Chapter Text
The canvas of the void glittered with his work so far - the stars were hung, the various bits of dust and clouds taking shape into planets and other wonderful things that he couldn’t help but love. He was awfully proud of the first, the prototype, that he had created under Her guidance, but it wasn’t quite what She had envisioned. Alpha Centauri would gleam in the sky of the Real Thing, the no-longer-a-trial-run planet, that he had finished with Her notes, and he did have to admit She was right - as always - the sky color was somewhat distracting in the previous version.
Sol was at the perfect stage of its life now, and he had finished his expansive task list of creation at Her bidding. She had not given him anything to do now, other than “observe” and so far? He did not like it as much as creation. He was designed to create, to be Her hands, to shape where She could have - true, with a snap even - in Her stead, because that was Her Plan.
Left now with nothing else to do but observe Her creation, Raphael was coming very close to forming an opinion on the whole business, and it was likely to be the first even remotely negative opinion to land in any line of thinking in any reality: this “observation” nonsense was boring. It made his entire existence itch in a way that he didn’t know quite how to comprehend at this point, anxiety was not a concept that anyone was familiar with. He would forever be the first to know how heavy eternity could be, as he was faced with just that from where he was currently sprawled in the void.
He thought of the angels he had helped from their placenta of love and stardust. He had not helped the first two, of course, born before him and given purpose and might of their own, but each after had stepped into existence with a hand in his. Lucifer thought the love for their siblings was unnecessary, as they had not been offered compassion in creation, and they were the mightiest of her creations thus far. Michael had found it quaint, but they seemed entirely focused on some sort of sibling rivalry, something they had invented, Raphael thinks, out of their boredom, or out of some sense of duty, as Lucifer did tend to toe a line between obedience and pride.
The previous two knew their purpose well and did as bid with minor grumblings here and there from the first. His purpose was known to him and he had gotten right to it once the host had dried their wings and found their own, but the feeling of helping the others lingered in the back of his mind throughout his work. He found that compassion to be entirely…something.
The thing keeping him entertained now was that feeling. He thought about a particular angel that had joined him during his creation of the first planets, for the formation of the Earth below him and the garden itself sparkling like a jewel in the fabric of creation. That angel was down there now, he knew, waiting much like himself for this cosmic game of Hers to begin. He had been so very focused on following his purpose, on not asking questions. It had made sense for him to be that way, at the time, there was a war happening, of course.
Raphael was entirely neutral in the war, he didn’t think the world should last so little time but he certainly didn’t think to destroy anything. He had seen what happened to those that went against Her, but he hadn’t gone against anything. What good would his wish to see creation continue be if he sided with those seeking to destroy it? He had asked questions, sure, but there was no danger in asking himself anything
He had felt the embers eating at his existence once, his questions had admittingly brought him just a bit close for comfort to the edge that so many were still falling from. The unspoken cosmic stay in your lane had been loud enough for him to take a step back then, only a few feathers singed a darker color than before to answer for it.
The angel’s visit was more than likely the reason for his patience then, he thought. If the angel had come even a little later, which he was certain to be the case in a great many Realities other than the one he found himself in now, he would have fallen with the rest, unable to resist asking his questions. If the angel had said anything other than the words he had spoken as well, the, if they were on the surface, earth-shattering answer he had given.
Raphael had worked up to asking the biggest question on his mind, “Why have me create all this for Her, show me all of these designs and specifics for this universe, make it complex and beautiful and - look at these stars! Wonderful, all of them. Why have me do this if She’s just gonna have us blow it up in 6000 years?”
The angel Aziraphale had regarded him with one of the first perplexed expressions to ever exist on any creature other than himself. He had been the one to deliver the news of the universe’s short lifespan to Raphael, and he had not expected any angel to question divine orders, let alone an archangel, “Well, you’re just kicking it off, aren’t you? This whole time thing. So it sounds like you’ll have to be around to find out anyway, why not just wait and see?” If anyone had asked him in the future, he would have no clue where the line of questioning had come from, and would answer with something that would one day infuriate Raphael due to it’s nature as an answer that would always bring more questions to his mind: that it was ineffable.
Soon after he had reported to his post at the Eastern Gate, and Raphael was left alone in the void of space, left to his observation. Where he was still, but after thinking perhaps too little on the concept of purpose, decided that he could get a closer look at what all the fuss was about down on the planet below.
So, as he “kicked it off,” he packed his existence into the first body to be capable of withstanding an archangel’s strength and divinity - a large serpent with his feathers as scales, glistening iridescent white with the occasional black scale amongst them - and slithered on down to do just that.