Elders (Mythklok, Chapter 50)
May. 22nd, 2011 10:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Elders (Mythklok, Chapter 50)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing.
Notes: Part 2 of The Land of Oz. Notes after the jump.
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: Sariel and Raziel had a discussion that did not end well for some Seraphim.
Mordhaus….
"You do realize, Wotan, 'We wait,' is my least favorite fucking phrase in the English language? Or any fucking language? Yeah. Well. Yeah, we'll be up. OK. Bye."
"So, we still don't know anything about dem?"
"I'm sorry, Pickles." Charles sat on the balustrade on one of his castle’s higher floors, scowling at his Dethphone as if he were considering flinging it over. He was thoughtlessly kicking his legs, ignoring the rather precipitous drop. He hadn't changed clothes since he and Pickles and Raziel had returned from Australia, so his dark pants, shirt and boots were a bit dusty, not to mention angel blood-stained. He looked up over the top of his dark glasses at Pickles. "I've made repeated inquiries among the angelic beings we know. No one has heard anything about your parents."
"Is dat good or bad?"
"You know Seth better than I do," he said, finally pocketing the phone.
"I don't feckin' know him at all."
"In the worst case, I think he'd wanna keep them alive. At least." He unconsciously brought up one hand to rub the still quite short hair atop his head.
Pickles who had been staring off at something on the horizon, now eyed him. "You gonna keep it like dat?" he asked, nodding at the hair.
"I'm kinda getting used to it. But Ganesh would kill me. He's now freaked out it won't grow back enough before the ceremony. I told him I am not fucking magicking my hair back. I don't wanna end up with a bald spot! Ah. Uh. Sorry."
"None taken dood. It ain't exactly a spot."
Pickles was smiling faintly, but Charles struggled to find a different topic. "You shoulda seen the fight he put up over me leaving the house in Raziel's fucking leather pants."
"Dis wuz Raz's idea?"
"Yeah, and there's no arguing with her. She wanted to make an impression. I told her diced Seraphim would do that. And I'm sweating my fucking balls off."
"I c'uld take care o' dat for yoo."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Only rock stars and idiots should fucking dress like this."
"Same t'ing. Except..."
"What?"
"Heh. Wuz t'inkin'. Gannish in leadder pants."
Charles sighed heavily. "Never."
"No? Have you...?"
"About a million times!"
It wasn't quite a Pickles grin.
"Oh, THERE you are!" fumed Raziel, who had just shown up trailing Nathan and Toki.
"Raziel, I got off the phone with your husband like five seconds ago."
"We have to get you to my tailor in Milano!" Raziel insisted.
"Why the fuck would I wanna go to your fucking tailor? I have my suit for San Serriffe, and for the Naming."
"Yes, but you don't have a Look for the Daytime Emmys!"
"What Daytime Emmys? And what the fuck is a look? It sounds frightening!"
"Dude," Nathan explained. "Dethklok is hosting the Latin American Daytime Emmys!"
"Since when?"
"Murderface knows Luz Magnifica Balustrada!" Raziel declared.
"Am I supposed to know who this is? Another fucking designer?"
"She's the producer of Corazon de Azul!"
"That piece of shit? Why do you guys even care?"
"Dat ams da bests shows on da televisions!" Toki protested.
"And, seriously, dude, have you seen the broadcast?" Nathan murmured? "Lotsa hot chicks with big tits wearing tiny little gowns...."
"All right ! All right! All right! And please tell me you didn't already forge my name on the contract?"
"Naw!" scoffed Nathan. "We were gonna get you HIGH and have you sign!"
"And, uh, when is this gonna happen?"
"Well Pickles is supposed to offer you a smoke.... Oh," said Nathan.
"Get me," Charles started, putting both hands through his hair. "Get me Luz Balustrada's number," he sighed.
"It ams Luz Magnifica! Dat ams hows you says da Hispanics names," Toki lectured.
Charles looked back over the balustrade and wondered if the fall was long enough to kill him.
Ganesh's residence....
"Did you know anything about this Daytime Emmy business?"
Ganesh Smiled. "Yes! For Corazon de Azul! It is quite the honor."
"How can you watch that shit!"
"I've been watching since I was a small boy. Of course, it was the superior Hindi version, Hai dēvā aviśvasanīya ṭŏrca kī baiṭarī.
"That's not.... How is that even possible? I thought you were seventeen centuries old?"
"Yes," said Ganesh, his face donning an evil grin as he suddenly tugged Sariel into his lap. "You had rather robbed the cradle."
"Robbed the cradle?"
"Mmmmm, yes, I find myself corrupted by a terrible older man," Ganesh noted, chewing on Sariel's neck.
"Ganesh, how the fuck did you watch Corazon de Azul in Fourth Century?"
"Oh, everybody did," Ganesh cheerily informed him as he broke out some extra arms to make short work of Sariel's shirt buttons. "It is a universal favorite for all beings. With the possible exception of irascible angels."
"I don't understand... And what do you think you're doing?"
"Well, I should think that would be fairly clear, jaanu. You know I find this outfit distasteful!"
"Uh-huh. If you're so turned off, why do I feel one of the Himalayan peaks poking up my ass?"
"Tsk. It's hardly Everest. Perhaps Annapurna?"
"Yeah, well, good luck getting me out of these fucking boots! The laces took me 20 minutes... Oh!"
"One of the small benefits of being Lord of Destruction. Now, let us see what charming natural features we may discover inside these unspeakable trousers...."
Sariel woke to the sound of his Dethphone ringing, somewhere in the vicinity of his left foot.
He pushed through bedclothes and Hindu god limbs to track it down.
"Ah! There ye are!" Wotan's voice was booming enough one wondered why he bothered with a phone. "We've had an answer of a sort from Australia."
"Seth?"
"No. Different party. You and Ganesh get up here, once you untangle yourselves. And bring young Elias!"
"And bring...?"
"Mmmm?" inquired Ganesh.
"It's Wotan," Sariel told him, waving the phone. "We're supposed to get up to Valhalla. You might wanna brew some of that crappy tea you like. Uhhhh.... Ganesh?" he asked, as he found himself getting entangled in countless Ganesh arms.
"Mmmmm, some thoughtless person has left an angel in my bed!"
"Uh. Wotan, maybe 20 minutes?" Sariel told the phone, only to see it snatched from his hand.
"40," Ganesh told Wotan, tossing the phone away. "I need time to brew my terrible tea."
The Outback...
"I can't fucking believe your fucking husband fucking talked me into this."
Sariel stood in the desert, holding little Elias in a death grip to him.
Raziel stood gently rocking an old fashioned baby carriage. "We just need you guys to stand there. If you see something you don't like, just Walk away."
"I already see something I don't like!" he protested, nodding at the small group of True Formed angels gathered on the slopes some distance away. Compared to the group Sariel and Raziel had met some days previously, they were a mixed bag. There were a couple of Seraphim decked out in their favorite post apocalyptic fashion, but there were also a couple in more traditional robes, plus a raft of individuals who looked to be Cherubic, or from the lower orders.
"On my life. I personally guarantee the child's safe passage."
"Phanuel?" Sariel turned at the sound of the voice.
The Grey angel had just appeared. "Some individuals among them are old acquaintances of mine. They are Seraphim, it is true, but I believe these particular beings may prove amenable to reason.
"Reason? With Seraphim?" Sariel didn't bother with the second half of the aphorism. Like trying to stop a whirlwind with a net.
"I believe you will appreciate this, Sariel. We are going to attempt. Negotiation." A sly smile.
"What, are your hotel rooms too expensive?" Sariel fumed.
Phanuel held out his arms, and Raziel handed Liam to him.
"Now. No mischief!" he warned the boy in Common Angelic. "Wings." Liam obediently manifested his red-tinged wings. Phanuel smiled a genuine indulgent grandfather smile. And then he composed his features and, signaling to Raziel, approached the giant angels. Raziel, holding a curious Abby, walked beside him. Sariel, who had half a mind to Walk out of there, approached more cautiously, holding Elias.
"Honored Brother Zacharael." Phanuel hailed the leader. "Is Court Forming no longer done among young people?"
"Phanuel. How far the mighty have fallen! I hear now you are a lackey to the Raven god, herding his demons in the Underworld!"
Phanuel only raised a grey eyebrow at the slight. "Yes, demons. They're not much more frustrating to work with than Cherubim. But I wonder at your current state of affairs, that you agreed to meet with me."
"Your friends made a mince of us," he said, pointing to Sariel and Raziel.
"I was heartened to hear that strategic retreat. Is still your favored. Strategy."
Zacharael flapped his great light blond wings in irritation. "What exactly did you want, old man?"
"A social occasion."
"What?"
"I should very much like to introduce you to someone. This is young Liam Odinnson. My grandson."
Liam stared agreeably with those unmistakable ice blue eyes. And gently flapped his already rather impressive little reddish wings.
Zacharael appeared to be taken aback. "Then the rumors are true?"
"You haven't been gossiping again. Have you. Zacharael?"
"Then Raziel...?"
"The Lady Raziel is my daughter. This is her son. By King Wotan."
Zacharael frowned.
"It's a trick of some kind," muttered one of the others.
Zacharael held out a giant hand.
At Phanuel's gentle urging, Liam cheerfully fluttered over to the Seraph. Raziel was quiet, but Sariel held his breath grasped Elias even tighter.
Liam looped the loop, despite his grandfather's admonishments about mischief, and ended up perched on Zacharael's shoulder, where he stared fearlessly onto the giant angel's eyes.
Zacharael's put up a large hand and Liam now jumped into it. The child seemed completely at ease with the hulking warrior angel.
Elias managed to wriggle an arm free and pointed to Zacharael. "Angel!" he babbled in Common. Sariel shushed him.
"This is a son of The Raven God." Zacharael said.
"Allow me to make some introductions. This is my granddaughter, the Lady Abigail, in my daughter's arms, and my nephew is escorting his own son, young Shri Brahma Vishnu Maheshwaru."
There was some muttering, in a mixture of High and Common, from the assembled angels. Angels adore gossip, and there was no doubt that these children had been the subject thereof.
And then, quite suddenly, Zacharael was in Court Form, holding the child.
"You see that it is true," Phanuel smiled.
"We serve an Ancient One," Zacharael said. It sounded like a confession. "A powerful one. Even angels who are gods.... I do not think...."
"Were you aware of his ... status when you allied yourself?" Phanuel inquired. Zacharael did not reply, but shook his head.
"Perhaps. You were misled?"
Zacharael nodded, looking up at Phanuel. His eyes were as pale as his hair.
"I have not concerned myself with niceties. I am a warrior, as you are," Phanuel told him. "But my nephew has some acquaintanceship with the law." Sariel, who had relaxed microscopically when Zacharael Court Formed, nodded. "This does not sound like a good faith bargain you have entered into," Phanuel told them. Sariel perked up his ears. There were some muttered conversations amongst the watching angels, mostly in Common.
"You don't bargain with the Ancients!" It was another Seraph, one wearing traditional robes.
"I speak for my son-in-law, the Raven God, and his Queen. Such are times, none can guarantee your safe passage. But they will do all within their power to aid any who might be willing to ... reconsider certain recent decisions."
"The Ifa ... stand with the King and Queen," Sariel found himself saying. He had finally relaxed his grip on Elias. The boy, who had been beside himself in the presence of so many True Formed angels, suddenly stopped squirming and touched his father gently on the face.
"This has been informative, Honored Brother Phanuel," Zacharael told Phanuel, handing off Liam.
"Something to consider," said Phanuel.
Zacharael's expression was unreadable. He True Formed, turned, and, signaling to his group, they took wing and departed.
"You are aware of the meaning of mischief, young angel?" Phanuel smilingly scolded Liam. He placed the child back in the carriage, and, giving Raziel a quick kiss on the forehead, nodded to Sariel and departed.
"Raziel,” said Sariel.
"Yeah?”
"That's... That's your fucking kid!"
"Yes?"
"How could you?"
"That's my father, Sariel."
"But you barely know him!"
"I've known him ever."
"How do you put your trust in these people?"
Raziel fixed Sariel with her gaze. "When you first met Jacque, what did you think?"
"I didn't have to think."
"You don't suppose I know my father?"
Sariel glowered.
"Anyway, I don't believe I'm getting this from Honored Bald Headed Machete Man,” Raziel grinned.
"That's different," scowled Sariel, unconsciously rubbing his head.
"You don't trust Papa Jacque?”
"Of course not!"
"With Elias?"
Sariel stopped for a moment. "Raziel. During my initiation, Ganesh had to call me back from the dead."
"Yeah, I heard," Raziel grinned. “Ganesh is still pretty steamed."
"He called Elias's name. But, he called him Boon."
"It's what we all call him. Funny, with him having all those names. Earth gods are strange"
"You started calling him that."
"What of it? I like making up Names."
"Jacque seemed to think it was important."
Raziel frowned. "Why?"
"I dunno. I think that was the point when Ganesh tried to strangle him."
"You guys have the best relatives. I swear."
Santa Dominica, the exclusive residence of Luz Magnifica Balustrada....
Charles sighed and flapped his magnificent silver wings.
"Don't mess up the draping!" Raziel lectured, straightening his tie.
"Raziel, please explain to me again how the fuck is it you won a Latin American Daytime Emmy?"
"It was quite a surprise!" Raziel gushed, hefting the heavy statuette.
Wotan came and draped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "We're all very proud of my girl!" he enthused. Raziel smiled and fluttered off, flourishing her major award.
"Wotan?" asked Charles suspiciously.
The king shrugged. "Any excuse to see My Lady in a strapless gown, I suppose!" he winked, and followed Raziel.
Ganesh and Pickles wandered in. "That was.... Er...." Ganesh started.
"Sahry about dat t'ing wit' da laundry soap, chief," Pickles grinned.
"I don't even know where to start," Charles mused, fluttering the wings again as Pickles wandered off in search of liquor.
"Charles! You will unfavorably impact the draping!" Ganesh scolded, re-straightening Charles's red tie. The Hindu god was unfailingly courteous about using Sariel's human name when they walked in public.
As part of the rather complicated bilingual negotiations to contract the members of Dethklok to host the Latin American Daytime Emmys, Charles had agreed to appear at the show in True Form. It had been a major sticking point, and he had finally agreed with the stipulation that he would not speak on camera in that Form. Which was probably just as well, as he had a rather tenuous grasp of Spanish, especially the rapid dialect that seemed to be the norm in Santa Dominica. He had hidden his odd eyes behind dark glasses. There was not much he could do, unfortunately, with his hair, which was now at such a length that it had started to become unruly, and yet was not yet long enough to be easily tamed.
Raziel had shuttled him to a tailor friend of a friend of hers who had somehow managed to come up with a grey suit for him that passed the picky muster of both Raziel and Ganesh, and also, parenthetically, had vents in the back for his broad wings. It was an odd feeling. He had spent a great deal of the last decades wearing a business suit, but somehow, True Formed, it all seemed strangely constricting. He felt like an impostor, like someone wearing a not particularly comfortable Halloween costume. A human costume.
He loosened his tie for the hundredth time.
They had been invited to the palatial residence of Luz Magnifica Balustrada following the awards show. Luz, the producer of Corazon de Azul was married to Miguel “Mickey” Mikado, a musician, and they were evidently the most famous couple in Santa Dominica. They were definitely quite wealthy.
"CHAAAAAARLES!" came a musical voice. He turned to see Luz herself come striding up to him. Despite her name, she appeared to be a native speaker of English. She wore a fiery red ball gown to match her hair, which was dyed an improbable shade of red. "We're so happy to have Breath Block as our guests at the Latin American Daytime Emmys!"
"Uh, Dethklok. And thanks. We're, uh, sorry about that thing with the laundry soap!"
"Oh, that was a PANIC! Wasn't that a panic, Gretel? This is my best friend, Gretel!" Luz introduced a woman who looked very much like a somewhat shorter, fatter, older version of herself.
"Oh, yeah," said Gretel. "That was a panic!"
"Your boys are the cat's pajamas!" Luz enthused.
"Ah, OK. And, uh, this is my friend, Ganesh," said Charles. As Ganesh no longer had access to his somewhat less handsome human heads, for his public appearances, he simply dialed down whatever charm he usually radiated to its lowest setting. Charles wasn't precisely certain how he managed the trick - his mother, Parvati, did something similar, so as not to set off waves of mass fainting among humans she interacted with. Whatever it was, Luz evidently hadn't been paying him any mind until Charles introduced him, but then suddenly performed a rather amusing comic double-take.
"Helloooooo, Nurse!” said Luz.
“BOINGGGG!” said Gretel.
“Ohhhhh, ain't you a knockout! Isn't he a knockout, Gretel?"
"He's a knockout, Luzzy," said Gretel.
"Why, thank you, you are very kind," Ganesh told them, kissing hands. "It is a treat to meet such charming ladies."
"We gotta introduce 'em to Mickey!" said Luz.
"Uh, and where is your husband?" Charles asked.
"Oh, he's in the ballroom playin' for the Spanish ambassador!" Luz told him.
Charles frowned. "Uh, would it be a good time to interrupt him?"
"No problemo!" Luz assured him, "C'mon ya mugs, follow us!"
"Ganesh, does this seem weird to you?" Sariel whispered as they followed the women to the ballroom.
"Well, I can't say I recall being referred to as a 'mug' before," Ganesh laughed.
Unfortunately, there were some rather large, rather imposing guards posted outside the ballroom doors. Luz pulled everyone back into the shadows of the hallway. "Awwwww, Mickey don't want me interrupting him."
"Oh, uh, that's OK," Charles assured her. "Why don't we...."
"We'll just go up and spy on them from the study!" Luz proposed.
"Aw, Luzzy, are ya sure? You know Mickey don't want you sneakin' into his shows no more!" said Gretel.
"Aw, it'll be fine! Like that time we worked at the chocolate factory! Remember that? What a scream!"
"Yeah, that was a scream," Gretel conceded.
Charles cast a confused glance at Ganesh, who simply smiled and shrugged, and they followed Luz and Gretel up a stairway and into a book-lined room that indeed looked like a study.
The sound of Latin-esque big band music filled the room. Luz stalked across the room to open a pair of ornate double doors, which led off to an interior balcony. The balcony, true to Luz's word, overlooked a ballroom. They could see below a band playing for some rather stuffy-looking formally dressed people.
"Aw, I can't see nothin' up here!" Luz groused.
"Ah, I can see just fine actually," Charles put in.
"You know what I'm gonna do?" Luz announced. "I'm gonna go out on the chandelier to get a better look!" Luz vowed. "Wanna come with me?"
"Uh, I don't think..." Charles ventured.
"C'mon, Gretel!"
"Sure, Luzzy!" her chubby friend agreed.
"Uh," said Charles, but Ganesh, with a smile, restrained him.
"I think it profitable at this juncture," Ganesh whispered, "to simply keep our heads down."
Luz managed to scramble awkwardly off the balcony and into the ornate light fixture, which swayed a bit with her weight, but held. She then waved for Gretel to follow her. The heavier woman had a bit of trouble maneuvering off the balcony, and then when she was finally settled in the chandelier, it began to sway worryingly back and forth.
"Whooooooaaaaa!" the two women screamed, just as the screws holding the fixture to the ceiling popped out, sending the entire apparatus crashing noisily to the ground two stories below.
The orchestra ceased playing. Charles peered, worried, over the balcony. But to his surprise, the vast, ornate fixture had landed in an empty area of the room, producing no casualties. And even more surprisingly, Luz and Gretel simply brushed themselves off like a couple of cartoon characters and rose, seemingly unhurt by their adventure.
Luz's husband, the bandleader, strode up to them, a very stern look on his face.
"Miiiiiiiickey!" screamed Luz.
"Luzzy," scolded her husband, "You got some 'splainin' to do!"
"What the fuck," whispered Charles, who suddenly noticed Ganesh was no longer beside him.
"Hello there." Charles turned at the soft sound of Ganesh's voice. The god was talking to a bespectacled girl huddled on a couch over in a dark corner of the study. Charles was puzzled. Was she one of Luz's daughters? Despite the commotion below, he drifted over, nearer to Ganesh.
"Would you care to walk with me for a time?" Ganesh asked her gently, extending an arm. She didn't reply, but instead glanced nervously over at Charles. "He's all right," Ganesh told her. "Come." His tone was that of coaxing a skittish horse, Charles noticed.
Casting one last uncertain look at the silver-winged angel, the girl placed her hand on Ganesh's arm and let herself be escorted from the study. Charles followed, a pace or two behind. He noticed she seemed pale, but not angel pale, more like a human who hadn't seen the sun. And she didn't look quite as young as Charles had first supposed, although she also did not seem old. What was most frustrating was that he actually couldn't quite get a fix on her looks. She was like something glanced only out of the corner of your eye.
"It is very nice to meet you," Ganesh was telling her in his most soothing voice. "I am Shri Ganesha, and as you might know, my friend is Honored Sariel." She looked back at Charles and closed her hand on Ganesh's elbow. Charles wondered at Ganesh using his angel name in public. It was a mistake he didn't usually make.
Suddenly, the girl reached for the knob on a door he hadn't seen before. She wrested it open, and Charles followed them through. They exited the door, and emerged in a glorious tropical garden. A pair of Peacocks squawked and crossed the path in front of them. He heard noises in the distance, like calling birds, or howling monkeys. He imagined they were evidently walking through some kind of interior courtyard in Luz’s mansion, except it seemed too big. Much too big.
“And you are…?” Charles finally asked.
She didn’t look at him. “Charles,” said Ganesh. “She is the author.”
“The what?”
“She is the author.”
“You mean she writes that horrible show?”
She gave him a look he could not read.
“Charles!”
“Oh, good lord, you’re telling me you’ve never had a critic before?” Charles demanded.
“Charles,” Ganesh repeated, more softly this time. “Please try not to be unkind.”
They had continued up the path for a ways, and completely lost sight of the house.
“But it’s pure trash! You gotta admit that! And I hate that guy!”
“That guy?” Ganesh asked.
“That guy with the long hair! What an asshole.”
They had come into a clearing. Charles stopped.
Ahead was a large stone structure. A pyramid. The stairs, emerging from the forest floor like a natural feature, seemed impossibly steep.
“Who do you hate?”
Charles turned. The voice seemed to come from somewhere near, but very far away. The author had pushed her glasses back up her nose, and was now blinking at him. It was strange. She seemed to be coming into focus.
“The long haired guy!”
“There are words,” she said. “I put them in the script. An actor says them. He is filmed. Who do you hate?”
Charles looked between the author and the pyramid. He wasn’t entirely certain why, but he found he wanted to tear off his jacket and tie and fly to the top.
"Charles!" said Ganesh. The angel turned. "You seem far away."
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In my garden. What is he?" the author was asking Ganesh.
"He is like us," Ganesh told her. "But he is new at this."
"He has a god of wisdom at his side," she mused.
They were talking around him. Charles tried to concentrate.
"No, don't think about it," she said. She shyly stepped forward and tapped him lightly in the chest, directly over his heart. "This is where the answers come from."
He felt a spark, run through him. He looked back at the pyramid. He wanted to fly up, to drink in the power. He turned back. Focusing. "You're an Elder God," he said.
"Yes, that's correct. I am called Hypnos by some. It's all right. Let yourself dream here."
He couldn't resist. And in an instant, the jacket was off, the tie was flung off, the shirt was off, and he was lofting, up to the top, catching the power like an updraft.
And he was up. And he saw. And saw.
He was in the desert. In the distance, a red standstone rock.
A man, pushing a baby carriage. He heard the squeaking. A wheel needed for grease.
There was a child. His child.
He had to provide.
He had to keep her warm and dry.
Warm and dry.....
"Sariel?" He looked up to the sound of Ganesh's voice. He didn't remember flying back down to the courtyard. He was sitting on the grass, Ganesh crouched nearby, looking concerned.
Hypnos was kneeling on the grass next to him, blinking through her glasses. "What did you see?"
"It was Seth. But it didn't make sense. He's worried about keeping his kid dry? Do those horrible tentacled abominations get diaper rash or something?"
"I don't know for certain. His kind seem to prefer the desert. It is possible at water afflicts them. Perhaps that is why Seth is trying to move to the interior."
Sariel blinked. He could see her clearly, finally. She was fair, and fair skinned. Her light hair looked like she had dyed it, maybe months ago. It was a purplish tint, just visible in the sunlight.
And she had two wings. Demon wings, not the feathered kind. They were translucent, but also seemed to have a light purplish cast.
"Why are you helping us?" Charles asked her.
"Why wouldn't I help you? The Ancient Ones sleep. I keep them in the Dreaming. With my stories."
“Corazon de Azul, Sariel,” Ganesh said. “It’s a dream. A shared dream.”
"It's a dream? Is that why it doesn't make any fucking sense?" He frowned at Hypnos, who smiled wistfully. He noticed she was looking curiously at his wings. “Are you the one who insisted I do this crap in True Form?”
She blushed. “I may have maneuvered a meeting. Forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the presence of an angel.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“I wasn’t certain about you.” She shrugged. “I am the same as you, in a way. I don’t look human. So I must take care.”
Charles rolled his eyes, but then extended a wing. “So, go ahead.”
She looked at Ganesh, who smiled, and then reached over and stroked Sariel’s wing feathers. She sat back and smiled genuinely.
“So, are you gonna help us?” Charles asked.
“Sadly, I don’t have the power to deal with the child. She is outside my experience. If you can separate Seth from her, I can return him to his sleep. Sweeps week is coming up!” She smiled. “Conchita is going to run off with the rancher’s nephew!”
“Oh! Don’t spoil it!” Ganesh laughed.
“We should probably get back,” Hypnos said, standing.
“Help me get him put back together?” Ganesh asked, picking up Sariel’s scattered clothing.
“You mind if I Court Form now? I really hate getting wrapped up in a fucking suit when I’m like this.”
“Oh, could you stay like this just a while?” Hypnos asked as she expertly laced his tie and Ganesh settled his shirt.
“OK, on one condition. You go back like that. No tricks.” Hypnos blinked uncertainly. “Look, with both Luz and Dethklok running around back there, no one is gonna pay the likes of us any mind. Trust me.”
Hypnos once again looked to Ganesh, who glanced up from buttoning the vents on Charles’ jacket to nod. Ganesh flicked an imaginary dust speck from Charles’ collar and pronounced him ready. Hypnos laced a hand into his elbow, and they started to walk towards Luz’s residence.
“This is all their garden?” Charles asked. “Luz and Mickey?”
“This is my garden, actually,” Hypnos told him. “I find it convenient to have access from Luz’s house. I find nothing so peaceful as a garden.
Charles laughed. “Ya know, there’s someone I think I wanna introduce you to.” Hypnos looked curious, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Is there anything else you can tell us, Hypnos?” Ganesh asked as they neared the residence.
“About Seth? I am sorry. In the past, Seth has been like Luz.”
“WHAT?” said Charles.
Hypnos smiled. “Luz and Mickey, it’s always the same. She will never sneak into his show. But she will always try. That’s the way.”
“And Yolanda, and the long-haired man, and the man with the eye patch,” Ganesh said.
“Always. And always, in the past, Seth will awaken, for a time, but then he will be lulled back to sleep. Something has changed this time.”
They opened the door to the residence, but then immediately jumped back. Soapy water poured out into the garden, creating a huge, sudsy pool. They waited until it had slowed to a trickle, and then carefully stepped inside, being careful to step around the networks of foamy puddles that now nearly covered the floor.
Dethklok was standing in the middle of one of the larger rooms, knee deep in laundry suds, while Luz, holding up her skirts, hopped comically about nearby.
"An' dat," Pickles was telling her, "is how we do DAT!"
"Miiiiiickey!" screamed Luz.
"See?" Charles told Hypnos. "I told you no one would notice." He turned, irritated, at the sensation of someone rubbing his head.
"Raziel, it took me an hour to get it like that!"
"We're taking off," she told him. "Oh, by the way, you need to stop by my tailor in Milano."
"I thought Charles had been measured for everything?" Ganesh asked.
"Not Charles - you."
"Whatever can you be talking about?" Ganesh wondered.
"A surprise!"
"How can it be a surprise if I am to be tailored?" Ganesh asked.
"Not for you, for Sariel!" And with that, she grinned and grabbing Wotan's arm, departed.
"Angels," huffed Ganesh.
Ganesh's residence....
Ganesh emerged from his walk in closet area, sighing heavily and scowling down at his pants. "Why do people persist in this madness? I hate to echo my uncle, but this is nonsense! This sartorial atrocity should have gone to its grave along with the ill-fated lead singer of The Doors."
He looked up.
Sariel and Pickles sat on the end of the bed, staring.
"As I told Lady Raziel, articles of clothing constructed of animal products are a faux pas of unimaginable dimensions! These leather trousers are utterly hideous. I shall return them to her with a sternly worded message."
"You're gonna take 'em off?" Sariel asked.
"Mmm. That is the intent."
"Dood." Pickles and Sariel exchanged a hungry glance. "We'll help."
And then they were upon him.
Australia....
It was in the evening that they took wing.
The sun had sunk below the horizon, but light enough remained to trace them in lovely silhouette.
It was slow at first, rustles, half heard, almost glanced.
And then there were more. And then they were a flock. An aerial cloud, blotting the night sky.
Few remained among the mortals of the continent who would venture out after the sun had set. But still, they stood, huddled in doorways, on balconies, out on back porches, silent, pointing.
You could hear it, they said later. The whispers of the feathers as they met air. But another noise, soft and sweet. Like a distant chorus, singing an unknown language.
Large and small, from the largest of the mighty warriors, to the smallest, most insignificant clerk, all of them, together, on the wing.
Angels, all of them.
Departing Australia.
Leaving a silence.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing.
Notes: Part 2 of The Land of Oz. Notes after the jump.
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: Sariel and Raziel had a discussion that did not end well for some Seraphim.
Mordhaus….
"You do realize, Wotan, 'We wait,' is my least favorite fucking phrase in the English language? Or any fucking language? Yeah. Well. Yeah, we'll be up. OK. Bye."
"So, we still don't know anything about dem?"
"I'm sorry, Pickles." Charles sat on the balustrade on one of his castle’s higher floors, scowling at his Dethphone as if he were considering flinging it over. He was thoughtlessly kicking his legs, ignoring the rather precipitous drop. He hadn't changed clothes since he and Pickles and Raziel had returned from Australia, so his dark pants, shirt and boots were a bit dusty, not to mention angel blood-stained. He looked up over the top of his dark glasses at Pickles. "I've made repeated inquiries among the angelic beings we know. No one has heard anything about your parents."
"Is dat good or bad?"
"You know Seth better than I do," he said, finally pocketing the phone.
"I don't feckin' know him at all."
"In the worst case, I think he'd wanna keep them alive. At least." He unconsciously brought up one hand to rub the still quite short hair atop his head.
Pickles who had been staring off at something on the horizon, now eyed him. "You gonna keep it like dat?" he asked, nodding at the hair.
"I'm kinda getting used to it. But Ganesh would kill me. He's now freaked out it won't grow back enough before the ceremony. I told him I am not fucking magicking my hair back. I don't wanna end up with a bald spot! Ah. Uh. Sorry."
"None taken dood. It ain't exactly a spot."
Pickles was smiling faintly, but Charles struggled to find a different topic. "You shoulda seen the fight he put up over me leaving the house in Raziel's fucking leather pants."
"Dis wuz Raz's idea?"
"Yeah, and there's no arguing with her. She wanted to make an impression. I told her diced Seraphim would do that. And I'm sweating my fucking balls off."
"I c'uld take care o' dat for yoo."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Only rock stars and idiots should fucking dress like this."
"Same t'ing. Except..."
"What?"
"Heh. Wuz t'inkin'. Gannish in leadder pants."
Charles sighed heavily. "Never."
"No? Have you...?"
"About a million times!"
It wasn't quite a Pickles grin.
"Oh, THERE you are!" fumed Raziel, who had just shown up trailing Nathan and Toki.
"Raziel, I got off the phone with your husband like five seconds ago."
"We have to get you to my tailor in Milano!" Raziel insisted.
"Why the fuck would I wanna go to your fucking tailor? I have my suit for San Serriffe, and for the Naming."
"Yes, but you don't have a Look for the Daytime Emmys!"
"What Daytime Emmys? And what the fuck is a look? It sounds frightening!"
"Dude," Nathan explained. "Dethklok is hosting the Latin American Daytime Emmys!"
"Since when?"
"Murderface knows Luz Magnifica Balustrada!" Raziel declared.
"Am I supposed to know who this is? Another fucking designer?"
"She's the producer of Corazon de Azul!"
"That piece of shit? Why do you guys even care?"
"Dat ams da bests shows on da televisions!" Toki protested.
"And, seriously, dude, have you seen the broadcast?" Nathan murmured? "Lotsa hot chicks with big tits wearing tiny little gowns...."
"All right ! All right! All right! And please tell me you didn't already forge my name on the contract?"
"Naw!" scoffed Nathan. "We were gonna get you HIGH and have you sign!"
"And, uh, when is this gonna happen?"
"Well Pickles is supposed to offer you a smoke.... Oh," said Nathan.
"Get me," Charles started, putting both hands through his hair. "Get me Luz Balustrada's number," he sighed.
"It ams Luz Magnifica! Dat ams hows you says da Hispanics names," Toki lectured.
Charles looked back over the balustrade and wondered if the fall was long enough to kill him.
Ganesh's residence....
"Did you know anything about this Daytime Emmy business?"
Ganesh Smiled. "Yes! For Corazon de Azul! It is quite the honor."
"How can you watch that shit!"
"I've been watching since I was a small boy. Of course, it was the superior Hindi version, Hai dēvā aviśvasanīya ṭŏrca kī baiṭarī.
"That's not.... How is that even possible? I thought you were seventeen centuries old?"
"Yes," said Ganesh, his face donning an evil grin as he suddenly tugged Sariel into his lap. "You had rather robbed the cradle."
"Robbed the cradle?"
"Mmmmm, yes, I find myself corrupted by a terrible older man," Ganesh noted, chewing on Sariel's neck.
"Ganesh, how the fuck did you watch Corazon de Azul in Fourth Century?"
"Oh, everybody did," Ganesh cheerily informed him as he broke out some extra arms to make short work of Sariel's shirt buttons. "It is a universal favorite for all beings. With the possible exception of irascible angels."
"I don't understand... And what do you think you're doing?"
"Well, I should think that would be fairly clear, jaanu. You know I find this outfit distasteful!"
"Uh-huh. If you're so turned off, why do I feel one of the Himalayan peaks poking up my ass?"
"Tsk. It's hardly Everest. Perhaps Annapurna?"
"Yeah, well, good luck getting me out of these fucking boots! The laces took me 20 minutes... Oh!"
"One of the small benefits of being Lord of Destruction. Now, let us see what charming natural features we may discover inside these unspeakable trousers...."
Sariel woke to the sound of his Dethphone ringing, somewhere in the vicinity of his left foot.
He pushed through bedclothes and Hindu god limbs to track it down.
"Ah! There ye are!" Wotan's voice was booming enough one wondered why he bothered with a phone. "We've had an answer of a sort from Australia."
"Seth?"
"No. Different party. You and Ganesh get up here, once you untangle yourselves. And bring young Elias!"
"And bring...?"
"Mmmm?" inquired Ganesh.
"It's Wotan," Sariel told him, waving the phone. "We're supposed to get up to Valhalla. You might wanna brew some of that crappy tea you like. Uhhhh.... Ganesh?" he asked, as he found himself getting entangled in countless Ganesh arms.
"Mmmmm, some thoughtless person has left an angel in my bed!"
"Uh. Wotan, maybe 20 minutes?" Sariel told the phone, only to see it snatched from his hand.
"40," Ganesh told Wotan, tossing the phone away. "I need time to brew my terrible tea."
The Outback...
"I can't fucking believe your fucking husband fucking talked me into this."
Sariel stood in the desert, holding little Elias in a death grip to him.
Raziel stood gently rocking an old fashioned baby carriage. "We just need you guys to stand there. If you see something you don't like, just Walk away."
"I already see something I don't like!" he protested, nodding at the small group of True Formed angels gathered on the slopes some distance away. Compared to the group Sariel and Raziel had met some days previously, they were a mixed bag. There were a couple of Seraphim decked out in their favorite post apocalyptic fashion, but there were also a couple in more traditional robes, plus a raft of individuals who looked to be Cherubic, or from the lower orders.
"On my life. I personally guarantee the child's safe passage."
"Phanuel?" Sariel turned at the sound of the voice.
The Grey angel had just appeared. "Some individuals among them are old acquaintances of mine. They are Seraphim, it is true, but I believe these particular beings may prove amenable to reason.
"Reason? With Seraphim?" Sariel didn't bother with the second half of the aphorism. Like trying to stop a whirlwind with a net.
"I believe you will appreciate this, Sariel. We are going to attempt. Negotiation." A sly smile.
"What, are your hotel rooms too expensive?" Sariel fumed.
Phanuel held out his arms, and Raziel handed Liam to him.
"Now. No mischief!" he warned the boy in Common Angelic. "Wings." Liam obediently manifested his red-tinged wings. Phanuel smiled a genuine indulgent grandfather smile. And then he composed his features and, signaling to Raziel, approached the giant angels. Raziel, holding a curious Abby, walked beside him. Sariel, who had half a mind to Walk out of there, approached more cautiously, holding Elias.
"Honored Brother Zacharael." Phanuel hailed the leader. "Is Court Forming no longer done among young people?"
"Phanuel. How far the mighty have fallen! I hear now you are a lackey to the Raven god, herding his demons in the Underworld!"
Phanuel only raised a grey eyebrow at the slight. "Yes, demons. They're not much more frustrating to work with than Cherubim. But I wonder at your current state of affairs, that you agreed to meet with me."
"Your friends made a mince of us," he said, pointing to Sariel and Raziel.
"I was heartened to hear that strategic retreat. Is still your favored. Strategy."
Zacharael flapped his great light blond wings in irritation. "What exactly did you want, old man?"
"A social occasion."
"What?"
"I should very much like to introduce you to someone. This is young Liam Odinnson. My grandson."
Liam stared agreeably with those unmistakable ice blue eyes. And gently flapped his already rather impressive little reddish wings.
Zacharael appeared to be taken aback. "Then the rumors are true?"
"You haven't been gossiping again. Have you. Zacharael?"
"Then Raziel...?"
"The Lady Raziel is my daughter. This is her son. By King Wotan."
Zacharael frowned.
"It's a trick of some kind," muttered one of the others.
Zacharael held out a giant hand.
At Phanuel's gentle urging, Liam cheerfully fluttered over to the Seraph. Raziel was quiet, but Sariel held his breath grasped Elias even tighter.
Liam looped the loop, despite his grandfather's admonishments about mischief, and ended up perched on Zacharael's shoulder, where he stared fearlessly onto the giant angel's eyes.
Zacharael's put up a large hand and Liam now jumped into it. The child seemed completely at ease with the hulking warrior angel.
Elias managed to wriggle an arm free and pointed to Zacharael. "Angel!" he babbled in Common. Sariel shushed him.
"This is a son of The Raven God." Zacharael said.
"Allow me to make some introductions. This is my granddaughter, the Lady Abigail, in my daughter's arms, and my nephew is escorting his own son, young Shri Brahma Vishnu Maheshwaru."
There was some muttering, in a mixture of High and Common, from the assembled angels. Angels adore gossip, and there was no doubt that these children had been the subject thereof.
And then, quite suddenly, Zacharael was in Court Form, holding the child.
"You see that it is true," Phanuel smiled.
"We serve an Ancient One," Zacharael said. It sounded like a confession. "A powerful one. Even angels who are gods.... I do not think...."
"Were you aware of his ... status when you allied yourself?" Phanuel inquired. Zacharael did not reply, but shook his head.
"Perhaps. You were misled?"
Zacharael nodded, looking up at Phanuel. His eyes were as pale as his hair.
"I have not concerned myself with niceties. I am a warrior, as you are," Phanuel told him. "But my nephew has some acquaintanceship with the law." Sariel, who had relaxed microscopically when Zacharael Court Formed, nodded. "This does not sound like a good faith bargain you have entered into," Phanuel told them. Sariel perked up his ears. There were some muttered conversations amongst the watching angels, mostly in Common.
"You don't bargain with the Ancients!" It was another Seraph, one wearing traditional robes.
"I speak for my son-in-law, the Raven God, and his Queen. Such are times, none can guarantee your safe passage. But they will do all within their power to aid any who might be willing to ... reconsider certain recent decisions."
"The Ifa ... stand with the King and Queen," Sariel found himself saying. He had finally relaxed his grip on Elias. The boy, who had been beside himself in the presence of so many True Formed angels, suddenly stopped squirming and touched his father gently on the face.
"This has been informative, Honored Brother Phanuel," Zacharael told Phanuel, handing off Liam.
"Something to consider," said Phanuel.
Zacharael's expression was unreadable. He True Formed, turned, and, signaling to his group, they took wing and departed.
"You are aware of the meaning of mischief, young angel?" Phanuel smilingly scolded Liam. He placed the child back in the carriage, and, giving Raziel a quick kiss on the forehead, nodded to Sariel and departed.
"Raziel,” said Sariel.
"Yeah?”
"That's... That's your fucking kid!"
"Yes?"
"How could you?"
"That's my father, Sariel."
"But you barely know him!"
"I've known him ever."
"How do you put your trust in these people?"
Raziel fixed Sariel with her gaze. "When you first met Jacque, what did you think?"
"I didn't have to think."
"You don't suppose I know my father?"
Sariel glowered.
"Anyway, I don't believe I'm getting this from Honored Bald Headed Machete Man,” Raziel grinned.
"That's different," scowled Sariel, unconsciously rubbing his head.
"You don't trust Papa Jacque?”
"Of course not!"
"With Elias?"
Sariel stopped for a moment. "Raziel. During my initiation, Ganesh had to call me back from the dead."
"Yeah, I heard," Raziel grinned. “Ganesh is still pretty steamed."
"He called Elias's name. But, he called him Boon."
"It's what we all call him. Funny, with him having all those names. Earth gods are strange"
"You started calling him that."
"What of it? I like making up Names."
"Jacque seemed to think it was important."
Raziel frowned. "Why?"
"I dunno. I think that was the point when Ganesh tried to strangle him."
"You guys have the best relatives. I swear."
Santa Dominica, the exclusive residence of Luz Magnifica Balustrada....
Charles sighed and flapped his magnificent silver wings.
"Don't mess up the draping!" Raziel lectured, straightening his tie.
"Raziel, please explain to me again how the fuck is it you won a Latin American Daytime Emmy?"
"It was quite a surprise!" Raziel gushed, hefting the heavy statuette.
Wotan came and draped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "We're all very proud of my girl!" he enthused. Raziel smiled and fluttered off, flourishing her major award.
"Wotan?" asked Charles suspiciously.
The king shrugged. "Any excuse to see My Lady in a strapless gown, I suppose!" he winked, and followed Raziel.
Ganesh and Pickles wandered in. "That was.... Er...." Ganesh started.
"Sahry about dat t'ing wit' da laundry soap, chief," Pickles grinned.
"I don't even know where to start," Charles mused, fluttering the wings again as Pickles wandered off in search of liquor.
"Charles! You will unfavorably impact the draping!" Ganesh scolded, re-straightening Charles's red tie. The Hindu god was unfailingly courteous about using Sariel's human name when they walked in public.
As part of the rather complicated bilingual negotiations to contract the members of Dethklok to host the Latin American Daytime Emmys, Charles had agreed to appear at the show in True Form. It had been a major sticking point, and he had finally agreed with the stipulation that he would not speak on camera in that Form. Which was probably just as well, as he had a rather tenuous grasp of Spanish, especially the rapid dialect that seemed to be the norm in Santa Dominica. He had hidden his odd eyes behind dark glasses. There was not much he could do, unfortunately, with his hair, which was now at such a length that it had started to become unruly, and yet was not yet long enough to be easily tamed.
Raziel had shuttled him to a tailor friend of a friend of hers who had somehow managed to come up with a grey suit for him that passed the picky muster of both Raziel and Ganesh, and also, parenthetically, had vents in the back for his broad wings. It was an odd feeling. He had spent a great deal of the last decades wearing a business suit, but somehow, True Formed, it all seemed strangely constricting. He felt like an impostor, like someone wearing a not particularly comfortable Halloween costume. A human costume.
He loosened his tie for the hundredth time.
They had been invited to the palatial residence of Luz Magnifica Balustrada following the awards show. Luz, the producer of Corazon de Azul was married to Miguel “Mickey” Mikado, a musician, and they were evidently the most famous couple in Santa Dominica. They were definitely quite wealthy.
"CHAAAAAARLES!" came a musical voice. He turned to see Luz herself come striding up to him. Despite her name, she appeared to be a native speaker of English. She wore a fiery red ball gown to match her hair, which was dyed an improbable shade of red. "We're so happy to have Breath Block as our guests at the Latin American Daytime Emmys!"
"Uh, Dethklok. And thanks. We're, uh, sorry about that thing with the laundry soap!"
"Oh, that was a PANIC! Wasn't that a panic, Gretel? This is my best friend, Gretel!" Luz introduced a woman who looked very much like a somewhat shorter, fatter, older version of herself.
"Oh, yeah," said Gretel. "That was a panic!"
"Your boys are the cat's pajamas!" Luz enthused.
"Ah, OK. And, uh, this is my friend, Ganesh," said Charles. As Ganesh no longer had access to his somewhat less handsome human heads, for his public appearances, he simply dialed down whatever charm he usually radiated to its lowest setting. Charles wasn't precisely certain how he managed the trick - his mother, Parvati, did something similar, so as not to set off waves of mass fainting among humans she interacted with. Whatever it was, Luz evidently hadn't been paying him any mind until Charles introduced him, but then suddenly performed a rather amusing comic double-take.
"Helloooooo, Nurse!” said Luz.
“BOINGGGG!” said Gretel.
“Ohhhhh, ain't you a knockout! Isn't he a knockout, Gretel?"
"He's a knockout, Luzzy," said Gretel.
"Why, thank you, you are very kind," Ganesh told them, kissing hands. "It is a treat to meet such charming ladies."
"We gotta introduce 'em to Mickey!" said Luz.
"Uh, and where is your husband?" Charles asked.
"Oh, he's in the ballroom playin' for the Spanish ambassador!" Luz told him.
Charles frowned. "Uh, would it be a good time to interrupt him?"
"No problemo!" Luz assured him, "C'mon ya mugs, follow us!"
"Ganesh, does this seem weird to you?" Sariel whispered as they followed the women to the ballroom.
"Well, I can't say I recall being referred to as a 'mug' before," Ganesh laughed.
Unfortunately, there were some rather large, rather imposing guards posted outside the ballroom doors. Luz pulled everyone back into the shadows of the hallway. "Awwwww, Mickey don't want me interrupting him."
"Oh, uh, that's OK," Charles assured her. "Why don't we...."
"We'll just go up and spy on them from the study!" Luz proposed.
"Aw, Luzzy, are ya sure? You know Mickey don't want you sneakin' into his shows no more!" said Gretel.
"Aw, it'll be fine! Like that time we worked at the chocolate factory! Remember that? What a scream!"
"Yeah, that was a scream," Gretel conceded.
Charles cast a confused glance at Ganesh, who simply smiled and shrugged, and they followed Luz and Gretel up a stairway and into a book-lined room that indeed looked like a study.
The sound of Latin-esque big band music filled the room. Luz stalked across the room to open a pair of ornate double doors, which led off to an interior balcony. The balcony, true to Luz's word, overlooked a ballroom. They could see below a band playing for some rather stuffy-looking formally dressed people.
"Aw, I can't see nothin' up here!" Luz groused.
"Ah, I can see just fine actually," Charles put in.
"You know what I'm gonna do?" Luz announced. "I'm gonna go out on the chandelier to get a better look!" Luz vowed. "Wanna come with me?"
"Uh, I don't think..." Charles ventured.
"C'mon, Gretel!"
"Sure, Luzzy!" her chubby friend agreed.
"Uh," said Charles, but Ganesh, with a smile, restrained him.
"I think it profitable at this juncture," Ganesh whispered, "to simply keep our heads down."
Luz managed to scramble awkwardly off the balcony and into the ornate light fixture, which swayed a bit with her weight, but held. She then waved for Gretel to follow her. The heavier woman had a bit of trouble maneuvering off the balcony, and then when she was finally settled in the chandelier, it began to sway worryingly back and forth.
"Whooooooaaaaa!" the two women screamed, just as the screws holding the fixture to the ceiling popped out, sending the entire apparatus crashing noisily to the ground two stories below.
The orchestra ceased playing. Charles peered, worried, over the balcony. But to his surprise, the vast, ornate fixture had landed in an empty area of the room, producing no casualties. And even more surprisingly, Luz and Gretel simply brushed themselves off like a couple of cartoon characters and rose, seemingly unhurt by their adventure.
Luz's husband, the bandleader, strode up to them, a very stern look on his face.
"Miiiiiiiickey!" screamed Luz.
"Luzzy," scolded her husband, "You got some 'splainin' to do!"
"What the fuck," whispered Charles, who suddenly noticed Ganesh was no longer beside him.
"Hello there." Charles turned at the soft sound of Ganesh's voice. The god was talking to a bespectacled girl huddled on a couch over in a dark corner of the study. Charles was puzzled. Was she one of Luz's daughters? Despite the commotion below, he drifted over, nearer to Ganesh.
"Would you care to walk with me for a time?" Ganesh asked her gently, extending an arm. She didn't reply, but instead glanced nervously over at Charles. "He's all right," Ganesh told her. "Come." His tone was that of coaxing a skittish horse, Charles noticed.
Casting one last uncertain look at the silver-winged angel, the girl placed her hand on Ganesh's arm and let herself be escorted from the study. Charles followed, a pace or two behind. He noticed she seemed pale, but not angel pale, more like a human who hadn't seen the sun. And she didn't look quite as young as Charles had first supposed, although she also did not seem old. What was most frustrating was that he actually couldn't quite get a fix on her looks. She was like something glanced only out of the corner of your eye.
"It is very nice to meet you," Ganesh was telling her in his most soothing voice. "I am Shri Ganesha, and as you might know, my friend is Honored Sariel." She looked back at Charles and closed her hand on Ganesh's elbow. Charles wondered at Ganesh using his angel name in public. It was a mistake he didn't usually make.
Suddenly, the girl reached for the knob on a door he hadn't seen before. She wrested it open, and Charles followed them through. They exited the door, and emerged in a glorious tropical garden. A pair of Peacocks squawked and crossed the path in front of them. He heard noises in the distance, like calling birds, or howling monkeys. He imagined they were evidently walking through some kind of interior courtyard in Luz’s mansion, except it seemed too big. Much too big.
“And you are…?” Charles finally asked.
She didn’t look at him. “Charles,” said Ganesh. “She is the author.”
“The what?”
“She is the author.”
“You mean she writes that horrible show?”
She gave him a look he could not read.
“Charles!”
“Oh, good lord, you’re telling me you’ve never had a critic before?” Charles demanded.
“Charles,” Ganesh repeated, more softly this time. “Please try not to be unkind.”
They had continued up the path for a ways, and completely lost sight of the house.
“But it’s pure trash! You gotta admit that! And I hate that guy!”
“That guy?” Ganesh asked.
“That guy with the long hair! What an asshole.”
They had come into a clearing. Charles stopped.
Ahead was a large stone structure. A pyramid. The stairs, emerging from the forest floor like a natural feature, seemed impossibly steep.
“Who do you hate?”
Charles turned. The voice seemed to come from somewhere near, but very far away. The author had pushed her glasses back up her nose, and was now blinking at him. It was strange. She seemed to be coming into focus.
“The long haired guy!”
“There are words,” she said. “I put them in the script. An actor says them. He is filmed. Who do you hate?”
Charles looked between the author and the pyramid. He wasn’t entirely certain why, but he found he wanted to tear off his jacket and tie and fly to the top.
"Charles!" said Ganesh. The angel turned. "You seem far away."
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In my garden. What is he?" the author was asking Ganesh.
"He is like us," Ganesh told her. "But he is new at this."
"He has a god of wisdom at his side," she mused.
They were talking around him. Charles tried to concentrate.
"No, don't think about it," she said. She shyly stepped forward and tapped him lightly in the chest, directly over his heart. "This is where the answers come from."
He felt a spark, run through him. He looked back at the pyramid. He wanted to fly up, to drink in the power. He turned back. Focusing. "You're an Elder God," he said.
"Yes, that's correct. I am called Hypnos by some. It's all right. Let yourself dream here."
He couldn't resist. And in an instant, the jacket was off, the tie was flung off, the shirt was off, and he was lofting, up to the top, catching the power like an updraft.
And he was up. And he saw. And saw.
He was in the desert. In the distance, a red standstone rock.
A man, pushing a baby carriage. He heard the squeaking. A wheel needed for grease.
There was a child. His child.
He had to provide.
He had to keep her warm and dry.
Warm and dry.....
"Sariel?" He looked up to the sound of Ganesh's voice. He didn't remember flying back down to the courtyard. He was sitting on the grass, Ganesh crouched nearby, looking concerned.
Hypnos was kneeling on the grass next to him, blinking through her glasses. "What did you see?"
"It was Seth. But it didn't make sense. He's worried about keeping his kid dry? Do those horrible tentacled abominations get diaper rash or something?"
"I don't know for certain. His kind seem to prefer the desert. It is possible at water afflicts them. Perhaps that is why Seth is trying to move to the interior."
Sariel blinked. He could see her clearly, finally. She was fair, and fair skinned. Her light hair looked like she had dyed it, maybe months ago. It was a purplish tint, just visible in the sunlight.
And she had two wings. Demon wings, not the feathered kind. They were translucent, but also seemed to have a light purplish cast.
"Why are you helping us?" Charles asked her.
"Why wouldn't I help you? The Ancient Ones sleep. I keep them in the Dreaming. With my stories."
“Corazon de Azul, Sariel,” Ganesh said. “It’s a dream. A shared dream.”
"It's a dream? Is that why it doesn't make any fucking sense?" He frowned at Hypnos, who smiled wistfully. He noticed she was looking curiously at his wings. “Are you the one who insisted I do this crap in True Form?”
She blushed. “I may have maneuvered a meeting. Forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the presence of an angel.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“I wasn’t certain about you.” She shrugged. “I am the same as you, in a way. I don’t look human. So I must take care.”
Charles rolled his eyes, but then extended a wing. “So, go ahead.”
She looked at Ganesh, who smiled, and then reached over and stroked Sariel’s wing feathers. She sat back and smiled genuinely.
“So, are you gonna help us?” Charles asked.
“Sadly, I don’t have the power to deal with the child. She is outside my experience. If you can separate Seth from her, I can return him to his sleep. Sweeps week is coming up!” She smiled. “Conchita is going to run off with the rancher’s nephew!”
“Oh! Don’t spoil it!” Ganesh laughed.
“We should probably get back,” Hypnos said, standing.
“Help me get him put back together?” Ganesh asked, picking up Sariel’s scattered clothing.
“You mind if I Court Form now? I really hate getting wrapped up in a fucking suit when I’m like this.”
“Oh, could you stay like this just a while?” Hypnos asked as she expertly laced his tie and Ganesh settled his shirt.
“OK, on one condition. You go back like that. No tricks.” Hypnos blinked uncertainly. “Look, with both Luz and Dethklok running around back there, no one is gonna pay the likes of us any mind. Trust me.”
Hypnos once again looked to Ganesh, who glanced up from buttoning the vents on Charles’ jacket to nod. Ganesh flicked an imaginary dust speck from Charles’ collar and pronounced him ready. Hypnos laced a hand into his elbow, and they started to walk towards Luz’s residence.
“This is all their garden?” Charles asked. “Luz and Mickey?”
“This is my garden, actually,” Hypnos told him. “I find it convenient to have access from Luz’s house. I find nothing so peaceful as a garden.
Charles laughed. “Ya know, there’s someone I think I wanna introduce you to.” Hypnos looked curious, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Is there anything else you can tell us, Hypnos?” Ganesh asked as they neared the residence.
“About Seth? I am sorry. In the past, Seth has been like Luz.”
“WHAT?” said Charles.
Hypnos smiled. “Luz and Mickey, it’s always the same. She will never sneak into his show. But she will always try. That’s the way.”
“And Yolanda, and the long-haired man, and the man with the eye patch,” Ganesh said.
“Always. And always, in the past, Seth will awaken, for a time, but then he will be lulled back to sleep. Something has changed this time.”
They opened the door to the residence, but then immediately jumped back. Soapy water poured out into the garden, creating a huge, sudsy pool. They waited until it had slowed to a trickle, and then carefully stepped inside, being careful to step around the networks of foamy puddles that now nearly covered the floor.
Dethklok was standing in the middle of one of the larger rooms, knee deep in laundry suds, while Luz, holding up her skirts, hopped comically about nearby.
"An' dat," Pickles was telling her, "is how we do DAT!"
"Miiiiiickey!" screamed Luz.
"See?" Charles told Hypnos. "I told you no one would notice." He turned, irritated, at the sensation of someone rubbing his head.
"Raziel, it took me an hour to get it like that!"
"We're taking off," she told him. "Oh, by the way, you need to stop by my tailor in Milano."
"I thought Charles had been measured for everything?" Ganesh asked.
"Not Charles - you."
"Whatever can you be talking about?" Ganesh wondered.
"A surprise!"
"How can it be a surprise if I am to be tailored?" Ganesh asked.
"Not for you, for Sariel!" And with that, she grinned and grabbing Wotan's arm, departed.
"Angels," huffed Ganesh.
Ganesh's residence....
Ganesh emerged from his walk in closet area, sighing heavily and scowling down at his pants. "Why do people persist in this madness? I hate to echo my uncle, but this is nonsense! This sartorial atrocity should have gone to its grave along with the ill-fated lead singer of The Doors."
He looked up.
Sariel and Pickles sat on the end of the bed, staring.
"As I told Lady Raziel, articles of clothing constructed of animal products are a faux pas of unimaginable dimensions! These leather trousers are utterly hideous. I shall return them to her with a sternly worded message."
"You're gonna take 'em off?" Sariel asked.
"Mmm. That is the intent."
"Dood." Pickles and Sariel exchanged a hungry glance. "We'll help."
And then they were upon him.
Australia....
It was in the evening that they took wing.
The sun had sunk below the horizon, but light enough remained to trace them in lovely silhouette.
It was slow at first, rustles, half heard, almost glanced.
And then there were more. And then they were a flock. An aerial cloud, blotting the night sky.
Few remained among the mortals of the continent who would venture out after the sun had set. But still, they stood, huddled in doorways, on balconies, out on back porches, silent, pointing.
You could hear it, they said later. The whispers of the feathers as they met air. But another noise, soft and sweet. Like a distant chorus, singing an unknown language.
Large and small, from the largest of the mighty warriors, to the smallest, most insignificant clerk, all of them, together, on the wing.
Angels, all of them.
Departing Australia.
Leaving a silence.
