Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Good houses go to Heaven.

St Peter was at his post at the pearly gates, book in hand and waiting for the next person to arrive. He didn’t have long to wait as there was a flash of light, bigger than it normally would be, but Peter just shrugged it off and launched into his typical welcoming speech. “Welcome to Heaven, may I please-?” his question trailing off as he blinked and saw what was right in front of him. Instead of a person, St Peter saw a large colourful house. “-have your name?” he managed to finish his sentence with a surprised squeak.

He blinked and then rubbed his eyes for good measure.

Nope the house was still there.

Then the front door opened on its own, making what looked like a waving gesture, at least that what Peter interpreted it as. Peter gave the house an awkward wave back. “What the fuck?” he muttered to himself as he picked up the phone mounted on his stand. He dialed the Head Seraphim’s number, hoping he wasn’t going to interrupt her doing anything important. However he really had no idea what to do with a house of all things at the front door.

- - - -

Sera who was currently taking a break, was enjoying a nice cup of tea and a book when her phone on her desk started to ring. Scowling slightly as she put down her book, she grabbed ahold of the receiver and answered the call. There better be a good reason, she thought to herself, annoyed by someone interrupting her break. “Hello this is Sera speaking, may I please know why you have called me?”

St Peter’s voice, oddly shaky, came through the receiver. “S-sorry to bother you Head Seraphim, but there’s a bit of a strange situation at the pearly gates.” Sera immediately straightened in her seat, concern etched into her frown. Anything strange happening right at the Pearly gates was cause for concern.

“What kind of situation St Peter?” Sera asked, getting to her feet, ready to leave her office with as much haste as she could muster.

There was a pause, and a small bit of hesitation before St Peter answered her question. “Uh well, there’s a house in front of me, and I have no idea what to do about it.” Sera blinked, taken completely off guard by what St Peter had just told her. There was a what?

“I’m sorry there's a what?!?”

. . . .

Sera, with a curious Emily joining her (Sera would have stopped her, but she knew Emily would likely just sneak off to see what was happening), flew to the Pearly gates, and saw that what St Peter had said was true.

A house had somehow found its way into Heaven, and from the fact it was moving on its own, it was alive somehow.

Sure why not?

Sera’s seen weirder.

Sera and Emily flew down to greet the house and St Peter. “Welcome to Heaven. I am Sera, high seraphim and current leader of Heaven,” Sera greeted the house, only to realise that she couldn’t actually understand it.

Emily, always happy to meet new people, gave her own greeting as well. “Hi I’m Emily, but you can call me E, Emi, Milly any of them would do.” she said greeting the house with her usual levels of enthusiasm.

The house rattled its windows in response, Emily tilting her head to the side as it did so, almost like she could understand what it was saying.

“It’s nice to meet you Casita!” Emily apparently could understand the house. Okay.

Well at least they knew the house was called Casita now.

“There’s someone inside you?” A rattle of tiles shake in confirmation. “Okay,” Emily said with a nod, “we’ll check on Mirabel for you.” The front door opened and before Sera could caution Emily to not run into strange places, she ran right on in.

Sera sighed and moved to follow her.

- - - -

Emily didn’t have to go very far to see the girl Casita had told her about. She was sleeping on the floor of the courtyard. She had black curly hair and freckles on her face. She was wearing a white blouse with colourful butterfly stitching, as well as a teal skirt that went to her ankles. Emily didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, focusing all her attention on the young woman on the floor.

She sat down near Mirabel, and figuring that the stone floor wasn’t the most comfortable thing to be resting your head on, moved Mirabel to rest her head on Emily’s lap.
Emily just had to wait until Mirabel woke up, and from the way she was stirring, Emily didn’t have long to wait.

Mirabel eyes somewhat bleary, woke up and was greeted by Emily’s smiling face. “Hi there.” Emily greeted, enthusiastic but quieter than usual. “I’m Emily it’s nice to meet you.”

“Uh I’m Mirabel.” The glasses wearing girl said, sounding completely lost and uncertain, which made sense to Emily. She had just died after all. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Heaven.” Emily told her, making sure her tone was gentle and soothing as possible. Not wanting to give the cute girl in front of her a shock.

“I’m in what?”

Chapter Text

From me in the future to me in the past

Vaggie Carmine-Morningstar went to bed with the two women she loved with all her heart, and found herself in a place she didn’t really expect to see in her dreams. It was the nursery she stayed in, back when she was Mirabel and back when she was alive.

After the cluster-fuck that was the trial in Heaven, she had began to get more and more flashes of Mirabel’s memories, remembering her past piece by piece and eventually remembering who she used to be. It got to the point that she really couldn’t deny it any more, the fact she used to be Mirabel Madrigal. That and Sera had confirmed it when she had asked the Head Seraphim after the attack on the hotel. Sera had also handed Vaggie a journal that the fallen angel had entrusted to her before her memories were erased.

Despite the fact Julieta was right about that, Vaggie’s relationship with the adults of the Madrigals was still a fraught thing, the lingering hurt making it difficult to hang around them and spend time with them. Her relationship with her cousins and her sisters, in complete contrast, was a pretty good one all things considered.

But enough about that, the room was cast in shadows, and looking out the window showed that it was night. Vaggie couldn’t hear much aside from the sound of stifled sobs coming from the bed in the corner, these sobs were the ones people made when they tried to be quiet and not draw attention to themself. “Hello?” Vaggie quietly asked making the sobs stop, as the one underneath the covers held their breath. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

There was a rustling of someone coming out from underneath the covers, and out popped Mirabel Madrigal. Well that confirmed to Vaggie it’s just a dream. “¿L-lo prometes?” Mirabel asked, her voice shaking and hesitant with sorrow. Her vibrant green eyes wet with unshed tears. Looking at Mirabel lets Vaggie see how the young girl’s features match up with Vaggie’s. The way her eyebrows sloped, the shape of her eyes and other miscellaneous features. All of them matched what Vaggie could see on her own face whenever she looked in the mirror.

“Lo prometo.” Vaggie said making sure her voice was gentle and even, doing her best to reassure the kid. Thankfully that seemed to do the trick, as Mirabel seemed to calm down ever so slightly.

“Are you an angel?” Mirabel asked, making Vaggie turned to see, that yes, she had her wings out. She quickly dismissed them, and they faded away with a small flash of light.

Vaggie chuckled slightly. “Something like that.” she answered the younger girl. “What’s got you all upset?” she asked sitting down on a nearby chair.

“Today was my gift ceremony,” Mirabel glanced down, Vaggie realising what was happening, “I-I-I didn’t get a gift.” Vaggie had heard the story before. On a Madrigal’s fifth birthday they would get a magical gift from the candle. All of them bar Mirabel of course. “D-did I do something wrong?” Vaggie’s heart broke at hearing a little girl say something like that, like she actually did something wrong. Vaggie just wanted to wrap the girl in a hug like she knew that Charlie would. There also was the unspoken question that Vaggie could hear in Mirabel’s words. The question of if she was worthy of love, a question that Vaggie had struggled with and still somewhat struggled with, her doubts still whispering in the back of her mind.

“Fu-.” Wait Vaggie probably shouldn’t swear around a kid. “Heck no kid, I doubt you did anything wrong. Besides you don’t have to prove yourself to be loved, I promise.” Mirabel gave a slight start at that, but Vaggie continued, telling her the words Vaggie wished she could have heard when she was younger. “You are worthy of love, and one day you’ll find people that love you for you.” She would meet Sera, Emily, Charlie, Lucifer, Carmilla, Rosie, all those people and more. “I know that for a fact.”

“You promise?” There was a glimmer of fragile hope in Mirabel’s eyes. Vaggie wanted to protect that hope.

“I promise.” Mirabel began to yawn, exhaustion clearly catching up with her. “I think someone’s tired.”

“I’m- ha- not tired.” Mirabel tiredly said. Vaggie chuckled good naturedly, watching Mirabel slowly drift off.

“Good night Mirabel.” Vaggie said, walking up and tucking Mirabel into bed. “Sweet dreams.”

- - - -

Vaggie woke up with a smile on her face, something Charlie noticed immediately, due to the fact she, propped up on her elbow, was watching both of her girlfriends sleep peacefully, Emily was still dead to the world, snoring adorably. “Good dream?” Charlie asked the fallen angel.

Vaggie let out a small and content chuff before answering.

“Yeah it was a good one.”

- - - -

Mirabel, once she woke up, wrote off her encounter with the angel as a dream. But even still she took the one eyed angel’s words to heart, and no matter how bad things got, she would clutch that hope close to her heart, so close it would burn.

Even when she forgot Mirabel Madrigal, a small ember of hope would remain. Allowing her to preserve even when the odds were against her.

Chapter Text

Late nights and sleepless mornings.

Sera couldn’t help the fear that was surging throughout her body as she bore witness to the roots of sin trying to take root and bloom, she was flying high above them and she didn’t feel the slightest bit safe. The roots looked wrong, they had no shadows, looking at them hurt even Sera’s eyes, they bent and twisted in a manner that would tear apart most roots, the eyes dotted haphazardly looking wildly in all directions. They felt wrong- like an aberrant existence, they felt like someone had concentrated all the evil and sin in the world into a vile flower one that emerged from a hole in the world, that Hell had unleashed upon the world. Many brave souls fought to hold back the encroaching tide. The lucky ones were the ones who were killed instantly turning to ash and dust. The unlucky ones were consumed alive, and still screaming in agony.

Blood was falling from the sky like a twisted mockery of rain, staining the world with a sanguine hue. Sera could feel the blood pool in to every nook and cranny. The sun did not shine and the moon was fragmenting and the air was screaming like the damned. Conquest had been unleashed. A mother’s mercy was being given to those who did not want it. Part of the world had an edge that should not exist. The laws of the world were being broken. The world was in danger.

The roots of █ █ █ seek only to subsume, once they take █ █ █ █ they shall bloom a vile flower of █ █ █. One’s perceptions of the world shall █ █ █ █ █ and blur together. One who walks this █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ path shall not █ █ █ █ █ in their current form. One must define their own path to █ █ █ █ in this twisted world. Fail and you will be consumed by the █ █ █ █ █.

She dodged the fireball heading right at her, reminding her she was fighting in a war, and that she should really focus on that. She shot a glare at who attempted to attack her, and was greeted by the sin of Gluttony himself Beelzebub. He was an enormous purple fly, with red compound eyes and four clawed arms. “Ah Sera,” the demon lord buzzed, his voice like a chorus of flies speaking in unison, “little lapdog of the tyrant of law, what brings you to this little garden of freedom?”

Sera scowled, her wings beating furiously while she tightly gripped her spear. “What do you think?” she angrily spat at the demonic fly. “We’re here to stop you.”
Beelzebub just laughed, taking Sera off guard momentarily. “What’s so funny?” she furiously demanded an answer.

“Oh how little you know. This is the start of a war against the dispensation of the universe itself.” Beelzebub didn’t have the mouth to smile, but Sera could tell he was smiling mockingly at her anyway. “You won’t be able to stop us.”

“You dare rebel against God’s order!”

Beelzebub sighed, like he was disappointed in Sera, and Sera had no idea why. “I see you’re just another zealot. I will leave you with just one question, providing you survive, that is. Do you know why your precious God was so eager to fight this war?” Beelzebub didn’t give Sera time to think or answer, lunging right at her to kill her.

- - - -

Sera woke up her bed with a gasp, her breaths short and sharp, her eyes searching for any signs of danger. She gazed round her room, seeing that it wasn’t a war torn battlefield, found it was just another nightmare. Or rather a memory from back during the war she had to remind herself, she was alive, she was safe and she was fine. Most nights she could sleep without interruption but sometimes the memories came to the forefront, like it did this night.

She glanced at the alarm clock she kept on her bedside table, and noted with a great deal of annoyance that it was two in the morning in Heaven. She pondered on what to do, she could go back to sleep but she was most likely going to have another nightmare, she could just lay here awake but her thoughts would keep dredging up painful memories. So eventually she decided to get up and make herself a cup of tea in order for her to relax, it also gave her the opportunity to reassure herself that Emily was fine, that she was alive and that she was safe.

Her abode at night was a quiet place, cloaked in a gentle and peaceful darkness. Sera first made her way to Emily’s room, seeing that Emily’s door was wide open allowing Meowy to come and go as she pleased.

Sera poked her head through and using the light of the moon to see, was very relieved to see that Emily and Meowy (who was using Emily’s stomach as a pillow) were sleeping peacefully, gentle snores coming from the resting angel. Meowy cracked her eye open, and upon realising it was just Sera closed them again.

Sera made her way downstairs to the kitchen, flicking on the lights as she entered it. She made a beeline to where she kept the kettle and the teabags, getting them set up.

As she waited for the kettle to boil, Sera leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling an exhaustion that laid deep in her bones that ached constantly. She could hear the pitter patter of tiny cat feet race towards her, meaning Meowy thought Sera was going to feed her at two in the morning. Sera glanced towards the kitchen entrance seeing Meowy sit near her food bowl waiting patiently for food. “It’s not breakfast for you yet Meowy.” she chided the cat, knowing that cat didn’t care. “Emily will be up in a few hours and she’ll feed you then.” A begging meow was Sera’s response. “No means no Meowy.” Meowy looked at her pitifully, but Sera’s will was iron clad.

Sera sighed and walked over to where Meowy was sitting and picked her up in her arms. She cradled the now purring cat in her arms. “Would hugs be suffice?” She took Meowy’s purring as a yes.

Sera felt herself relax slightly as she felt the cat’s rumbling purrs with her arms. Soon enough she could hear footsteps coming down the stairs meaning Emily was awake, and knowing Meowy it was probably because she used the seraph as a launchpad.

Emily didn’t look fully awake yet, her hair was sticking every which way and her eyes where still half lidded. “Sera why are you up?” Emily asked with a small yawn.

“Just bad memories nothing more.” Sera replied softly, still cradling Meowy in her arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emily asked, her kindness shining through even when she was still half asleep.

Sera shook her head, not wanting to go back to those memories in the slightest. “It’s a kind offer, but I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Emily looked like she wanted to ask more but whatever expression she saw on Sera’s face dissuaded her. “Okay then.” Emily wrapped Sera in a gentle andloving hug. “But remember I’ll always be there for you, just like you promised to be there for me.” Sera couldn’t help the small smile on her face thinking about that day. Everything was so new and scary to a younger Emily, and Sera promised her that they would always be there for each other.

“Thank you Emily.” Sera said. The kettle let off steam, telling her that it was done boiling the water. “Would you like some tea?”

Emily nodded her head, so Sera handed Meowy over and got to work. Once both angels had gotten their tea, they sat on the back porch, silently enjoying each other’s company watching the sun begin to rise. They were fine, they were safe and they were alive.

Chapter Text

To gaze at the distant sky

Rosie woke up in her wife’s bed to find that she was alone. Blinking her eyes, she felt around that indent Carmilla had left in the bed, and found that it had long gone cold. It looks like Carmilla was having trouble sleeping again.

Frowning slightly in annoyance mixed with concern, Rosie got out of bed, already missing its alluring warmth and comfort, but making sure her wife was okay was a higher priority. Rosie had insisted that if Carmilla had trouble sleeping, that she was to wake Rosie up so the cannibal could help her get back to sleep. However Carmilla, often the chivalrous one, often refused to do so, leaving Rosie to eventually wake up and go looking for her, in order for the cannibal overlord to drag her wife back to bed. Thankfully Rosie knew where to look, as when Carmilla had trouble sleeping she often went to the same place.

She made her way to the balcony that was attached to their shared bedroom and lo and behold, there she was, leaning on the railing while gazing up at Heaven with her bright red eyes. Carmilla made quite the sight on this moon lit night. Her long white hair, usually done up, was falling down to her calves. Rosie loved running her hands through Carmilla’s hair, enjoying how it felt through her fingers. Her night gown a simple black affair, hand stitched by Rosie as a gift made her look absolutely delectable. But that was beside the point.

Carmilla looked back and like Rosie expected, her face was a conflicted and completive one. “Hello Rosie.” Carmilla said, her voice somewhat rough. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Psssah,” Rosie said with a wave before reaching up and gathering up Carmilla in her arms, “I know for a fact that I asked you to wake me up if you had trouble sleeping. Remember?”

“I know.” Carmilla replied, leaning into the hug. “But I feel like I’m bothering you if I do so.” The ‘I hate bothering and burdening the people I care for with my problems’ went unsaid, but Rosie heard it loud and clear all the same, knowing her wife well enough from their years of marriage. It was something they were working on together.

“Carmilla,” Rosie began, “I love you, every part of you, and I don’t mind you bothering me, in fact bother me whenever you need me.” She meant that completely.

“I love you too. I know but it’s hard...” Carmilla trailed off.

“Because you were taught to rely only on yourself.” Rosie finished, having had this conversation with her wife before. “I know it’s hard but I believe in you.”

Carmilla’s lips twitched up in a slight smile. “Thank mi amore. I’ll try.”

“Any time Cammy any time and besides all I ask is that you try.” Rosie replied, happy to see Carmilla smile. “Same nightmares as usual?” she asked, knowing that Carmilla’s past was a heavy thing and one that weighed on her. What she had done had repercussions that could still be felt to this very day.

Carmilla gave a small but exhausted sigh before answering. “Yes.” she replied softly, turning her head to look back up at Heaven. She didn’t need to say anything more, Rosie had long grown familiar with Carmilla’s demons. Rosie just tightened her grip, knowing Carmilla found it grounding. The silence was a familiar and companionable one.

Eventually Rosie spoke up again. “Let’s head back to bed shall we? It’s late and we need the rest.”

“We do.” Carmilla said in agreement. So with Rosie leading her by the hand Carmilla went back to bed. Rosie got herself settled in while Carmilla did the same.

As they got themselves comfortable Carmilla asked. “Could you hold me?” her voice was shaky as she asked Rosie that.

“I sure can.” was Rosie’s gentle and loving response. Rosie shifted over and began to hug Carmilla from behind, feeling the other overlord relax in her embrace. “Good night Cammy.” she whispered lovingly to her wife.

“Good night mi amore.”

Chapter Text

The day god was struck down

God was in his Heaven but not everything was right with the world. Heaven was at war with Hell itself. His angels were fighting to make sure Hell would not impede the creation of the true paradise. Where everything would have its proper place as declared by Him. The world would be at peace and His praises would be sung for eternity.

He was sitting on his throne, thinking through his next moves. In the beginning He was omnipotent, able to see all that is and all that will be, until on one auspicious day, Lucifer tempted Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge, after that his power waned, he was able to see less than He was used to. He was still strong yes, but diminished in a way He despised greatly. It was all the fault of those who went against His grand design, Lucifer, Lilith, Eve. He punished the first two by casting them down into Hell. The third was consumed by something He did not devise or create but existed nevertheless, the roots/origin/end/bones that laid below the dark.

After Eve ate the fruit/receptacle of knowledge/burden/sin she became much greater/lesser than a human/monster/god. What remained/bloomed of her was a shell/terminal/fragment/void of her former/current/future self.

The throne room of Heaven, a grand place fitting for His majesty and grace, was usually occupied solely by Himself until he heard the door opening and the sound of soft footsteps echoing off the marble floor. He looked up from His thoughts and saw a cloaked figure walk towards him, a glowing sword on their back. The cloak hid their features well, and when He tried to peer into their being and see who was approaching him, He found her couldn’t do it, He saw nothing. It was like seeing a hole/hollow/pit in the world, a void/emptiness where there shouldn’t be one.

[WHO ARE YOU?] He asked, His voice demanding an answer. [YOU DARE APPROACH ME?]

“.....” the figure said nothing at first, His anger grew at His question not being answered. They drew their sword, the steel glowing in the light of the sun. They spoke, their voice disguised by some unknown means. “Why did you start this pointless war?” He could swear He could glimpse grey eyes that almost silver, with shimmering tears falling, deep in the shadows of the hood, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. “Why are you throwing us all into the meat grinder, nothing could be worth all this suffering and death.”

[TRUE PARADISE IS WORTH THE SACRIFICE, YOU ARE GIVING YOUR LIVES FOR THE SAKE OF THE PERFECT FUTURE, EVERYTHING WILL BE IN ITS PROPER PLACE THERE WILL BE NO SIN NO SUFFERING NO HELL NO NEGATIVE EMOTIONS, THERE WILL BE ONLY JOY AND PLENTY I WILL BE IN MY HEAVEN AND ALL WILL BE RIGHT WITH THE WORLD]

“This is not a future I can accept or condone, your paradise is a meaningless one without emotions that you seek to sever. It would be one soaked in the blood of the innocent and damned alike. Is that truly your idea of paradise?”

[YES, YOUR REFUSAL MEANS NOTHING]

“I see, then there’s is no more to discuss.” The sword was pointed at Him, He tried to stop them, but anything he tried did nothing. It was like trying to destroy nothingness. Like trying to destroy what had become of Eve/the second/the root. His eyes widened in realisation, as He figured out how this figure was doing this. They had been shielded by that damnable root or one of its many terminals.

The figure sprinted towards Him, sword ready to strike.

It struck true, piercing the heart of God. He could feel His very being corrode, He was being undone.

As God was struck down, the hood was blown back revealing someone who He never expected to see do such a thing.

[WHY? YOU WERE ONE OF MOST FAITHFUL ANGELS, WHY DID YOU DO THIS? WHAT DID THE ROOT OFFER YOU?]

“Simple I want this war to end and killing you would help accelerate that,” the traitor shook her head. “They offered me one thing only. A means to finally strike you down, which I must pay the price for soon enough, but if it means saving those I care for, then it’s one I would pay again and again.” Cracks began to form on the sword that was consuming God, blinding light spilling forth.

The sword shattered, and in turn God shattered too.

He no longer lived. His presence was gone, and all His angels would soon be aware of His death.

God had been struck down. Leaving only an empty throne and shattered steel fragments. When this was discovered, it would be found that it was a prototype weapon made of a substance that would be called angelic steel. It was one that was reported missing only a day ago, and no one knew who stole it. As everyone who knew about the research project would have alibis.

The angel put her hood back up, knowing what would happened if someone like her saw leaving the throne room, especially after what she had just done.

Besides there was a price she needed to pay.

Chapter Text

File number 61 R.O.S

Roots of Sin

Status as of xx/xx/xxxx: Slowly waking.

Threat level: Apocalyptic.

The roots of sin are a curious existence- they are much older than should be possible, it typically takes the form of red wooden roots that have eyes of all shapes and sizes dotting its surface- all of them looking every which way, but has on occasion been seen to flower, each flower is one of seven different colours. What reason it flowers is unknown. The roots themself seem to act instinctually at times, chasing whatever catches their eye, like someone chasing a distant dream. It has been sleeping for many many years, the last time it was close to awakening it was during the last Heaven/Hell war.

List of know flower colours:

Blue

Purple

Red

Yellow

Silver

Green

Orange

What these colours represent is uncertain, but one theory posits that each colour is one of the seven deadly sins.

The full extent of the size the root system is unknown, but estimates place it as large as Hell itself, and it’s slowly growing as well. How large it currently is or will get is unknown.

Location: the root system is mostly found beneath Hell itself, growing alongside it at the same slow rate. But it is highly likely that it goes deeper than that, we’ve only managed to do surface level scans, and what we’ve found shows something truly enormous.

Peculiarities: the root system isn’t just a mindless entity that grows and grows. It’s intelligent, and has its own plans. It can interact with people using terminals, individuals that have been absorbed by the root system. It is not known whether or not any part of the absorbed individual’s personality or souls survives the process but the terminals do have access to the original’s memories. Many terminals seem to be people we have no record on, and searching for any information has turned up nothing. However some terminals seem to be copies of people who still exist in their original form, an example of this is the terminal that is an exact copy of exorcist lieutenant Lute. How this occurred is uncertain as the Lute currently residing in Heaven is the original one that was recruited by Adam to join the exorcists. Another point of interest is that while each terminal is part of a greater whole, they have degrees of individuality and differing priorities meaning they can easily end up conflicting with each other due to pursuing different goals. Thankfully for the most part the terminals are content to stay in the root system beneath Hell, however there have been reports of known terminals been seen elsewhere such as [DATA CORRUPTED]

Known terminals of note: Eve, Lute, [DATA CORRUPTED]

Known abilities: absorption of living entities, high speed regeneration, hemokinesis, Oneiropathy, deal making, [DATA CORRUPTED]

Chapter Text

A price that needs to be paid

The hooded angel made her way beneath the clouds of Heaven, having snuck out to do so. She knew that she needed to pay the price for Eve’s help in killing God, she did not know the price would be, but she knew it was one she had to pay. So she descended into the depths of the earth traveling past ancient root systems and remains of the long forgotten, trying not to remember her first meeting with Eve, after the angel was swatted from the sky crashing into a garden of mockery, the woman began to appear in her dreams. The confusion, the fear, the horror she felt, as something unfathomably ancient gazed upon her, and found her interesting. She could still feel the pressure on her soul the attention placed on her, like her very self was being dissected to the smallest piece, and all her secrets and all she was and would ever would be laid out right in front of that being.

It terrified her, especially since she saw what was happening with the various abominations that Hell had unleashed upon the world, the white rider, the merciful mother, Mother Harlot, the void’s edge and the roots of sin. The world was well on its way to ending.

She hated this war and what it was doing to the world, she noted with a bitter sort of amusement at the irony, Camael the angel of war and strength, hating one of her domains. She hated this war for taking many of her friends and loved ones away from her, all for the sake of God’s twisted idea of paradise. She hated war fought for unjust reasons. She apologized to Sera in the privacy of her mind for what she did and what she left Sera to deal with.

As she got deeper and deeper, the air growing cooler and cooler to the point her every breath began to burn, she did her best to ignore the petrified figures dotting the floor and walls. Some were familiar to her like the ones the looked just like Sera, some she didn’t know and some she didn’t know but still felt familiar to her, like the one eyed angel with long hair and a cannibal with a bob cut. All of their faces were doing the same thing.

Screaming silently, their expressions all locked in the same expressions, from what Camael didn’t know but whatever was causing clearly wasn’t pleasant. She tried her best to ignore it, but still it got to her. She quickened her steps, wanting to get this over as quickly as she could, she wanted this over and done with. This place held a strange familiarity to it, like she had walked these steps before, taking this exact same route.

So she ignored the remnants of another life and walked over the latest body that joined the rest of them. The face was one she did not want to acknowledge.

After all who would want to see their own face screaming like that?

-

Finally she arrived at her destination, a small underground lake, and sitting on the shore, kicking her feet in the water much like a young child, was Eve herself, humming cheerfully all the while.

Eve stopped humming as she hear Cameal’s footsteps. She turned her head, a small affectionate smile on her face. “I’m guessing it’s done?” Cameal nodded her head. “Excellent! Good job Cameal.” The praise sent shivers throughout Cameal’s body.

“Why did you help me do this?” Cameal asked, unable to control her burning curiosity.

Eve laughed. “Simple darling! For freedom!” Cameal waited for Eve to elaborate.

She did not.

-

Finally she arrived at her destination, a small underground lake, and standing at attention was the strangely familiar woman, the one with only one eye and grey hair that went down to her knee. Cameal could feel her heart clench at the sight of the one eyed woman, feelings that didn’t belong to her bubbling to the surface. Maternal affection and concern being chief among them.

“You’re not Eve.” Cameal said, not quite sure what to say, going with her first impulse.

The one eyed woman gave her a dry laugh. “No I’m not besides she’s busy elsewhere, well sort of- we’re part of a larger whole and for once we all agreed on something, that God had to go, but that’s beside the point, you get the job done?”

“I did.”

“Good good.”

“Why did you help me do this?”

“Simple Mami, for a new beginning.” Cameal tried to ignore the title this woman called her. Cameal waited for her to expand on that.

She did not elaborate.

-

Finally she arrived at her destination, a small underground lake, and laying on a large rock was Sera, her wings dropping listlessly on the ground, dirtying the usually pristine feathers. Cameal wanted to race over and help her friend stand up, not wanting to see such a dear friend on the ground like this.

However she knew better.

That wasn’t Sera.

She was an extension of the root, taking a form that unsettled Cameal greatly.

“The job is done I take it?” the false Sera said, Cameal nodded her head, confirming that God was dead.

The false Sera’ smile was too sharp and went a touch too high, looking very uncanny to the archangel.

“It is, why did you help me kill God?”

“Simple my dear Cameal, for the end of the unjust system binding us all.”

She did not elaborate.

- - - -

“Besides you’re not going to remember this, my price for helping you is this, you won’t remember anything about what we talked about or what you did. After all you have a part to plan in what’s to come, and if you remember anything it might jeopardise my plan, and we can’t have that now can we?”

Before Cameal could say say anything or even blink, she could feel a gentle tap on her head with a single finger, then the world began to twist and blur together and Cameal could feel the world begin to slip away. Her memories of the last few days fading away like a mirage.

“Sweet dreams, when you wake up this will be nothing but an unmemorable dream to you. However when the time comes, Hell will welcome you and become your new home.”

“But until then, enjoy the rest of your days in Heaven.”

“You’re on a time limit after all.”

Just before Cameal fell into a gentle slumber, she could hear the other woman quietly say this. “Then again aren’t we all?”

“I just hope-

“I succeed this time.”
-
“You succeed this time.”
-
“We succeed this time.”

Chapter Text

Do you know war?

🎶"Why are you avoiding war? That's what the guns you sell are for!"🎵 Velvette sang ignorant of the realities of war, attempting to rile up Carmilla after she had thrown the decapitated head of the exorcist Carmilla had killed. Safe to say she was doing a very good job at that, and the urge to throttle her, decorum be damned, was a hard one to resist. What she couldn't resist the urge to do, was put Velvette in her place. What sheer gall Velvette had, to ask such a question of the angel of war. She clearly knew nothing of the horrors, of the tragedies, of the grief and the sorrow war represented. She was foolish and Carmilla had to correct her misconception.

Before Velvette could continue Carmilla began to laugh, holding her face in her hand, her shoulders shaking, it was a low and mocking thing like a warning sign that needed to be heeded, stopping everyone else in their tracks, the room was a silent as a tomb. The temperature in the room began to rise the fire in Carmilla’s soul begging her to burn the rag doll for her actions, making Velvette start to feel very uncomfortable from that and the heated glare Carmilla was shooting her.

“You naive little girl you know nothing, if you did you wouldn't have asked me that.” Carmilla began, once she got control over her laughter, pointedly ignoring Velvette’s indignant squawk. “The battles in Hell are nothing more than squabbles, petty little tifs. Have you ever been part of a war before or have you just read about them in your textbooks at school?” she asked already knowing the answer was no. “One where the sky rains blood, one where the lucky ones are the ones who died, one where conquest itself rode out, one where many were driven mad by merely looking over the edge of the world?” Velvette looked more and more frightened as Carmilla continued to talk, dominating the room, and not letting anyone else get a word in edge wise. “One where the very continents themselves were reshaped by the battles? One where ones twisted idea of mercy was death?” The room seemed to hold its breath at the horrors Carmilla began to describe.

“Because I have you foolish little girl, I saw many of my friends die screaming, unable to save them from their fate. I have seen the world nearly end in fire and death. I have seen the roots of evil itself consume the land.” Carmilla could hear the screams even now, her mind dredging up those old and painfully scared memories. "Because I can promise you this if Heaven and Hell go to war again, no one will escape unscathed."

“You ask me why I avoid war Velvette? Why I don’t want to launch an attack on Heaven?”

“It’s simple. I have been a part of war before, and I see what it can cost the world. I never want anyone to experience such a horror like that ever again.”

“Do you understand?” Velvette didn’t respond, shaking in her seat. “I said do you understand?” Carmilla repeated, flames escaping from the corners of her mouth born from her fury.

Velvette fearfully nodded her head, sinking into her seat to the point it looked like it would consume her.

“Good. Now where were we?”

Chapter Text

File number 16 V.E

The Void’s Edge

Warning: Do not look over the edge. Do not look over the edge.

Status as of xx/xx/xxxx: Unknown. Vanished from its previous location in the exact centre of the Bermuda Triangle approximately seven years ago.

Threat level: End of all Life at minimum.

Prior containment procedures: Ensure that no one or enters explores the Bermuda triangle and have a constantly staffed monitoring station to make sure no one falls over the edge. Anyone who is within a kilometre of the edge is to be considered lost, and thus no attempts to retrieve them should be made. Otherwise the angels staffing the monitoring station should make all reasonable attempts to direct or trick people away from the Void’s Edge.

The Void’s Edge is simple in how one could describe it. It’s a part of the world that has an edge, like falling off a sheer cliff. Peering over it can easily lead to madness of those who look. One must have a will and mind of steel to survive with their mind intact. One who falls over the edge will not return, except in one instance. See report about the Merciful Mother for more details.

Originally thought to be a stationary object, it has since disappeared without a trace, frightening those at the stationed mongering station, who promptly raised the alarm, and ever since Heaven has been unable to find it despite searching for it for it everywhere we could look.

Warning: Do not look over the edge. Do not look over the edge.

Location: previously located in the Bermuda Triangle where it first manifested during the war up until seven years ago, when it disappeared one day in the blink of an eye, prompting orders to go out for all angels who leave Heaven to keep an eye peeled for it. Searches have so far turned up nothing

Peculiarities: Nothing exists over the edge, nothing can exist over the edge. Once one falls down they, for all intents and purposes, cease to exist. Anything you see down there does not exist, and is just the product of the mind’s habit of finding patterns when none truly exist. However the Merciful Mother was born from the nothingness and presumably exists. Debate has been had if it truly exists or not have been raging on for decades.

Warning: Do not look over the edge. Do not look over the edge.

Know victims of note:

Raphael, angel of healing- rendered non-existent.

Zadkiel, angel of mercy- rendered non-existent.

Sachiel. Angel of water- rendered insane after peering over the edge.

Belphegor, sin of sloth- unable to awaken for long after peering over the edge.

Vepar, Goetia of the waters- rendered non-existent.

Focalor, Goetia of the wind- rendered insane once peering over the edge.

How many were rendered non-existent has not been found out, as incomplete records from the fire that destroyed the hall of records makes it much harder to figure out the full scope of who has been lost to the war.

Warning: Do not look over the edge. Do not look over the edge.

No matter what you might think you hear or see over the edge, there is nothing there that truly exists, stay far away from and never look into the abyss.

For the abyss may just look back.

Chapter Text

God’s Hatred.

Metatron, the angel know as the speaker of God, was having a very long day. Heck one could easily say she’s had a very long few decades. This war between Heaven and Hell was just one nightmare after the other only broken up by moments of brief respite, each so horrible that one couldn’t grow numb to the constant pain and suffering. Metatron was so so tired, she wanted to rest, to not have to worry if the world was going to end or not, to just exist in a relatively peaceful world. Was that too much to ask? The battlefield below her was a place of only violence and bloodshed, it was not a place of joy, it was only a place where suffering would be born.

She was high in the air, weaving and dodging the forces of Hell’s attack where she felt her connection to God, snapped like a frayed piece of string. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

The pain made her wings lock up, causing to plummet to the earth, it was like an important part of her was ripped away from her in one cruel instant.

The wind buffeted to her as she fell, she knew that if she didn’t act now, she would crash into the unforgiving ground.

Come on, she urged her wings, trying to get them to move despite the pain, come on it can’t end like this.

Her wings twitched once, they twitched twice.

In what felt like a never ending eternity, Metatron’s wings began to flap. Not fast enough to stop her fall completely, but enough to slow things down enough to be survivable.

She crashed into the ground, rock and dirt being thrown from her impact with the earth. She groaned in pain, her face planted into the dirt like a rock tossed off of a cliff.

Suddenly the world grew dark something truly massive blotting out the sun like an eclispe, the battlefield grew quiet and all Metatron could feel was hate.

It was not her own hate, but it felt all encompassing and all consuming. Like the sinking of islands into the sea, consumed and it would never be the same again.

It was the hate of outsiders, it was the hate of ones enemies, it was the hate of devils, it was the hate of angels, it was the hate of humanity, it was the hate towards oneself, it was hate in its purest form.

It hated, because it could do nothing but hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.

[ak353gbklb_I_HATE_kdlkje7269oiu_I_SHALL_PURGE_sdkjobe153] Metatron could hear from the remnants of her connection to God, like distortion given voice, it tore away at her very being. The voice sounded incomplete, like a mere fragment of a greater whole. But still it grated at her, like nails on a chalkboard. It was like she was hearing a language she could only partially understand, much of the context lost, but from what she could understand this entity did not have friendly intentions.

She pushed herself up ignoring the pain shooting throughout her body, once she got to her feet, she looked up and gazed upon what felt like a fragment of God.

To her eyes it looked like a large floating white statue of a man, sitting on an ornate throne parts of it fading in and out of existence, one surrounded by six plinths- all of them empty. The man had steel pipes diving in and out of its stone like exterior, piping who knows what through the body. Despite the fact it looked like it was made of stone, Metatron could still see it move like it was made of flesh. Looking upon it made it feel like Metatron was looking upon an error in the fabric of existence, it shouldn’t exit, yet exist it does.

[BURN_gkjgh58ebo235ib_TO_ASHES_dnioe894ygbu8] All around the being, balls of light began to gather around the being. Then with a surge of light and heat, the fragment launched rays of burning light, incarcerating all those caught in the beam’s path, caring not that both Heaven and Hell’s forces were being killed. Many managed to dodge the first attack, but many more were killed by divine light.

[hjk3oyf8ou_RETURN_TO_ASHES_bc9ye5782] Metatron, despite all the pain she was in, managed to dodge being incinerated by a hair. She floated high in the air, ready to move in any direction.

[balkho5929y_START_ANEW_ankfoie1982j] Once the first barrage ended, the fragment began to charge up another attack.

It fired again, scorching the land, scorching the air and scorching the sea. The scars that would remain would take eons to truly heal.

“What do we do?” Metatron asked herself, barely dodging the next array of attacks.

“That’s a fucking good question.” a familiar voice piped up form next to her, making Metatron turn and see Beelzebub, the sin of Gluttony, who looked like he had seen better days. Two of his arms were missing, one arm was staunching a hefty cut to his side. One of his wings had been ripped of and the right half of his body had severe looking burns all over. “What the fuck is that thing anyway?” That was a very good question.

“Honestly I don’t know for sure, but to me it feels like a fragment of God, and I can hear it from my connection to God, even if I can't fully understand what it's saying.” Metatron explained, the pair of them keeping a close eye on their attacker, ready to dodge at any moment.

“Well good thing I have something that can seal away divinity then.” Beelzebub said, sounding a touch smug before getting his act together. At Metatron’s questioning look he explained. “Before Beelzebub did you know who I used to be? Oh shit!” he asked before promptly having to dodge a ray of light.

“No not really!” Metatron shouted back, trying to be heard over the roaring heat. “Gah!” she yelped as one of her lower wings was clipped by a ray of light, sending her into a brief tailspin, before she managed to right herself.

“Well I used to be Baal! The lord of the weather and the seasons! My divinity was taken away from me, leaving me in this form you see now! But-! Oh shit that was close! But I figured out how to do it to someone else, so I made something that would seal away God’s divinity, so it should work on this thing well enough.”

“Great cool!” she shouted as she dodged yet another barrage. "What do you need me to do?” she asked him, figuring he needed something to pull this off, because otherwise he would have so already.

“I need some of your power- around half should do the trick, that and I need you to distract it so I can set things up.” he said stretching out one of his remaining arms.

Oh she didn’t like that in the slightest, but she knew something needed to be done, and soon. So she took his hand and channelled half of her power towards him.

Once she let go, she flew as fast as she could, coming to a stop in front of the fragment. “Look at me I’m a target!” she shouted as loud as she could, sticking her tongue out and she felt it turn its attention towards her and with a gulp and a muttered prayer, she flew like she never flew before, dodging and weaving through the air, trying to keep death at bay for just a moment longer. Her flying could easily win her an award for aerial acrobatics.

If she cursed in the private confines of her head, well no one had to know. But yeah she was swearing in every language she knew, and Metatron knew a lot of languages.

Metatron just hoped Beelzebub hurried up because she was tiring out, and sooner rather than later she was going to falter. It felt she had been flying for years.

Like her prayers were heard and answered, a beam of light shot up from below striking the one taking potshots at her, causing it to stagger, and slowly but surely be dragged down to earth. Metatron was too tired to cheer, her exhaustion slowly but surely catching up to her.

It shrank and it shrank until it disappeared from view.

Metatron knowing that she would likely faint from exhaustion soon, flew down to where she saw the light come from.

When she got there she saw Beelzebub, his body breaking up and dissolving into motes of quickly fading light. In in hand he held a small black box, with a snap of his fingers it vanished somewhere. Metatron wanted to ask him where he sent it, but it seemed he didn’t have long left. “Hey there.” he greeted her, like he wasn’t fading away. “You caught me at a bad time.” One arm faded away. “Ah bugger. Well guess I don’t have long left in the world.” he said, rather matter of factly.

“You seem rather blasé about this.” Metatron couldn’t help but note.

“Ha! from the moment this war of ours started I knew that I may not survive. I accepted that fact, but I do have one regret.” He looked to the sky, his eyes dimming slightly as he did so. The rate his body faded away increasing significantly.

“What’s that?” Metatron asked.

“Well I regret being unable to see my daughter grow up. I’m so sorry Bee, I hope-.” Whatever Beelzebub was going to say next would forever be a mystery, as he fully faded away, like fireflies that faded away with the dying of the light.

It was beautiful, in a morbid and sad sort of way.

“Sayonara Beelzebub, I’ll be sure to let your daughter know you loved her.” Metatron solemnly promised the sin of Gluttony.

Her vision began to blur and blacken, and then, suddenly she felt like she had had been hit by a mountain, and her world fell into black, collapsing to a heap on the ground, like a puppet that had its strings cut.

She just hoped she could fulfil the promise she made.

Chapter Text

How angels are born.

There are three ways for an angels to come into being, for them to be created, for them to be born, or for them to be converted from a human soul. However after God’s death no other angel has been created due to Him being a necessary part of the process, but has still been included for the sake of completion.

Creation:
- requires God to mould an angel from whatever material He pleases, typically from clouds, but other materials such as wood, mud, or stone have been used by Him before.

- As God is moulding his angel, He implants them with a purpose that is central to their being, and will serve to guide their actions and beliefs. It can also make them inflexible, and single minded at times.

-However after God’s death the process can’t not be completed as his divinity is needed to complete the angel. Theoretically, however, there could be a way to replicate the process or at least obtain similar results with 3 or more of God’s fragments working together by their own will or another’s will, most likely through prayer. It would likely require a pre-existing template, as one cannot create something out of nothing, unless you had all seven fragments that is. However that is purely theoretical, because the whereabouts of said fragments are unknown, and are to be left alone.

-Some examples of created angels include Sera and Samael.

Birth:
-Requires two or more angels to be in a sexual relationship. If impregnation is successful, which is about a one in a thousand chance at best, an angel will begin the process of producing an angel egg who will be a mix of their parents.

- Before the parent lay the resulting egg, they will try to find a space they deem safe and start to build a nest to lay the egg in, if they can’t they will try their best to keeping on trying until they do so. Unless you are close to the nest builder it is advised that one stays away as the parent will be very protective. After several weeks when ready said angel will lay their egg which at minimum will take half an hour in the best case scenario. In the worst case scenario it can easily take 3 times as long.

-One the eggs are laid, the parent, with help from those they trust to feed them, will look after the egg until it hatches 20-28 days later, resulting in the birth of an angel. Who takes about the same time as a human child to become a teenager, after that the ageing process either slows down or stops completely.

-A born angel, in complete contrast to a created one, does not have an innate purpose, meaning they are much like humans in that regard.

-Some examples of this type of angel is Odette, Clara and Joy.

Transformation.
-The third and final method is transformation, which has several prerequisites before the process can be undertaken. First they must be a human soul, second they must have strength of will and heart, thirdly they must have the potential for magic and finally they must be willing to make the choice. Any other relevant criteria is not known at this moment.

-The process is a closely guarded secret of the Exorcists, know only to a small few. But what is known is that candidates can request that their memories be wiped before undergoing the process, ingesting the waters of the River Lethe, completely erasing their memories. Wiping the slate clean as it were.

-Exorcists start at a lower level strength than most angels do, but given enough time and training they can easily match the typical angel.

-Wings are primarily grey with some black thrown into the mix, with the rare splash of colour.

-Can result in minor changes to personality and disposition even in cases where memories are left as is.

-some examples of this type of angel: Vaggie, Lute and Lavender.

Chapter Text

Vaggie’s first day in Hell

Vaggie woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling, the left side of her face and her back where the wings sat, both of them hurting like an absolute bitch as well as both places bandaged by someone who for the most part what they were doing. She tried to think back to what might have lead her to this situation, and when she did, she really had one thing to say. “Esos cabrones, los apuñalaré en cuanto pueda.” she cursed to herself in Spanish. Now very aware of the fact she was now stuck in Hell for the foreseeable future, with not much in the way of prospects considering she was an exorcist without her sisters in arms. So safe to say, she was in deep deep trouble.

She tried to lean up in the very comfortable bed she found herself in, only for the fiery pain of her back protesting against her moving, stopping right in her tracks. “Fuck.” she muttered, leaning back on the soft red pillow. Seeing that she couldn’t really move at the moment, on account of her everything hurting like a bitch, she decided to take stock of her situation. To start, she could see from her remaining eye that she was in someone’s bedroom, one that seemed to love the colour red as it was everywhere, with only the occasional splash of other colours to break it up. It also looked a lot more opulent than Vaggie’s room in the barracks. A lot bigger too. It also looked more lived in as well. Knick knacks on shelves, and books on a book shelf and the odd painting made it look like someone lived here.

Thinking about the barracks just made her think about her friends, which made her have a pang of sorrow at the fact they wouldn’t know what had happened to her, Adam and Lute were certainly going to cover up what had happened. She was going to miss her friends, miss their stupid jokes, their camaraderie, and most of all she was going to miss their company. For all intents and purposes she was alone in Hell.

She wanted to cry, to scream in anger and frustration at her situation, but she refrained not knowing if she was in a safe enough place to do so. But still tears began welling up in her right eye, with any tears from her left eye socket being absorbed by the bandages covering it.

She dabbed away at her tears, not willing to show weakness to anyone in this hellhole, ignoring the slight pain her actions caused her, unaware of the sound of a door opening from her left. “Oh you’re awake!” Vaggie could hear someone say clearly relived that Vaggie was wake, it sounded like a young woman around her age give or take. Vaggie turned her head slightly, trying to ignore the pain from her neck turning, and saw the woman who had bandaged her eye, just before Vaggie had fainted from having her eye cut out and her wings ripped off in short order. Now that she wasn’t bleeding out it afforded Vaggie a better chance to examine the other woman, she was wearing a red and black suit like something you would see a hotel manager wear, she had an adorable black spade tipped tail and long blond hair and very white skin with twin red dots on her cheeks. In her hands was a tray, that held a glass of water, a sandwich and some cookies as well as some pills of some description. “Vaggie right?” the woman asked, prompting Vaggie to remember the woman’s name was Charlie, and that she was the woman who had bandaged her eye socket.

Vaggie nodded her head, not sure what to really say. “Yeah, Charlie right?” she eventually decided on, and from the way Charlie beamed at her, one would think that she had just been given a million dollars, not Vaggie checking her name was Charlie.

“That’s right! I’m Charlie and I’m so so glad that you’re awake.” the blonde woman said, walking over to Vaggie with the tray in hand. “It was a bit touch and go, but thankfully you haven’t lost any more blood.” That was a relief as Vaggie had no idea if she would be able to survive a blood transfusion down here and it prevented the blond from finding out what she truly was. “So I got you some food and water, also some pain killers, well not the super strong stuff, as that’s hard to come by after the exterminations as people need it to deal with the aftermath.” Vaggie winced slightly at the mention of the aftermath, having be a part of the reason why sinners needed pain killers in the first place. Charlie apparently just wrote it off as Vaggie wincing in pain which was partially true.

“Besides I don’t think you want to get addicted to any of the stronger stuff.”

“Yeah.” Vaggie confirmed, knowing how bad drug addiction would be for someone like her who now had nothing to her name who was also stuck in Hell, as Charlie placed the tray on the bedside table.

“Would you like me to help you sit up a bit?” Charlie kindly offered, part of Vaggie wanted to refuse, be it out of pride or distrust or some other thing, but the pain that she felt put things into prospective. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie began to help her sit up. Her touch was gentle and light as Charlie helped Vaggie sit up, adjusting the pillows behind her, however it didn’t feel like Charlie thought Vaggie was fragile, but it felt like she considered Vaggie worth cherishing. Thankfully she didn't make Vaggie's pain any worse than it already was so that was nice.

Once Charlie was done, and Vaggie began to miss Charlie’s gentle touch, the blonde woman placed the tray on Vaggie’s lap. “Here you go. Do you need any more help with anything?” Charlie seemed so eager to help her, so genuine in a way Vaggie wasn’t quite sure how to handle. It was strange seeing such a kind person in Hell, and Vaggie wanted to know why such a kind woman was down in Hell, but she was afraid of asking and was even more afraid of getting an answer.

“Not at the moment.” Vaggie replied, moving one hand to grab the glass of water from the tray. Thankfully her arms didn’t hurt much as they moved. She put the glass of water to her lips, and took a sip, and immediately gagged on the taste. It tasted foul, nothing like the water she was used to drinking.

“Fuck that’s foul.” Vaggie said, her face screwing up in disgust.

“Yeah sorry about that, but the water filter broke yesterday, and the earliest the replacement I order can arrive is tomorrow afternoon. So yeah sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Vaggie replied, “it’s not your fault that the water tastes like ass.”

Charlie gave a small giggle at that response, something Vaggie considered a win, as she felt her own heart flutter at the adorable sound. “Yeah, I know people can get used to it, by why would you want to? I’m used to it and I still think it sucks.” Charlie replied as she took a seat nearby.

Vaggie suddenly felt something jump up on the bed, and looked to see a one eyed cat looking at her with a gaze of intense curiosity. “Uh hello there?” she greeted the cat who just stared at her in silence.

“That’s Keekee,” Charlie explained, “she’s my cat and the genius loci of the hotel we’re in.”

“We’re in a hotel?” Vaggie asked, curious as to where she actually ended up. She thought she had ended up in some rich person’s house not a hotel.

Charlie nodded her head vigorously. “Yeah we are, admittedly it needs a bit of work done,” Vaggie would later learn Charlie was understating that quite a bit, “but I’m planning something truly amazing here.”

“And that is?” Vaggie asked in a leading manner, curious as to what Charlie was planning.

“I plan to redeem sinners, and help them ascend up into Heaven.” Vaggie was honestly not sure how to respond to that considering what had happened to her not even a day ago.

“Uh okay why?”

“Well I think my people deserve more than to be slaughtered en masse, so I want to improve things around here, so people can better themselves and ascend up to Heaven.” Charlie had a fire of determination in her eyes, and earnest belief in her voice, to the point Vaggie wanted it to believe it was possible, if only so Charlie’s spirit would remain uncrushed.

“That’s... honestly really impressive,” Vaggie said after taking a moment to think about what Charlie told her. “I wish you luck with that.” Because she was going to need it.

“Really?” Charlie asked her, her voice exposing her vulnerabilities and her shock that Vaggie thought that. Vaggie nodded her head. “Thank you,” Charlie said with a smile that made it look like Vaggie had just made her day, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome Charlie.”

“It’s just no one has ever said such a nice thing about my dream,” Vaggie winced at that, her dejection hitting close to home for Vaggie, “they’re like ‘it’s pointless, who cares, why bother. Stuff like that. No one has ever believed in my dream before, even my dad-.” Charlie cut herself off with a wince, but whatever it was it clearly hurt her a lot.

“Well I believe it’s a good dream.” Vaggie said firmly. “For as much as that’s worth.” Not much in Vaggie’s opinion.

But from the way Charlie beamed at her, it was clearly worth the world, making Vaggie smile slightly. The two soon fell into a comfortable silence, Vaggie eating the food she had been given, glad for the chance to fill her stomach, and the food thankfully tasted good. The pills Charlie got her thankfully took the edge off her pain, making things much more bearable.

“Oh oh I have an idea, you’re new here right?”

“Yeah I am why?”

“Do you want to help me? I can pay you.” Charlie asked, sounding somewhat desperate as she did so, like Vaggie was a port in a storm.

Vaggie weighed up her options, and found she didn’t really have much in the way of options, eventually she came to a decision. “You know what? I’ll help you with your dream.”
Charlie smiled, and Vaggie knew at that moment she had made the best possible choice she could have made. One even in the darkest times, Vaggie would never ever regret.

“Thank you Vaggie.”

Vaggie promised herself one thing she was going to do her best to protect Charlie's smile come hell or high water.