Several minutes later, having given the Angels of Rhetoric a curt, perfunctory acknowledgment of their message before promptly teleporting away, I find myself drifting through a particularly empty corner of Paradiso, questioning if I should grant the "audience" that's apparently been requested of me.
...or, more accurately, trying to figure out if I can safely ignore said request, given that I have very little desire to actually attend any such meeting.
I scowl, knowing that no one is around to see it. Frankly, I don't think I particularly care what it is the Visus want, nor why it is that they suddenly want to speak with me. Not only is it likely nothing I really want to hear right now, but keeping up this divine pretense is already starting to get rather exhausting — honestly, I'd kind of like to just dip back out of Paradiso and get away from all this, at least for a little while. Barring that, I'd still much prefer to retain focus on resolving the whole Loptr-in-my-eye issue, especially when the alternative is heading off to speak with a trio of angels who, at least based on their position in Laguna's hierarchy, are likely to be some of the most sanctimonious blowhards this side of the Trinity of Realities.
Annoyingly however, despite how tempting the idea of casually blowing off some of Paradiso's highest-ranking members is, it doesn't seem terribly wise. I'm already not doing anything the angels actually want me to do, and given that the Visus have supposedly been working alongside the Auditio to conduct the movements of Paradiso since the First Armageddon, they're likely too important for me to simply plug my ears and pretend they don't exist. And if I'm honest with myself, the fact that they've even partially been filling Jubileus's shoes for the past 10000-odd years means I'll likely have to meet with them eventually one way or the other...
I sigh internally. In which case, I suppose I may as well just bite the bullet and do it now, when I've already been explicitly invited.
If only Godhood didn't come with quite so many strings attached.
Resigning myself to the inevitable, I cast my mental gaze outward, questing for the information I need. Supposedly, the Visus reside in the realm of The Fixed Stars, a vast slice of Paradiso situated just beyond Saturn which the three of them share amongst themselves, each one presiding over an individual section thereof. Physically, these sections are completely separate from each other, yet they all still somehow intersect at one specific spot, despite how utterly contradictory that sounds to my human sensibilities.
And it's at that particular spot that the Visus are currently waiting for me.
Smoothing my expression back into neutral placidity, I reluctantly conjure a portal to the location in question, and step through the temporary hole in the universe.
...only to immediately falter when I see where I now am.
Er. Woah.
Turns out, knowing in theory where I was going did NOT prepare me for what this place would actually look like. I intentionally arrived a bit above the meeting area so as to make the proper "impression" on the Visus, but apparently that meant arriving above everything, because I am currently hovering over a twisting, towering needle of a structure that must be hundreds, if not thousands of stories tall. Far below, the massive swathes of land that compose the helical edifice unwind and spiral out in every possible direction, elegantly weaving in, out, and around each other like titanic threads in the quilt of the universe, before ultimately merging back together into three individual landscapes.
...none of which actually seem to outright border each other, despite being far too expansive not to do so?
I swivel in place, trying to look at everything in one full turn, but even with my nigh-infinite range of vision, I can't seem to do so. Possibly because I'm pretty sure there are more degrees of space in play here than should be possible by any conventional view of physics. Evidently, Heaven is not bound by any such natural laws — and why should it be? It's more spiritual than physical in basically all senses of the word, after all.
Shaking off my desire to simply keep drinking in the view, I glance back down at the tower itself. Floating just over its zenith is the trio of angels I came to meet, positioned around an ornate-looking dais, which crowns the structure at large.
Here's hoping that whatever this is at least doesn't take too long.
Belatedly announcing my arrival by way of the same dramatic *snap* I used back in the Celestial Refinery, I begin descending towards the angels in question. As I do so, the Visus turn to look up at me, allowing me to view their features in full.
Fides, positioned on the left, is rather monstrous-looking for an angel even by this universe's standards. Standing on no less than twelve separate legs, his body consists of a myriad of striking animalistic features, all sized up to match each other and mostly covered in gleaming armor, as though to make sure the seams where he was stitched together don't show. From between the cracks of his chimera-like countenance, two-dozen different masked faces peer out. Though each one bears an identical halo, the largest face is positioned at the center of the angel's actual "head", surrounded by a blazing mane of reddish-orange metal.
In contrast, Spes, positioned on the right, is simultaneously far simpler in form and infinitely more complex. A masked serpent composed of thousands of glimmering, hair-thin strands, they flow through the air like liquid metal, ephemeral as a spider's web — that is, until they abruptly flicker and change, the strands melding together in the span of an instant and sculpting themselves into a much more solid figure. A quintet of arms sprouts from each side of their newly-existent torso, while fractal-like patterns paint themselves across every inch of visible "skin", covering the entire visible spectrum and beyond. The only elements to persist between both forms are the angel's massive halo, placed rather oddly beneath them like a floating platform, and the crescent half-mask still set upon their ever-changing face.
Finally, floating at the center of the trinity is Caritas, who is... surprisingly human-looking, to say the least. In fact, between her distinctly feminine body, ornately-crested headdress, and the way her halo provides her with what amounts to a personal backlight, she actually looks quite a lot like me. Granted, she's hardly my identical twin, having seemingly replaced my seven lashing hair-ribbons with twice that number of massive multicolored wings, which appear to be sprouting out of pretty much every part of her except her back, but the resemblance remains clear. In place of my crimson masquerade mask, a jeweled veil rests over her eyes, giving her the appearance of a seer, or perhaps even a bride — particularly when combined with her long, intricate, and honestly quite flattering pearl white dress.
...which is itself perhaps our greatest point of contrast, considering that I'm still stark naked.
Abruptly becoming conscious of that detail again, I find myself feeling more than a little embarrassed. Truth be told, I haven't really thought that much about my unclothed state since the initial shock of waking up like this, I suppose in part because I don't actually feel all that exposed in spite of it. Jubileus doesn't even have most of the specific anatomy one would normally be concerned about hiding, and those few angels I've actually spoken with up until now haven't exactly been wearing clothes either, none of them having really been humanoid enough to do so. Caritas, however, is not only humanoid, but also roughly my size, and dressed more than well enough to remind me that I'm very much not. So...
Well, if this body had a circulatory system, I'd probably be blushing pretty furiously right now.
Sovereign. Fides rumbles as I draw near, an invisible horde of growling, screeching beasts seeming to echo each word he speaks. Greetings.
Brushing my embarrassment aside as best I can, I acknowledge him with no more than a glance as I come to a halt in front of the trinity. Fides and Caritas bow their heads to me, while Spes simply tilts their mask upwards in what I assume to be a roughly equal gesture of respect.
Hail, All-Father, returned to us at last.
Spes's voice is akin to thrumming piano wires, somehow managing to be both high and deep at the same time. More than the strangeness of their timbre however, my focus instead goes to the angel's rather interesting choice of epithet. I'm well aware that Jubileus likely has an entire laundry list of names and titles, that just sort of naturally coming with the territory of being The Creator, but she's also pretty obviously a Goddess, so I can't help but feel that "All-Father" is a somewhat odd one to use. I wonder why-?
I don't get to follow this thought process any further, as I'm distracted by the sight of Caritas suddenly full-on smirking at me, opening her mouth, and-
Welcome back, Baeouibe~
I blink.
Did- did she just call me babe?
It's been ages since we last spoke. Caritas continues, each word she speaks seeming to resonate, as though spoken from within an empty church. You didn't really need the beauty sleep, you know~
I fail to respond in any way, knocked completely off balance from hearing such a high-ranking angel speak like- like this. Every other member of Paradiso I've interacted with thus far has spoken to me in an exceedingly stiff, formal manner that probably wouldn't be too out of place in a sermon, so a change up this drastic was just a bit outside my realm of expectation.
We seriously must catch up. Caritas notes, still talking. I can only imagine you've had some terribly~ interesting dreams of late-
Caritas. Fides interrupts. Relevance. Focus.
In comparison to Caritas's familiar, intimate, and absurdly casual way of speech, Fides's single-word sentences are almost a relief.
Oh, fine~ Caritas capitulates, the pout audible in her tone as she turns back to me. Later then, alright Bae?
Now I'm just bae?!
Spes flickers again, their head abruptly splitting into three as their body melts down into a series of floating rings. The largest of these rings immediately encircle and begin rotating around the angel's new trinity of faces, like a heavenly version of the atomic model, while the rest break off into tiny clusters that whirl around at random, caught in the Visus's miniature orbit.
All-Father, is it truth that you have wrought a new angel template?
After taking a moment to parse their slightly strange phrasing, I nod in confirmation.
It is. What of it?
Spes's tiny clusters whirl faster.
We are encouraged to see you so rapidly return to form. However, as the totality of your eminence remains sealed for the time being, it falls to us to inform you of the changes to the process that have taken place in your absence.
"Changes to the process"? Huh...?
Wanting to stay ahead of this conversation, I look to the Right Eye-
And have to stop myself from slapping a ribbon against my forehead at what it returns to me. Oh for My own sake; seriously?
When the duty of creation was passed to us during your slumber, a set of guidelines were brought into being in order to expedite the process.
...by which Spes apparently means that there's an actual approval process for creating new angels, which I obviously failed to follow, due in large part to not even knowing it existed. No one else looked over my design for the Devotions before I moved forward with it, I didn't pull their core concept from any of the current most prevalent aspects of human faith, there wasn't an Anamnesis present to record any part of the process, etc etc etc. Essentially, in creating the Devotions the way I did, I unintentionally showed a complete and utter disregard for Paradiso's established way of doing things.
In other words, I've been called here just to be badgered about literal heavenly bureaucracy. Ugh.
A bit of further probing as Spes continues to speak informs me that the approval process primarily exists to prevent expending resources on the creation of angels not considered useful enough to Paradiso to be worth the cost. However, it also wasn't put into place until the three of them ended up taking over the process, as Spes just said, so I really don't get what they're complaining about. Newly awoken or not, Jubileus's authority should ultimately outweigh literally everything else anyways, at least on matters like this, right?
-we must ensure a certain consistency-
I would think that the existence of the Devotions being my decision would override any such concerns. I interrupt, deciding to simply speak my mind.
Spes pauses and flickers again, this time becoming almost tree-like, with hundreds of dangling, crystalline branches.
...of course, All-Father. they reply after a moment. We merely would have appreciated some... advance notice.
Yeah Bae, and what about my children?
I turn towards Caritas with something approaching disbelief in my eyes, thankfully hidden by my mask. She has kids?!
I mean, as thrilled as I am with the ones you made, they'll never become what they were truly meant to be now. Caritas chides. And shouldn't those still waiting to live again take precedence over souls so new to Paradiso?
Waiting to wha- gah, I'm really getting sick of having to run back to the mental Loptr Q&A booth what feels like every half a minute, but I keep getting bombarded with concepts and questions I otherwise know absolutely nothing about, so I don't seem to have much choice.
Begrudgingly, I check, and discover that Caritas is referring to how angels do not truly perish even when killed — while their bodies may die, and their energy may scatter and crystallize into halos, their souls are in large part reclaimed by Caritas and drawn back to her domain, where they shall wait until they can eventually be reborn into fresh bodies.
...wait, seriously? I mean, I suppose I've technically already seen that concept in practice, what with how the Auditio seemingly just reincarnate upon death, but for that same process to apply to all angels in existence? In that case, how-
I force myself to stop, at least for the moment. Reply first, complex questions later.
They were not my concern at the time. I say, keeping my answer as vague as I can.
Caritas pouts — literally pouts — at me, her wingtips furling inward in gentle disapproval.
Well, how about now? Paradiso has been feeling rather empty of late~
...has it now? Even though, based on what I just learned, Paradiso's numbers should never truly be decreasing, save for when demons cause them to fall? Seriously, this feels almost directly contradictory to what the Right Eye told me back in the Celestial Refinery; how is this realm at any risk of being overrun ever if its soldiers are all functionally immortal?
You are again distracted, Caritas. Spes cuts back in before I can reply. Regardless, the creation of the new will always be more relevant than the revival of those that have already failed.
Caritas turns to them with a frozen smile and a tone that would seem more suited to a scowl.
You would suggest that I abandon any of my children?
As the two begin to argue in earnest, seeming amazingly willing to act like giant angelic children themselves in front of the one they believe to be God, I remain silent, still puzzling over this latest mystery. I really don't really want to use the Eye again, but like- does Inferno just gain members that much more quickly than Paradiso? Or is the reincarnation process just that slow? Hell, where are the "fresh bodies" even coming from-
I receive an answer without even really wanting one this time, leading me to silently curse, even as I rapidly process the information. Apparently, Spes is a master celestial artificer, and (along with the numerous angels working under them) is responsible for the production of "new" angel bodies for the "old" angel souls that Caritas reclaims. Which I suppose rather neatly answers what the Visus are even for when they're not subbing in for Jubileus, though I still don't quite get where exactly Fides fits into the picture, but I'm so sick of all but outsourcing my brain to the Eye at this point that I'm not even gonna ask.
I pause. Although- that title. If that means what I think it does, then based on what I learned previously, Spes is likely the perfect angel to ask about retrofitting the Celestial Refinery to run more efficiently. That in turn would theoretically allow me to reclaim a greater portion of Jubileus's power from it, which is basically exactly what I was hoping to find not so long ago at all.
Upon reflection, however... that would probably be a pretty long-term project for comparatively little overall gain. Impressive as it was, that fraction of Jubileus's power was still exactly that — a fraction; just one small piece among many. Not that the thought is completely without merit, as I'd still quite like to get around to that plan at some point...
But right now, I feel like I might just have a better one.
If our numbers are your prime concern, Spes, I quite loudly interrupt, then perhaps your efforts should be focused less on the creation of new angels, and more on reclaiming the fallen from Inferno.
At that, Spes abruptly falls quiet, while Caritas visibly balks.
Bae, you're not suggesting-
Correct, I am not suggesting. I state. I am commanding.
Frankly, this idea was already on my mind. After all, if I truly want to make Paradiso any better of an afterlife than it currently is, I have to start somewhere, and this seems like a pretty decent first step. The fact that angels can fall, but demons cannot rise has always been a rather literally damning facet of the religions that claim as much; an encapsulation of the notion that once you have done wrong, you can never truly make up for it, and thus might as well not even try. This is just a more corporeal version of that concept, and I already know that it doesn't have to be the case — so, if I have to drag Paradiso kicking and screaming out of 10000 years of established history and beliefs?
Then I'll do just that.
In the silence left behind in the wake of my words, Fides's central mask cracks a sudden grin at me.
Recurrence. he rumbles. Vindication.
...this is not the first time that such has been suggested, All-Father. Spes slowly follows up, partially clarifying Fides's ultra-compact statements. However, I must apologize, for even if such is your will, the prospect seems no more viable than it was assessed to be then. To purify filth is not only purposeless, but a wholly impossible notion-
It is not impossible. I refute before the angel can finish. Do not claim otherwise.
You can dress it up with fancy words as much as you like, but even if I ignore the Right Eye's testimony in the matter, it seems pretty clear to me that the only reason no one has tried this before is because you all just think the idea is icky. I'm not budging on this.
Even so, Bae, the fallen should stay fallen. Caritas cautiously concurs. I cherish each and every member of my family, but those branded by Hell are forever tainted, beyond saving-
AG IPAMIS MOOOAH
(None are beyond saving!)
All else falls silent, my tone and volume instantly making it clear that I'll be brooking no argument from them. After waiting another moment to ensure that I've made my point, I look back down at the Visus of Hope.
Spes, I intone, I am hereby directing you to find a method by which to excise or purify demonic energy, so that those who now suffer in Inferno may one day be restored to the heavens.
Opening the tiny fold of space that I stored the orbs of the Sloths within, I send them whizzing out of it and over towards the Visus in question.
Test any prospective solutions on these, or similar demonic items, before moving forward.
I'd rather not have them using live subjects until they've got a method they're fairly certain works, and given this is Paradiso, I don't trust them not to do so without explicit instruction.
Spes slowly morphs into a form with innumerable eyes, all of which stare at me for a moment, seeming to almost be appraising me anew. Then they just as suddenly vanish as Spes shifts into the most humanoid shape I've seen from them yet, and bows their head to me properly.
It shall be done.
Caritas visibly grimaces, but holds her tongue, while Fides all but preens. Nice to know that at least one them is on board with this plan.
If that is all, I will be going. I say, all too eager to conclude this meeting.
I start to turn away-
A final question before you leave us, All-Father.
...of course there is.
Speak.
We wish to know of your plans regarding the Translunar Faith Allocator.
The what now?
As you are undoubtedly aware, the structure was annihilated by the Lumen Sage that brought about your resurrection. Spes elaborates. I cannot spare the time to repair it myself, particularly now that you have tasked me with this latest project. But should it not be restored, its loss will soon begin to critically impact all of Paradiso.
I have no idea what they're talking about, but at this point, I'm willing to say just about anything if it will end this conversation.
I'll get it up and running again.
Refusing to risk any further addendums, I promptly vanish in a dazzling flash of light.
A brief instant later, I reappear halfway across Paradiso, hovering over the center of an empty stone amphitheater. The island it's attached to is floating peacefully in the ether, and surrounded on all sides by shimmering multicolored mist. Alone with my thoughts once more, I realize that at the moment, they can all basically be boiled down to a single sentence:
Thank everything that's finally over with.
I lay my face in my hands and sigh, wondering if I could have handled that better. Fides aside, the Visus were a lot more willing to question, talk back to, and show outright displeasure with me than I'd honestly expected. I guess as one of the two groups who've essentially been running Heaven for millennia, I should have been more prepared for that — even if they didn't necessarily want the position to begin with, I'm still stepping on their toes now that I'm "back" in charge. Probably should have shut that meeting down a lot earlier...
Still, I suppose it didn't go that poorly. I at least managed to delegate the task of finding a way to purify demonic energy to someone else, so that problem is already off my back — though, in my haste, I rather foolishly ended up accepting a completely separate task in return. What exactly is the "Translunar Faith Allocator" anyways?
Reluctantly calling on the Right Eye one last time, I ask myself, and receive the answer.
...oh, what the actual fu-
AN: For clarity's sake - "Baeouibe" is one of the many Enochian words/names for God.
