The Ascent of Zariel, Prologue - Part II


 * Zariel's House


 * A single-storey house with pale yellow adobe walls, an angled roof and rectangular windows. A rickety wooden fence encircles a yard of dusty red clay.

Ravus is moving through the living room, tidying up anything at all that comes to hand, worried frown never far from his lips. Frequent glances are cast at the door, the angel absolutely transparent in his concern.

The door opens and Zariel steps back inside, discarding weapons and armor. He's back in his loud outfit and looks a bit tired, but otherwise nothing seems to be wrong. He smiles a bit as he notices the angel's worry and makes over to give him a hug. "It was just a meeting," he says softly, "Nothing worth worrying over."

Ravus stops his pottering as the door opens, turning a hugely relieved smile to Zariel. He meets the demon halfway, arms sliding around him tightly. "Sorry," the angel murmurs sheepishly. "Just, well, they've got me jumping at shadows."

"I know," Zariel nods, kissing the angel lightly as his clothes turn black, "Worried me at first, too. Keep thinking they've figured it out - gonna give myself a heart attack." He chuckles lightly, then, "They're still clueless for now. Think I hate my new assignment and all that."

Ravus returns the kiss, slim frame gently melting into Zariel's. "You do a good job at complaining?" he asks with a crooked grin. "Tell them how demeaning it is and how much below you and all?"

"Mmhmm," Zariel nods, "And I whipped out the whoopie cushions and irritating antics to spite them, too. I got laughed at a lot. I think my spot as Annoyance is pretty well cemented until we work out the whole rising thing."

"Never thought it'd be good news that someone I loved was successfully irritating," Ravus deadpans, shaking his head. "Soon as you ask me to, I'll send a message Cephas's way."

"I think the heart-jump I had earlier's enough bracing," Zariel replies, "Or at least a sign that I'm already as ready as I'll ever be. Whenever you can get him is good."

Ravus snaps his fingers, a tiny twinkling mote of green light appearing that's the same brilliant lime shade as his eyes. He speaks to it in the angelic tongue, a ringing singsong amid which only 'Cephas' can be detected. The mote shines brighter a moment, then zips out under the door.

"Handy method of communication you have there," Zariel remarks with a smirk.

"A little angelic guardian," Ravus explains with a chuckle. "Good for very simple tasks. Should lead Cephas right to your door, I'm hoping."

"Like the demonic minions," Zariel nods, "I haven't called mine since that fight with the Nazis. I forget I even can, most of the time."

A shining mote of glimmering pale cyan makes its way, butterfly-haphazardly, into the room. In Cephas' voice, the mote says, "I am coming," and then the mote winks out.

"Ah, see." Ravus perks up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss while it's still just the two of them. "There we can go. We can find out what's possible, once and for all."

There is a muffled knocking upon the door leading to Out.

Zariel provides that kiss, the knock catching his attention. Zariel yells, "It's open."

Ravus stands in Zariel's arms, the two in an undeniably intimate embrace. He's pulling back now, but unhurriedly- more with the air of one not wishing to be rude than one caught with his hand in a cookie jar. One hand reaches for Zariel's, and squeezes tightly. "Stay calm," the angel suggests, lime eyes searching the demon's face.

"Why wouldn't I be calm?" Zariel asks Ravus with a light chuckle, "Really, it's not like Hell's after me yet." He squeezes the angel's hand back and sighs, "It's not like I'm in charge of Wrath anymore." His outfit's all-black at the moment rather than the Loudly Clashing Outfit of Doom.

The Archangel doesn't arrive in what might be called a normal fashion. Rather, a stream of shining motes, like dust that glows, seems to blow and drift into the room from somewhere unseen. The motes swirl and gather, taking form vaguely and then decidedly humanoid. As the light fades, it fades almost completely.

Cephas stands there now, looking almost completely human; no ethereal glow, no bright wings. But his left eye is not so much an eye as a small window on infinity, and his feet - though sporting quite ordinary office shoes - do not touch the ground. Just a button-down shirt and slacks, and his hands in his pants pockets. He doesn't seem very surprised at the embrace he finds, nor particularly perturbed.

"...You called. I'm here."

"Ah, Cephas, good," Ravus greets with a brisk tone but a warm smile. "Do you know Zariel? Formerly demon of wrath now, um, demon of annoyance. He has something he wants to speak with you about." The angel then falls quiet, only keeping his hold on the demon's hand.

"Nice entrance," Zariel comments, looking the Angel of Portals over briefly before extending his free hand, "Thanks for showing up. Wanted to ask you about an interesting rumor that's been floating around... erm, no pun intended. Is it true that demons can, um... 'rise' to mortality?" The hesitation was for uncertainty on what word to use. He's pretty casual in tone and mannerisms at the moment.

Cephas keeps his hands in his pockets, not accepting the offer. "Yes," he says simply. His tone is neither angry, mistrustful, nor accusatory. If anything, it's the voice a doctor uses when delivering very bad news. "It's true. In theory. In practice, no demon has ever had the faith, the courage, and the love required. But the possibility is there. Part of the Hell of perdition, as I understand it, is that you have to understand, in your heart, that you did it to yourself. That wouldn't be possible if there were truly no hope of redemption."

"The Ascendants told me it couldn't be done," Ravus offers up softly, "but... I think that was just another part of the test. To see if, even hearing that news, a desire to remain good would still linger- even when the demon believed it was hopeless." He shuts his mouth again to let Zariel ask any other questions, just remaining there as a warm presence of support.

"Well, I never expected it to be easy," Zariel says, lowering his hand when it's not accepted, "I want to attempt it. What will I have to do?" He glances thoughtfully to Ravus, then, "That makes sense, actually..." He squeezes his hand gently.

"Ordinarily, it can't," says Cephas calmly. "Being somewhere like this place is the first requirement. Neutral territory." He studies Ravus thoughtfully, then Zariel. "Ravus can't help you more than he has," he says. "He's done a lot for you, as I'm sure you understand. But this isn't about his nature, or his power. It's about you, and your soul. Do you think you can do this alone?"

Ravus takes a half-step forward, his eyes widening. "Surely I can be there for him," he wonders, sounding faintly alarmed. "Moral support, or an extra sword-hand if the demons try to destroy him. Can't I...?"

"I know he has," Zariel replies, nodding as he directs a warm smile Ravus's way, "I'll do it alone if I must. I got myself into this alone, it's only fitting I get out of it alone, too." He opens his mouth to protest as Ravus steps forward, but lets out a light sigh instead, before adding to Cephas, "I'd prefer him not to get involved, really, but as you can see he's a bit stubborn about it. I'm worried he'll get hurt trying to protect me. Can you keep him away if he tries to do something stupid?"

"Choice is the heart of the entire business," says Cephas, his tone still quiet and serious. "The choices you made, resulted in this fate. The choices you make will decide if that fate can change. If I set you on the path, you get *one* chance, Zariel. The Maker's mercy extends even to those who have rejected him as thoroughly as a demon - but it's only *one* chance." He turns his attention to Ravus. "Would you see him lose his one chance because you couldn't help but interfere?"

Ravus closes his eyes, shoulders slumping. "Of course not," he says quietly, with a little shake of his silver head as the fight visibly drains out of him. "I just want to be there as much as I -can-." "It would be nice to have that defined, actually," Zariel remarks, "What constitutes helping me and all." He squeezes Ravus's hand again, "One chance. It's technically my second chance, if life counts as the first, so I'm not surprised."

Cephas studies Zariel. "For you to shake free of the Descendant's hold, you're going to have to change," he says. "Not just one thing, but everything. Not just what you do, but why you do it, and what you see. That means there's a lot I can only outline for you. Part of the test is you reaching the understandings that you need to reach, independently. It may not look like it, but I'm giving you the best chance I can."

"So basically, I just need to keep my mouth shut about advice or anything," Ravus murmurs to himself, frowning uncertainly. "-Can- I fight to defend him if the demons attack him, Cephas? If they drag him back he'll never really have a chance..."

"If I have to stumble around in the dark to see the light, then I'll stumble around in the dark," Zariel nods, "Whatever it takes, no matter the circumstances." He glances to Ravus, and then to Cephas, and listens for the answer to the former's query.

"Ravus can not help you," says Cephas, enunciating slowly and clearly. "And you won't have eternity to understand what you need to. There are seven tests. For each test, you have only one month to complete it. No matter what might stand in your way." That strange, infinite gaze watches the demon. "Do you accept?"

"Ah," Ravus says softly, and leaves it at that- staring down at his feet.

"I accept," Zariel replies, his answer clear and certain in spite of his soft tone, "Give me my first test." Another squeeze of Ravus's hand, this one a little firmer than the others.

Cephas nods. "Your first task is to save the soul of King Lionel Trueguard," he says quietly. "Without discorporealizing a single soul."

Ravus squeezes Zariel's hand... and then freezes at Cephas's words, eyes widening. Nonetheless, after that moment of initial shock he smiles softly down at the demon, with calm belief. Whatever the angel's thinking, all that his expression shows is faith.

Zariel... blinks. "Save the soul of King Lionel Trueguard," he repeats to himself, "The not-discorping people part is easy enough, at least..." Another blink, "Huh... I've got a month to save a soul. All... right..." The demon scratches at his chin, brow furrowed slightly, "Just out of curiosity - do these tests get progressively harder?"

There's the faintest flicker of a smile, the first Cephas has shown. "You know...I couldn't answer that. You'll find some harder than others, I suppose. Everyone does. But I'm not granted enough Sight to know which ones you'll find the most difficult. I'm the Archangel of Portals, the highest ranking angel in Necromundus...but I'm a very long way from the highest choir. I'm just a grigori."

"You can do it, Zariel," is all Ravus says, serenely and surely.

"Fair enough," the demon says, letting out a light chuckle, "A demon sent to do an angel's job... At the very least I get the feeling that this'll be entertaining to watch." Zariel smiles to Ravus, then, "You sound awful certain. I just hope I can prove you right."

Cephas bows, and the light gathers around his form as it begins to break into shining motes again. "Ravus...better to let him sort out what he's going to do. You're needed elsewhere." And with that, the archangel's form dissolves entirely into shining motes, which swirl about a bit in the air and then are gone.

"Needed..." Ravus repeats with a slight furrow to his brow, sighing. "Alright, then. Good luck, Zar. I love you... and I'll try my best not to interfere." He lifts the hand to his lips for a soft kiss, and then lets it go, turning for the door.

"I l-lov-ve you, too," Zariel replies, "And thanks... gonna need all the luck I can get. Take care, Ravus."

A soft, warm smile over his shoulder, saying everything wordlessly, and Ravus slips out.