This angel is persistent I will give her that. Well, persistent and the most innocent being I have encountered since I fell all those millennia ago. It's annoying, every time I make a joke you can hear the whoosh of it flying right over her head.
We have been walking for a while. My feet ache, and I'm tired, "Hey Shorty, do you even know where we are going?" I ask, "You look a little lost,"
'I really shouldn't be teasing her as I do but, it's fun.' She looks over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at me. 'She reacts like a child, everyone in hell would've either punched me or made some really vulgar gestures. It's a surprisingly welcome change in pace.'
As we continue our trek, I tell her about hell, which leads to some really weird topics that I shut down completely. After a couple of minutes, we both go silent. I look down at her face, she seems deep in thought as if she's trying to remember something.
"Curiosity!" she exclaims, making me jump out of my skin.
I look at her confused for a moment before the realization dawned on me. She's curious. Angels left in heaven aren't supposed to feel curiosity. I gently grab her chin and force her to look up at me.
"Meta are you defying God?" I ask out loud, what I'm thinking is simple.
'Why are you different?'
When I take a closer look at her, I hate to admit it, but she was really stunning. Angels are all supposed to be equally beautiful but, she was beyond most angels' beauty. Her hair is a waterfall of liquid gold cascading down to her waist; perfect to contrast her bright, sky-blue eyes, which were deep-set and slightly hidden by her long black lashes. Her clear skin was spattered with freckles on her face, down her neck, and along her arms and legs stopping at the base of her fingers and knees.
Her wider range of emotions and more stunning physical appearance should've gotten her kicked out of heaven or even obliterated like Demaris. Why was she allowed to stay?
I drop her chin and keep walking. 'I can't get distracted.' I continue to walk until I realized that she was not following me. I look over my shoulder to see her standing in the clouds clutching her chest and it makes my heart flutter slightly.
"Hey, Princess! You're falling behind!" I yell at her.
As if waking up from a trance she snaps to attention and runs after me yelling something about creating love.
"I already said no!" I laugh and keep walking.
This conversation is not one I ever want to have with anyone, let alone an angel. Stupid, innocent angel.
"Hey Meta, where are we going?" I ask, "My feet hurt, and I want to go back to hell."
I poke at her side just to see what kind of reaction I would get out of her. She lightly slaps my hand away and I chuckle.
"We are going to the throne," she points over the clouds, there's a pause before she speaks again.
"Why do you want to go back to hell?" she asks kicking up a puff of cloudfluff.
"Why wouldn't I? The parties, the freedom! It's amazing," I pause, "I mean it's a little warm down there but, hey, it's totally worth it."
We sit down for a minute, I lean against a depressed angel and listen to the soft sizzling of cloudfluff underneath me.
"It's okay little angel, I will solve all your parental issues," I say as I pat its head, "you and your weird dysfunctional family will be less dysfunctional soon."
"We are not dysfunctional Azazel," I look up at her and raise an eyebrow, "We are not! We are a fully functional family."
"Yes, brothers and sisters whose love has to be only directed at a creator with a major superiority complex, humans would call a god complex," I laugh at my own joke, nice one Azazel, "That's not dysfunctional at all," I say sarcastically.
"Come on we have to get to the throne," Meta hops up, "if god left any clues they would be there."
I groan, which earns a glare from Meta. I don't want to get up yet.
"I was just getting to re-know this guy," I point my thumb at the angel I'm leaning on, "Gabriel right?"
She leans over my shoulder, her scent filling my nose, lemons and honey. I feel my cheeks heat slightly.
"Nope, that's Micheal," she says matter of factually.
My heart leaps out of my chest and I dive-roll away.
"Micheal?! Like the Micheal who defeated Lucifer?" I exclaim, Meta nods in confirmation.
I cautiously bring my face closer to Micheal's, surveying his weeping, tear-soaked face.
"I was just using Micheal as a bench!" I say in realization.
I look from Micheal to Meta, and back again. I stare at the snivelling archangel and poke his face. No reaction huh? I smile deviously and summon a black permanent marker into my hands and write vulgar names on his forehead, along with a handlebar mustache and goatee.
"That's for being a snitch and a goody-two-shoes you stuck up a**hat," I laugh at him, "this is long overdue for you big brother,"
I feel Meta tug at my hair and say, "stop terrorizing our pathetic older brother," she looks at him, "he's obviously going through some stuff right now," she says, her face schooled neutrality, but I could see the satisfaction in her eyes. Even Princess Metatron, the most merciful of angels, didn't pity the stuck-up archangel. I laugh and toss away the marker, watching it disappear into the clouds.
"I can't believe people worship this," I say waving at Micheal and moving to my feet, "heaven's strongest angel can't even handle a little heartbreak?"
Meta shoots a look over her shoulder and quickly turns back as if to hide a smile.
"Oh come on," I goad her, "you have to admit it's pretty funny," she grabs my wrist and pulls me away from Micheal.
"I don't have to admit anything," she says, I can hear the smile in her voice, "we have to get to the throne," she says pulling harder.
I study her slender hand around my wrist. She has an iron grip.
"Fine, let's go to the throne," I sigh looking back at Micheal one more time.
We continue our trek, listening to the human's chaotic screams about the apocalypse and Armageddon. It's like a melody of chaos. My favourite kind of melody.
As we walk I notice the sizzling of the cloudfluff getting louder and louder. I look at my feet and I hear Meta gasp beside me. I shift my gaze up.
The first thing to hit me was the smell, the sweetness of summer, the freshness of spring, the crisp smell of autumn, the spice of winter, and of course the weird milky smell. Then it was the light, it was gold as well as silver, white and black. It was perfection, glory, and beauty in its rawest form.
"The throne," I hear Meta mutter in awe under her breath.
I stare up at the monstrous, glory that stood before me and all I could think of to say was,
"It's a lot smaller than I expected"