Maalik was stone cold, trying to perhaps glare, but besides his intense gaze everything about him was too much of a mess to seem threatening. “What did they tell you?”
“Hey, it’s not really a big deal, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable knowing? And I guess, yeah, it might become a big deal if it’s something... you know, bad. But I don’t think it is. At least, it wasn’t alluded as being so...”
Maalik frowned, downing the rest of his plastic cup and tossing it on the ground carelessly. “His name was Wakil, and his was really, really nice, and I guess like... They already told you, right? That I have some problems with, you know, sexual stuff. It’s my whole burden thing. I didn’t try anything, some angels say that but it’s wrong. I just told him — just that I was this way, and he was rightfully freaked and got the fuck away.” Maalik was rushing through his words, looking at Iofiel and nodding often, desperate to make sure she understood. “But I promise, I’d never try anything with you, or anyone.”
“Don’t worry!” Iofiel said. Admittedly, she didn’t feel all that at ease that even someone as seemingly cool and collected as Maalik could be this flawed. Angels were asexual and aromantic on assumption, and even if variation was allowed, it was still seen as… uncomfortable. A flaw. Something to overcome. She hadn’t put much thought into it before, but she assumed she was aroace too. It was part of being an angel, really.
But he was an angel too, and he wasn’t, so what did that mean?
She was trying to learn. “Look, okay, I barely know you. But I know you’re good, and I think I trust you enough to not give a— uh, care. Tzaph was talking about how we all have our problems, and honestly, I don’t even think yours is all that bad. As long as you put Heaven first, who care what else... happens?”
“Are you saying...?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying! Besides that I like you, I don’t care, so don’t stress yourself out. You have schoolwork for that,” Iofiel said. “Do you want your coat back?”
“No, it’s too cold out, Blue.” Maalik leaned over to swipe his discarded cup off the forest floor, but stumbled, landing on his knees. Iofiel helped him up, holding his hands for an extra few seconds.
“I’m getting kind of tired, but it’s not even that late. Is that boring?”
“Nah, let’s go. Plus, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that’s truly lame.”
“Self-pity.”
“Okay, but that’s nearly always justified with me.”
“Your taste in Archangels.”
“It takes one to know one.”
Maalik walking capacities were currently garbage, and he stumbled a little with every step, even after he began to lean on Iofiel for support.
The night was darker now, at its darkest, but they made it back unscratched.
5: No One Will Care
“LITERALLY. EVERYONE ELSE gets to miss class, and here I am like a fool, missing out on free time.”
“Iofiel you’ve been to each of your classes a grand total of once, and your age just hit the double digits. In terms of days,” Maalik said, brushing his choppy blonde hair with several desperate strokes.
“In terms of hours, I’m already in the hundreds.”
“In terms of minutes, you’re in the ten thousands. Doesn’t matter.”
“Hm! Do they always hold orientation three days into the semester?”
“Orientation took place before you were born, Blue. This is just a school assembly. There’ll be another one next semester.”
They were on their way now. No room in the Hub that Iofiel had seen so far was big enough to hold everyone who attended the University, and she figured that was why the assembly was taking place outside.
Maalik had acquired a cup of coffee at some point before she’d woken up, and after a few friendly complaints he was sharing it with her. Other students were marching along with them through the mud. It wasn’t raining, but for a few select hours last night it must have, and the sky was still reeling in a dusty shade of grey. Equally grey was Tzaphkiel, not far off. Iofiel considered waving at them, but last night still felt a little... wrong to talk about.
The crowd was one of the few times Iofiel had seen angels and demons tolerate a distance of only a foot or so, acknowledging each other’s right to not have to walk in deep puddles. Maalik, or really the crowd, led her on an uneven path away from the University, down the hill it rested on and into the thicket of the forest. In the daylight, Iofiel could appreciate it more, how healthy and old these trees were. It was probably one of the reasons Heaven was able to tolerate sending its angels down here.
Eden was more summery, but of course there were pines. There was everything in Eden, and nearly everything in the Heaven that surrounded it, plants and animals from every climate, free to exist without science or hunger, forever in the light.
These were good trees too, though. Seriously. No need to get homesick.
They continued to descend into the uneven woods. The path was well worn right to the end, a sudden cliff that Iofiel nearly fell off of. Maalik gripped her arm as she edged towards the end. It was only a ten foot drop down to the sloping walkway below, and before her was a rough quarry, something so utterly manmade it struck her more than her first introduction to the stone structure that was the University.
This was sharply dug a long time ago, leaving smooth blue-grey walls and a flat, crystalline pool of water at one end. Clearly, magic had been involved at some point, as while there was still a sense of jaggedness around the pool’s back walls, the space itself was large and well cut, polished beyond what humanity would’ve bothered with.
The path down was steep, but smooth, and the cliff walls along them had been carefully carved, no doubt magically, with a series of runes. They didn’t seem active, but she could feel the slightest hint of dormant energy pulse from the sacred shapes.
There was nowhere to sit in the depths of the quarry, and instead the students lined up, well-practiced, into two solid blocks with a central aisle. The air was cool here, oddly... wet. Clear, like they were high up instead of fully sheltered from the winds. The small pool at the back shook oddly, and Iofiel suspected it was enchanted in some way.
Maalik filed in properly, Iofiel about a foot to his left. They were early-ish, and while Maalik kept perfectly at attention, with a proud golden glow, Iofiel’s feet were beginning to hurt from standing on stone, and she decided to sit on the floor. She wasn’t alone in this; as the principals had yet to arrive, most of the students were relaxing, leaning against the walls or chatting with friends. A few seemed to be doing homework. One demon was casting a basic battle spell, and though Maalik was perfectly still, Iofiel could see him internally condemning the demon’s little fireball.
When the principals arrived, Iofiel had been picturing a hush, the sort the higher spheres of angels naturally demanded. Instead, there was a shout— from both sides of the aisle, angels and demons together chanted something. It was nearly too loud to be comprised of words, and Iofiel was at a total loss as to how to join in.
There were two principals, of course, an angel and a demon. But both were of a higher class than any of the teachers, the demon being a Fallen angel, and the angel being... well, Iofiel had never seen one with her eyes, but she believed the angel was a Seraph, a little ball of energy, wings, and eyes. They floated close to the demon’s shoulder, bobbing enthusiastically and chittering in an unfamiliar language. Or perhaps just a series of chirps.
The Fallen angel seemed to understand, though he said nothing. He looked quite ordinary. Back in the beginning, he must have been a lower angel like Iofiel. There were a few key differences: half his face was a smear of black scarring, which continued to shoot across his pale skin in messy, vein-like lines. The darkness even extended into his hair, half of which was jet black in contrast with a sunny blonde. From the same side, a single, dark horn emerged from his skin, crooked and ugly.
His feathery wings were mangled and ashen, but he had the
m open asunder as if to show off the damage. His suit was mostly white, fairly professional, save for the extra embellish of peacock print, bright feathers which pointed both up and down from the middle of suit jacket.
The crowd continued to chant and holler as the two principals proceeded through to the end of the quarry. Everyone really did seem like kids, for a few moments, which was something they were never going to be. Iofiel glanced back at Maalik, who was respectably still but mouthing the words.
The Fallen angel waved with a royal air when he reached the pool, and then with a twitch of his fingers, he froze the water. Stepping on, he easily cut himself a small circle, which began to rise in the air. Once he was about ten feet up, easily viewable by everyone gathered, he sat down and crossed his legs.
Notably, he sat to the left, closer to the angels, while the Seraph flitted in the air more to the right.
“Welcome, gathered.” He had a high, feminine voice. “I am Adramelek, you headmaster, principal, president, whichever. Chancellor, senator, and wardrobe advisor to Satan. Or whatever else the humans say these days. My holier half is the noble Seraph Amariah, a lovely ball in all our lives. She doesn’t speak our common tongue too well, but rest assured, she does have an inherited habit of seeing and knowing all.”
“Hello!” Amariah said. Her voice was like birdsong, lilting and young. It also sounded like it was echoing off the walls of a cave made entirely of metal.
“It’s another, ‘nother year for us, and yet another semester. Some of you are sick of me, and of course, if you’re that disrespectful, don’t even bother doubting that the feeling isn’t mutual. Nothing changes here but the weather.”
“It will be sunny today!” Amariah chirped.
“Thank you. Time is eternal, until it is not.” Adramelek sighed dramatically, but perhaps that was just how he sighed — his expression was rather light at the thought. “We do not know for what purpose any of us exist, beyond our one purpose. This whole institution is both an affront to the End Game, and a necessity, something sanctioned by both the Creator and The Adversary.”
He paused for a moment, and Iofiel wondered: was this rehearsed, did he say this every year? Or was there a special reason he decided to emphasize these particular facts? Did he know something the students didn’t? She didn’t dare look away. Every so often, Adramelek’s pale eyes grazed the crowd, and Iofiel always felt like he was watching her. If not him, then certainly Amariah. She seemed incapable of grimness, as her very nature as a Seraph was to praise and bask. But of course, it was also to know what the lower angels could not. And her many eyes blinked just enough that you knew they were functional.
“You are both constructs and humans. Both bound by free will, and not. Both fighting for what is nothing more than a concept — we all kill for our goal. But our lives are meaningless. It only matters what happens to the humans. Who kills them, who doesn’t, who coerces their souls and who seals them.”
“Humans are free,” Amariah added.
“Really makes you think.” Adramelek frowned, and turned his head to the side. His arms were slack on his knees, his back slumped, reminding Iofiel of how Nuriel had looked when she had questioned even the existence of The Sun. Then, he shook his head, and flexed his inky claws a few times. He jumped onto his feet, and refortified his ice spell. “Ha! So that’s taken care of. Next, drafting for our recreational and competitive soccer teams begins this weekend, daily at five. Ask your professors for slips if this creates a scheduling conflict. Remember, we’re going against UQC this year, so it’s important to begin training as soon as possible!”
Iofiel tried to give Maalik a look, a sort of shrug of ‘what is this about?’, but he narrowed his eyes and indicated with his head that she had better keep her attention.
“This year, our winter musical is going to be Legally Blonde. Auditions will begin in November. Hm.” Adramelek nodded his head from side to side a few times. “I think that’s all I have to cover. You guys know me! Always scattered. Amariah, how’d I do?”
Amariah emitted a high-pitched scream.
Adramelek seemed to consider it deeply. “Well. Always good to see you all gathered.” Easily, he began to walk down from his platform, the ice shifting into solid steps until he was back on the ground, at which point it melted back into a small puddle.
On their departure, the student body was utterly silent for at least three minutes, only a few like Iofiel craning their necks to watch. It took about five minutes for chatter to start up again, when the two principals were long gone. Still, most everyone hung around for a few minutes more, barely breaking formation.
“What is... Adramelek, he is very strange, right? All that deep scary stuff, and then... what is soccer? Did we really need to come all the way out here to hear that?” Iofiel asked Maalik.
“We weren’t out here for announcements,” he said, guiding her back towards the ramp out. “Both of them are rather frightening. I know, you might not think so at first, but you’ll learn. They were doing as he said, ‘seeing us gathered’. Assessing who’s still here, who’s new.”
“Why? None of us could possibly be a threat to either of them.”
“I don’t know anything. Why they do this, what they’re looking for, what they know... what they can tell at just a glance. The thing is, neither of us will ever know. He may seem silly, but he’s a Fallen, Iofiel. He rejected our Creator and followed Morningstar into the darkness. He knows the secrets of life-creation, and yet he willingly stays here, watching.”
Though he was never going to admit to it, Iofiel could tell Maalik held respect for Adramelek, maybe even a little bit of admiration purely on his abilities. That magic seemed on the levels of fantasy to Iofiel, whose entire expertise at this point was... yeah, nothing.
“It’s funny to be reminded we’re all going to die.” Iofiel said, looking around. “Like, it could be any of the demons here. You could smile at someone once and they’d still have to murder you.”
“That’s precisely why we don’t smile.” Maalik corrected. “And besides it wouldn’t be murder. It would be our purpose.”
“It’s kinda grim though.”
“It’s very grim.”
They were quiet for a while, still walking back through the shaded woods. Few of the other students seemed as put-off as Iofiel, and by the halfway point the crowd was fairly loud with casual conversations. Not far in front, Iofiel noticed, was the imp Archie. He was walking alone, carrying a textbook that looked comically large compared to his height. Iofiel and Maalik, like most angels, were in the upper ranges of five feet to anywhere within six feet, some hitting seven. Demons generally had the same variety of height as humans, but Archie was notably short, barely five feet.
He wasn’t the only one walking by himself, but it felt especially pathetic coming from him, weak, tiny... Iofiel pointed him out to Maalik.
“That one’s an imp,” she whispered. “Can you believe that? What are the demons thinking?”
“They have time to waste?” Maalik regarded Archie coldly, as he probably would any demon Iofiel gestured to. “Isn’t he the one who you asked me to heal?”
“Uh, yeah. He broke his nose really bad, though. Like. I suppose I’ve never seen a broken nose, but he was bleeding pretty hard?” Iofiel said. “Okay, innocent question I swear: can angel magic even heal demons?”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever tried.” Maalik said, frowning. At least he wasn’t bothering her with reminders that the whole concept was blasphemous. “He’s an imp meant for non-combat work, some sort of Hell worker. His body is probably like paper.” There was a pause, where Iofiel could imagine a swear. “No good reason for him to be here. He likely isn’t even made for a full lifespan.”
“Why do you think he’s here then?”
“I don’t know. But it makes you worry, doesn’t it? That Hell knows something, something so mundane it takes the shape of a glass-boned construct with no knowledge of the world taking university courses.”
“I can’t imagine what kind of plan that’d be,” Iofiel said.
“Yeah. Neither can I. Hence the ‘I don’t know’.”
All this meant that now Iofiel really wanted to know. He was in both her human classes, after all, with the rest of the first years. It shouldn’t be impossible to... slide over and ask? She had come off horribly before, what with accidently giving him a bloody nose and scaring him, but maybe a day or two had smoothed things over? She’d apologize again if she saw him, and maybe make it a little clearer that she meant no harm.
History and Culture were in the afternoon, covering from two to six. Maalik had class, and for the first time in a... well, not in a long time. Nothing was going to be a particularly long time in her life. But she was alone for the next few hours.
She hadn’t taken the time yet to fully explore the campus. It was still overcast, but a warmer day than usual, and Iofiel stretched her wings out on the inner lawn of the Hub, feeling her muscles pull. She gave herself a little run before leaping into the air, it’d been a bit since she’d last flown and even then that had been in Heaven, which tended to follow different rules than Earth.
As expected, there was a little extra pull as she flapped a few times, trying to keep herself stable. She was only about five feet in the air, and already her back was killing her from neglect. Thank The Sky that her wings were magic to begin with. About ten foot long fully stretched, they wouldn’t have been able to get her off the ground even if her bones were hollow. But they worked, and, with a few groans and a couple wide, not very majestic flaps, she rose higher into the sky.
For now, it was best not to risk pulling a muscle, so she aimed right for one of the towers of the Hub. She perched on a thin ledge, leaning towards the window and stretching her sore muscles. The air was cooler up here, ruffling her feathers and hair in brisk gusts of wind, and she shivered. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the weather on Earth. It’d be hard to be a Guardian angel if she didn’t.
Good Angel Page 5