Sinner's Weave X Michael
A commoner, always on the edge of sin, and the Archangel that saves his butt more times than either can count.
"Why do you keep saving me?" Sinner's voice was hollow but curious, the golden eyes searching the far horizon as the last vestiges of light sunk out of sight. Michael had come down again, Sinner's savior once more. His silver coat had gleamed as the alcohol- signs of Sinner's deepening depression- burned under his watchful, green gaze.
"It was my job."
"Was?"
Michael's face twitched, the normally stoic face twisting into the smallest of smiles. "At one point, yes. But then it became more than that... I find myself less devoted to The Great One anymore, because I am devoted to you." Sinner always found Michael's deep, soothing voice mesmerizing... almost as if The Great One himself was talking through the silver angel.
"Don't you have better things to do, though? I mean, I'm not the only one that needs saving 'round here...."
"I will always be around for you, my Sinner. I promise, cross my heart and hope to fall." The angels' version of the promise seal once made Sinner smirk, but the humor no longer found its way over the mortal's muzzle. The chances of Michael falling from grace grew greater whenever he focused all of his attention on one lowly being.
"But-"
"No buts. I made my promise, and you know I'll keep it."
Dark days had always made hard time for Sinner. Gambling, drinking, blind, drunken sex with some stranger... it all happened. Golden eyes stared at the end with desperation... and resignation. Sinner no longer had a place in the world... no one to take care of, and nowhere to go. It truly felt like the end... the perfect time for the poison that had been so carefully prepared and finished only minutes before.
"My Sinner, what are you thinking? Doest thou not know that the answer is not before you?" Michael. The resonant voice came from behind, questioning, and full of grace.
"I'm lost, Mike. There's nothing left for me... I've wasted it all, and now I'm useless. Unwanted." Sinner's ears flattened. Do not cry, do not cry....
"You have a home. That is, indeed, something. And you have me. Am I nothing, my dear Sinner?"
"No, you're not. But I don't deserve you. Look at you, you're a damn angel... and what am I? I'm scum that deserves nothing." Sinner's self-hatred rose even more when Michael padded up and moved the poison, taking its position. There was no way to get around the bit of grace that had come down from Above. Sinner didn't deserve it. Michael had been pushed, cursed at, spat at, screamed at, and straight-up disobeyed by the unhappy mortal, and yet he continued to come down.
"Deserving means nothing to us. I come to you when you are down because I love you- perhaps more than what is indoctrinated into us as we are made into The Great One's Hands, Mouth, Ears and Eyes." The angel nuzzled the sinner, his great green eyes closed with content.
"If you loved me, you would have let me go, rather than talkin' me out of it, you big sap..." Sinner smiled lightly. Michael took the gesture as a sign of recovery, and took to his feet.
"Come. Let us walk. I want to show you something... it's magnificent. Surely a wonder of this world."
"You always say that. At one point, you held a mirror up to me and said I looked magnificent!"
"Ah, but you are." Michael was amused- the memory of mortals had always confused him, as one that could remember all, and so he was delightfully surprised to find that his favorite subject retained that particular moment... usually, mortals would have forgotten after a while.
"Says you."
"So say us all."
Sobbing.
Sinner heard it distinctly; after crying for so long, the noise had burned itself into the tarnished white ears. Golden eyes scanned the room, then the mortal, still wounded after a scuffle on the far end of the town, followed the soft sounds of misery as they became ever louder. The source was known well; Michael's delicate wings drooped around his body, his fur still shining with the blessings bestowed upon him.
"Mike, what're you doing down here? I don't need saving right now.... I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you. Healing up nicely and all... I'm still amazed by your fighting skills, by the way. Where'd you learn those moves in such a peaceful place?" Sinner's tail flicked with curiosity. The angel had truly been an astounding sight... blood had covered the pristine fur, coloring him in the coat of a true Fallen Angel. Or, as Sinner put it, an Avenger.
"I have killed... The Great One has rejected my return, at least for a time. I must find a way to undo what I have done... but how? There is no way to correct death!" Sinner looked down in thought, idly noting that Michael's bracelet- his key to the Above- was cracked and smeared with red. The gates were locked for him.
"Stay with me, then... we'll figure it out together."
"Do not be silly. If I stay with you, who knows what may happen?" Michael's voice was failing him. The angel was desperate... scared. Sinner was petrified.
"But you came here to cry...."
"This is the only place I had. All of the mortals I have tended to... they have all grown old and died. I have focused too much on saving you, my sinner... I have not made connections with any other in a millenia."
"But you said-"
"The feather I gave you is very, very old, Sinner. But it is an Angel's feather. They rarely are damaged by any mortal force."
Sinner looked guiltily at the feather, bound tightly by leather to the still-injured leg. It clearly had been taken care of with clumsy paws; the tip had become ragged, the quill was slightly bent, and splits in the vane around the cord tattered the elegant silver design. Mortal paws were decidedly not kind to such holy items.
Michael's head drooped, then he leaned into his companion's warm body. Mike was cold... a side effect to not technically being alive. "I will need help... I admit that. But what if you do not... last... as long as is required? What if you die?"
Sinner smiled slightly. "Then I'll just have to wait for my favorite angel to come back, won't I?"
It takes a long time for an angel to adjust to the Mortal world, Sinner reflected.
Michael, especially, took an exceptionally long time to adjust. He had vehemently rejected the half-rotten food that Sinner had lived on, and most of it had gone down the toilet- which had been another adventure in and of itself. Sinner's "Sin Cabinet"- with all of the alcohol and drugs- had been discovered, then brutally dumped down the drain or flushed... what a waste of money. The former angel had diverted his attention from himself to his favorite former subject, letting his pristine silver fur grow dimmer and less perfect as he continued. Sinner had heard him mutter about the strangest things, from how to make household chores complicated, to which of his burned feathers would he take to replace the one Sinner had been entrusted with.
Speaking of which... Sinner looked down, golden eyes catching the ratty silver feather that had been tied to the old, dirty cloth. Michael had tied it there when he first appeared to the young pup that he all but took in as his own. Sinner was terribly young back then, trapped with a father that "loved" his children far too much... and a mother that couldn't raise against him, for fear that he would start taking them, one-by-one, in front of her to torture her... break her very mind. Michael had been there when Sinner was bleeding and crying, hurting so much that it was beyond pain. He'd curled around the little one, his ethereal coat positively shimmering in the moonlight that crept into the room through the glassless windows. It never occurred to either just why the neighbors didn't report the screams... wouldn't they hear it?
Either way, Sinner had woken up to Michael as the angel prepared to leave. He tied the feather to the small, fragile leg, his soft, deep voice telling the curious mortal what the symbol meant, and what all the feather had been through. It was one of his primary flight feathers, from his right wing. It was reserved for the ones that he promised to keep the most watchful eye on, the ones that his infinite love embraced eternally, and the ones that he swore his wings and halo on would never see the gates of the Below in the End. Heroes from the past had worn this feather, each of the names lost to the sands of time as they had passed. It had seen the parting of the Red Sea, found harmony in the body, mind and soul, led the downtrodden in multiple revolts against the oppressive... and now, it resided with someone who was completely and utterly... Lost.
And here Michael was, lost himself. Sinner wondered what his Falling meant to the promise of the feather... would it mean that the promise was broken? No... if that were the case, Michael would be forbidden to ever return to the Above, and there had been no word on the agony that the sentence would surely give the formerly divine being. And where would that put Sinner? Was the mortal doomed to follow him, wherever he went? What if they were both now doomed to burn in the abyss Below them?
Sinner's questions halted themselves, scared away by the intense green gaze that had made its way to the golden pools. Mike was sitting in a corner, a small situation on his hands. "My Sinner... I... I don't know what.... Help me, please?"
Sinner smiled, almost laughing. "You get yourself in such interesting predicaments, Mike. C'mon, let's fix you up."
The Mortal word was filthy compared to the pristine holiness of the Above, though Michael as he wandered through the city. It was war here- the rich fighting the poor fighting the drug lords fighting the police fighting crime…. The cycles never really ended. It saddened and hurt the part of him that had kept the morals born in the Above, but the remainder of him… accepted it. It was his punishment for killing Sinner’s attacker. Speaking of whom….
Sinner had been nothing but gracious in offering the Fallen a home. Even in the slums of the city, shelter was hard to come by, and there wasn’t money for the mortal to sustain the two of them. Michael had been forced to take a job in the art gallery, performing one of the few Mortal trades that he could – art. He painted as others watched and bid prices on the resulting piece. It wasn’t very lucrative, but it was something, and he enjoyed Sinner’s smile when he brought home pieces that had failed to sell. Their apartment had become a small gallery in and of itself, despite their best attempts to get rid of the ones that neither found interesting enough to keep.
Michael had grown even closer to the Mortal… Sinner’s smile had become his main goal in life, now that he no longer had The Great One to please. Neither had figured out how he could repay for his sins… he was essentially stuck on the Mortal World until the end of time… which was fine by Michael, as long as he had Sinner. Those golden eyes haunted his dreams…. And those black markings often showed up in his finest pieces.
Obsession, he finally decided. He was obsessed – though he could not say that he was displeased about it.
His thoughts were broken when he heard Sinner cry out. It was his Mortal’s voice, he knew it – he heard it in his mind, in every waking moment and whenever he closed his eyes to rest. Sinner was in danger… and so Michael flew into action, running toward his companion with the urgency of a thousand Angels. The tainted white fur was being ripped into again, this time by brutes with track marks on their legs and the wild, untamed look inherent to drug abusers in their eyes. Michael had taken care of them once before; they were Sellers, specializing in heroin.
Mike supposed that drugs make lessons learned disappear. He jumped in, and, seconds later, the addicts’ track-marked legs were carrying their drug-sodden bodies away as fast as they could.
“You saved me. Again. You’re far too good at that, even without your wings.” Sinner’s voice was strained from pain. One leg was covered in blood, mangled and twisted.
“I am but your guardian angel, my Sinner. Even Fallen… here, let me carry you… Let’s get you home.” With a bow, Michael slipped into the Angel mindset and helped his Mortal onto his back.
“You… you called it ‘home’… do you… do you think of it like…?”
Michael looked back into the golden eyes of his friend. “Home is where your heart is. That is wherever you are, as far as I care.”
"Mike... I care a lot about you."
The words echoed in Michael's brain as he paced along the sidewalk that followed the bay. How could he respond to that? Sinner's tormented golden eyes, more intense than his own green gaze, burned into him, even though the tarnished mortal was nowhere to be seen. Michael had left, too shocked to answer and too confused to think. How [i]did he feel? This love wasn't the same as the one he had in the Above, with his Brothers and the Father. But, then again, mortals loved differently. While those Above were made entirely of love, those that lived and died - those carbon-based life forms - loved with everything they had.
What was the difference? Would changing how the love originated change the love itself? And, there was also the fact that mortals had different levels of love... family, friendy, and the love shared between a couple. And then there was infatuation and things beyond that, that Michael himself had yet to understand... but mortals, with their short lives and infinetely less time to comprehend, did.
"Father, what do I say when I know not the answer? I cannot hurt my Sinner... you know this. I Fell for him, though I remain loyal unto you. [/i]Responsorium. Aut ubi sum? Quid sum via ad Patrem?*"
As it had become since he had Fallen, the skies were silent. Michael hung his head, noticing the glorious sheen in his fur that had slowly degraded was now gone. The wingjoints on his back ached with atrophy... he almost seemed fully mortal. And so he would be, until he could repair his sin.
Michael looked around forlornly, wishing for some sign that there was a way to right his wrong. He had taken a life... how could he give it back? There were two answers, in the mortal world. Death, either as punishment or by suicide, and replacement. Michael could not kill himself; not only would that mean leaving Sinner, but crossing the most sacred statue in the Above, and he would end up eternally Below... tortured forever. He had escaped mortal penal codes, and Sinner's home didn't kill as punishment, anyway.
Replacement... it was not the best option. It was frowned upon, because the murderer - for that was what Sinner was - was allowed to procreate, and experience the joys of having a child. Besides, Sinner wouldn't want that. Sinner... Sinner wasn't the family type.
"Mike, I care a lot about you...."
But that just didn't seem right, now, did it? Sinner wanted to love. Why hadn't the tarnished white fool confessed that to another mortal? It would have made the entire situation less complicated.... But that wasn't his Sinner's style, now, was it? That was why he cared so much... why a creature made of love turned to killing in order to protect a single lowly beast that most others would have looked over.
Then his eyes widened.
"This is the answer, isn't it, Father? This is how I am to earn my welcome back. This is your test.... I promise you, I will not fail you in the end. I am no longer perfect... but I will do my best. Ponam te in superbiam.**"
Michael ran back to where he had left his Sinner. He had an answer, finally.
It was time.
---
*Respond. Where am I? What path leads to [the] Father?
**I will make you proud [I will place thee in pride].
Michael ran back to the home ha and Sinner shared, his green eyes bright and clear for the first time since he had Fallen. He had an answer - he loved his sinner just as much - if not more than - his sinner loved him, in return. Love was love, he decided, be it concerned with his Brethren and the Above or the mortal world. The Father said he supported all love - and damn Him if this type was excluded.
His paws skittered against the floor as he reached the lobby and began climbing the stairs to the apartment. He felt his body tigle with energy, though he still lacked the heartbeat that came only with renouncing his place in the Above forever.
"Sinner! Sinner, where are you, my lost one?"
The apartment was empty when he looked in. Where had Sinner gone? Michael began pacing the front room. He needed to talk to his Favored... he needed to reassure the young mortal that yes... yes, he returned those feelings. Yes... he loved his sinner.
Where are you? I need to talk to you.... Please... come back!
A groan. It didn't come from Michael himself. He ran toward it, his cotton-white ears pricked forward. Sinner was in the back room, coated in blood. Gold stared unseeingly into green, the mortal's life nearly extinguished.
Michael's confession would have to wait.
Sinner's body was torn open, various small but deep wounds littering the skin under that tarnished fur. Neither could speak; Michael's shock overwhelmed any other reaction than staring as his sinner's life dwindled before him.
He had failed.
No.
Carrying Sinner to the hospital was out of the question - Michael's body was not built for endurance, and Sinner would likely die before they ever reached help. Calling for assistance was all that he could do - luckily, it was enough.
Michael soon found himself pacing the front lobby of the hospital, doctors and nurses running around him, sometimes seemingly right through him. He was at a different level than they; he heard only Sinner's name, pounding in his ears as he waited and worried, wondering where they would get the money to pay for this help, and if his sinner would survive the ordeal. It was funny, Michael reflected later, the strange priorities one comes up with during such a moment. Buying flowers that neither could afford seemed like a much better idea than getting food to sustain himself. Staying awake for any news of his Favored was paramount in comparison to getting the much-needed rest.
"Michael, Sinner's Weave is stable-"
Stable. Stable. Michael never heard the rest of the nurse's speech, too relieved was he to hear that word. He bent down and prayed, thanking the Father for whatever favor he had earned.
Then the nurse tapped his shoulder and brought him back to reality.
"The patient has lost a lot of blood. We're looking for blood to replace it, but your friend has a rarer blood type... we're doing the best we can, but... what we're doing now will only last for so long, and it's not enough time."
Michael felt for a pulse, praying, hoping.... Please...
Silently, he started to cry.
