The theme is angels as a variant in the World of Darkness. This and similar stories of mine present angels more as mythological beings, and their relationship to Man, God, demons, and each other in a much more dark and cynical perspective than is typical for the subject. Thus the treatment is more in keeping with modern gothic themes, and has something in common with books like Good Omens, films like the Prophecy, and games like In Nomine. Therefore it might not be suitable or enjoyable for those with strong convictions and beliefs about angels. - This story is part of an ongoing chronicle at my web site (see profile) using a shared character. If you would like to contribute to this chronicle, please stop by. Otherwise, any helpful hints and critques are most appreciated. - Cheers, Sol.
"Wake up! You're late!"
There was a bright light, warm and powerful. There was music. The seraph's eyes opened. Daria was awake.
I was kissin' Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream
Daria sat up. Who was Valentino?
"Hurry up, darling. You're going to be late."
Daria watched the man dressing. His padded overly hairy back was in an almost comical contrast to his skinny balding head. She caught sight of his face in the mirror. He was looking at her, smiling. He looked familiar, but she could not give him a name. His face was shadowed from unshaven hair. He had pink skin and hazel eyes.
Daria tried to recollect her last thought. Her hands felt heavy, immobile, swallowed in softness. She looked at them and realized they were only tucked under sheets and blankets. She was in a bed, a human bed.
Startled, she looked back at the dressing man. In his reflection, he puckered his lips and extended them. Then he quickly closed and opened one eye, looking at her all the time with the other while he tied a narrow coloured cloth around his neck.
Now that she had a stomach, she noticed that it was uneasy. Where had she been? What had she done?
Rather than divine radiance, the light was seen as not so bright, and rather weak in fact. It shone through an iced Winter window. The song droned on from somewhere, but Daria ignored it, or tried to. It too seemed vaguely familiar.
"You'd better get out of bed. I'll make Charlotte her breakfast. You just get a move on, Sweetie. I'll take care of it."
Daria gave no response. She just sat there, trying to remember a Charlotte. But when he started to walk out of the room, she called after him.
"Man, tell me, when is it?"
The man glanced at a glass on his wrist. "Quarter after. You've got plenty of time. You get a shower. I'll get Charlotte and breakfast."
"No wait," she called after him. "I mean, what year is it?"
Daria stared at the thing eating its breakfast. The Man had made it crisped bread spread with butter and syrupy fruit lumps. The child, for its part, stared right back at her.
"Mommy, what's the matter?"
"Mommy's not feeling well, baby. Just leave her alone, and get ready for school, OK? Daddy's going to drive you today."
Mother? By Dominic, not only had she, Daresiel, Eloha of Courtrooms, not awakened on time, she had mated with a human and produced the thing before her. The chances were still in her favor since it was pre-Awakening, but then there was always a chance. What if it was a...? Daria breathed in, trying to quiet her rapid human heart.
The manchild smiled at her father and nodded. She gave Daria an odd look, as if trying to figure out what sort of illness her mother had. She shook her head when her father offered her some more toast. Charlotte got up and walked over to Daria. Apparently she was expecting something.
Up closer to the thing, Daria just stared. The face was not unpleasant. Charlotte, for her part, scowled back. She looked into Daria's eyes, then she made a curling motion with one of her fingers. She did it again, and again. Fascinated, Daria drew down to take a closer look, trying to count how many fingers there were. Nephilim usually had at least six or seven. That's when the manchild grabbed her around the neck. Its brown hair was soft, tied back with a lime green plastic clip. Daria's cheek was touching the child's head.
"Oh, that's right. Give your mommy a good hug. She needs a hug. It will make her feel better," the man advised his progeny.
"Will it?"
The father nodded.
The manchild thing grasped Daria again, even tighter. It was a strange feeling, a child's arms wrapped around her neck, its small breath warm against the seraph's neck. So this was what it is like to have a corporeal body, Daria thought.
Before the child could pull away, Daria grabbed her and felt her back. The child, thinking that Daria was hugging back, squeezed. Daria could not find any evidence of stubby protrusions on the shoulders, but the Charlotte thing pulled away before Daria could finish her examination.
Charlotte gave Daria a quizzical look as if trying to puzzle out exactly what was going on.
"You look different, Mommy. You have shiny eyes."
"That's because your daddy kept poor Mommy up all night." The man closed one of his eyes when he looked at Daria. That was a wink, she realized. Her human memory was coming back to her, slowly. She had heard that sometimes the Awakening submerged the human self for a time. She felt so lost and uncertain without her human experiences.
The man pressed his lips to her cheek. Then he whispered in her ear, "I called your office. I told Karen you couldn't make it." He stood up. "And before you ask, Jane is taking care of your briefs." He smiled, as if pleased with himself. He bent down again. "Sorry, Sweetie. Last time I keep you up like that on a work night. Was I a tiger, or what?"
His question didn't make sense. No, it was an expression. He was bragging about his sexual prowess. Daria sighed, and startled herself, as she felt her lungs expand. She had not noticed them before, but now that she had, breathing became a fascinating exercise.
Daria had established she was about ten years overdue. She should have been in California by now. Instead, due to some unforseen factor, she had awakened later than she should have. Now, she had a family. She had ties, human ties admittedly, but ties nonetheless. This shell of hers, Darlene the man called it, Darlene was a mother, a wife. Her absence would leave a hole, a hollow echo that would reverberate in the Symphony, causing unforseen, unwanted changes. Daria had some hard decisions to make.
Song lyrics; Manic Monday, by Christopher
story by Solanio