Cygna-hime (cygna_hime) wrote in book100,

Angels and such are contagious.

(Yes, I live.) A trio of semi-drabble for option 3; 'station, golden, wings'.

Gold and Silver
Source: Judeo-Christian mythology
Words: 100 *feeds Gavriel*
Rating: G, PG maybe for religion-ness
Genre: Angst! Angst! Angst!
Notes: Pure description, imlied angelslash (Gavriel/Lucifer), I tend more towards Hebrew names for the angels.

Heaven was a place of light and the silent breeze of angel wings, of smiles and laughter, of sparks and shimmer. Heaven was a place of silver and gold.

They were Heaven, silver and gold, wound into the streets and spires. They were light glinting off crystal towers as they flew by. They were the gentle golden glow of smiles shared. They were the smoldering silver sheen of loving laughter. Together, they were beauty.

After, the silver slowly faded from the streets, laughter stilled. Though gold remained, it was stretched, like filtered sunlight.

Like the forced smile on Gavriel’s face.

Withered Wings
Source: Judeo-Christian mythology
Words: 100 *feeds her poor, tortured Lucifer*
Rating: PG
Genre: Bittersweet semi-romance.
Notes: Second verse, same as the first. Have I mentioned potentially heretical material yet?

Their wings used to be the same, once long ago. It used to be that no one could tell them apart without knowing. The only difference used to be in the shade, sea-foam silver or wheaten gold. It used to be that his wings were soft to the touch, and he squirmed away laughing when Gavriel ran a hand along them.

Used to be became no more.

Lucifer smiled and stretched the ghosts of wings to fly, using reflections and memories instead of feathers and bones. He was still graceful, even with shattered facsimiles of wings so different from Gavriel’s.

Source: Juedo-Christian mythology.
Words: 200. Oh, well.
Rating: PG
Genre: Unmitigated angst, touch of romance.
Notes: Once more with feeling. Really heretical. And angst.

They met in the Underground, the perfect place to be unnoticed.

“It’s been a long time, Luce,” he began.

“It will be far longer after this,” his companion replied.

“Must it?”

The form of a young man sighed, leaning forward on the table. “Gavriello, we’ve been over this before. The contamination will get only worse with time. Even now—I can’t touch you, even for a moment. It would be the end of you. After this, we had better not meet again.”

“Why? Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“No, Gavriello. No one can do anything—now.”

His companion’s brown eyes misted over with tears. “Lucifael…”

“That isn’t my name any longer, Gavriel.” He stood, resolute and unsmiling. “I shouldn’t have come here—it’s too much of a risk. This is goodbye, Gavriel. I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” The other reached out a hand instinctively, but the pale young man with old, old eyes had vanished into the crowd, this time for ever.

Gavriel stood quietly in the station, looking far away into another time. “I’m sorry too, love.” With a sigh that hinted at years, he turned and climbed the stairs up out into the London sunlight outside of Angel Station.
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