The Angel Balthazar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tryingitall) wrote2019-11-16 08:53 pm
tryingitall) wrote2019-11-16 08:53 pm
Vessels and Trueforms
Balthazar lands on the terrace, taking the opportunity to set out the decorative baby pumpkins, as well as the larger one, and tracing a light preservation spell over them before heading inside. His Halloween shopping gets set on the kitchen counter, still in the bag. He's pretty casual about his surroundings sometimes, equally at home with tidiness and clutter. He seems to have brought in some additional groceries and drinks today, though, and these are put away in the pantry and refrigerator.
There's apple cider, for one thing, and a couple bottles of a golden-tinted auslese with a cornucopia on the label. He likes sweet wines.
This minimal labor done, he goes into the living room and flops onto the sofa, looking pensive. "Best to do this slowly, I think," he says to Lucifer. "I'll let him take control of the vessel for a bit before trying to separate. To talk to you, perhaps? I think he'll want to."
There's apple cider, for one thing, and a couple bottles of a golden-tinted auslese with a cornucopia on the label. He likes sweet wines.
This minimal labor done, he goes into the living room and flops onto the sofa, looking pensive. "Best to do this slowly, I think," he says to Lucifer. "I'll let him take control of the vessel for a bit before trying to separate. To talk to you, perhaps? I think he'll want to."
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Balthazar wouldn't be hard to find. Lucifer could already home in on his presence when he was bundled up in Levi. This should be significantly easier.
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He’s quite bad at being still in trueform, though he’s able to stay in roughly the same spot as he waits for Lucifer to catch up, spinning and circling and fluttering in the air, like a meteor that has no intention of landing anytime soon, thank you very much, this atmosphere is lovely. There is a sound that accompanies his motions, as well, something like the quiet whoosh right before a firework goes screaming into the sky and bursts into dazzling sparks. He is not a star nor a shedder of light, but he is most certainly a flame of joy.
He is able to expand or contract the rings of this shape, and he has them pulled down to the most convenient size he can manage when Lucifer arrives, but that is still quite large, the diameter of a large carousel rather than the span of the London Eye. Still, that should be enough to appreciate his shape, as he peeps out from behind a cloud, somehow conveying a coy look even without human features. He is a series of rings, of course, a swoop of semi-corporeal light and smoke and iridescent red-gold vapor, glittering like a cut fire opal in the light of the sun and his own energies. Eyes hover in the haze of color and flame, studding the rings—sometimes there are two rings, sometimes six, sometimes just the one, but there are always thousands, tens of thousands, of eyes, singly and in matched pairs and groups.
Many are humanoid, in every shade possible for mortal people: brown, blue, hazel, caramel, green, sable, black. Others are animal eyes of every description, from hawk to doe to frog to octopus. There is even a pair of shimmery compound eyes that flicker at Lucifer as they slide past, very clearly modeled after a butterfly’s. His wings, too, are dotted with eyes of every description, but here the eyes are more organized, laid out in lines like peacock feathers.
And his wings, well, he never seems to have more than four on any given ring, but they come and go in a dizzying rush, enough speed and motion and color to make a human sick or temporarily insane, but they are tawny-gold, like sun on a field of ripe wheat, and the feathers are curly, absurdly curly at the bases in a way that would make them impossible to fly with if he were required to obey the laws of physics. Somehow the curls and the glittery gold of his eyelashes soften the raging-fire effect of the rest of him and make him look playful. Glory with a giggle.
That, and suddenly without Levi’s body around him, it’s clear he’s much younger than Lucifer. Not a child, by angelic standards, but still boyish.
“Boo!” he says, as if Lucifer’s caught him at hide and seek, and laughs. His usual accent somehow carries over to his celestial voice, even if the power of it is enough to make the trees below shiver. “Shall we find the ocean? It’s only a few miles downriver, we’ll be there in a flash.”
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The boo though has Lucifer laughing. His reaction is to fly up against one of Balthazar's wings, almost like a cat rubbing against someone's legs. "I did not think you could be more beautiful. I see I have been proven wrong."
He doesn't respond to the question, only flashes the nearest set of eyes a playfully inviting smile and takes off down stream. All angels are fast but Lucifer, when given to do so, redefined the very concept of velocity and acceleration. In his own creation there was nothing that could outpace his flight, but he didn't wait knowing full well the other angel would give chase.
There was a reason he flew so fast, to give himself a moment of control without the other angel's presence threatening to yank down the entirety of his illusions in one motion. He needed moderation. Even in seclusion he was far above the ground. By the time Balthazar has arrived many of those illusions are faded and Lucifer has centered himself about two-thirds of the way exposed and at a size on par with the other angel's choice. He reasoned that was about as much of his wing presence Balthazar could view while in Levi so it was a good starting point.
Unlike Balthazar, Lucifer retained a vaguely humanoid presence though hazy and shifting like a mirage on a hot desert road in the blazing noon sun. The edges of his presence simply fade out to seemingly merge with the universe around him. It leaves no clear definition between angel and creation, though in this world that is not his own creation, a very astute observation would see an ending. He's bright, flaring and fiery.
Even dimmed, a love on par with that of God is there in the brightness of his body, old and eternal and unending. The light is the light that split the darkness at the beginning of all things, purer than any other to be seen, as if someone could look back in time and gaze upon the start of all things. He is the manifestation of the spark that forced creation to start. White would not do it justice, it is hotter, brighter, and somehow so pale and soft that it dazzles. There in the center of his presence is the creative force, still subdued, but resplendent with a love as great as that of God himself. The passion streaming from that center could only be described as seeing all the varied emotions simultaneously swirling in a visible form, in a tumultuous blend of white shades that shouldn't be possible, certainly didn't exist in the visible world.
His wings are immense. In his mortal form his wings were oddly large for his body size, visible as he is that ratio is exaggerated. Feather likes fires in glittering streams of color created a halo around him like a crazily spinning kaleidoscope that radiated comforting heat. Even with the missing pair of lower wings the color stretched out in all directions shifting as his wings moved to keep him airborne. His wings were the fires that manifested what his will created, the raw power of creation. It was the reason they had tried to cut them all off during the Fall. A black mark stretched through his presence, the void left by the missing wings of his lower back. Stark darkness against the blinding light.
He still has a face, eyes dark black with some color in them but what color was hard to tell. Blue perhaps but so dark it was indistinguishable from black. His eyes showed the age. If one could imagine staring into infinity where time, matter, and existence was yet to exist that was there in his eyes.
Balthazar causes a significant shift in Lucifer, a pull on the other angel, magnetic and a little frantic. This exposed little buffers his desires and the world around him. There's focus in the presence, the adoration that permeated his being focused down on the other angel. It couldn't be stopped. If there was no way to hide his love before, now the power of that affection, the all encompassing nature of it, is on full display.
"Hello, butterfly." His voice was purely angelic, forceful and rippling through the air around him. Life responded to it, plant life greening and the clouds billowing to start a rainstorm in the near future. Lucifer was three parts in a way. The creative force at the center, the power of creation radiating through the wings and the voice which formed it into shape.
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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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Lucifer wasn't as solid, more energy than matter. In Balthazar's embrace he flows in to fill up the space around the wings, between the feathers, yearning to touch every part of the angel. This kind of closeness, that he couldn't get when he masqueraded in a more mortal form, lead to some of his extreme lust. There was always need for a closeness just out of his reach, though touching and blending Graces relieved some of it.
The brightness of Lucifer sighs with the contact, content and calm for once. He slowly brightens allowing more of his presence to show through. With the light comes more warmth and a pulse of emotion. Contact with Balthazar's true form solidified the intense love and devotion Lucifer already felt. And then his essence simply started to flow, moving and fluttering against the other angel. It's not quite sexual but sensual and erotic. He just hangs there, pressing as close as he can to Balthazar. Cursed with the sins as he was the mortal yearnings attached to them didn't fade with the shedding if his mortal form.
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Balthazar is a strange, almost quantum blend of matter and energy, multidimensional and strung together with threads of Grace and intention. There is space between his feathers, in the center of his rings; he could wrap himself around Lucifer at this size and still be wrapped within Lucifer.
He's knit Grace with a few other angels before. It's the most intimate sensation he can imagine; closeness beyond sexual intercourse. This, though--this is even more so. He feels like he's melting into Lucifer, the edges of the two of them blurring and blending together. We fit.
Whatever sense of smallness or unworthiness he may feel at times, here and now he casts it aside. How can he not, in the face of so much love? This is everything he's ever wanted.
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Lucifer hadn't had words for it, and now that they were this close, his mind is back on the incredible pull he had felt when they first met. It had felt like madness the way the feelings crashed on him, nearly drowning him and certainly overwhelming his common sense. As Balthazar blended with him the pull made sense, then and now. Maybe he had known, down deep inside the way they would fit together?
Lucifer responds to the undeniable way they fit with a cry from deep inside. Behind all the love and fire, there's so much pain. Eons of wanting to be more than a tool someone used, to be something others were truly happy with, to be treated like he wasn't something broken beyond repair or worth. The closeness is exposing all the frayed and unhealed edges where the love between Lucifer and God had once existed. However, Lucifer doesn't linger on the pain. Instead his large pair of wings wrap around Balthazar and happiness floods his presence. He's never been as grateful for anything as he is for finding the angel in his embrace.