Two Angels (Mythklok, Chapter 49)
May. 15th, 2011 04:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Two Angels (Mythklok, Chapter 49)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Raziel and Sariel have a little discussion that does not end well for some Seraphim.
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing. Also, this one is really really REALLY violent.
Notes: Notes after the jump. Also, this is Part 1 of an arc I'm calling The Land of Oz.
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.
Last time: After a series of amusing misunderstandings, Sariel was initiated as a vodouisant. And Raziel figured out how to make those Dethklok boys finally assemble into a giant mecha.
The earth is not uniform. Not really.
Some say the Creator was in the midst of a passion for texturing the week He Created it.
(Others claim that it was simply a bit of a rush job, as he was hurrying to get back to his favorite telenovela. Conchita, Yolanda's fiery younger sister, broke her engagement to the Innkeeper's son that week.)
Whatever the reason, some spots on the earth have more magic than others.
And some have a lot more magic.
One of the most powerful, most secret places in this world exists only in the Dreamtime, deep inside the sacred stone mountain, Uluru. There it has been tended to for generations by the Koori, the Dream Walkers of the place now known as Australia.
Recently, the Ancient One, Seth, has risen again to walk among men. No one is sure exactly how ancient the Ancient Ones are. They don't usually attend cocktail parties where you might pop the question. It is said that they might pre-date the Creator himself. And that they may even pre-date the plot line of Corazon de Azul, which would make them very old indeed.
Seth has seized rule of the major cities that lie along Australia’s extensive coastline. But he desperately wants to find the sacred place in its interior. He craves its power; he desires its secrets.
He's also just sort of an asshole.
He has recently allied himself with some other very powerful beings. He has been using their warrior skills to uncover the secret from the Koori.
The Koori are brave. And the Koori are wise. And the Koori are shredders of legend.
But the noble Koori cannot hold out against Seth's assaults forever. Their numbers are slowly thinning as Seth's ruthless mercenaries pick them off, one by one.
And each day, the Ancient One moves closer....
The Australian interior.....
"Koooooooriiiiiiiii! Come out and plaaaa-aaaaay!"
The taunt echoed up and down and all around the rock formations of the dry Australian interior.
The Seraphim looked at each other and chuckled cruelly. They were True Formed, and so were approximately the size of monster trucks. Each possessed three sets of wings, smaller sets covering their feet and heads, the largest - the thoracic wings, magnificent in flight, terrible in warfare, with feathers tough as steel - could have easily lofted a jumbo jet.
Recently there had been a war in Heaven. It wasn't the first such, but it may well have been the last. And these awesome fellows, unfortunately, had chosen the losing side. Fortunately for them, however, the land down under was now being run by a sociopathic madman, who, according to rumor (and angels, among their many other faults, adore gossip) may well have been the reincarnation of a particularly nasty ancient god. And this madman knew to value powerful allies.
The Seraph leading the taunts, who evidently did not feel striking enough as a six-winged behemoth, had styled his hair into an elaborate mohawk, and had in addition either dyed or magicked it a striking electric blue. Several of his large, laughing friends were similarly coiffed, leading one to speculate about the inevitable depletion of quality hair products in a post-apocalyptic Australian outback.
The Koori Dream Walkers were themselves huddled not terribly far from where the taunting angels now crouched. "Our immediate future appears bleak, O most excellent brothers," whispered one.
"And I greatly fear for our continued access to high quality hair care products, dudes," another answered, to much impassioned nodding.
Suddenly, another being appeared in their midst. The Koori quickly surrounded their noble friend.
"Most excellent Pickles dude! We are most, most pleased to see you!" the Koori dudes cheered.
"Koori doods!" Pickles exclaimed, embracing the leader.
"This is our most desperate hour, most excellent Pickles dude. Many of our, bravest, most excellent, most exceedingly tripendicular brothers have been lost to the bogosity of Seth." And there was much nodding.
"Don't worry, doods! I brought friends,” Pickles cheerily told them.
Pickles pointed. The black, brightly painted Dream Walkers squinted into the red sun that radiated just up from the horizon. Two beings stood there. In contrast to the Seraphim, they were not terribly large. They were dressed all in black and wore dark sunglasses. The woman, who was by far the shorter of the two, had long, dark hair. The man put a hand through his close-cropped light hair. He looked as if his head had recently been shaved.
"Uh," commented the lead Koori. "Not to doubt your sincerity, my most excellent friend, Pickles, but we are currently under fire by a contingent of Seraphim warriors. Should you perhaps have brought more friends?"
"And maybe some small arms?"
"And a tank?"
Pickles looked back.
His two black clad friends looked at each other and smiled.
And then in a flash of steel she was holding a very big sword. And he flourished in his hands two machetes, which he held, crossing his chest.
"We're just gonna go have a little chat," the man grinned.
And then they weren't standing there anymore.
"Kooooori-"
"Hey, you! Ponyboy!"
The giant Seraph turned, surprised at the two small figures standing behind his back.
"Wrong cult movie, Sariel."
"Who are you, Raziel? The IMD Fucking B?"
"What do you two think you're doing?" Blue Mohawk rumbled.
"Having a discussion regarding popular culture!" Sariel crisply informed him.
"Ew! His breath totally smells like onions," Raziel complained.
"I'm surprised you can smell it over all the hair products."
"I'm sensitive to scents!"
“What do you want?” the large angel, who was admittedly a bit baffled by all the banter, demanded.
“You are annoying the Koori," Sariel explained, wagging a machete. "So, we’d like you to piss off.”
The angel paused. And then he laughed. And got his buddies laughing as well.
The laughter echoed and died.
“Can I stab them now?" Raziel asked. "His breath his really grossing me out!”
“Just a minute, Raziel.”
“But I wanna stab something! I brought my best sword, and I’m in a stabbity mood!”
“We need to make it clear to them why we’re going to kill them all horribly first!”
“You’re going to kill us?” laughed the big Seraph.
“We’re going to kill you horribly. You know, there will be shrieking, amputated limbs lying all over the place, probably entrails….”
“Oh, definitely guts. There will be disemboweling. I call that guy!” Raziel said, pointing with her sword at a somewhat nervous looking blond angel, who unconsciously held his stomach.
“Er, Kakabel, are you sure about this?” asked the scaredy cat angel.
“Don’t puss out on me now, Zacharael.”
“I’m not pussing out! They’ve just brought up some important points! Why are we bothering the Koori?”
“Because Seth told us to.”
“Dude. Seth kind of creeps me out. I mean, hasn’t he ever pulled the Ancient Evil thing on you?”
“I get along great with him!” Kakabel insisted. But a couple of the other angels were looking nervous.
“This might be a time to stage a strategic withdrawal, boys,” Raziel told them, studying her fingernails. “Anybody who’s left around after we start, well, let’s just say, you’re not leaving here with all your pieces.”
“So much for mercy,” Kakabel sniffed.
“So, what do you do with the Koori when you find them?” Sariel asked, frowning over his sunglasses.
The Seraph crouched down so he could look threateningly into Sariel's green eyes. “We tear them apart and use their bones to pick our teeth!”
“No wonder his breath smells like a dead Wombat,” Raziel muttered.
"And, how many Koori have met this fate?" Sariel inquired.
"A good half dozen," bragged the Seraph. "My kills alone." He leaned over to stare down Sariel. "But, the point is not that they're dead. It's that they're AFRAID."
“Well, that just doesn’t sound like collegial behavior as far as I’m concerned,” Sariel, who was thoughtfully rubbing his head, told Kakabel.
“What would you know, baldy?”
“Don’t knock it!” Sariel grinned tapping his head with an index finger. “It’s not easy getting quality hair products around here anymore.”
“We’ve heard some fools have been raiding the chemist shops, and stripping the beauty care products section,” Raziel put in.
“What would you know about it?” Kakabel sniffed, sitting up and unconsciously patting his Mohawk.
“Well, all that stuff is gonna disappear the minute you Court Form,” Raziel told him.
“How the hell long does it take you to get ready in the morning, anyway?” Sariel scolded. “Must be at least an hour?”
“Oh, way more,” Raziel insisted. “One of the Renaissance angels owns a salon, and HE told me…”
“Wait,” said Zacharael. “You guys are angels?”
“Partly!” said Raziel.
“The killing part,” Sariel told them, being careful to eye Kakabel, who may just have flinched.
“Why did you appear before us in those ridiculous little Forms then?” Kakabel scoffed. "Are you trying to insult us?"
“You think it’s gonna be worth True Forming for these guys?” Sariel asked Raziel.
Raziel snorted. “Besides, it’s impossible to get cute shoes in that size.”
“So, they’ll be better off without legs then?”
“Yeah, and possibly some other assorted limbs.” And here Raziel grinned. It was a rather awful grin.
“That’s it,” said Zacharael. “I’m outta here.”
“I’m gonna tell Seth,” Kakabel warned.
“Nobody likes a tattle-tale!” Raziel said, wagging a finger at Kakabel as Zacharael and a couple of his more nervous looking friends took wing.
“He’s not gonna tell. NO ONE tells Seth bad news,” Zacharael laughed bitterly. And then the retreating angels were dust motes in the sky.
"OK. If you remaining guys could organize yourselves, from shortest to tallest, it would help with the killing!" Raziel told them, gesturing with her sword.
“You pissants are beginning to annoy me,” Kakabel rumbled.
“Yeah, as fun as it’s been chatting, we need to start the killing,” Sariel told him.
“With pleasure,” sneered Kakabel, lunging at Sariel.
But he had gathered only a handful of dust.
The small angel was no longer in front of him.
The giant Seraph shrieked and came crashing to his knees when Sariel, who was now in fact standing behind him, cut his Achilles tendons. Sariel darted back around and split Kakabel right up the middle. The angel's insides were quickly squishing their way outside, a process Sariel aided by dragging a length of his intestines out in front of him on one machete. And then as the dying angel was staring at his own guts, Sariel crossed machetes at his neck.
"It's not that you're dead," Sariel explained. "It's that you're AFRAID."
And then the machetes whipped in an arc of steel, and Kakabel's head rolled, picking up dry yellow desert sand as it went.
Another Seraph thought to wrap himself in his giant, tough wings. Raziel ran underneath and stabbed up. He emitted an ear-piercing shriek and toppled over on his side, clutching his mangled groin. Raziel jumped on top of him and slit his carotid arteries. Angel blood geysered everywhere in a foamy red cascade.
One of the Seraphim had unfurled his flight wings. He sprang into the air, only to fall, Icarus-like, when his flight feathers suddenly sheared off his left wing. He thrust up his head to see Sariel gesturing at him.
“How did you…?” the giant wondered. “I didn’t see the blade.”
“Oh, I don’t need a blade anymore,” Sariel informed him. “I am a blade.” At which point he flicked his fingers, and the Seraph fell apart in several neat if bloody chunks.
“Show off,” said Raziel, looking up from where she had just stabbed another angel in the neck.
At this point, most of the remaining angels realized the odds of their ultimate survival were rather longer than they had imagined, which caused a certain amount of consternation. Sariel sent and especially powerful cut through the middle of a group that had rather idiotically huddled together, and Raziel amused herself by hacking away at the strays.
And so it went.
The angel blood soaked quickly into the dry desert soil, leaving a dark red stain on the ridge.
True to Sariel’s word, gory angel parts were strewn about in a grisly tangle.
There was no more laughing.
The screams were inhuman.
And then there was one.
Silence, broken by rapid, shallow breathing.
Raziel and Sariel now both stood atop the one fully intact and living Seraph, who was, perhaps understandably, fairly terrified.
"So. Here's the deal,” Sariel told the trembling being. ‘We kept you alive to carry a message. Think you can do that?"
The large angel nodded sheepishly.
"You go to Seth. You tell him Ogoun Charles wants to speak to him."
“Ogoun…?”
"Ogoun Charles. I used to go by Sariel."
"Sariel?" A shudder ran through the body of the Seraph.
"Now, me, I've always gone by Raziel," she said, bouncing on the giant angel's tummy. "Just one word. Like Cher!"
"Or Madonna," Sariel allowed.
"Or Lady Gaga!"
"That's actually more than one word."
"Is anybody gonna argue with me? I mean, except you?"
"Well, good point,” Sariel noted. “Now,” he said to the angel, “you flutter off. OK?"
“But…”
"But what?”
“I don’t…. You don’t understand. Nobody gives bad news to Seth.”
Sariel crossed his arms and scowled over his sunglasses. “And how is this bad news? Why wouldn’t he wanna talk to me? I’m a great guy.”
“He is. Always so fun to chat with," Raziel noted, still bouncing.
“I’m articulate. And well read!”
“And his breath rarely smells like dead wombat!”
Sariel glowered at an oblivious Raziel.
“Just give him my message," Sariel concluded. "Oh, and kindly mention, from now on, you fuck with the Koori, you fuck with us. Got it?”
“Got it," whispered The Seraph.
“OK.”
“But…” the Seraph pleaded
"Now what?"
"Would you two kindly consider getting off me so I can go?"
"Oh. Yeah, sure,” said Sariel, jumping down. “Hey, Raziel, you know, it somewhat diminishes our coolness factor to have you using his belly for a trampoline!"
“Aw!” said Raziel, reluctantly bouncing down. "But we're wearing black leather! That's always very cool!"
"I prefer to think of it as very, very dark grey," Sariel told her.
The Seraph was up and winging in an instant and soon was visible only as a tiny dot in the sky.
“Huh,” said Raziel, kicking at an angel bit. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“The nerve,” said Sariel.
And quite suddenly, the two were surrounded.
“Are they…” asked the Koori. “Are the mean angel dudes all gone, O excellent friends?”
“That was the last,” said Sariel, gesturing with a machete.
“You wouldn’t have liked him,” said Raziel, wrinkling her nose. “He was kind of a dick.”
“Should we get back?” Sariel asked Raziel.
“Enough Seraph-stabbing for one day?”
"Yeah. I need a drink. And some dinner."
"Mince pie?"
"That's terrible," said Sariel, turning to go. "Though maybe I'll call Auntie Sarasvati...."
"Wait! Magnificent dudes!” said the Koori.
Sariel and Raziel turned back.
“Are you...? Are you angels?"
The two beings grinned.
"Oh fuck yeah," said Ogoun Charles.
And they donned their sunglasses. And walked off into the red sunrise.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Raziel and Sariel have a little discussion that does not end well for some Seraphim.
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing. Also, this one is really really REALLY violent.
Notes: Notes after the jump. Also, this is Part 1 of an arc I'm calling The Land of Oz.
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.Last time: After a series of amusing misunderstandings, Sariel was initiated as a vodouisant. And Raziel figured out how to make those Dethklok boys finally assemble into a giant mecha.
The earth is not uniform. Not really.
Some say the Creator was in the midst of a passion for texturing the week He Created it.
(Others claim that it was simply a bit of a rush job, as he was hurrying to get back to his favorite telenovela. Conchita, Yolanda's fiery younger sister, broke her engagement to the Innkeeper's son that week.)
Whatever the reason, some spots on the earth have more magic than others.
And some have a lot more magic.
One of the most powerful, most secret places in this world exists only in the Dreamtime, deep inside the sacred stone mountain, Uluru. There it has been tended to for generations by the Koori, the Dream Walkers of the place now known as Australia.
Recently, the Ancient One, Seth, has risen again to walk among men. No one is sure exactly how ancient the Ancient Ones are. They don't usually attend cocktail parties where you might pop the question. It is said that they might pre-date the Creator himself. And that they may even pre-date the plot line of Corazon de Azul, which would make them very old indeed.
Seth has seized rule of the major cities that lie along Australia’s extensive coastline. But he desperately wants to find the sacred place in its interior. He craves its power; he desires its secrets.
He's also just sort of an asshole.
He has recently allied himself with some other very powerful beings. He has been using their warrior skills to uncover the secret from the Koori.
The Koori are brave. And the Koori are wise. And the Koori are shredders of legend.
But the noble Koori cannot hold out against Seth's assaults forever. Their numbers are slowly thinning as Seth's ruthless mercenaries pick them off, one by one.
And each day, the Ancient One moves closer....
The Australian interior.....
"Koooooooriiiiiiiii! Come out and plaaaa-aaaaay!"
The taunt echoed up and down and all around the rock formations of the dry Australian interior.
The Seraphim looked at each other and chuckled cruelly. They were True Formed, and so were approximately the size of monster trucks. Each possessed three sets of wings, smaller sets covering their feet and heads, the largest - the thoracic wings, magnificent in flight, terrible in warfare, with feathers tough as steel - could have easily lofted a jumbo jet.
Recently there had been a war in Heaven. It wasn't the first such, but it may well have been the last. And these awesome fellows, unfortunately, had chosen the losing side. Fortunately for them, however, the land down under was now being run by a sociopathic madman, who, according to rumor (and angels, among their many other faults, adore gossip) may well have been the reincarnation of a particularly nasty ancient god. And this madman knew to value powerful allies.
The Seraph leading the taunts, who evidently did not feel striking enough as a six-winged behemoth, had styled his hair into an elaborate mohawk, and had in addition either dyed or magicked it a striking electric blue. Several of his large, laughing friends were similarly coiffed, leading one to speculate about the inevitable depletion of quality hair products in a post-apocalyptic Australian outback.
The Koori Dream Walkers were themselves huddled not terribly far from where the taunting angels now crouched. "Our immediate future appears bleak, O most excellent brothers," whispered one.
"And I greatly fear for our continued access to high quality hair care products, dudes," another answered, to much impassioned nodding.
Suddenly, another being appeared in their midst. The Koori quickly surrounded their noble friend.
"Most excellent Pickles dude! We are most, most pleased to see you!" the Koori dudes cheered.
"Koori doods!" Pickles exclaimed, embracing the leader.
"This is our most desperate hour, most excellent Pickles dude. Many of our, bravest, most excellent, most exceedingly tripendicular brothers have been lost to the bogosity of Seth." And there was much nodding.
"Don't worry, doods! I brought friends,” Pickles cheerily told them.
Pickles pointed. The black, brightly painted Dream Walkers squinted into the red sun that radiated just up from the horizon. Two beings stood there. In contrast to the Seraphim, they were not terribly large. They were dressed all in black and wore dark sunglasses. The woman, who was by far the shorter of the two, had long, dark hair. The man put a hand through his close-cropped light hair. He looked as if his head had recently been shaved.
"Uh," commented the lead Koori. "Not to doubt your sincerity, my most excellent friend, Pickles, but we are currently under fire by a contingent of Seraphim warriors. Should you perhaps have brought more friends?"
"And maybe some small arms?"
"And a tank?"
Pickles looked back.
His two black clad friends looked at each other and smiled.
And then in a flash of steel she was holding a very big sword. And he flourished in his hands two machetes, which he held, crossing his chest.
"We're just gonna go have a little chat," the man grinned.
And then they weren't standing there anymore.
"Kooooori-"
"Hey, you! Ponyboy!"
The giant Seraph turned, surprised at the two small figures standing behind his back.
"Wrong cult movie, Sariel."
"Who are you, Raziel? The IMD Fucking B?"
"What do you two think you're doing?" Blue Mohawk rumbled.
"Having a discussion regarding popular culture!" Sariel crisply informed him.
"Ew! His breath totally smells like onions," Raziel complained.
"I'm surprised you can smell it over all the hair products."
"I'm sensitive to scents!"
“What do you want?” the large angel, who was admittedly a bit baffled by all the banter, demanded.
“You are annoying the Koori," Sariel explained, wagging a machete. "So, we’d like you to piss off.”
The angel paused. And then he laughed. And got his buddies laughing as well.
The laughter echoed and died.
“Can I stab them now?" Raziel asked. "His breath his really grossing me out!”
“Just a minute, Raziel.”
“But I wanna stab something! I brought my best sword, and I’m in a stabbity mood!”
“We need to make it clear to them why we’re going to kill them all horribly first!”
“You’re going to kill us?” laughed the big Seraph.
“We’re going to kill you horribly. You know, there will be shrieking, amputated limbs lying all over the place, probably entrails….”
“Oh, definitely guts. There will be disemboweling. I call that guy!” Raziel said, pointing with her sword at a somewhat nervous looking blond angel, who unconsciously held his stomach.
“Er, Kakabel, are you sure about this?” asked the scaredy cat angel.
“Don’t puss out on me now, Zacharael.”
“I’m not pussing out! They’ve just brought up some important points! Why are we bothering the Koori?”
“Because Seth told us to.”
“Dude. Seth kind of creeps me out. I mean, hasn’t he ever pulled the Ancient Evil thing on you?”
“I get along great with him!” Kakabel insisted. But a couple of the other angels were looking nervous.
“This might be a time to stage a strategic withdrawal, boys,” Raziel told them, studying her fingernails. “Anybody who’s left around after we start, well, let’s just say, you’re not leaving here with all your pieces.”
“So much for mercy,” Kakabel sniffed.
“So, what do you do with the Koori when you find them?” Sariel asked, frowning over his sunglasses.
The Seraph crouched down so he could look threateningly into Sariel's green eyes. “We tear them apart and use their bones to pick our teeth!”
“No wonder his breath smells like a dead Wombat,” Raziel muttered.
"And, how many Koori have met this fate?" Sariel inquired.
"A good half dozen," bragged the Seraph. "My kills alone." He leaned over to stare down Sariel. "But, the point is not that they're dead. It's that they're AFRAID."
“Well, that just doesn’t sound like collegial behavior as far as I’m concerned,” Sariel, who was thoughtfully rubbing his head, told Kakabel.
“What would you know, baldy?”
“Don’t knock it!” Sariel grinned tapping his head with an index finger. “It’s not easy getting quality hair products around here anymore.”
“We’ve heard some fools have been raiding the chemist shops, and stripping the beauty care products section,” Raziel put in.
“What would you know about it?” Kakabel sniffed, sitting up and unconsciously patting his Mohawk.
“Well, all that stuff is gonna disappear the minute you Court Form,” Raziel told him.
“How the hell long does it take you to get ready in the morning, anyway?” Sariel scolded. “Must be at least an hour?”
“Oh, way more,” Raziel insisted. “One of the Renaissance angels owns a salon, and HE told me…”
“Wait,” said Zacharael. “You guys are angels?”
“Partly!” said Raziel.
“The killing part,” Sariel told them, being careful to eye Kakabel, who may just have flinched.
“Why did you appear before us in those ridiculous little Forms then?” Kakabel scoffed. "Are you trying to insult us?"
“You think it’s gonna be worth True Forming for these guys?” Sariel asked Raziel.
Raziel snorted. “Besides, it’s impossible to get cute shoes in that size.”
“So, they’ll be better off without legs then?”
“Yeah, and possibly some other assorted limbs.” And here Raziel grinned. It was a rather awful grin.
“That’s it,” said Zacharael. “I’m outta here.”
“I’m gonna tell Seth,” Kakabel warned.
“Nobody likes a tattle-tale!” Raziel said, wagging a finger at Kakabel as Zacharael and a couple of his more nervous looking friends took wing.
“He’s not gonna tell. NO ONE tells Seth bad news,” Zacharael laughed bitterly. And then the retreating angels were dust motes in the sky.
"OK. If you remaining guys could organize yourselves, from shortest to tallest, it would help with the killing!" Raziel told them, gesturing with her sword.
“You pissants are beginning to annoy me,” Kakabel rumbled.
“Yeah, as fun as it’s been chatting, we need to start the killing,” Sariel told him.
“With pleasure,” sneered Kakabel, lunging at Sariel.
But he had gathered only a handful of dust.
The small angel was no longer in front of him.
The giant Seraph shrieked and came crashing to his knees when Sariel, who was now in fact standing behind him, cut his Achilles tendons. Sariel darted back around and split Kakabel right up the middle. The angel's insides were quickly squishing their way outside, a process Sariel aided by dragging a length of his intestines out in front of him on one machete. And then as the dying angel was staring at his own guts, Sariel crossed machetes at his neck.
"It's not that you're dead," Sariel explained. "It's that you're AFRAID."
And then the machetes whipped in an arc of steel, and Kakabel's head rolled, picking up dry yellow desert sand as it went.
Another Seraph thought to wrap himself in his giant, tough wings. Raziel ran underneath and stabbed up. He emitted an ear-piercing shriek and toppled over on his side, clutching his mangled groin. Raziel jumped on top of him and slit his carotid arteries. Angel blood geysered everywhere in a foamy red cascade.
One of the Seraphim had unfurled his flight wings. He sprang into the air, only to fall, Icarus-like, when his flight feathers suddenly sheared off his left wing. He thrust up his head to see Sariel gesturing at him.
“How did you…?” the giant wondered. “I didn’t see the blade.”
“Oh, I don’t need a blade anymore,” Sariel informed him. “I am a blade.” At which point he flicked his fingers, and the Seraph fell apart in several neat if bloody chunks.
“Show off,” said Raziel, looking up from where she had just stabbed another angel in the neck.
At this point, most of the remaining angels realized the odds of their ultimate survival were rather longer than they had imagined, which caused a certain amount of consternation. Sariel sent and especially powerful cut through the middle of a group that had rather idiotically huddled together, and Raziel amused herself by hacking away at the strays.
And so it went.
The angel blood soaked quickly into the dry desert soil, leaving a dark red stain on the ridge.
True to Sariel’s word, gory angel parts were strewn about in a grisly tangle.
There was no more laughing.
The screams were inhuman.
And then there was one.
Silence, broken by rapid, shallow breathing.
Raziel and Sariel now both stood atop the one fully intact and living Seraph, who was, perhaps understandably, fairly terrified.
"So. Here's the deal,” Sariel told the trembling being. ‘We kept you alive to carry a message. Think you can do that?"
The large angel nodded sheepishly.
"You go to Seth. You tell him Ogoun Charles wants to speak to him."
“Ogoun…?”
"Ogoun Charles. I used to go by Sariel."
"Sariel?" A shudder ran through the body of the Seraph.
"Now, me, I've always gone by Raziel," she said, bouncing on the giant angel's tummy. "Just one word. Like Cher!"
"Or Madonna," Sariel allowed.
"Or Lady Gaga!"
"That's actually more than one word."
"Is anybody gonna argue with me? I mean, except you?"
"Well, good point,” Sariel noted. “Now,” he said to the angel, “you flutter off. OK?"
“But…”
"But what?”
“I don’t…. You don’t understand. Nobody gives bad news to Seth.”
Sariel crossed his arms and scowled over his sunglasses. “And how is this bad news? Why wouldn’t he wanna talk to me? I’m a great guy.”
“He is. Always so fun to chat with," Raziel noted, still bouncing.
“I’m articulate. And well read!”
“And his breath rarely smells like dead wombat!”
Sariel glowered at an oblivious Raziel.
“Just give him my message," Sariel concluded. "Oh, and kindly mention, from now on, you fuck with the Koori, you fuck with us. Got it?”
“Got it," whispered The Seraph.
“OK.”
“But…” the Seraph pleaded
"Now what?"
"Would you two kindly consider getting off me so I can go?"
"Oh. Yeah, sure,” said Sariel, jumping down. “Hey, Raziel, you know, it somewhat diminishes our coolness factor to have you using his belly for a trampoline!"
“Aw!” said Raziel, reluctantly bouncing down. "But we're wearing black leather! That's always very cool!"
"I prefer to think of it as very, very dark grey," Sariel told her.
The Seraph was up and winging in an instant and soon was visible only as a tiny dot in the sky.
“Huh,” said Raziel, kicking at an angel bit. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“The nerve,” said Sariel.
And quite suddenly, the two were surrounded.
“Are they…” asked the Koori. “Are the mean angel dudes all gone, O excellent friends?”
“That was the last,” said Sariel, gesturing with a machete.
“You wouldn’t have liked him,” said Raziel, wrinkling her nose. “He was kind of a dick.”
“Should we get back?” Sariel asked Raziel.
“Enough Seraph-stabbing for one day?”
"Yeah. I need a drink. And some dinner."
"Mince pie?"
"That's terrible," said Sariel, turning to go. "Though maybe I'll call Auntie Sarasvati...."
"Wait! Magnificent dudes!” said the Koori.
Sariel and Raziel turned back.
“Are you...? Are you angels?"
The two beings grinned.
"Oh fuck yeah," said Ogoun Charles.
And they donned their sunglasses. And walked off into the red sunrise.
