![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Heaven is sick. Balthazar thinks, in retrospect, he's probably known that for a very long time. Maybe he felt the change in the aether even as it began, and just didn't want to acknowledge it until now. It must have started with Lucifer's Fall, he thinks. The Host was designed as a unit, all brothers and sisters, from the archangels down to the littlest cherub. Once one was lost, maybe it was just a matter of time before others started to collapse like dominoes.
He didn't know any of the archangels well, of course. No one of his rank knew them well, and Balthazar was by and large not very distinctive in the early days of Paradise. He didn't know Lucifer, then, though he mourned his Fall in quiet horror. Gabriel he was able to grieve for more openly; he may have been disloyal, a deserter of his post, but he hadn't rebelled, and that was an important distinction. He didn't know Gabriel that well, either, but he missed him.
Anna's departure was what really hit home. She was his leader; he trusted her, loved her, fought by her side, and watched the Earth turn for millennia. When she was stationed on the Earth, though, he remained in Heaven, guarding and tending the arsenal. In retrospect, he wonders if things would have been different if she'd had more backup. He used to be able to make her laugh. Maybe just that would have made a difference.
All he knows now is, when he saw her Grace streak across the sky, he knew she was dead. If she survived the separation and Fall, she would be hunted, and sooner or later she would be caught.
Damned if he wasn't right. It seems it's only the prelude to things just as bad or worse, too. Castiel is gone, too. Something detonated in the back of Balthazar's head when he heard that news. Castiel was his best friend. He could have mourned him and held firm; he could have mourned Anna and held firm. With both of them lost, he feels like he's got nothing left to hold onto.
Anna may become aware, in her cell in Heaven's prison, of a series of explosions that rock the Axis Mundi. Heavenly weapons, shattering beneath a ringing blast from the shofar that broke Jericho's walls. The guards around her run to see what's happening, leaving her alone in her cell, in this place of cruel and violent light. A moment later, there's a flutter of wings, and Balthazar appears on the opposite side of the bars. There's dark fabric tangled around him; possibly some sort of blessed weapon he stole from the very arsenals that just went up in ethereal flame. It would take that sort of advantage for a low-level angel to slip in here.
"Anna?" He calls softly, placing his hands on the bars. "Sister. Are you hurt?" It's a dumb question, because he's not sure he can get her out whether she's hurt or not. Still, he wants to know.
He didn't know any of the archangels well, of course. No one of his rank knew them well, and Balthazar was by and large not very distinctive in the early days of Paradise. He didn't know Lucifer, then, though he mourned his Fall in quiet horror. Gabriel he was able to grieve for more openly; he may have been disloyal, a deserter of his post, but he hadn't rebelled, and that was an important distinction. He didn't know Gabriel that well, either, but he missed him.
Anna's departure was what really hit home. She was his leader; he trusted her, loved her, fought by her side, and watched the Earth turn for millennia. When she was stationed on the Earth, though, he remained in Heaven, guarding and tending the arsenal. In retrospect, he wonders if things would have been different if she'd had more backup. He used to be able to make her laugh. Maybe just that would have made a difference.
All he knows now is, when he saw her Grace streak across the sky, he knew she was dead. If she survived the separation and Fall, she would be hunted, and sooner or later she would be caught.
Damned if he wasn't right. It seems it's only the prelude to things just as bad or worse, too. Castiel is gone, too. Something detonated in the back of Balthazar's head when he heard that news. Castiel was his best friend. He could have mourned him and held firm; he could have mourned Anna and held firm. With both of them lost, he feels like he's got nothing left to hold onto.
Anna may become aware, in her cell in Heaven's prison, of a series of explosions that rock the Axis Mundi. Heavenly weapons, shattering beneath a ringing blast from the shofar that broke Jericho's walls. The guards around her run to see what's happening, leaving her alone in her cell, in this place of cruel and violent light. A moment later, there's a flutter of wings, and Balthazar appears on the opposite side of the bars. There's dark fabric tangled around him; possibly some sort of blessed weapon he stole from the very arsenals that just went up in ethereal flame. It would take that sort of advantage for a low-level angel to slip in here.
"Anna?" He calls softly, placing his hands on the bars. "Sister. Are you hurt?" It's a dumb question, because he's not sure he can get her out whether she's hurt or not. Still, he wants to know.