Chapter Text
Such a white place, heaven. Its gold run of angels, not one distant, disobedient, horrid, and corrupt. Except for many, usually higher-ranked angels, not such as anybody of uninformed unimportance. The biased Lord who sits on her throne, who had rested on the seventh day, as angels don't get this 'sabbath', this divine witch makes the berries of Eden that bit sweeter and not give them to poor man. She can betray one as fast as she brought them to salvation, maybe so pure salvation wouldn't be here, but God's image hadn't failed; she had made 'Adam and Eve' out of her own design, her own 'love', her own contribution to contribute to their 'executions'. But what could an angel expect? Adam and Eve had got exiled for eating a fruit.
As the clanking heels of an angel strode through the pristine white halls, the robe that sat around her body, the sound also echoed due to the serene quiet that voided towards Anthony at this moment. Anthony had been doing paperwork arrangements for his so heavenly made stars. He loved their shimmer, their grace, and their dignity with every wishful view. As they flew by, it had almost seemed like the star 'irked' the viewer to wish for its survival, to wish for themselves as it went soaring past, although not really a whole star at all; the testament is nice. I mean, calling them 'dust and meteor fragments that shoot through the sky at a high speed' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. He had been mainly responsible for the stars with a few higher-placed angels checking in and signing what's needed. As the feet stopped tittering and the assumed woman stood, back straight, chest puffed out to show grace in her stature. He was sitting down at his glass desk as the angel placed a brown paper-backed folder on the desk with a quite dramatic plop the surrealcolor contrasring to his all too plain white desk. No spec of color exept for his skin and possibly the most colorful thing in heaven, his fiery red hair.
"Anthony, I assume you're now doing paperwork about those lights?" Archangel Michael spoke as she again took her eye emphasis to the pile of paperwork she had previously plopped on the desk. "Yes, as usual, I suppose! Goodness, I must ask, what file is this? Looks quite important!" Anthony spoke, his usually gleeful-tuned voice attuned to the situation, making it less dull and tense. "Ah yes, are you aware of a previously, I recall Dominion-ranked angel, Aziraphale?" She spoke quite shaky-breathed, although looking so very calm. "Yes, I know him, well... I've talked to him but very little, an odd guy he was, always was wondering? Mostly innocent things but as well with the mixed odd and depressing thought, quite nice though!" Anthony said, he wasn't necessarily lying although he had positioned himself out of it, making it seem these were one-sided wonders. Nice man really, all in all.
"Hum... I am going to assume you didn't hear the news?" Michael spoke solemnly. "Huh? News?" Anthony wondered. "The Dominion-ranked angel Aziraphale has... fallen from grace..." She said, wavering to the folder as he opened it. "I can't take this job... Aziraphale was- is!"A good angel, and for wondering a bit too often. Nobody deserves that! The poor angel—first to fall... since... who knows what's happening right now? He could be getting tortured!" Anothony stated, quite content with his angry tone. He was an acquaintance of his, not close, but a friend of proximity. That poor, poor angel. "I don't advise questioning the Lord's plan, and we only really have you that can take this job. You can work on your... I recall stars...? Aziraphale had all his work done, just need to tie up loose ends. Someone needs to have this file on their desk." Archangel Michael spoke, not solemnly at all now. It was bland; she was asking this so he'd take it and she wouldn't have to find somebody else.
"What was his job, anyhow?" Anthony questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. He had never known nor asked, although Aziraphale—or rather, whatever they would rename the so-heaven-earned man down there... "He had a major leadership in the creation of colors. Violet was my own requested name, would you behold it." Archangel Michael proclaimed, so very flattered with herself; she looked so very dazzled. Maybe forgetting that man had fallen, been through hell to even get to hell, he had assumed. "Colors, goodness, he was and is quite important then, is he not? I'd suppose colors were awfully hard to think of or wonder about, don't you say?" Anthony stood up and crossing his arms in a softer way than usual, to show he had no angry or tension-filled actions. "Ah, yes, his disobedience cost us a lot. After all, we only had primary colors until he had showed us that through light waves, objects can absorb or reflect that many pigments... Took a chip out of everything. We barely know how to work the color wheel; we know how to make colors from previously made colors as the light waves can be tampered with. Full understanding it is hard to comprehend unless you were based in the task as our Lord placed him." Archangel Michael asserted, stationing to walk away. "Seems hard," Caiphazle said, knowing that his superior was about to ask him a question. "Will you take it; the job that is?" She said, leaving the file and standing for a few seconds. "I ought, though only so that poor angel can maybe see the stars one day..." Caiphazle spoke so heavily heard, meaningfully; his words echoed for a good few seconds as Michael strode away and before going to the elevator, "Efenblissung," she spoke, a little mocking in Anthony's opinion.
As 'Aziraphale' fell down, it almost zapped before him. He had been asking his Lord, his hope, his one, his only allowed love and his life, some quite, dare I say, tedious questions, about thought systems, why animals and humans didn't share the same photoreceptors. Nothing too horrid as to make him nervous or nothing discrediting. Although what was humiliating is the fact of falling, the first angel exempt from the Devil to 'step out of line,' and he had also been accused of influencing others. The serene white floors below him opened and crackled, Aziraphale felt tears roll down his face that were out of his control. He then realized this was wrong as his wings went numb with pins and needles, almost feeling like they would be torn off as he started falling from the white building, so very white, to the clouds of white in what he had originally called white; Bulgarm, although the Lord wanted White, so she got white. He then fell to black and red stains. He wondered what colors he would see in hell. As his wings hung loose and his tears turned into cries of agony, he had reached the halfway point. It had really hit him he would be going to hell. As he tried to fly, his wings cracked and ached, making each feather black and some even falling out, feeling like it was forcefully pulled out. As he screamed, his eyes began to close shut in fright. He then felt the cold, serene feeling of ground.
He sat in his puddle of tar and opened his eyes. He couldn't see colors; he couldn't see a thing.
The needle dropped like a loud bong, a vibrate in Aziraphale's ears, the loudness of what has just happened. The way heaven just ticked on as the Lord crossed his name off his list and sent it to another.
A calm.
He couldn't see anything, not even white nor black; he forgot what they even looked like. He couldn't see, at all?
A storm.
He reached to pull himself out of the tar, his now torn and sticky robe stuck. He screamed, and at this point, he supposed he would clean this tar off his eyes eventually. He soon scrambled out of the tar as he collapsed backward and cleared what he could of the tar that was on his eyes, he assumed the sticky dread of black was there due to his fall. He opened them; there was nothing. Maybe his eyes were adjusting. He stood up a determinationto each inch he rose. Not lasting too ling his determination faltered as did his legs thr tremble as he unfurled his wings, a pain like no other shooting threw them. He had no idea where he exactly was in hell, what these demons would look like exactly. He feared their looks, their disappointment at seeing an angel intruding, although he hoped they would even partially sympathize with him. Maybe Satan would, or maybe he wouldn't. He had never been in contact with so many demons except for the war; well, he imagined there would be a lot. As he lay there, he felt his hair. It was, of course, sticky and tacky, along with the feeling of ash, although his hair was still such a soft texture, not at all rough. He felt along his neck and felt a horrid feeling, like a lump. It was in the shape of an animal, a bug? As he felt its long, slender legs, he harshly gasped as he realized it was a spider. He wasn't exactly sure which one, but he knew it was one.
He found it so odd he had no recollection of color. He knew it existed and what it was, but he couldn't see it. He knew what each looked like, but it came to his head like a word that is at the tip of your tongue, lethologica. The eyes he once prided himself with still stayed void. He knew that there was a function or rather disfunction in humans, blindness, as the light perception pathways of the eye, optic nerve, or brain's visual processing centers become damaged or simply fail to develop correctly, disrupting how the eye converts light and, in turn, causing blindness. However, he supposed there were many shades of blindness. There was never a spoken word of God intending to implement this 'blindness' in angels... Although, whilst falling, he fell into his human form. He wondered what he looked like at the moment. What this tar looked like. Who would take his position. Tears fell down his face; he was unsure if they were tears of gold or blood, was he now good or evil.
"Holy shit, its that angel that was meant to be sent, well he's fucking early!" A womanly voice spoke although deep. "Oh! look at his neck a 'Kauaʻi cave wolf spider' those huge things have no eyes." A manly voice said a bit of a lisp even. As Aziraphale sat up the two jumped back, he knew by the rustle of sounds they both made, they were quite loud. Aziraphale then raised his head, he didn't exactly know where the two are. "You bad? he's hovering around in'ne, you think hes in shock?" the more feminine voice said as a sound of approval came from the other. "I'm afraid I'm such in a sitch, I can't see at the moment there must be tar in my eye. Although it might be from.. anything really." Aziraphale said trying to keep his composure and act accordingly. "Ah, shit.. umh your eyes open them." the more masculine voice spoke. As Aziraphale opened them their was a gasp. "Unholy Satan. your eyes are so very white!" the femine voice said. "Badness Satan." the other said. "I can't see a thing. I'm so very sorry, maybe a minute thing!" He spoke a bit worried now. "I think your blind, thought they kept that to the humans though. Lucky day whitey." the masculine voice said. "Hastur! don't say it to him right away you saddel goose." the femine voice said. Hastur was the demons name. As the croaked in-between sentences he assumes the man had already been odd. "Off with it Beezlebulb, the thing deserves to know what his 'leader' did" Hastur said croaking whilst saying thing. He wondered why he was called a thing? Beezlebulb was the demons name.
He was blind. Blind as a bat. Blind as the spider which resided within his neck.
Aziraphale started to tear up, and again, tears of pure, deep red blood gushed out, splattering on his robe, which was destroyed with dirt, soot, blood, and tar. The two turned to look at the pitiful man. Satan, it was hard not to feel a bit bad for him. Even though they were formerly enemies, angels were so pitiful—well, the sweet ones, the undeserving ones, God's unnoticed ones. Although apparently, this man was a Dominion. Odd. As the angel sat there, tears rolling, the two looked at each other. His stature made him look like he was in incredible pain, and his black hair and wings looked unsuited. Although the eyebags that resided under his eyes made it seem he hadn't stopped wondering, thinking, and most know the up doesnt like independent thoughts. His robe was destroyed with the tar, which they both guessed was half of the angel's blood and wing feathers. A slight trail showed where he had pulled himself out. His arms and legs had partially missing skin patches where the tar had especially stuck to him. His eyes were a heavenly white. They wondered why, although it might have to do with anything. It's not like he could see them anyhow. He couldn't see anything.
The angel cleared his tears, and the gloppy blood paused. The angel spoke so clearly, "Tell me what to do with myself." He saw his small figure still lying on the ground. Beelzebub looked to Hastur, who jerked his shoulders. They then dropped to a knee, seeing the angel's face, taking his hand that was partially dug into the loose dirt. "Show that you can be one of us, know that you won't be thrown away as fast. Have trust that it's not black and white. That the horrors are in the grays." As the angel sighed again, he tried to stand as Hastur got up and looped the angel's arm around his shoulder. "Why did my God do this to me...?" he finally asked the two demons, who had expected it much, much sooner, though that wanst for them of even Lucifer to answer. "Questions aside, from the topic, what was your job or project as a Dominion-ranked angel?" Beelzebub uttered, trying to slither away from that topic. "I was a Dominion, yes, I studied the photoreception of light or rather colors." Aziraphale whispered a desperate plee of his past mixed with his fatigue. "Color, I can't remember my life without color, can you now see color?" Hastur asked, so wondered. "No. I can't see anything yet I don't know what I'm seeing, it makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but I can't be like this forever, right...?" Aziraphale shuddered so, so hurt.
"Your divine spoke the words and gave you this. No demon can change that, not even Satan." Beelzebub spoke a tight sentence; it seemed bitter even. "Why am I blind...?" Aziraphale asked, trying to feel his eyes. "Well we all have an attrobute im afraid my name is from Cthulhu Mythos, Hastur is often referred to as 'Him Who is Not to be Named' or 'he Unspeakable One', i didnt have a name before Luifier granted me that gift. Although we dont have those shiny corperations alike heaven, we are left the decaying ones often we have to make up the dents with animal DNA, i have a frog due to Book of Revelation (16,13), which describes three unclean spirits like frogs coming out of the mouths of the dragon, the beast, and the false prophet. It highlights his malevolent, corrupting influence" Hastur spoke. "Well, my name does literally mean 'Lord of Flies.' In New Testament Greek texts, further corrupted the name to Beelzeboul, which served as a derogatory pun meaning 'Lord of Dung' or 'Lord of Filth,' connecting the idol to waste and the pests that feed on it. A bit rude, isn't it?" Beelzebub said.
"Ah yes, I'd suppose he made me this due to their specific epithet, 'anops,' which means 'without eyes.' I'd suppose she took away my life's work, my only work. I spent my entire being making, perfecting." Aziraphale spoke, blood swelling in his eyes. "We'd better get you into the main area; this spot isn't known to most demons. It's for drop-offs but has never been used by demons, lets keep it thay way knwoing those lackys they would build a staies ro heaven to get out of work." Beezlebulb giggled a 'zzz' to her pitch. Slowly, Aziraphale came with them, his wings covered in tar. Painfully, he walked as other demons gawked. They brought him to a private room and helped him get dressed, revealing a huge, burnt cross on his back which was, at this point, scarred. They stared in horror at the amount of flesh that had been ripped off his arms and legs by the tar. They tortured this poor guy before he even got to Hell. "So, what's going to be your name?" a demon asked, again with a masculine voice, although a lot more squeaky than Hastur's. "Why, of course, Aziraphale?" he spoke. "Well, you can't keep that name down here," the voice spoke again. "Oh goodness, I hadn't realized, is there any advice?" Aziraphale said so solemnly. "Umh... I guess you could just remove the 'phale' and it would sound cool," the unknown voice chimed in. "Goodness, I'll do just that, thank you, although what's your name?" "Ah, it's Eric; it's pretty plain," Eric said, quite flattered by the angel's fondness. They all expected something of an angel that acts like themselves.
"It's beautiful, Eric," Azira said. He had expected them to be a lot ruder, along with the occasional curse word and nudge. He thought they seemed very... friendly? Much more non-tense. "How was Heaven? Was it as horrible as they say?" Eric asked, sitting down and helping Azira sit down as well on the creaking, cheap structure in the private room the back moulded corners with that deep smell of mildew and blood cuddled onto this all too small room. The deep and long hallways stocked to the brim it seemed with slow moving damned, while not that oodled it was alot more than heaven. When he "It's so serene, so tense. You could hear Archangel Michael's footwear from miles away. Our tables were glass, and we were to praise, stay silent, stay so sickeningly sick. Although it was all serene, white, I don't ever remember doing anything but work or seeing our Lord. It was the same day every day. I would wonder in silence and assume that Hell would be worse, dreadful. I had never thought the Lord would cast away my salvation over such questions, take away my life's work, and pass it to someone else. What I shed my blood over, for her world, her human's eyes. Maybe that's why they will be flawed if they do fail; they are like her. The higher the angel, the more, excuse my language, horrible they are!" Azira spat in a word vomit. "So, not the best, I'd guess. I'd imagined it to be nice, although from what I've seen, all angels wear white, like little sore thumbs," Eric spoke.
"I agree," Azira spoke. "You're crying blood?" Eric raised an eyebrow. "Ah yes, another side effect," Azira spoke, wiping them off, although he continued in slow, so very slow tears that rolled down his face, which stained his face. "Satan, you scared me!" Eric said. "Sorry dear, I should've kept it to myself," Azira said, his eyes opening, which he now barely did out of embarrassment of not having pupils and his eyes getting agitated. He opened his eyes, his now black eyelashes rose as his eyes almost glistened with white. "I don't think I've seen anything as light down in these parts" Eric said, seeing the man's tears of blood gliding down and hitting his black robe as his wings rested and his eyes shut. Eric was almost sure he also saw a halo, although he knew this was of his own delusions.
----
From then on, Azira was known for his 'angel in demon's clothing' meaning, although he had done horrible deeds, and he confidently has. Temptation is his main suit, but they wouldn't adopt him as their own... not yet. Some demons would just gaze at him. He had also become acquainted with Beelzebub, Eric, Hastur, and Ligur. All odd, but people he communed with. As he was sent to the Garden of Eden, he was shocked. Well, he had been in the planning and knew it well, but he was there as a temptation. He was to take his spider form and manipulate the woman or man into eating an apple. Through his blindness, he had found a solution for the time being. Satan had given him a red jade necklace which made him sense where people were in front and behind him within a radius. Although not at all a permanent fix, it would have to work.
As he knocked on the huge door of Eden, an angel that stood on guard there was only one, who, by rumor, held a flaming sword. "Hello, what business do you have—" Anthony opened the door, responding before realizing who he was talking to. "Anthony?" Azira said, confused as to why he was here of all places. "Aziraphale!" Anthony spoke. "It's Azira now, dear. Now I'm here for, I recall, the temptation." Azira said, walking in. "Yes, I've been told to—would—no, uhm, you go do your work... demon," Anthony looked, really looked at the other his ash black hair that turned to gray in the summers rays, his lips slightly pout and tinged a light pink, eyes closed softly not a crinkle between his brows, they stood relaxed. His cheeks linger pink from the suns char of his skin. Although the rest of his body stayed luminous pale, slight dusty rose under his eyes. His hair was cut short unlike what he had saw all those centuries ago even before he was cast he hadn't seen him in a few centuries. Azira was always compacted with work.
He had almost forgotten he was a demon. Azira had fallen, and he had been ordered to not be open to be as closed as the huge gate that stood at 54 meters (177 feet.) They both seemed like ants in comparison. Just let him do his tempting and on with it he reminded himself. Although Aziraphale, or rather Azira, had been acting weird. Well, he acted the same, sweet- or rather sour and chummy. But his walk and such, his direction! Was different Anthony noticed.
"Ah... sorry, darling, I'll see you when I do, dear." Azira said, strolling off, trying to not get hit with a tree. He did eventually find a tree stick. Satan, what would substitute something of better need for blind people such as himself?
He strode in as he silently crawled up the tree. He stayed sat for a moment, looking at the humans. Eve was a tanned woman, her skin darker than his own (corporation) body. Adam was much the same, a small bit darker than the woman. Eve's hair was a lot longer than Adam's. As he looked at their black and white shadows in his vision, he couldn't see much even with the ruby. Although he saw them close, touching, he wasn't sure what they were doing. Eve was just laying in Adam's grasp. He could hear her light breathing as Adam just looked at her, took his hand, and took a small piece of hair which was sprawled across her face and tucked it behind her ear. Their faces close, he was sure Eve's nerves would react to Adam's breath. Adam slowly reached and placed his and Eve's hands interlocked. As he too went to what he knew as 'sleep,' he just remained on the tree for a while longer, watching the humans as their chests rose and fell.
Soon Eve woke up in Adam's embrace, maneuvers herself out and soon was near the apple tree Azira resided on. As he pulled down the tree, his silk followed him as spinnerets were made with his proteins. He made a web. As he resided, Eve caught his glance. She had never seen him, and instead of the skepticism he expected, she immediately walked over, looking at his web intensely. She put a finger to his head as his long legs spanned; he crawled a small amount as she smiled. "Eve..." it came out a groan from the spider as she stepped back, her face dropping from a smile to fear, confusion. "Eat the tender fruit, my dear..." as her eyes widened. She looked a bit offended. "But Mother said not to eat the fruit of knowledge," Eve spoke, his eyebrows knitted. "Ever think why... God doesn't want you to be knowing... She knows if you knew all that she wouldn't have anyone to tend to her garden..." the spider said in a low voice, a groan at the end of each sentence. "N-no, me and Adam are grateful!" She spoke as her hands shuffled together. She's nervous. "Eve. One day you and Adam will be no more. Just how Adam came from the ground, you will both be placed again as other humans take your place. All roads lead to death, my dear. Would you rather know in your measly lifetime, know how to love Adam? Or rather Adam know how to love you..." The spider spoke each word a whisper. As he crawled up the tree and knocked down the forbidden fruit. "Just know the Lord can remove you from this garden as fast as she made you. Replace you with any disobedience. If you're knowing, she can do no such thing... protect your young... protect Adam, protect yourself..."
The apple fell and rolled to Eve's feet as her eyes glistened. The spider left, crawling away as his web was left, the silk reflecting the light into its mosaic pattern. Eve stood, heart beating fast. They would be put in the ground as once before. What would happen? She doesn't remember anything before the garden. Would there be the same after? Just not being there.
You have to understand, when a spider tells you that, you will inevitably be afraid, even if in 70 years or so. After all, she didn't know the concept of death, just felt a cold chill down her spine as her body repulsed at the idea. Maybe there were no replacements. But Eve had that much fear; she picked up that apple as she took a shaky bite, her eyes shedding tears as Adam ran and saw. He knelt to the ground at Eve's feet, his eyes with the same glisten as he snatched the apple and took a bite. It was like an eruption of thought. They could hear a voice in their heads, cautious they were as they looked at each other. Eve looked to Adam with a skeptical glance, but he raised his eyebrows and his cheeks flushed pink as she looked to him, she did the same. They both looked for anything to cover themselves before settling on leaves. Eve felt her heart beat again, looking at Adam, and pain in her chest made her step falter. Adam felt a pang toward Eve; they both knew it would never be the same, although the risk seemed to be worth it as they embraced each other.
Anthony there, his wings spread out to the demon's back, who felt it and opened his eyes. This was the first time Anthony had seen the demon's eyes. They were beautiful; the Lord couldn't take the holiness and pure innocence out of his eyes, just the sight. As Azira smiled softly, the world waited, at least it felt like it did. As the humans stopped fighting the animal they were about to stab and miss, and as the wind glided and leaves rustled behind them, all they could see sitting on the edge of Eden was sand galore. "Giving them your sword... really?" He smiled a taunting bit. "Well, they couldn't go out there alone, defenseless. I mean, how could the Lord just kick them out?" Anthony spoke with sadness in his voice. "Well, what's done is done. We can only look forward to the soon-to-be civilization." Azira spoke with a smile on his lips. "You will be waiting a few thousand years, demon, and certainly not a corrupt civilization. No, it's going to be peaceful." Anthony spoke as Azira chuckled. "Believe what you wish, dearest." Azira spoke with a smile on his face.
They don't hold aversion each other for certain, but the grudge between the species remained, though nothing overtly consuming. Anthony hoped to not see Azira; after all, he was a demon. The soft sun rays hit Azira's red cheeks and his ash-black hair. His flashing black wings looked so surreal since Anthony had never seen anything like them. His ginger hair waved past his eyes. As the sun started to set, the delicate light turning to a murky orange, the demon had moved closer than when they had gotten there. They could never be pure enemies, at least. Although he had to obey God's plan. As he got up, Azira took his hand and smiled lightly. "D-don't tempt me, demon." He spoke coldly, and Azira's smile faltered. He let go of Anthony and heard him walk away.
They would never hate each other.
How could they?