Mercurian of Judgement
Total Forces |
9 |
||||
Corporeal |
2 |
Ethereal |
4 |
Celestial |
3 |
Strength |
4 |
Intelligence |
9 |
Perception |
7 |
Agility |
4 |
Precision |
7 |
Will |
5 |
Vessel 3 |
20 |
Mind Hits |
36 |
Soul Hits |
15 |
ArchAngel: Domenic
Word: Judgement
Songs
Attunements & Distinctions
Skills
Role
Servants
Character Notes
'My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time
to make the punishment fit the crime
(the punishment fit the crime)'
Iolanthe (Gilbert & Sullivan)
'no-one, not even the rain has such small hands.'
e.e.cummings
I carry a small bag under my arm and walk down the steps onto the tarmac from the plane. Josh is one step ahead of me, bursting with excitement. He is home. Unsurprisingly it is raining and the rain seems to have a different tone to it than it had before. I shake out my hair, heedless of the weather, and slide on some dark glasses. That silence struck us in the air, and I am afraid. I was glad to be surrounded by mortals at that moment - silence is alien to them. Maybe that is my weakness. I let the rain plaster my hair into rats tails and look up, letting the droplets bounce off the glasses. The sky is overcast and grey. There is a buzz as the little phone in Josh's pocket rings. He fumbles for it in the wet, as other passengers stream past us, then his face brightens and he nudges me in the shoulder.
I force a smile out of a tired face and mouth the words with him simultaneously 'Its a girl!'
I am remembering yesterday.
I stand at my tall window and watch the rain flooding out of an overcast sky, it slams against the glass with tiny fists and hammers down onto the concrete and tarmac. "Fall rain, and wash us clean." Maybe its habit that moves my lips silently in the familiar benediction. When I was younger I used to try to walk out in the rain, however cold and however tired, to let it drench me to the bone as they say in French.
Behind me in the gloomy office Josh grumbles, as usual. Something about the damned weather, then he remembers himself and substitutes 'stinking weather' - I do like him. I have always liked my servants, perhaps it is a weakness.
I remember the flood, that is, the first flood. Had the rains ever been so relentless before that? It is a very small effort to remember those few of us who stood with our feet planted on the earth even as the waters lapped at our ankles, and lingered over a last look out at the world before the flood. I was one of the last to leave my vessel behind, and all of the others were also celestials of my choir. Perhaps we had been singing in a counterpart to the bassy thunder and incessant drumming of rain - that specific memory escapes me. So many deaths. I remember a sense of unity between those of us who were most reluctant to leave, a sense of shared grief that was insensible to who we served or what we had done. I cannot remember having felt that since then.
My arch found this to be a dubious stance - It was perhaps his first triumph, and therefore a triumph to all of us who serve judgement. Had not God Himself seen fit to judge the depravities of the mortal world? Had not my own work helped to seal that judgement? Sometimes he still chides me with it, but not I think with genuine suspicion. I had explained that it seemed important to me to witness the application of that judgement as closely as I might.
He knows all the things which I do not say, and serving him is like walking a wire above an abyss. You have to throw your heart and soul across ahead of you and trust blindly in the voice that says 'you will not falter', and then you have to walk. I trust him beyond anything on heaven or earth but always I am afraid. Fear per se is not such a bad thing, it is like pain. Without pain we would not know when we were hurt. Without fear we would not know when we were in the presence of our superiors. I think perhaps fear keeps us humble, guilt keeps us honest.
I know that sometimes celestials seem afraid of me, I suspect they are in fact afraid of my superior. Although those who are true to themselves have nothing to fear, still I believe that the fear itself is a good thing.
Josh jumps for the phone as it rings, he is waiting to hear if his sister, Margaret, has been delivered of her first child - she has been in labour these past 12 hours and he wishes he were back in Edinburgh with her and the rest of his family. Soon we will be able to return, we have the evidence of government funded drugs deals which we will be able to use. Those concerned will be judged in the bright light of the media -- even the tools of the infernal can also serve us.
There are those amongst my fellows who would consider that view grounds for impeachment but it works for me and I think maybe that I am a pragmatic kind of angel. If we shunned all channels that were devised or embraced by demons there might not be much left - I prefer to view these things as another aspect of the War. So many of my fellows cannot seem to grasp enough of the mortal world to see that. But then I have the luxury of knowing that my work and motives will be scrutinised regularly, if I am wrong then I will not have to wait very long to find out.
"Lynne?" Josh clears his throat. He can see that I am staring at the window and the rain with wide rabbit-eyes and probably thinks that I am communing with God. "Its for you...?"
He is not the only person who has been waiting for a call and I make one last motion of straightening my jacket as I turn and catch the mobile phone from him. It is Gregor of course; we have one small mission to complete before I can also return. We know each other well enough that there is little to say - he is a cherub, and will be tracking for us tonight. He says that Haz is with him -- he is a taut and quiet creature, even for a seraph, and I have worked with him before. He also asks me to bring a gun and a knife.
As we are speaking, I turn back to watch the rain as it falls like tears, and absently run a metal toothed comb through my hair until it falls in two pale wings beside my face. It is a short conversation for really we don't need to say a great deal.
I hand the phone back to my servant and he reads from my face that I will be away for a short while. "I'm sorry, Josh. I won't be long - if you get that call and need to celebrate, there�s a half bottle of champagne in a drawer under the desk."
He chuckles, but there is a strain in his eyes. Perhaps I could sing it away but some kinds of pain are good. "Better not be too long then, eh? As if you are there'll be none left!"
He continues to grumble half-heartedly about the rain so I leave him to it, shrugging on a raincoat and pulling up the collar. The gun and the knife I already had.
The car is hardly as impressive an agent of judgement as the Batmobile or Judge Dredd's bike, and is in fact a battered old Ford Escort. Gregor gives the side door a shove and is impatient with me to climb inside, but I always like to try to keep the folds of my trousers neat and don't especially enjoy turning up to a questioning looking as though I had just been dragged through a hedge backwards.. so I take my time.
Haz nods to me also, as the car jerks and speeds off. As I said, he is a taciturn type and though I attempt a couple of chatty openings he is not interested, and Gregor seems to be concentrating on keeping the car on the road. The angel with whom we will be speaking is one of my own choir, one to whom I pointed the finger, even though he trusted me.
Why do we do these things? Because the consequence of not doing so is unthinkable, to me at least. I would prefer to spend my time in defending the innocent than attacking the guilty but without the one, the other would have no meaning.
I should also mention the infernals, if only for balance. It is true that sometimes we are able to cautiously exchange information on which of theirs are acting in a way that aids us, in return for information on which of ours are turning traitor. I am glad that it is not my role to decide which is most important - rescuing one of the fallen or being able to purify our own. If it was my choice I would let the fallen rot -- rehabilitation is all very well but some things canot be forgiven. I'd regret it but.. like Tevye, if I bend that far I would break.
I do not like Impudites, to put it in a mild manner. In fact I abhor them, and I pity them and I despise them utterly. For this reason my superior sees fit to sometimes ask me to deal with them. But also for this reason I do prosecute my duty with respect to my own choir as best as I am able. As I had said, sometimes pain is a good thing - if pain or fear can prevent even one angel from falling then it will be worthwhile.
Finally we park and Gregor turns to me with what is presumably supposed to be an encouraging grin. "Want to hang around for 5 minutes to give you time to do your hair?" he smirks. I give him my sweetest smile and slide on my shades. "They're up in flat 12 ..." He sounds faintly relieved. When we confront this man his job here will be done.
As usual, I am delegated to the difficult parts, such as knocking at the door and being the first indication as to what is happening. The door is answered this time by one of his servants who blinks at me curiously.
"Could we speak to Alex?", Alex being a servant of Marc I think, certainly he lives in a sumptuous flat. The woman hesitates and makes excuses. I show her my press pass. Behind me Gregor takes up a lot of space and Haz is silent in his neutral clothes. I can tell that she is probably his newest servant, probably knows enough about what he is to guess that we are connected, and I try to be patient with her.
"Its alright," I say gently, "Really, Jenny, its all going to be alright."
She looks confused and finally goes to get further instructions. I slip inside the door and wait. She comes back finally with another man, maybe another servant. Gregor towers over him and I smile and repeat my request. He inspects my press pass, and all the while I am smiling. Then he nods and shows us inside. Something about the man disturbs me, in fact it disturbs me a lot. I do not think that his hands are clean of blood.
Alex is in a beautifully furnished salon. I pause at the entrance to admire it, and the gorgeous chandelier. I love the glittering cut glass -- perhaps it reminds me of rain. He smiles at me, and then sees the two I am with, and that I am one of a triad. Gregor closes the door silently behind us and stands in front of it. I remove my sunglasses and pocket them, folding them up with a practiced flick of the wrist. Small things do matter.
"Ammon," I say softly, using his real name. "I am Orli, Mercurian servant of Judgement and these are Haz and Gregor. By my superior's will, you are to be put to the question and formally judged for dissonant behaviour that runs against the symphony. Refusal to answer questions or any attempt to flee or fight will be taken as an indication of guilt." I bow formally and take a pace to the left, allowing Haz to walk forwards.
Alex's face contorts, and he looks at me with accusing eyes as if to say 'YOU?' I return his gaze flatly, because it is unprofessional to do anything else but I hope that we may prove useful in this. I take no joy in throwing angels out of the host.
The Seraph quizzes him coldly, using every piece of evidence that I had collected and going into excrutiating detail; I hug myself whilst we are waiting. At length we are finished and Haz asks me flatly whether I have anything more to ask. I cannot tell what he has found, although some of the questions were very far reaching for as usual he gives nothing away. I suggest further questions, that might provide a fair defence.
Then, on an impulse, I suggest that I would like to see the servants also questioned, and mention that the man disturbed me. Gregor grins a broad smile and goes to collect them, I suspect he will not be gentle but he is also good at his job. They are herded in, terrified. The cherub must have felt that fear would be more useful in this case. I can feel how even though they do not especially like each other, each will try to support the other against the alien thing which is Us to them. I lean forwards and mention this to Haz, that he should not mistake this for the deliberate lie of the criminal. He shrugs and murmurs imperiously that I must explain to them that they must not lie.
I shrug and say that I will try - without meaning to, I catch Ammon's eye briefly. He looks defeated but is also concerned for his servants I think. This is the first good sign I have seen here. I speak to the woman first, drawing her aside. I think I can persuade her to trust me, even with all the other things.
"It'll be alright, Jenny." I say softly, "But you have to tell the truth here. It has to be the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Do you understand?"
She nods and glances at the man. I remember to add, "I'll be telling Geoff the same thing. But don't think of trying to defend anyone else even though you want to. It has to be the truth. God's own truth... but if you do that, you don't need to be afraid." I smile, and squeeze her shoulder. She nods again, solemnly.
"Is Alex in trouble?" she asks nervously, glancing to her angel. I sigh and just pat her on the shoulder again, keeping my voice pitched low. "He's getting a fair hearing, Jenny. Be brave -- it'll be alright."
I leave her to whatever Haz decides to do and walk across to the man. Same deal again really, he is also nervous I think. I'm not as good at reading emotions as an Elohim of course. When I touch his shoulder I get a clear image of some kind of murder, and taking some joy of it - I can feel my lip curl in distaste. If questioning backs this up then I have no sympathy for him.
Finally we are done and the seraph is willing to comment. The three of us retire to the door to briefly compare impressions. In questioning the male servant, the seraph had fairly evidently discovered some evidence of dealings with the demonic, along with my own impressions it was nigh certain that he would have to die. The woman, as I suspected, is cleared completely; the angel has largely been found guilty of incurring dissonence for breaking his word but also for exchange of information with infernal entities. There are some extenuating circumstances in my opinion, and I am glad that I am here to be able to put the view of my choir which runs that sometimes to save a life, such moral dilemmas are unavoidable. Gregor surprises me by agreeing with my view - perhaps he is imagining how a cherub might feel in the same situation.
Still, we agree that he is to be formally rebuked and notified that he will be under close supervision as of now, and will be required to pass on all details of which he is aware of local infernals to us before we leave, and that his servants will be reassigned. This last seemed to hit him the hardest, although not as hard as the undeniable evidence of treachery that further questioning of the man turned up. Even Ammon looks faintly surprised and hurt at this. He doesn't seem inclined to oppose us, for which I am grateful.
The usual procedure would be to order the celestial whose servant offends to carry out the judgement by their own hand. In this case that sentence is death however, so it needs be by my hand instead. I have the little knife ready but ask Haz formally to repeat his questions again. I am always loath to act when my services as executioner are called for. The man is unwilling to answer but Gregor holds him tightly and he has no real choice. The answers are very damning. The woman has moved across to her angel for moral support and looks confused.
I wipe the knife on the side of my coat and step forwards to carry out an execution. Gregor nods to me and starts to sing softly as I quickly close all the blinds -- this room will be shielded from the disturbance of the execution for a short while. I move the point of the knife in a cross in front of the mans face, and simply cut his throat. He bleeds a lot, and Ammon is shaking, but my hand is steady. What is, is what must be. The other Mercurian looks at me as though I were a monster, but death is preferable to damnation and ultimately someone needs to carry it out. I feel that it is better done by someone who feels the pain than someone like the seraph who does not.
The expensive carpet is irretrievably stained when we leave; I inform Ammon that his other servants will be reassigned via his superior. The woman glares at me as I replace my shades, "Why?" she asks. "He was only doing what he thought was right. Isn't that more important than your stupid rules?"
"Nothing is more important than their rules," Ammon tells her wearily, rubbing at his eyes with a hand.
"Our rules," I correct him quietly as we leave. I wonder if he realises that I have been his defence here tonight.
I feel that I would like to apologise but doing so would seem as though I were belittling my superior or apologising for what we have accomplished here. I cry silently behind my shades and walk out. It is still raining and I have maybe 2 hours to pick up Josh and get back to the airport for the flight back to Scotland. I wonder if his sister's child is born yet.
As the thought crosses my mind, Haz comments quietly, "Its a girl."