Juvenile Orion Fan Fiction ❯ Fallen ❯ Shaytan ( Chapter 8 )

We’re walking in the air
We’re floating in the moonlit sky
The people far below are sleeping as I write

I’m holding very tight
I’m keeping all the angels from you
I’m finding they’re not mine, so I beg you not to sue

WARNING: This chapter contains watered down sexual content. Think restaurant water.

Where does all the angels’ violent rage come from? Some theorists believe it may be an outlet for their emotional and sexual drive. Evolution has not deprived angels of their sexual organs despite the fact that myriads are unable to partake in sexual intercourse. The angels, with no sexual outlet but centuries of built up sexual drive, may use violence as a means of relieving their frustration. It is believed violence may be the only means they have to keeping some sense of sanity after the buildup of emotional and sexual frustration.

However, violence is a poor long-time substitute. Some angels go insane after several thousand years, but there are a select few that seem to retain control of their minds. Curiously enough, the majority of these select angels are shaytan, almost all of which retain their sanity. Due to these statistics, many theorize that once relieved of the angelic policy of no emotions, the shaytan are able to live freer lives, which brings into question: What of the angels still accepted in society?

It seems plausible that illicit relationships exist between angels, but are kept carefully hidden, as discovery will result in either exile or execution. Some shaytans are the results of angels whose emotional relationship was discovered, with one being executed and the other condemned to live in shaytanism with the burden of his partner’s death. This then raises the debate of whether or not angelic relationships are based on emotional or sexual drive. Though some theorists believe it is driven by lust and consists mainly of sexual intercourse, others believe these relationships evolve from a need to feel.

Theorist Yamatani Noriko is a strong advocate for emotional relationships between angels. “Angels are always seeking to fill an emotional hole,” Yamatani argues. “The majority of the population often tries to fill it through violence and sex, but like humans, they still feel that emptiness. Studies have also shown that males of most species are more emotionally vulnerable than females and thus showing more genuine love. In the case of angels, one must factor out the hormones to an extent due to the lack of estrogen-testosterone chemistry. If anything, I believe that a relationship between two angels involves more genuine love and emotion than the average human couple.”

Fallen
Chapter 8
Shaytan
By Illusion

He was searching for Lafayel when a pair of guardians approached him with the Council’s summoning. Knowing better than to defy the Council, he had followed them to the Old Colony. Here, the columns were gilded with metals of unknown origins and carved with ancient designs. Gabriel gazed in near awe at the ornate patterns and decorative nuances that so contrasted the modern unblemished angelic architecture.

They approached a stone structure that resembled several human buildings with its grandeur. It was a hall flanked by columns and enclosed in a high arched ceiling decorated with elaborate tessellations. The floor was composed of a single expanse of smooth polished stone. At the end of a hall was a crescent shaped ramp with five thrones placed equally apart. The center throne was the largest and most elaborate, with stone flames extending outward and a pair of armrests lining the seat.

Iblis stood to the side of the room and Gabriel’s escorts bowed their heads slightly before taking their leave from the unfamiliar surroundings. Gabriel remained in his place, unsure to approach the commander until Iblis turned his head and nodded once.

As he landed next to him, Iblis bent on one knee and said softly, “Follow my lead.” He placed a hand on the floor and as he lifted it, the stone followed. “This is our mother’s bone,” he explained as he began to mold the rock.

“Our mother?”

“The home planet. The Old Colony is composed mostly of materials from our world.” His hands shaped the stone tenderly, almost caressing it. It was hard yet flexible and moved easily.

“How?” Gabriel repeated his superior’s actions emptily, then while he injected energy. The older angel stilled his hand.

“Do not force it,” he said. “You do not tell the bone to move, you ask it. Persuade it. Remember, it is the Mother’s bone. You can not force it.”

Gabriel stared at him.

Iblis sighed and released his hand. “Do not bother. It is not something that is easily done by angels today.” He returned to his unfinished sculpture.

Gabriel felt himself turn cold and suddenly he wanted to kill this angel that dare jab at his pride. Realizing his thoughts, he willed himself to calm. “I can.” Iblis glanced at him. “I can force it.”

“It is impossible to force anything.” His hands were fluid and coaxing and the stone smoothed into a cylinder. “What you believe is “force” is just amateurish persuasion. When you force something, it is simply of a weaker will or it chooses to cease its resistance.” The stone hardened as soon as his hands stopped.

“The interrogation may last long,” he said, turning towards Gabriel. “Would you prefer to stand?”

“No,” he said quietly.

Iblis nodded and created another simple seat for his subordinate.

Gabriel watched, enchanted by his commander’s hands as they guided the hard rock as if it possessed the properties of solid and liquid simultaneously. As Iblis’s hands lifted away the stone hardened and he sensed another presence.

Missionary bowed and commander nodded as the advisor entered the hall. He nodded his head at Iblis and glanced briefly at Gabriel before settling in one of the thrones. One by one the members of the Council entered, each acknowledging the other angels before sitting. As the last advisor took his seat, Azrael turned his attention to Iblis and Gabriel.

“Thou, Iblis, hath been summoned to the Council for inefficient government within the fleet granted to thee, inadequate control over the assigned solar system’s inhabitants, and corruption of subordinates.”

“They are the charges,” Iblis answered.

“What say you in defense?” one of the advisors asked.

“I do not have complete control over humans’ minds. In the past millennia I have overseen the shipment of resources from my assigned post to Heaven, the planet’s ruling species hath made bounds in scientific and technological advancement. The religions we instilled in them have evolved to offer fewer offerings and sacrifices and many have been dubbed heathen. There are more skeptics among the dominant species now and the race as a whole is not as easily manipulated as previous generations.”

“Are there not some who still posses this religious zeal of the past?”

“There will always be believers,” Iblis replied. “It seems there are more of a fewer intensity during times of peace and fewer believers possessing a passion bordering on obsession during times of hardship.”

“Thou hast inflamed wars for our purpose?” An advisor peered at Iblis with piercing gold eyes.

Iblis didn’t answer for a moment before admitting, “Yes. I have inflamed battles, massacres, and wars in the name of Heaven and its god.”

“The tactic is successful?”

“The fleet acquired enough offerings to feed the entire colony for two months from the Trojan War alone.”

“There hath been less human wars as of late,” sand another advisor. “There hath also been less resources. More and more angels have found themselves consuming mere meliad fruit than imported foods and some lower angels have been seen picking at the flesh of the deceased.”

“I do not find it necessary to begin a war among our chief resources with uncertain outcomes,” Iblis replied coolly. “Given the circumstances–”

“You would rather watch your own species face extinction than sacrifice another planet’s inhabitants?” the advisor accused.

“Only the strong survive,” Azrael warned, staring at the commander. “Watch thy tongue.”

Iblis bowed his head.

The interrogation continued addressing the charges sometimes individually, sometimes intertwined together. A member of the Council asked a question, Iblis answered, and then they debated. Gabriel remained silent throughout the process, his back straight and his wings folded harmlessly. His hands rested on his lap as he listened and watched the exchanges between his commander and the Council. Three fourths of a sun had passed when the council turned its attention to the missionary.

“And this is the subordinate that gave another angel’s name in place of mine,” Azrael said.

“The problem was confronted and dealt with,” Iblis answered. “Gabriel hath received due punishment and paid the colony back with his service.”

“This would fall under the ‘Corruption of Subordinates’ charge,” one Council member noted.

Azrael stared at Iblis and Gabriel felt that the god did not believe Iblis’s words. He had the sudden urge to feel his neck for the false bruises his commander had formed centuries ago but he kept his hands in his lap.

“That may be,” the god finally said, “but this very same angel is the one that allowed a new faction of human psychics to gather.”

All eyes focused on Gabriel as he tried to recall ever doing so.

“This faction is concentrated in an area the humans call Christendom,” an advisor prompted. “They go under the name ‘Wiz-dom’.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened in realization. “That man,” he said, remembering the orders he had issued to the human psychic and the story he improvised to support the orders. “I did not believe that man was capable of gathering all the psychics in all of Christendom.”

“When they are gathered together they are capable of slaying a missionary.”

The reality of his miscalculation began to sink in.

“Fortunately, they still believe angels to be their deities,” Iblis said. “As long as missionaries do not attack this faction of psychics and even aids them, they will remain loyal to the angelic race and may even prove useful.”

The Council murmured and Azrael waited until each of his advisors turned and gave him a curt nod. “Very well,” he said, returning his attention to Gabriel. “The Council chooses to pardon the missionary Gabriel as long as the human faction remains loyal to the angelic race. However, if ever the faction shall slay an angel, the missionary Gabriel is to face exile and disgrace as a shaytan. This is the Council’s decision.” He then turned to Iblis.

“The Council chooses to strip the angel Iblis of his position as commander of the fleet overseeing the blue planet and banish him from Heaven and all its territories as a shaytan. If sighted in Heaven or any of its territories, all angels are ordered to eliminate the shaytan. He has one sun to leave Heaven’s territories. Any angel caught aiding him is also to be banished with the same regulations applying to him as well. This is the Council’s decision.”

The Council members all rose and launched into the air, each heading to his own destination. Only Iblis and Gabriel remained sitting on their crude seats. Stiffly, Gabriel approached the older angel.

“I expected this,” Iblis said quietly, a defeated smile making its way to his face. “It was too soon to change.”

“Iblis, I–”

“You should check when your ship returns to the fleet.”

Gabriel looked down at the angel who had served as his commander, mentor, and defender. “Yes, sir,” he whispered. He launched himself into the air and out of the building, out of the ornate Old Colony, and into the small, Spartan barracks where only a pile of dead feathers awaited him.






“His aura is similar to yours.”

Iblis turned his head and smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“Does he know?”

“He may suspect it,” he said, rising as the other angel approached. “I do not want to burden the cherub any more than I have to. He has another cherub he must protect. It is hard enough for him to know his commander is a shaytan.” He gazed in the direction Gabriel had flown. “My brother kept his promise.”

“Calandra died when he was only a few months old.”

“He taught Gabriel how to care for others.” Iblis placed a hand on the other angel’s arm. “That is all that matters.”

Silver eyes gazed regretfully into Iblis’s.

“We have one more sun.”

Then lips descended on lips in gentle desperation. No words were exchanged, only needy caresses and breathless sighs. Heat, passion, and tenderness engulfed the lovers for the last time and when one awoke, the other was gone.

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Allusions and Explanations:
Old Colony: It’s like the “Old City” in Quebec.

Christendom: Europe was called this during the Middle Ages.

Posted: 2 July 2007
Next Post: 23 July 2007