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The otherwise kind, diligent, warm and soft-spoken, intelligent and much knowledgeable Doughael, had come into a baffling predicament that night. While it was not ever wholly unusual for Them to come back from 2 AM strolls in an unusual state, firmly refusing to provide any details about Their venture, it was out of the ordinary for Them to ever, in any occasion, be seemingly wasted beyond belief.
Thankfully, They were rescued by Sister Seltzer Cookie. Bad decision. She ended up having to keep them company through the night in the Order’s most neglected bedroom, making sure the seraph would not do anything to be regretted in the morning, sacrificing her own sleep hours. It was very bad. But Seltzer Cookie had the patience and energy of a Witch for these things. The fact it was Them this time was a mere setback.
What she noticed, was that Doughael’s wings did not, at any point, stop beating against the dusty backrest. One time, they did, and when Seltzer Cookie got off her seat to check if They were truly finally sleeping, they started fluttering again almost tenfold the speed. Also, They did not stop trying to talk to her, making utterances. Including but not limited to: “We can see it,” “Our time is nigh,” and “the gates of Paradise are ringing before Our very two eyes Sister please hold Us.” Good girl she was, Seltzer Cookie had not once laid hands on Their sacred figure.
Seltzer Cookie was bringing two glasses of water to the round table by an old sofa, on which Their Eminence rested upon. One was for Doughael, the other was also probably for Doughael. “Drink, please,” urged Seltzer Cookie. It was 3 AM.
Doughael had not once managed to keep Their head straight upwards since They stepped foot in the cathedral. It was currently on Their forearm, which was on the armrest. To put it lightly, They were in a position that contrasted almost comically with Their usual courtesy. “Yes,” Doughael slurred, completely ignoring the whatever she did. “Your efforts for Us… are most appreciated, Sister… Sister Saltshaker…”
“Seltzer Cookie.” She took back one of the water glasses and nudged it against Doughael’s shoulder, and said, more worried, “Drink this, please.”
Their fingers snaked around the glass, as if They had never touched a glass in Their entire life. “Heaven,” They murmured. They took a patient sip, then downed it all shortly before ten seconds.
“Oh, it isn’t beverage,” Seltzer Cookie assured. “It is simply to clear up Your head.”
“Ahh,” They set the cup back down. Seltzer Cookie snatched it before it could topple to the floor. “‘Tis the finest delicacy They have blessed upon Us in… in a very long time, Sister…”
“It’s water,” she stammered.
“O Godly Creators, You spoil Us so,” the seraph squealed. They rolled on Their back and reached an arm out to the ceiling, which dangled puppet-like, then fell back over Their head. “May Our gratitude reach You, through… through every drop.” Seltzer Cookie found herself staring at the whole thing like a disheartened mother, which she herself had never been.
“Please sleep,” she said. “It’s three in the morning, Your Eminence, and I am quite exhausted. All will be good again on the morrow.” And Seltzer Cookie, despite herself, reached a hand out and brushed off some stray hair from the wasted seraph’s face. And they were quiet.
She went for her own seat, which was an armchair opposite the sofa. Seltzer Cookie sat in silence and resumed her reading. To better put it, she had a book for the sole purpose of trying like hell not to fall asleep. It was almost melancholic.
Doughael did not know what happened. Only that she said something, and she touched Them, and it made Them incredibly happy. One thing led to another, and They soon concluded that Sister Seltzer Cookie was most likely a God, and that they were indeed now under Her mindful wing in the gates of Paradise, because it was the only possible explanation for this sheer happiness. They suddenly found Themselves very anxious at the prospect that she was no longer next to Them.
Through her languid and blurry eyes, Seltzer Cookie managed to pin down a whole—and a whopping—two sentences, before the dove that lay on the couch cooed to her again. Doughael, who suffered from both total blindness and drunken misdirection, had a hand hovering loosely above the heaven glasses, a couple feet far from her. “Seltzer Cookie…” They urged, “Seltzer…”
Although anxious, she found no point in humoring Them, so she gave no response.
“O Lady,” They crooned. “Prithee, be Our confidante, for there is something We must… We must tell you… A secret… Come, please, come…” After seconds of grasping midair, Their outstretched arm drooped against the armrest, and Their fingers landed on one of the glass rims.
Seltzer Cookie shook her head, sadly, fingers on the page. From that point on, her voice had changed. Less bubbly, less Seltzer Cookie, more jaded. Carbonated water had been decarbonated. “No, Your Eminence. We must sleep.” There was shifting. “No, no… Please lay down, Doughael.” Then, for no reason, the seraph whimpered into the armrest, not adult-like nor angel-like.
“Please come,” Doughael despaired. “Heed Us, Seltzer Cookie… You are… You’re a good Sister… Best, dearest Sister…” Their hand agreed with gravity. One finger fell off the glass rim, then another, then the last one managed miraculously to topple down the glass, the not empty one. Miraculously. A pang of frustration actually came by Seltzer Cookie.
She did not reply, she just got up and went. She repositioned both glasses on the floor. She collected the spilt water with dirty cloth. She paid no mind at first to the hand that found the top of her head and was wandering about her veil, trying to figure out what exactly it was touching, until it tugged on her. “Sit with Us,” They whined. “Sit, sit…! The secret… We must tell you, O Witch. ‘Tis of greatest… utmost…”
“I am no…” she trailed off, then wondered if there would be any difference, should Their Eminence see her as Actually God rather than Just Seltzer Cookie, in terms of how much They would abide by her wishes. She also wondered if she wanted to crumble or not. “Swear to me you will sleep. Promise,” she smiled, to the best of her ability, “and I shall listen.”
“Yes!” the seraph beamed. They tried sitting up, only for a weary arm to buckle and for Them to topple back down. They clutched Their chest with one hand, second measure. “By the divinity and… and by Our dough…” Their hands then scrambled to her, childish, disoriented, so much so that They forgot to stop Their wings from fluttering out of control this time. With a deep sigh, and two seconds of batting her head back and forth to shake off exhaustion, Seltzer Cookie sat down, between the armrest and the nightmare.
“I’d like to know,” said Seltzer Cookie, more motherly than intended, “what you could possibly have to share at such a late hour with me.”
The first thing Doughael did was to melt onto her, more and more, until They had Their head practically against her lap. Seltzer Cookie no longer felt motherly, for it happened far more quickly than it should’ve in order for her to properly brace for the sudden feeling of ‘what the hell, my prophet who is drunk just decided to crawl onto me like a cat what do I even do.’ Doughael nuzzled, stretched a bit, smiled up at Their godly figure with the reverence one would find sealed away in a scrapped love letter, and then purred, with finality, “A secret.”
To say the least, Seltzer Cookie was red. People are touchy, bold, and doting when drunk, she assured to herself. Her prophet is no exception. It is to be expected. Seltzer Cookie looked down. “Tell me.”
“You must promise,” They paused to giggle, “promise Us to keep this secret, O Lady… ‘Tis a… a special one… ’Tis between You and I…”
“I will not tell a soul,” Seltzer Cookie assured, with what was probably the last remaining drop of patience she had in her for this angel—which she believed to have spent about a half hour ago, but well, things change. “Just… Just go on, Doughael.”
“We are… We’re…” They snickered. “We’re drunk, perhaps… A little bit drunk, Your Grace… Do understand…”
“Your Eminence,” said Seltzer Cookie flatly. “That isn’t a secret. I know that already. Actually… I believe out of everything you could’ve told, that is the most blatantly obvious—” She stopped when she came to notice how Doughael kept giggling. They had Their cheek against her stomach, wings nonstop fluttering and languidly shifting around the sofa. She had never seen Them so utterly pitiful before, even though They were happy and unaware, just like this, given in to Their own comfort. “…Never mind.”
”Is this… Is this Paradise, Holy One…?” They asked. Seltzer Cookie did not know how to respond.
Her hand found the top of Doughael’s head, and, unthinkingly, she started scratching. ”This is the northeastern chamber of the cathedral,” Seltzer Cookie muttered, “which I spent twenty minutes dusting and tidying so that Your stay would be most comfortable.” Her vision blurred and wobbled to the side, watching as Their Eminence nuzzled into her hand.
”Ah,” the drunken dove smiled. And then recited, without a moment of thought, “Heaven.”
And they stood like that, much too sleepy and far gone to consider anything else. Seltzer Cookie letting Them indulge in light touches, and Doughael in no better the mindset than to enjoy them. Before she could begin to consider the consequences of an unsuccessfully-catered-for prophet, Seltzer Cookie found herself no longer able to suppress her exhaustion. As she drifted asleep, she took in the small noises of comfort They made, and tried to recall, briefly, why exactly she had agreed to this in the first place.