of onion.”
“OK,” said Sariel. He hopped off the bed and unceremoniously doffed his robe. He turned and suddenly grabbed Ganesh by the collar, pulling the flustered god into a rather extended kiss. Then he headed off saying, “I’m gonna shower. You coming?”
“Er….” Ganesh stammered. He suddenly started struggling out of his shirt. “Yes, yes, I’m coming, wait for me….”
Lucifer sat in the hallway and dabbed at his tie. Where the hell had the mustard stain come from? He couldn’t remember having eaten a sandwich lately.
The admin bade him enter the office. One of his old offices, he thought ill-naturedly. He clumped in, alternating his real foot with his new solid gold foot.
“Lucy! Baby!”
Oh no, not him, thought Lucifer Morningstar.
"Samael. This is, uh, unexpected."
Samael, also known as Dick Knubbler, was in his Court Form, including those creepy robot eyes. At least they were flashing a friendly green for now. "Yeah, Lucy baby. Big Wotey has stuff to do, yeah. Lots of important stuff. So he thought he'd leave some staffing decisions to me and Willy baby." He reached out an elegant arm to indicate the sullen death metal musician who currently sat at his side, scowling and stabbing a knife into one of the precious antique tables.
"Um, you are aware that that table you're defacing is Renaissance era?" Lucifer sniffed at him.
"This knife," Murderface told him, holding the same a millimeter from Lucifer's startled nose, "is Schivil War era."
"Uh. OK," agreed Lucifer, blinking his one good eye.
"So, Lucy Baby, I wanna know what you think you'll bring to this position, yeah."
Lucifer took his eye off Murderface's knifepoint to stare at Knubbler. "What do you mean, what I'd bring? I'm Satan!"
“Yeah, baby, we all know your resume, yeah. Pretty impressive, yeah. But we want somebody to think outside the box now."
“You’re full of shit, Samael. You know god damn well no one can be Satan but me.”
“Give me the vision thing, baby, yeah! Give it to me! I want you to shoot the moon, yeah! Give me a hard on, baby!”
“Give YOU a hard on, you old queen? That’ll be the day.”
“I BELIEVE my friend Dick asched you politely to give him a hard on,” Murderface hissed, once again flashing the knife.
"Uhhhhhhh," posited Lucifer. "How about this? What if I, er, put some ideas together and sent you an email?"
"Sure thing, Lucy Baby, yeah. Shoot us an email yeah. But make it big. Shoot the moon, yeah."
"Uh, yeah."
"And you bescht give usch a hard-on," grumbled Murderface, cleaning his nails on his knife.
Lucifer nearly collided with another man coming into the office. “Outta my way fucking fatso or I’ll stick a shiv in that fucking belly before you can fucking cry.”
Startled, Lucifer ducked out of the way.
“Seth, baby,” Lucifer could hear Dick Knubbler saying, “It’s unusual to list the prison system on your resume, yeah, baby. Kind of avant garde, I’d say, yeah.”
“I had it hard in life, nothing ever fucking handed to me like my fucking brother, I’ve had to fucking struggle for everything, but now I’ve got my fucking shit together, and I’m gonna fucking take over in Hell.”
"Wotan, you aren't offering him cigars again, are you? He has just gotten over pneumonia!" Ganesh huffed. He thumped irritably down into an overstuffed chair in a Valhallan sitting room opposite where Wotan indeed appeared to be tempting the angel with a delicious Cuban.
"Now, you can't go coddling him to death! My Raziel is pregnant, and she goes off on her adventures!"
"Raziel is a perfectly healthy woman! Sariel was deathly ill!"
"He's a tough one," Wotan attested, slapping Sariel on the back. Sariel, who was attempting to light his cigar, started to cough uncontrollably. "He'll be fine!"
"He hasn't even been able to return to proper Court Form."
"I was going to ask about that,” Wotan asked suspiciously.
Ganesh paused. "I am.... I am not entirely certain what has happened." He sounded a little guilty.
"Yes...?" Wotan asked, taking a puff of his own cigar.
"Er. Our great friend Pickles had been attending to him. And. Er."
"Ganesh. Now, be honest. Have you been using your sex magic on him?"
Sariel suddenly wondered if it would be possible to crawl into the couch cushions and maybe get lost there.
"I.... I don't know," Ganesh grumbled. He was absently twisting his legs up into a lotus position. Sariel noticed he had started to do this unconsciously since his return.
"And how can you not know?" Wotan ventured.
"I may have been a bit ... stoned."
Wotan laughed. "And you're after Sariel about smoking a cigar?"
"It was simply one of Pickles' mildly hallucinogenic substances."
"Uh," Sariel put in. "You do realize Pickles doesn't bother with anything mild? He's immune to almost anything that's just normal potency."
"I just wished to unwind," Ganesh muttered. Sariel looked in wonder at Ganesh. How many times had he seen him serenely shrug off Shiva's badgering? But under a bit of prodding from Wotan, he had suddenly turned to a grumpy adolescent.
"Ganesh," Sariel told him, trying to keep his voice mild, "you're not gonna get a Drugs Are Bad speech from me, but just realize, the stuff Pickles uses could down an elephant. Not to mention a former elephant god."
Ganesh sighed and held out a hand to Wotan. Wotan grinned and poured some Scotch into a glass for him. Ganesh grabbed the glass, sipped and sat back. "That may be what has happened. The possibility had not occurred to me. I'll admit, I was preoccupied that night with thoughts of Sariel's illness, and his loss of appetite."
"Well, all things considered, not a terrible outcome, I'll grant you," Wotan smiled, reaching over to nudge down Sariel's tinted eyeglasses. "You'll attend to this, so he doesn't spend his life looking like a fucking Siberian Husky I take it?"
"I guess. If I can figure out what the fuck we did," Ganesh allowed.
Wotan laughed, pushing up Sariel's glasses. "Get Pickles and a joint, is what I'd suggest. Just make sure none of ye end up pregnant!"
Sariel spat out a mouthful of Scotch, sending a sleeping wolf running. "Could that really happen?" he choked.
Wotan roared with laughter. "Well, actually no," he chuckled, scratching the distressed wolf behind the ears, "not unless one of ye turns into a mare and fucks a horse. So, mind you stay away from my stables!"
Ganesh looked to Sariel. "I am sorry. I have been so distracted lately. I did not realize what I was doing. Probably, combined with your magic.... And then I have no idea about Pickles' capabilities. You could have sustained a serious injury."
“We are all … distracted these days,” Wotan said, suddenly serious.
“My friend, as I have said, Raziel is perfectly healthy,” said Ganesh.
“She can’t keep anything down besides your mom’s tea!”
“Yes!” Ganesh began to explain. “Nausea gravidarum during the first trimester is actually highly correlated with a healthy pregnancy! The fetuses….”
“The babies will take care of themselves,” Wotan told him. “Unless they don’t. You watch my girl, that’s what you do.”
“It is all quite perfectly normal! In a few months, you will be passing out those stinking cigars at the Naming ceremony and wondering what all the fuss was about!”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I forgot,” Sariel interjected. “Brahma mentioned something about how he wants names? Um, for the kids, I think?”
“Brahma?” Wotan asked.
“I had a sort of a vision thing where I met Great Brahma,” Sariel told him.
“I, er, may have overdosed him ever so slightly on his medication,” Ganesh admitted.
“Ganesha, what the FUCK is going on in your household?” Wotan exploded, wagging a finger. "Do I need to call Shiva?”
Ganesh looked like he wished to melt down into his chair. "Er, no?"
“It was my fault!” Sariel protested. “I took some medicine before it was ready.”
Wotan shot an annoyed glance at Ganesh, who busily sipped his whiskey. “You got to talk to Brahma?” he asked Sariel.
“Well, I ended up in his garden, so we walked around, yeah, and we talked. Or rather, he talked, and waved a newspaper, and I mostly listened.”
“Heh. That old bastard hasn’t changed.”
“You know him?”
“Old, old friend. Known him as long as Shiva,” he said, indicating the still cringing Ganesh. “But, he’s gotten reclusive as hell. Wouldn’t even come to my damn wedding.”
“He said I was a member of the family now.”
“True that. Although, so are we all. Well, us gods I mean. We’re all of us related, third or fourth cousins or that.”
“He said he was gonna bless the kids, and he wanted names in return?”
Ganesh and Wotan exchanged a glance.
Wotan scratched his beard. “Well, that’s unusual.”
“Old son of a bitch had to be dragged kicking and screaming to my Naming,” Ganesh grumbled. “Or so my mother claims.”
"He, uh, he also told me I was the first of the New Ones. Not the last."
"You didn't tell me this," Ganesh said.
"He's the third person who's said the same thing to me. It's getting weird."
"Did you ask him to elaborate?" Ganesh asked.
"Nah. I was kinda stoned. If you recall."
"Brahma, that old gossip. Well, probably a visit is in order, to see what he’s on about. Anyway, it's time," said Wotan, rising. "Are you boys ready to go?"
Skwisgaar looked up from his guitar. There was a woman in his room. He grinned.
It was actually only his crazy stepmom, dressed in one of her weird outfits. But he was frankly a little bit bored today, since the recording had kind of stalled, so maybe she would be a distraction.
Uninvited, she sat down on the edge of his bed and peered under her brimmed hat. “I’ve heard you may be in the market for some detective work!”
“Hey, ja,” he agreed, setting the guitar down. That stuff was pretty fun.
“I need someone to track down someone. Or, something.”
“Da magicsal beingses?” Skwisgaar asked.
“Yup.”
He grinned and grabbed her fedora, setting it up on his own head at a jaunty angle. “Lady, you ams hired yourself a hards boiled detectives dude!”
Negative space looks like nothing much at all. Maybe the best way to describe it is what it looks like on your television set after a wind storm has knocked out the cable. And, as it looks like nothing much, so it is nothing much: literally neither here nor there. This makes it a good place for meetings of a delicate diplomatic nature.
"Raziel isn't coming?" Sariel asked.
Wotan shook his head. "Wouldn't say why exactly, but I know enough not to argue with my Lady when she's got a notion."
The angel stood awaiting them.
"I don't believe you boys have been formally introduced," Wotan began. "Honorable Phanuel of the Seraphim, this is the Honorable Sariel..."
"Just Sariel will do. I'm not with the company anymore."
"I know you," Phanuel said. His voice was surprisingly deep, as he was not large for a Seraph. But he spoke softly, with an accent that reflected more clipped British vowels than even Ganesh at his more relaxed. And the grey eyes were piercing. Sariel felt a bit unnerved, suddenly realizing why Raziel had refused to come.
"Yeah. The other day, the duel...." Sariel began.
"No. No. I must know you from before that," Phanuel stated.
Sariel shook his head.
"And this is Shri Ganesha, Lord of Hosts...." Wotan continued.
"And Acting Lord of Destruction," Ganesh quickly added, narrowing his eyes at Phanuel.
"Lord Ganesh," Phanuel told him, bowing. "I was shocked and saddened, as all honorable beings must have been, at the traitorous acts of my Brother."
"Our capitol city lies in ruin. We were rather more than shocked," Ganesh growled.
"Consider then my offer," Phanuel told him. "I command a brigade of men, not all of them soldiers. I can supply engineers to aid with your rebuilding."
Ganesh stared for a moment. "Wouldn't assigning your soldiers to this world tend to bind them here?"
"Yes."
"I do not think your Headquarters would be quite pleased."
"Then it would be good that Headquarters not find out."
"You've sided with Michael? In the civil war?" Sariel asked.
"We do not term it a civil war, but rather, a rebellion," Phanuel told him with a dry smile. "But, yes, I fight for the head of the Legion."
"So? What are your chances?"
"Well, you are blunt. Gabriel has more men. I have the good men. But the war, whatever we term it, is a distraction. I am bound by some very old ... agreements not to tell of certain things. But what I can say is quite alarming. The edges of Creation are fraying. This is known. It has been my duty, since time of old, to cut off the dying universes. But, the process appears to be speeding up. A solution must be found. Alas, we have no time due to this unfortunate ... venture."
"What do you think is the solution, Honored Phanuel?" Wotan asked.
"I cannot say. Things the Creator makes," Phanuel said, eying Sariel, "sometimes possess very grave imperfections."
"Speaking of Our Father," Sariel ventured, "we’ve been sent a vision that may or may not be relevant."
Phanuel arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"We've witnessed the Creator committing what looks like a murder. A woman."
If you weren't looking closely, you would have missed it. Phanuel flinched. It may have been for a fraction of a second. "How do you propose to act on this ... vision?"
"We don't know of many female beings who speak High Angelic. We were gonna go talk to the librarian-"
"Tzaphkiel. Yes. It has been a long time since I have set eyes on my Honored Sister. Please. You cannot carry my greetings...."
"Can tell her we saw ye out on the battlefield the other day," Wotan supplied. "That's well known."
Phanuel bowed. "You would have my gratitude."
"Well, that guy was a barrel of laughs," Sariel told Ganesh as they arrived back at the god's residence. "Are you gonna take him up on his offer of engineers?"
"I believe so. He appears much too grave in temperament to be engaged in deception," Ganesh answered. "Though it will take a bit of persuasion to get my people to work in collaboration with angels."
"I have some working for me now."
"Angels? Really?"
"Cherubs. They're irritating as hell, but they're great with boring stuff. And they don't tend to die if they fall off the edge of a floating island."
"How did that happen again?"
"Klokateer accountants?" he shrugged. "One jumps off a cliff, and the rest follow."
"Your fans are...."
"Yeah. They are."
Ganesh smiled. "I am wondering how I am supposed to put the damned universe back to rights when I am incapable of managing my own capitol city without angelic aid."
"Phanuel said he's bound not to speak by some old contracts? Maybe we could figure out how to break them!"
"You want to negotiate your way out of the end of the universe?"
"Sure, why the hell not?"
Ganesh grinned and shook his head. "Are you coming inside?"
"I need to run back to Mordhaus, pick up a few things, make sure my Cherubs have enough sheet cake."
It was not late by Mordhaus' odd standards, but it was prime hours for the crawling in and out of strip clubs, so Sariel found his office for once agreeably empty of keening death metal musicians when he stopped by. He grabbed his laptop computer and headed for his own room.
As Sariel’s night vision was better than most, and as light in general tended to bother his eyes, he was not always in the habit of automatically flipping on the light switch upon entering a darkened area. He was however almost instantly aware of sound and movement coming from the vicinity of his bed upon entering his bedroom. He decided to casually doff his jacket and tie. And then, in a motion too quick to be witnesses by human eyes, he was standing on the bed, sword raised, lights powered up by a flick of his hand.
What he saw, however, made him cry out and jump back.
It was Isis and Nephthys. And they were not, as was their custom, dressed in elaborate frilly outfits.
Instead, the outfits were strewn about the floor, and the girls, as far as he could tell, had saved him from any attention paid to their elaborate bodices or underwear, as they were wearing nothing at all.
They were also cringing away from his upraised saber.
Scowling viciously, Sariel jutted his sword at them.
"Do NOT. Fucking. Move." he hissed at them. And then he hopped off the bed and exited the room, giving the door a rather good slam.
Sariel sat cross-legged outside his room, glaring. His sword was still drawn by his side. He was flicking ashes from a cigarette into a styrofoam cup.
"I gave him da cigarette," Pickles confessed. "He seemed like he needed one."
Raziel nodded and crouched down in front of Sariel. "I'm here now. I will take care of this," she said softly.
He fixed his eyes on her. "I want them out of my room. Out of my fucking castle. Out of Mordland. OUT OF MY LIFE."
"I will take care of this," she repeated, making a great effort to keep her face stern.
She stood and entered his room. "All right, girls, up and dressed in FIVE. Your queen does not like to be kept waiting. HEADS WILL ROLL." There was a sound of shuffling, and then, "Oh my GOD, Nephthys, did you knit that shrug? I will have to kill you." And then, at last, silence.
Pickles poked his head into the room. He entered, and the came back into the hallway. "All clear," he smiled, extending a hand down to Sariel.
Sariel stood, grasping the sword. "We are going to find Toki. And then, wherever he is, I AM GOING TO KILL HIM."
Pickles put his hands lightly on Sariel's shoulders. "Naw. Charles. Dood. What we're gonna do, we're gonna go to da Gannish dood's house. And den we're gonna get high an' maybe watch a DVD."
"SOMEBODY NEEDS TO DIE!"
"Nobody's dyin'. C'mon, I got some really mellow stuff..."
Raziel and Parvati sat in one of Parvati's many splendid sitting rooms and watched a pyjama-clad Aaron excitedly lead off Isis and Nephthys.
"We really appreciate this," Raziel said.
"Oh, he seems to have taken a liking to them. Spider Grandma has said Aaron may remain here until the next school year, but I fear that he does not have enough companionship. And I have never raised daughters."
"These two are gonna be a handful I think."
"What did Nut and Geb say?"
"I walked in on them in the bedroom."
Parvati laughed. "That I should have liked to have seen!"
"I told them I was taking the twins to be my ladies in waiting. Not that I have any fucking clue what a lady in waiting is supposed to do, but it sounded pretty queenly. And they acted like I was taking them to the mall. I mean, seriously, why do some people even have children?"
"For fertility god's, such things would be expected. Tea?"
"Please! Your tea is still the only thing I can keep down."
"It's never quite what you expect, raising children."
"What was Ganesha like? As a boy?"
"Oh, he was so quiet! He would be silent and watch and then come up with many questions you could not answer. It used to drive Shiva crazy, as he would not know what to say. I always thought that was why Ganesha carries such affection for Lord Wotan, as he would tell him, 'I don't know, let's puzzle that one out together!' And that also used to drive my Shiva crazy."
"That sounds like Wotan."
"How does he seem to you these days? My Ganesha?"
"Overwhelmed," said Raziel, who was not one to mince words.
"It was a lot to thrust on him, so recently back. And Sariel..." she trailed off.
"You don't think it's a good match either, do you?" Raziel asked.
"I do not wish to cause offense. But, I suppose you could say, I do not understand."
"Maybe Sariel is a question he can't answer," Raziel grinned.
"THE BRACELETS!"
The women both looked up, slightly startled by the sight of Ganesh, who had just appeared before them, rather large joint poking out of his mouth.
"Ganesha?" Parvati asked.
"Where are those bracelets? The ones you wore when you were pregnant with me?"
"I think I have them somewhere," Parvati answered. "Is it-"
"Yes, it is of utmost urgency!"
Parvati arched one lovely eyebrow, but rose and proceeded out of the room.
"Spending an evening with Pickles?" Raziel asked.
Ganesh suddenly looked down at the joint in his own mouth. "Oh. Er."
Parvati returned, carrying two rather odd looking silver bracelets. They each bore a large jewel, but it was mounted on the inside, not the outside.
Ganesh grabbed the bracelets and snapped them onto Raziel's wrists. "Pressure at the Neiguan point!"
"In English?" Raziel asked.
"Relief from pregnancy associated nausea! Acupressure! Come let's try!" And so saying, he grabbed her elbow and walked her into the living room at his residence. "So? What do you think? Are you experiencing nausea from the jump?"
"No, I feel OK," Raziel noted with surprise. She looked over to where Sariel and Pickles were staring in apparent wonder over the back of Ganesh's couch. Their pupils were wide as monster truck tires.
"Dood started screamin', 'Bracelets!' and disappeared," Pickles explained.
She grinned at them. "So, is this how you guys spend your evenings nowadays?"
"They made me!" protested Sariel, who had grabbed the joint from Ganesh. "I was gonna kill somebody!"
"Really? Who?"
"I don't remember. Was it you?" he asked, suddenly glaring over his eyeglasses at Pickles.
"Nah, dood, it wasn't me."
"Oh. OK. I was gonna kill someone, and it wasn't Pickles."
"Come," said Ganesh, and he escorted her back to his mother's residence. "Now," he told Parvati, "You will need to feed her something! Fatten her up for Wotan! I am the world's finest physician. Are you still using my ointment on your face? Use it every night, and the scars will disappear in one month!"
And with that, he gave his mother a peck on the cheek and disappeared.
Raziel and Parvati looked at each other.
"Whoa. He was SO HIGH," Raziel marveled.
The women burst out laughing. "Well, let's get some soup for you," Parvati said. "Doctor's orders."
"So, this place - this place - is to be their next attack?" Michael asked.
Phanuel stood across the room, his back to Michael. "Yes," he answered.
"Hardly strategic. What can they be thinking?"
"It is a sacred site. They wish to damage morale," the Grey angel enunciated. Phanuel was undoubtedly a brilliant general, but Michael had always found him irritating, subtly insubordinate. And to top it off, he was one gloomy ass motherfucker.
"I'm not going to waste our resources defending it," Michael concluded.
"I would recommend otherwise," Phanuel rejoindered.
"Why waste scarce resources?" Michael fumed. He chastised himself immediately for being drawn into a debate with this man.
"The other side wishes to make a demonstration. That they will stop at nothing."
Michael glared at Phanuel's stiff back. "We will stop at nothing," he decided.
Phanuel turned, a look of disbelief on his face. "You can't mean...."
"They cannot destroy it if we have already crushed it."
Phanuel didn't reply. The question was in his expression.
"You have your orders," Michael hissed.
Phanuel turned, and stared out the window, at the universe below. How much would remain, he thought, after this madness had ended?
"As you wish," he told Michael. And departed.
"Gloomy ass motherfucker," grumbled Michael to himself. He then rang for some Cherubic clerks, so he would have someone enjoyable to yell at.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angels and onions
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking
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 written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.What’s been happening, dude: Charles now has Cherubim working down in the Accounting Department and Teenaged Goddesses wrecking havoc up above. Pickles took him to see some scary vision about the Creator, then Wotan let him smoke a cigar, and he would have gotten totally busted, only he figured out Lord Ganesh needs to dance out his relationship issues.
The Sacred Lotus (Mythklok, Chapter 29)
"Leg," ordered Ganesh.
"Is this really necessary?" Sariel grumbled. Nevertheless, he hiked up his robe so Ganesh could see the ragged scar running down his thigh. The angel defiantly crossed his arms. "Personally, I think it's kind of sexy!"
"Yes, jaanu," Ganesh replied, distractedly kissing Sariel on the top of his head. "Everything is sexy on you. We shall perhaps purchase you a nice new sexy bow tie instead." He held up a small jar containing an odd-smelling ointment, and carefully smeared some of the gooey concoction along the scar.
"Smells like onions."
"Onions are an ingredient." He gestured again. "Robe, please."
Sariel sighed and pulled open his robe on top. Ganesh carefully dabbed at a few of the older scars on the angel's chest.
Sariel sniffed. "And garlic too?"
"That's correct."
"You're not treating my scars! You're basting me so you can cook me!"
"Firstly, despite other changes in my physical manifestation, I remain a vegetarian. Secondly, there is no meat to speak of on your bones anyway."
"I like my scars."
"You will still have them. Most are quite old, so treatment will not eliminate them, it will simply fade them a bit, as well as reduce the pain and stiffness you were describing. Now, kindly turn the fuck over."
"That doesn't sound terribly professional," Sariel laughed. He turned over onto his belly (or lack thereof) and Ganesh carefully tugged his robe off his shoulders.
"Namaste Ganesha!!"
"Namaste, Lady Raziel!"
"Raziel, don't you ever fucking knock?" Sariel protested.
"Ah, nothing I haven't seen before," she grinned.
"You do not need the washroom?" Ganesh inquired. "Has your stomach settled a bit?"
"Naw, unfortunately, it's gotten worse. I can't keep anything down other than your mom's tea. But I already had a lot of errands this morning so I'm pretty much barfed out."
Ganesh sighed. "I've advised you to minimize your jumping from place to place if it irritates you so."
"Yeah, especially you might wanna keep outta other people's bedrooms during intimate moment!" Sariel groused.
"What intimate moment?" asked Raziel. "He's obviously just basting you to cook you!"
"See?" Sariel demanded.
"Not a good idea," Ganesh insisted. "He would be quite stringy."
"With a biting aftertaste," Raziel giggled.
"I would be delicious!"
"Perhaps later, dear," Ganesh promised.
"Oh, and be sure and get that one! It's a doozy," Raziel noted, pointing out an especially vicious scar along Sariel' side.
"It seems a rather grievous injury!" Ganesh agreed, gently dabbing the old wound with his ointment. "Was it from ... that horrible angel?"
"No," Sariel muttered.
"Then ... from warfare?"
"He came that way!" Raziel supplied.
"I'm sorry?"
"He's always had it," she told him.
"Sariel was Created with a scar?"
"Evidently," Sariel said forlornly.
"We always joke that he must've fallen off Our Father's workbench reaching for some smokes!"
"It seems most odd," Ganesh mused.
"Did you come up here to relive the good times, Raziel?" Sariel asked her impatiently.
"Ohhhhhh! I almost forgot! LOOK!" She extracted an item from her purse and held it up triumphantly.
Sariel snatched at it. "Raziel? This is a library card."
"Yes!" she agreed.
"Yeah. I'm about to die from excitement."
"Sariel! This isn't a library card! This is THE library card. We're going to see the librarian!"
"It sounds like the plot for a really bad music video. Didn't Dr. Rockso...?"
“No! The Lady. Tzaphkiel.”
“Zap what? Is that a Scrabble answer?” Sariel wondered.
“Oh, I find I quite like Scrabble,” Ganesh grinned.
"The other female Seraph! It turns out, when she went away, she took a job at our library. The Library."
"So, we'll go see her?"
"That's the plan! You don't have any overdue books, do you?"
"Naw. I'm just, you know, Fallen and cursed for life."
"That should be fine. Dress appropriately!" she grinned, vanishing.
"Whatever did she mean by that?" Ganesh wondered.
"Oh, I think I know. Are we done here?" Sariel asked, shrugging back into his bathrobe.
"One more thing," Ganesh told him. He indicated a pot that was steaming over on the bureau.
"Yuck! Smells worse than the fucking ointment."
"I simply wished you to inhale a bit of the steam,” Ganesh told him, heading for the washroom. “Should help clear the lungs."
"I thought my lungs were clear!"
"It will help with any scarring. Internally," Gamesh shouted over the sound of running water. "Do this for me and we shall talk about you getting a cigar."
"I don't wanna talk about cigars, I wanna smoke one!" Sariel declared, leaning over and inhaling deeply from the pot.
"Anyway, you will need to let it steep for a few minutes more...." Ganesh informed him as he returned to the bedroom' wiping his hands on a towel.
Sariel was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
"Oops," said Ganesh.
Sariel was in a garden with no idea how he'd gotten there.
It was a pleasant garden. It smelled really nice, like spices and rare flowers.
Oddly, he wasn't terribly upset to find himself in this predicament.
There was a guy walking by, whistling, pink Financial Times tucked under one of his many arms. He noticed Sariel and stopped. He had bright red skin - much brighter red even that that of Duke Berith. He was also dressed in flowing robes of the brightest red.
"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" offered Sariel by way of greeting.
"Hmpf," the red being replied. "This is my garden. Maybe you ought to answer me first?"
"I'm Sariel."
The being appeared to be taken aback. "You're Sariel? The angel?"
Sariel scowled. And then he True Formed, making sure to spread his wings in a most obnoxious manner. "Yeah, I'm Sariel the angel."
Oddly, the being appeared more impressed than offended by such indecorous behavior. "Well, I'll be. So you are! That's an impressive aura. I apologize, I wasn't seeing it when you'd got it all tucked away like that. That's a neat trick."
"You're into that aura crap too?"
"Well, yes. I do apologize. I am Brahma. Welcome to my garden, Sariel the Angel. I knew Shiva had brought you into the organization, but I wasn't expecting you to pop up so suddenly."
Sariel blinked, remembering. "I think Ganesh might have drugged me."
"Ah, that boy!" Brahma shook his red head and crossed a couple pairs of red arms. "He was up here visiting me last month, did he tell you?"
"Uh, yeah, I think I heard about that."
"Well, since your time might be limited, let us walk and talk a bit. You wouldn't mind putting away the wings, by the way? I know the gesture is supposed to be offensive, though I've never found it particularly so. But, you never know who else we might run into on one of my constitutionals!"
Sariel shrugged and Court Formed, and began to walk with Brahma.
"Ganesha. Is he still into all that vegetarian nonsense? You look like you're just skin and bones!"
"I've been sick."
"Well, next time, try and give us some warning before you pop in and I'll have Sarasvati cook you up a lovely sacred cow. My dear one is the best cook in all the heavens!"
"OK."
"Here is the pool where Ganesha would go and meditate," Brahma told him. Sariel paused. It looked very quiet and peaceful, just the kind of place Ganesh would favor.
"He meditated for an entire month. An entire month, would you believe it?" sighed Brahma. "He is one stubborn little madarchod, I'll give him that."
"He told me you were trying to get his soul to pass on."
"WHAT?" fumed Brahma. "Of all the.... Little fucker is lucky I didn't send him back as a newt! Lord Gaesha’s spirit is not ready to pass on! Not by a longshot!"
"Wait. Then why did you tell him...."
"I had to test his will, that's my job. You've got to go through the proper steps with this sort of thing, else you'd have every Tom, Dick and Sanjay up here, claiming to be separated from a true love, just because they wanted to get back to their cricket match, or some nonsense. I thought he would at least debate me: Shiva spared no expense sending that one to law school! Too much to hope he'd do something really exciting, like challenge me to a bare knuckles fistfight. No, always the passive aggressive nonsense. 'I'm not going anywhere without my angel, you great windbag, so fuck off!'"
"Uh, is that what he told you?"
"Sure!"
"Huh. It was a little different in the version he told."
"I've told Lord Shiva time and time again," and here Great Brahma started to gesticulate so enthusiastically he nearly dropped his Financial Times, "that is no life for your son, living always in your shadow! You must allow him his own path, or step aside! This is what I have told him!"
"Well, Shiva's stepped aside now."
"Yes, after nearly bankrupting the EEC!" Brahma waved his newspaper. "And getting us entangled in a war with those fucking angels! No offense."
"I'm Fallen."
"Probably to your betterment. Headquarters is a dreadful place. At any rate, Lord Ganesha needs to correct his path! He is too damned solitary, always keeping himself apart, like he thinks he is some kind of bodhisattvah in training. I have told him to change his ways, to live instead the life of a man, with great friends and cruel enemies and brave deeds and fine lovers and many amusing stories. This is the life of a man!" With the last sweeping gesture, The Financial Times finally gave up its purchase under Great Brahma’s arm, and sections scattered like pink confetti to emphasize the god's last declaration.
"And, uh, your job is to basically sashay around, reading a newspaper?" Sariel asked. He was, to be fair, a bit high on Ganesh's concoction.
Brahma blinked round the bits of flying newsprint. Then he roared with laughter.
"I like you, Sariel the Angel! You are a riot! You will promise to return? My Sarasvati is the best cook in the heavens. We will concoct a feast for you, fatten you right up again." He emphasized this last with a series of enthusiastic pokes to Sariel's stomach.
“Uh. Sure.”
“’Tis quite an honor, to welcome such a high born to the family! Ganesha has chosen well, I’ll give him that, to pick the first of the New Ones….”
“OK, Brahma? Can I stop you there? What makes you think I’m the first of the New Ones?”
“Hmpf! What did that great ass in the sky tell you of your origin?” he asked, pointing upwards.
“You mean Our Father? Well, he never actually told me anything. I just heard the stories.”
“You can’t tell me you believe angel gossip!”
“That’s sort of been all I’ve had to go on.”
“Hmpf!” Brahma tutted again. “Headquarters! Such nonsense. All that is known is that you showed up one day, and the Creator then fucked around trying to duplicate you, and as is typical for him, failed in a most miserable fashion. Such a great pest, the Morningstar!”
“Lucifer came up with that nickname, himself. Morningstar. Did you know that?” Sariel sat down, as he was feeling a bit light headed.
“No, I did not know that! That’s terrific! Little ox turd. What has he been up to, anyway?”
“Well, Wotan got annoyed with him when he tried to invade Asgard and disrupt his wedding, so Wotan ended up pushing him out and taking over Hell.”
“Well, Wotan will definitely do a better job of it. Oh, and he is now married to your sister? I unfortunately refused the invitation. I find wedding ceremonies tiresome.”
“I usually agree, but this one was pretty exciting, as these things go. Anyway, yeah. She’s pregnant. Did you know that?”
“Ah! That one works quickly. I suppose they will want family blessings for the baby. You tell Wotan I will expect a name in return!”
“Uh, OK.” Sariel’s vision was getting blurry.
“I see you are fading my friend. Until our next visit, Sariel the Angel, remember, you are always welcome in my garden! Oh, and tell Ganesha he is a great asshole!”
"Sariel!” Ganesh was sitting on the bed, next to him. “Are you all right?"
"Great Brahma says you're an asshole."
"Great Brahma can come suck my dick!" Ganesh frowned at Sariel. “You dreamed an encounter with Great Brahma?”
“Yeah.”
Ganesh sat back. “How did he seem?”
“Big red guy,” Sariel recounted, sitting up. “He stomped around in his garden, raving and waving all his hands and pretending to read a Financial Times.”
“Well. That was definitely Brahma. Oh, you can go and wash off my ointment now, if it would please you to not walk around stinking of onion.”
“OK,” said Sariel. He hopped off the bed and unceremoniously doffed his robe. He turned and suddenly grabbed Ganesh by the collar, pulling the flustered god into a rather extended kiss. Then he headed off saying, “I’m gonna shower. You coming?”
“Er….” Ganesh stammered. He suddenly started struggling out of his shirt. “Yes, yes, I’m coming, wait for me….”
Lucifer sat in the hallway and dabbed at his tie. Where the hell had the mustard stain come from? He couldn’t remember having eaten a sandwich lately.
The admin bade him enter the office. One of his old offices, he thought ill-naturedly. He clumped in, alternating his real foot with his new solid gold foot.
“Lucy! Baby!”
Oh no, not him, thought Lucifer Morningstar.
"Samael. This is, uh, unexpected."
Samael, also known as Dick Knubbler, was in his Court Form, including those creepy robot eyes. At least they were flashing a friendly green for now. "Yeah, Lucy baby. Big Wotey has stuff to do, yeah. Lots of important stuff. So he thought he'd leave some staffing decisions to me and Willy baby." He reached out an elegant arm to indicate the sullen death metal musician who currently sat at his side, scowling and stabbing a knife into one of the precious antique tables.
"Um, you are aware that that table you're defacing is Renaissance era?" Lucifer sniffed at him.
"This knife," Murderface told him, holding the same a millimeter from Lucifer's startled nose, "is Schivil War era."
"Uh. OK," agreed Lucifer, blinking his one good eye.
"So, Lucy Baby, I wanna know what you think you'll bring to this position, yeah."
Lucifer took his eye off Murderface's knifepoint to stare at Knubbler. "What do you mean, what I'd bring? I'm Satan!"
“Yeah, baby, we all know your resume, yeah. Pretty impressive, yeah. But we want somebody to think outside the box now."
“You’re full of shit, Samael. You know god damn well no one can be Satan but me.”
“Give me the vision thing, baby, yeah! Give it to me! I want you to shoot the moon, yeah! Give me a hard on, baby!”
“Give YOU a hard on, you old queen? That’ll be the day.”
“I BELIEVE my friend Dick asched you politely to give him a hard on,” Murderface hissed, once again flashing the knife.
"Uhhhhhhh," posited Lucifer. "How about this? What if I, er, put some ideas together and sent you an email?"
"Sure thing, Lucy Baby, yeah. Shoot us an email yeah. But make it big. Shoot the moon, yeah."
"Uh, yeah."
"And you bescht give usch a hard-on," grumbled Murderface, cleaning his nails on his knife.
Lucifer nearly collided with another man coming into the office. “Outta my way fucking fatso or I’ll stick a shiv in that fucking belly before you can fucking cry.”
Startled, Lucifer ducked out of the way.
“Seth, baby,” Lucifer could hear Dick Knubbler saying, “It’s unusual to list the prison system on your resume, yeah, baby. Kind of avant garde, I’d say, yeah.”
“I had it hard in life, nothing ever fucking handed to me like my fucking brother, I’ve had to fucking struggle for everything, but now I’ve got my fucking shit together, and I’m gonna fucking take over in Hell.”
"Wotan, you aren't offering him cigars again, are you? He has just gotten over pneumonia!" Ganesh huffed. He thumped irritably down into an overstuffed chair in a Valhallan sitting room opposite where Wotan indeed appeared to be tempting the angel with a delicious Cuban.
"Now, you can't go coddling him to death! My Raziel is pregnant, and she goes off on her adventures!"
"Raziel is a perfectly healthy woman! Sariel was deathly ill!"
"He's a tough one," Wotan attested, slapping Sariel on the back. Sariel, who was attempting to light his cigar, started to cough uncontrollably. "He'll be fine!"
"He hasn't even been able to return to proper Court Form."
"I was going to ask about that,” Wotan asked suspiciously.
Ganesh paused. "I am.... I am not entirely certain what has happened." He sounded a little guilty.
"Yes...?" Wotan asked, taking a puff of his own cigar.
"Er. Our great friend Pickles had been attending to him. And. Er."
"Ganesh. Now, be honest. Have you been using your sex magic on him?"
Sariel suddenly wondered if it would be possible to crawl into the couch cushions and maybe get lost there.
"I.... I don't know," Ganesh grumbled. He was absently twisting his legs up into a lotus position. Sariel noticed he had started to do this unconsciously since his return.
"And how can you not know?" Wotan ventured.
"I may have been a bit ... stoned."
Wotan laughed. "And you're after Sariel about smoking a cigar?"
"It was simply one of Pickles' mildly hallucinogenic substances."
"Uh," Sariel put in. "You do realize Pickles doesn't bother with anything mild? He's immune to almost anything that's just normal potency."
"I just wished to unwind," Ganesh muttered. Sariel looked in wonder at Ganesh. How many times had he seen him serenely shrug off Shiva's badgering? But under a bit of prodding from Wotan, he had suddenly turned to a grumpy adolescent.
"Ganesh," Sariel told him, trying to keep his voice mild, "you're not gonna get a Drugs Are Bad speech from me, but just realize, the stuff Pickles uses could down an elephant. Not to mention a former elephant god."
Ganesh sighed and held out a hand to Wotan. Wotan grinned and poured some Scotch into a glass for him. Ganesh grabbed the glass, sipped and sat back. "That may be what has happened. The possibility had not occurred to me. I'll admit, I was preoccupied that night with thoughts of Sariel's illness, and his loss of appetite."
"Well, all things considered, not a terrible outcome, I'll grant you," Wotan smiled, reaching over to nudge down Sariel's tinted eyeglasses. "You'll attend to this, so he doesn't spend his life looking like a fucking Siberian Husky I take it?"
"I guess. If I can figure out what the fuck we did," Ganesh allowed.
Wotan laughed, pushing up Sariel's glasses. "Get Pickles and a joint, is what I'd suggest. Just make sure none of ye end up pregnant!"
Sariel spat out a mouthful of Scotch, sending a sleeping wolf running. "Could that really happen?" he choked.
Wotan roared with laughter. "Well, actually no," he chuckled, scratching the distressed wolf behind the ears, "not unless one of ye turns into a mare and fucks a horse. So, mind you stay away from my stables!"
Ganesh looked to Sariel. "I am sorry. I have been so distracted lately. I did not realize what I was doing. Probably, combined with your magic.... And then I have no idea about Pickles' capabilities. You could have sustained a serious injury."
“We are all … distracted these days,” Wotan said, suddenly serious.
“My friend, as I have said, Raziel is perfectly healthy,” said Ganesh.
“She can’t keep anything down besides your mom’s tea!”
“Yes!” Ganesh began to explain. “Nausea gravidarum during the first trimester is actually highly correlated with a healthy pregnancy! The fetuses….”
“The babies will take care of themselves,” Wotan told him. “Unless they don’t. You watch my girl, that’s what you do.”
“It is all quite perfectly normal! In a few months, you will be passing out those stinking cigars at the Naming ceremony and wondering what all the fuss was about!”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I forgot,” Sariel interjected. “Brahma mentioned something about how he wants names? Um, for the kids, I think?”
“Brahma?” Wotan asked.
“I had a sort of a vision thing where I met Great Brahma,” Sariel told him.
“I, er, may have overdosed him ever so slightly on his medication,” Ganesh admitted.
“Ganesha, what the FUCK is going on in your household?” Wotan exploded, wagging a finger. "Do I need to call Shiva?”
Ganesh looked like he wished to melt down into his chair. "Er, no?"
“It was my fault!” Sariel protested. “I took some medicine before it was ready.”
Wotan shot an annoyed glance at Ganesh, who busily sipped his whiskey. “You got to talk to Brahma?” he asked Sariel.
“Well, I ended up in his garden, so we walked around, yeah, and we talked. Or rather, he talked, and waved a newspaper, and I mostly listened.”
“Heh. That old bastard hasn’t changed.”
“You know him?”
“Old, old friend. Known him as long as Shiva,” he said, indicating the still cringing Ganesh. “But, he’s gotten reclusive as hell. Wouldn’t even come to my damn wedding.”
“He said I was a member of the family now.”
“True that. Although, so are we all. Well, us gods I mean. We’re all of us related, third or fourth cousins or that.”
“He said he was gonna bless the kids, and he wanted names in return?”
Ganesh and Wotan exchanged a glance.
Wotan scratched his beard. “Well, that’s unusual.”
“Old son of a bitch had to be dragged kicking and screaming to my Naming,” Ganesh grumbled. “Or so my mother claims.”
"He, uh, he also told me I was the first of the New Ones. Not the last."
"You didn't tell me this," Ganesh said.
"He's the third person who's said the same thing to me. It's getting weird."
"Did you ask him to elaborate?" Ganesh asked.
"Nah. I was kinda stoned. If you recall."
"Brahma, that old gossip. Well, probably a visit is in order, to see what he’s on about. Anyway, it's time," said Wotan, rising. "Are you boys ready to go?"
Skwisgaar looked up from his guitar. There was a woman in his room. He grinned.
It was actually only his crazy stepmom, dressed in one of her weird outfits. But he was frankly a little bit bored today, since the recording had kind of stalled, so maybe she would be a distraction.
Uninvited, she sat down on the edge of his bed and peered under her brimmed hat. “I’ve heard you may be in the market for some detective work!”
“Hey, ja,” he agreed, setting the guitar down. That stuff was pretty fun.
“I need someone to track down someone. Or, something.”
“Da magicsal beingses?” Skwisgaar asked.
“Yup.”
He grinned and grabbed her fedora, setting it up on his own head at a jaunty angle. “Lady, you ams hired yourself a hards boiled detectives dude!”
Negative space looks like nothing much at all. Maybe the best way to describe it is what it looks like on your television set after a wind storm has knocked out the cable. And, as it looks like nothing much, so it is nothing much: literally neither here nor there. This makes it a good place for meetings of a delicate diplomatic nature.
"Raziel isn't coming?" Sariel asked.
Wotan shook his head. "Wouldn't say why exactly, but I know enough not to argue with my Lady when she's got a notion."
The angel stood awaiting them.
"I don't believe you boys have been formally introduced," Wotan began. "Honorable Phanuel of the Seraphim, this is the Honorable Sariel..."
"Just Sariel will do. I'm not with the company anymore."
"I know you," Phanuel said. His voice was surprisingly deep, as he was not large for a Seraph. But he spoke softly, with an accent that reflected more clipped British vowels than even Ganesh at his more relaxed. And the grey eyes were piercing. Sariel felt a bit unnerved, suddenly realizing why Raziel had refused to come.
"Yeah. The other day, the duel...." Sariel began.
"No. No. I must know you from before that," Phanuel stated.
Sariel shook his head.
"And this is Shri Ganesha, Lord of Hosts...." Wotan continued.
"And Acting Lord of Destruction," Ganesh quickly added, narrowing his eyes at Phanuel.
"Lord Ganesh," Phanuel told him, bowing. "I was shocked and saddened, as all honorable beings must have been, at the traitorous acts of my Brother."
"Our capitol city lies in ruin. We were rather more than shocked," Ganesh growled.
"Consider then my offer," Phanuel told him. "I command a brigade of men, not all of them soldiers. I can supply engineers to aid with your rebuilding."
Ganesh stared for a moment. "Wouldn't assigning your soldiers to this world tend to bind them here?"
"Yes."
"I do not think your Headquarters would be quite pleased."
"Then it would be good that Headquarters not find out."
"You've sided with Michael? In the civil war?" Sariel asked.
"We do not term it a civil war, but rather, a rebellion," Phanuel told him with a dry smile. "But, yes, I fight for the head of the Legion."
"So? What are your chances?"
"Well, you are blunt. Gabriel has more men. I have the good men. But the war, whatever we term it, is a distraction. I am bound by some very old ... agreements not to tell of certain things. But what I can say is quite alarming. The edges of Creation are fraying. This is known. It has been my duty, since time of old, to cut off the dying universes. But, the process appears to be speeding up. A solution must be found. Alas, we have no time due to this unfortunate ... venture."
"What do you think is the solution, Honored Phanuel?" Wotan asked.
"I cannot say. Things the Creator makes," Phanuel said, eying Sariel, "sometimes possess very grave imperfections."
"Speaking of Our Father," Sariel ventured, "we’ve been sent a vision that may or may not be relevant."
Phanuel arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"We've witnessed the Creator committing what looks like a murder. A woman."
If you weren't looking closely, you would have missed it. Phanuel flinched. It may have been for a fraction of a second. "How do you propose to act on this ... vision?"
"We don't know of many female beings who speak High Angelic. We were gonna go talk to the librarian-"
"Tzaphkiel. Yes. It has been a long time since I have set eyes on my Honored Sister. Please. You cannot carry my greetings...."
"Can tell her we saw ye out on the battlefield the other day," Wotan supplied. "That's well known."
Phanuel bowed. "You would have my gratitude."
"Well, that guy was a barrel of laughs," Sariel told Ganesh as they arrived back at the god's residence. "Are you gonna take him up on his offer of engineers?"
"I believe so. He appears much too grave in temperament to be engaged in deception," Ganesh answered. "Though it will take a bit of persuasion to get my people to work in collaboration with angels."
"I have some working for me now."
"Angels? Really?"
"Cherubs. They're irritating as hell, but they're great with boring stuff. And they don't tend to die if they fall off the edge of a floating island."
"How did that happen again?"
"Klokateer accountants?" he shrugged. "One jumps off a cliff, and the rest follow."
"Your fans are...."
"Yeah. They are."
Ganesh smiled. "I am wondering how I am supposed to put the damned universe back to rights when I am incapable of managing my own capitol city without angelic aid."
"Phanuel said he's bound not to speak by some old contracts? Maybe we could figure out how to break them!"
"You want to negotiate your way out of the end of the universe?"
"Sure, why the hell not?"
Ganesh grinned and shook his head. "Are you coming inside?"
"I need to run back to Mordhaus, pick up a few things, make sure my Cherubs have enough sheet cake."
It was not late by Mordhaus' odd standards, but it was prime hours for the crawling in and out of strip clubs, so Sariel found his office for once agreeably empty of keening death metal musicians when he stopped by. He grabbed his laptop computer and headed for his own room.
As Sariel’s night vision was better than most, and as light in general tended to bother his eyes, he was not always in the habit of automatically flipping on the light switch upon entering a darkened area. He was however almost instantly aware of sound and movement coming from the vicinity of his bed upon entering his bedroom. He decided to casually doff his jacket and tie. And then, in a motion too quick to be witnesses by human eyes, he was standing on the bed, sword raised, lights powered up by a flick of his hand.
What he saw, however, made him cry out and jump back.
It was Isis and Nephthys. And they were not, as was their custom, dressed in elaborate frilly outfits.
Instead, the outfits were strewn about the floor, and the girls, as far as he could tell, had saved him from any attention paid to their elaborate bodices or underwear, as they were wearing nothing at all.
They were also cringing away from his upraised saber.
Scowling viciously, Sariel jutted his sword at them.
"Do NOT. Fucking. Move." he hissed at them. And then he hopped off the bed and exited the room, giving the door a rather good slam.
Sariel sat cross-legged outside his room, glaring. His sword was still drawn by his side. He was flicking ashes from a cigarette into a styrofoam cup.
"I gave him da cigarette," Pickles confessed. "He seemed like he needed one."
Raziel nodded and crouched down in front of Sariel. "I'm here now. I will take care of this," she said softly.
He fixed his eyes on her. "I want them out of my room. Out of my fucking castle. Out of Mordland. OUT OF MY LIFE."
"I will take care of this," she repeated, making a great effort to keep her face stern.
She stood and entered his room. "All right, girls, up and dressed in FIVE. Your queen does not like to be kept waiting. HEADS WILL ROLL." There was a sound of shuffling, and then, "Oh my GOD, Nephthys, did you knit that shrug? I will have to kill you." And then, at last, silence.
Pickles poked his head into the room. He entered, and the came back into the hallway. "All clear," he smiled, extending a hand down to Sariel.
Sariel stood, grasping the sword. "We are going to find Toki. And then, wherever he is, I AM GOING TO KILL HIM."
Pickles put his hands lightly on Sariel's shoulders. "Naw. Charles. Dood. What we're gonna do, we're gonna go to da Gannish dood's house. And den we're gonna get high an' maybe watch a DVD."
"SOMEBODY NEEDS TO DIE!"
"Nobody's dyin'. C'mon, I got some really mellow stuff..."
Raziel and Parvati sat in one of Parvati's many splendid sitting rooms and watched a pyjama-clad Aaron excitedly lead off Isis and Nephthys.
"We really appreciate this," Raziel said.
"Oh, he seems to have taken a liking to them. Spider Grandma has said Aaron may remain here until the next school year, but I fear that he does not have enough companionship. And I have never raised daughters."
"These two are gonna be a handful I think."
"What did Nut and Geb say?"
"I walked in on them in the bedroom."
Parvati laughed. "That I should have liked to have seen!"
"I told them I was taking the twins to be my ladies in waiting. Not that I have any fucking clue what a lady in waiting is supposed to do, but it sounded pretty queenly. And they acted like I was taking them to the mall. I mean, seriously, why do some people even have children?"
"For fertility god's, such things would be expected. Tea?"
"Please! Your tea is still the only thing I can keep down."
"It's never quite what you expect, raising children."
"What was Ganesha like? As a boy?"
"Oh, he was so quiet! He would be silent and watch and then come up with many questions you could not answer. It used to drive Shiva crazy, as he would not know what to say. I always thought that was why Ganesha carries such affection for Lord Wotan, as he would tell him, 'I don't know, let's puzzle that one out together!' And that also used to drive my Shiva crazy."
"That sounds like Wotan."
"How does he seem to you these days? My Ganesha?"
"Overwhelmed," said Raziel, who was not one to mince words.
"It was a lot to thrust on him, so recently back. And Sariel..." she trailed off.
"You don't think it's a good match either, do you?" Raziel asked.
"I do not wish to cause offense. But, I suppose you could say, I do not understand."
"Maybe Sariel is a question he can't answer," Raziel grinned.
"THE BRACELETS!"
The women both looked up, slightly startled by the sight of Ganesh, who had just appeared before them, rather large joint poking out of his mouth.
"Ganesha?" Parvati asked.
"Where are those bracelets? The ones you wore when you were pregnant with me?"
"I think I have them somewhere," Parvati answered. "Is it-"
"Yes, it is of utmost urgency!"
Parvati arched one lovely eyebrow, but rose and proceeded out of the room.
"Spending an evening with Pickles?" Raziel asked.
Ganesh suddenly looked down at the joint in his own mouth. "Oh. Er."
Parvati returned, carrying two rather odd looking silver bracelets. They each bore a large jewel, but it was mounted on the inside, not the outside.
Ganesh grabbed the bracelets and snapped them onto Raziel's wrists. "Pressure at the Neiguan point!"
"In English?" Raziel asked.
"Relief from pregnancy associated nausea! Acupressure! Come let's try!" And so saying, he grabbed her elbow and walked her into the living room at his residence. "So? What do you think? Are you experiencing nausea from the jump?"
"No, I feel OK," Raziel noted with surprise. She looked over to where Sariel and Pickles were staring in apparent wonder over the back of Ganesh's couch. Their pupils were wide as monster truck tires.
"Dood started screamin', 'Bracelets!' and disappeared," Pickles explained.
She grinned at them. "So, is this how you guys spend your evenings nowadays?"
"They made me!" protested Sariel, who had grabbed the joint from Ganesh. "I was gonna kill somebody!"
"Really? Who?"
"I don't remember. Was it you?" he asked, suddenly glaring over his eyeglasses at Pickles.
"Nah, dood, it wasn't me."
"Oh. OK. I was gonna kill someone, and it wasn't Pickles."
"Come," said Ganesh, and he escorted her back to his mother's residence. "Now," he told Parvati, "You will need to feed her something! Fatten her up for Wotan! I am the world's finest physician. Are you still using my ointment on your face? Use it every night, and the scars will disappear in one month!"
And with that, he gave his mother a peck on the cheek and disappeared.
Raziel and Parvati looked at each other.
"Whoa. He was SO HIGH," Raziel marveled.
The women burst out laughing. "Well, let's get some soup for you," Parvati said. "Doctor's orders."
"So, this place - this place - is to be their next attack?" Michael asked.
Phanuel stood across the room, his back to Michael. "Yes," he answered.
"Hardly strategic. What can they be thinking?"
"It is a sacred site. They wish to damage morale," the Grey angel enunciated. Phanuel was undoubtedly a brilliant general, but Michael had always found him irritating, subtly insubordinate. And to top it off, he was one gloomy ass motherfucker.
"I'm not going to waste our resources defending it," Michael concluded.
"I would recommend otherwise," Phanuel rejoindered.
"Why waste scarce resources?" Michael fumed. He chastised himself immediately for being drawn into a debate with this man.
"The other side wishes to make a demonstration. That they will stop at nothing."
Michael glared at Phanuel's stiff back. "We will stop at nothing," he decided.
Phanuel turned, a look of disbelief on his face. "You can't mean...."
"They cannot destroy it if we have already crushed it."
Phanuel didn't reply. The question was in his expression.
"You have your orders," Michael hissed.
Phanuel turned, and stared out the window, at the universe below. How much would remain, he thought, after this madness had ended?
"As you wish," he told Michael. And departed.
"Gloomy ass motherfucker," grumbled Michael to himself. He then rang for some Cherubic clerks, so he would have someone enjoyable to yell at.
