For a moment, it was dark behind her eyes. There was nothing there except the dark. Ariel looked around and slowly opened her eyes to gaze around her to find her eyes still adjusting. She closed her eyes again, and then the light began to shine. It was dull at first, a dim glow through the skin covering her face and exposed skin. She still felt the clothes that she was wearing earlier, the blood-stained scrubs and worn leather jacket, but she didn't feel human any more.
She smiled as she felt the warmth of the light radiate her skin. It felt like compassion and joy, like a long-lost friend. Castiel had let go of her hands and she spread her arms wide to take in everything at once. She twirled around like a little mortal girl, drunk on the ecstasy of life, as she opened her eyes a second time and giggled at the white brightness. She was home.
No longer would she be known by a facsimile of her true self; no longer would there be a need for her to hide. No longer would she have to listen to whiny residents and burned-out attendings who had long lost the passion for their jobs. Her Father had a new task for her, but it could wait the one week until after her respite.
Without a word, she walked down the halls of the Citadel of the angels; she could hear Castiel walking behind her in deference to her rank. By what other name could she call that place that she had called home, the home and refuge of every angel that served their Father? It blazed with the sun, and glowed with the moon. White light radiated from everywhere, broken only by silver and gold detailing on doors and walkways.
There were no rivalries here, except by those that held qualms with their duties. Ariel was not one of them. But then, she had not been in the Citadel for over two millennia; things easily could have changed without her. In fact, she had expected that things had changed. She just didn't know what, quite yet.
Her brothers- and sisters-in-arms, and in blood, came out into the hall and applauded her long awaited return and arrival to the Citadel; some came out from the walls and congratulated them with a stoic nod or a word or two of contentment. Others were bold enough to offer her a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Like her ability to eat and digest food, she was once again an anomaly here in Heaven because she felt emotion more so than anyone else and she had to show them. But right now, it did not matter at all to her. None of it mattered: she was home.
As she turned a corner, she saw another familiar face that bruised her heart. "Ari?" Raphael leaned against the wall, his hands crossed nonchalantly in front of his chest. She had to stop herself from barrelling into his arms.
Besides Michael, Gabriel, and Castiel, she had missed her fourth brother the most during her stay on Earth. He was her co-healer, the male version of her power, the one that stood with her as she healed her heart from the events leading to her commanded exile. While he tended to the warriors, she tended the innocents of the world, the ones whom needed healing most in order to survive the wars. They were a tandem team, always watching each other's backs. Even when she was on Earth, she could still feel him working around her, guarding her like a brother did for his sister.
"Raph." She called him by his old nickname, the one that she used to call him to cheer him up. He had a muted gift of empathy (again, still rare among the angels) and so he smiled and held out his arms when she embraced him. She rubbed her nose into the hollow of his throat, inhaling the scent of honey and sunshine that she had always associated with him. Breaking away, she stared at the black hair and dark eyes that twinkled with amusement and a hidden smile. "Are you staying for a while?"
"Alas, no." He let go of her shoulders and stared down at her for a moment. "Father has called me to the front lines to help to heal our brothers and sisters. I will be going for as long as my services are required." She refused to let the sorrow show on her face, but it rang through her heart. Perhaps that was her new mission from her Father: to join Raphael on the front lines and heal the warriors.
But somewhere, she did not truly believe it. If that was the case, then she would have been called up long before the war started to begin preparations. It took many resources to heal, even for angels. She had to gather her strengths, ferret it away to keep in reserve for times of great need. If she was to join the front line forces against the growing forces of Hell, then she would have been called back a long time ago.
"I understand." She stared out at the brilliantly white floor; she closed her eyes as she heard his footsteps down the marble hall to the entrance of the Citadel. That was always Raphael's way: to leave quietly and without drawing much attention to himself. She shook her head once before continuing on her path to her old quarters.
When she closed the doors behind her, she laughed out loud as she began to twirl once more. Everything was as it was before she was taken. The silver blanket in a corner of the room that she called her bed was still where she had left it: stuffed into a ball. She had a small basin of water for cleaning.
Against the far wall of the room was her bookcase. It was one of the few ever constructed in the Citadel: a bank of medical knowledge through the ages of mortals. This, along with the teachings of her Father, was what she had studied and learned over the millennia as she toiled on Earth, what was now embedded in the base of her brain. Her knowledge was now copied out in the tomes on the wall, making her knowledge available to all the angels who sought it out.
Taking a moment to breath, she let the final remnants of her vessel go and allowed herself to take her true form. Due to her high rank among the angels and as a gift from her Father before the start of her service, she could transform the air around her and make herself a vessel, rather than simply taking over a willing host. This made it easier for her to work. She did not like to take a human and take away their free will like that. For them to live forever as she controlled their bodies and locked away their minds? It was a complete contradiction of what she was sent to do.
She looked into the water basin for confirmation that it was complete. Her hair, once an otter brown with the distasteful grey streaks, now shone with the sunlight as a deep golden that rivalled the color of liquid gold; it now reached the middle of her back in a loose braid. The icy blue eyes morphed into the hazel eyes that her Father had blessed her with; they still were friendly to stare at, but now they showed the depth of her powers without blinding the humans who stared into them. The worn sea-blue scrubs and leather jacket were replaced with pants and a tunic of blazing white silk that contrasted with the tan of her once-pale skin. Her feet were now decked out in Grecian sandals that laced halfway up her calves; she wiggled her toes out of the restraints of the shoes that mortals saw fit to constrain their feet in. Finally, she stared at her wings.
Oh, how she had waited for the day when she would physically see them again! Soft as the fur of a kitten, the feathers were preened back and into their proper places. Humans had assumed that angel wings appeared in only white, but how wrong they were! Wings were another personification of an angel's feelings, able to change from white to pearl gray to the deepest of pitch black in a rare state of anger, however righteous it may be. Right now, Ariel's wings were an opalescent gray with her wondering feelings about the conditions of her return: a dim spectrum of the rainbow shone against the cloud-gray of the feathers as they settled against her back.
There was a knock at her door, startling her. Before her service, all her brothers and sisters knew that Ariel's door was always open if she was there for a talk, so she was perturbed by the knock. Turning away from her reflection, she walked to the door and opened it. There, he stood before her.
"Ariel." That deep voice, melodious and charming, caused the bruises on her heart to ache once more. Her brother waited with open arms, and she hurtled herself toward him; she pressed her nose against the hollow of his throat, this time smelling fire and air, rain and lightning: the power behind it all made his skin feel electrified. For the first time in a long time, she let the tears fall freely from her eyes as she pushed herself away and memorized her brother's face once more. It had been far too long, but she gladly would have served four thousand more years if only just to feel this sense of reunion once more. Michael sighed as she wept into his shoulder, holding her close to him. "It's good to see you, little sister."
"Michael." She hiccupped the word amidst the sighs. She gladly served her Father, but it always tore at her heart when she was separated from her older brother, the other half of her soul, for so long. She gazed up at him, so happy to behold him once more. He had a radiant smile, a casual walk and talk about him that made him different from the others. His golden-brown hair was sheared to the bottom of his ear lobes; the hazel eyes that echoed her own stared down at her with unbridled happiness at the sight of his kid-sister.
He, too, wore the white tunic and pants, but at his waist was strapped the sword of justice and truth; it was the same one that cast Lucifer and the fallen ones into the pit. He was the only warrior that did not constantly don his armour, because frankly he did not need to. Again, seeing that sword made her heart ache as she remembered her oldest brother, no longer among them.
"Ariel," he spoke as he inhaled the scent of her hair, "I've missed you so." Sighing, his face turned serious. "However, Father wishes to talk to the both of us now in his study."
So much for shore leave. Ariel shrugged her shoulders and followed her brother out of her little sanctuary and down the hall to the study. For once, the halls were completely silent.
"How many of our brothers and sisters have been lost, Michael?" She made her voice gentle against the sensitive subject. She knew as much as Michael did that it pained them both just as much to watch a fellow angel die at the hands of the demons, the spawn of the fallen.
"Too many, Ariel. Too many." Just like that, they were there. Michael knocked first at the closed door.
"Come in, my children." It was his voice, the voice of her Father. Ariel squared her shoulders. It was time for an explanation; she had, at least, earned that.