Maybe Lucifer will be gratified to find that at last, this time, Balthazar has no words of protest or will to shrug off the compliment. Whether it’s because of overhearing the conversation with Levi or some other reason, all he does is glow and curl his wing closer around the other angel, presence radiating with pleased laughter. It’s hard, it’s counterintuitive, and it will take him a long while to really shake it off, but when it comes down to it, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying being enjoyed, is there?
The Ofan takes off after Lucifer, and he probably does a better job keeping up than most other angels would, but no, he has no chance of competing. He doesn’t mind, either; they both know where they will be ending up, and they both have a pretty clear idea what they’ll be doing there. For the moment there’s nothing but happy anticipation in Balthazar’s mind. All is right with the world. This world, at least. His own can wait.
From a long distance away, there’s a chance some of the citizens of the Nexus will catch an inkling of this display. Strange occurrences happen here and there in the Nexus. Some days there will be flying whales in the sky overhead, or the ether will be a soft green instead of blue. Sometimes huge mushrooms grow between trees in the woods, or elk the size of dinosaurs go tearing down the mountainsides in the Wilds. Light beyond light in the sky is bound to be noteworthy, but at least no one will be harmed, and no one will cower anticipating the end of the multiverse. They’re a safe distance from everything.
Balthazar remembers the gleam on the primordial sea when he was newly-born. Stars whirling in a purple sky overhead, moments of breathless wonder where even the funny little bacteria pulling themselves apart to make ever more of themselves were of such exquisite beauty he almost couldn’t bear the joy of watching them. He was a mirror, once; all the Ofanim were. When there was no war, only creation; they reflected back the delight of everything they saw.
The moment he comes into view of Lucifer, he is that mirror once again, and he can feel the light permeate every last part of him. Light, morning—the morning of the universe itself--dawn of consciousness and the accompanying awe of the realization that one exists.
His hurtling gait across the sky slows. Time is a funny thing; it keeps events in order and that’s nice and all, but sometimes it pushes you past something before you’re done with it. Balthazar wants it to slow down, ease up, and give him a chance to take in what’s before him. There is too much of Lucifer to see, but not too much to feel. His wings stretch wider, though he closes some of his eyes, and he just glides, letting the inexorable bond pull them closer and closer together.
He thinks he understands something now, in the face of this fountain of untamed passion and devotion. Of course a being made up so completely of love would be upset to hear him call himself unworthy of adoration. It’s like putting up a wall between them.
For the life of him, Balthazar can’t come up with words to say in response to that greeting, but he reaches, silent except for the fireworks-whoosh sound of his wings, his essence, and curls himself around the other angel as tightly as he can.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2019-12-04 07:55 pm (UTC)The Ofan takes off after Lucifer, and he probably does a better job keeping up than most other angels would, but no, he has no chance of competing. He doesn’t mind, either; they both know where they will be ending up, and they both have a pretty clear idea what they’ll be doing there. For the moment there’s nothing but happy anticipation in Balthazar’s mind. All is right with the world. This world, at least. His own can wait.
From a long distance away, there’s a chance some of the citizens of the Nexus will catch an inkling of this display. Strange occurrences happen here and there in the Nexus. Some days there will be flying whales in the sky overhead, or the ether will be a soft green instead of blue. Sometimes huge mushrooms grow between trees in the woods, or elk the size of dinosaurs go tearing down the mountainsides in the Wilds. Light beyond light in the sky is bound to be noteworthy, but at least no one will be harmed, and no one will cower anticipating the end of the multiverse. They’re a safe distance from everything.
Balthazar remembers the gleam on the primordial sea when he was newly-born. Stars whirling in a purple sky overhead, moments of breathless wonder where even the funny little bacteria pulling themselves apart to make ever more of themselves were of such exquisite beauty he almost couldn’t bear the joy of watching them. He was a mirror, once; all the Ofanim were. When there was no war, only creation; they reflected back the delight of everything they saw.
The moment he comes into view of Lucifer, he is that mirror once again, and he can feel the light permeate every last part of him. Light, morning—the morning of the universe itself--dawn of consciousness and the accompanying awe of the realization that one exists.
His hurtling gait across the sky slows. Time is a funny thing; it keeps events in order and that’s nice and all, but sometimes it pushes you past something before you’re done with it. Balthazar wants it to slow down, ease up, and give him a chance to take in what’s before him. There is too much of Lucifer to see, but not too much to feel. His wings stretch wider, though he closes some of his eyes, and he just glides, letting the inexorable bond pull them closer and closer together.
He thinks he understands something now, in the face of this fountain of untamed passion and devotion. Of course a being made up so completely of love would be upset to hear him call himself unworthy of adoration. It’s like putting up a wall between them.
For the life of him, Balthazar can’t come up with words to say in response to that greeting, but he reaches, silent except for the fireworks-whoosh sound of his wings, his essence, and curls himself around the other angel as tightly as he can.