Marcel had been busy. As the only point of contact between the hotel and Heaven, other than Elida herself, Marc saw fit to be the welcoming face to help the Redeemed adjust into their new afterlives. Emily was only too happy to provide him with everything he asked for; The angels' happiness was her entire job, after all.
After spending some time with Sir Pentious, and Anthony, and the next soul, and the next, he'd realized none of them were all that comfortable with being… well… comfortable. They'd been in such a constant state of pain and fear that the absence of it was a bit shocking to them, and from the glances of Hell that Marc had seen during his deliveries, he couldn't really blame them. They'd need time to adjust.
So, Marc built a community. It took a fair amount of creation magic from Emily to build quickly enough, but she didn't break a sweat. Crafted from the clouds themselves they made a gated city with enough homes to house thousands of new souls, with room to grow if needed. If the Redeemed could be in their own space together, the familiarity of one another's company would help them heal from their shared traumas. At least, that was the concept according to Marcel.
Sera herself also loved the idea because it let her keep an eye on the new angels. She didn't want them to let slip the truth about the exterminations; The council members knowing was bad enough, but she couldn't let the average citizens find out. Who knows what kind of public outrage that would cause? Fortunately, at least so far, they'd all agreed to keep their mouths shut.
Sera had told them that if they didn't, she'd pull Elida home early, and none of them wanted to see what fresh Hell that chaotic and unpredictable woman would raise if that happened. No matter how sweet and disarming she was on the outside, the people who'd spent enough time with her knew that Elida was far more devious than she let on. To them, it only made sense that she got along so well with Alastor of all people; they were like opposite sides of the same coin. God help the one who kept her from doing whatever it was she wanted to do.
Redemption City, being brand new and completely experimental, only had a few dozen people so far. Marcel was the only angel who moved in that hadn't been a demon first, taking the role of tour guide, confidante, friend, organizer, or anything else the new arrivals might need. He introduced them to other angels, told them about the matchmakers, the social scene, the businesses, the schools, the options for finding eternal fulfilment, and so on. He did anything he could do to help them settle in.
He hadn't told Elida about any of this. This project, shockingly, wasn't about impressing her. It was really just about helping the people that he saw struggling. He'd been so busy making sure he set everything up right that it didn't even occur to him that it might help win her favor. Frankly, Elida only really crossed his mind lately when he was making his weekly trip to the pit. His heart still leapt when he saw her, but she spent less time occupying his mind than she had in the past.
"Hey, come here," someone called in his general direction. He ignored it, thinking they were talking to someone else. He studied his tablet, finishing up a few more preparations before Elida arrived that day.
"Oi! Marc!" That same voice again.
He looked up at the small hoard of Hazbin angels all gathering at the new city center. Elida wanted him to bring the Redeemed with him to see her and some mystery guest at the Pearly Gates. Marc figured it would be that bouncy girl, Charlie; as Princess of Hell and head of the hotel, she seemed like the most obvious choice for a political meeting. Elida hadn't told him what the purpose of their visit was, only that they'd be coming.
Marcel saw Mayberry waving at him, "Over here, cutie, we have something for you."
"What?" He asked. The whole group was looking at him expectantly, but he wasn't sure why. A few moments ago, they'd all been whispering amongst themselves like a group of snickering kids about to pull an April Fools' prank. He'd thought nothing of it. "Should I be nervous?" he joked.
He found he liked the Redeemed. They were good people with fascinating stories and a unique sense of humor that only someone who'd literally been through Hell could develop. They were fun to be around.
Mayberry directed him to stand on the edge of a large decorative fountain. It sparkled behind him with clear, cool water, the mist near the edges creating a small rainbow by his feet. "Stand right there." He looked just as beautiful and angelic as everyone else there, wings draped behind him and halo gleaming.
"Okay?" He did as he was told, confused. The sunshine glittered on his clean white suit.
"Relax, baby," Anthony teased, hands on his hips, "we ai'nt gonna bite… unless ya ask nicely." He winked flirtatiously.
Sir Pentious slithered to the front, holding something in his hands hidden under a silk cloth. "Ahem." The small crowd quieted. "Mr. Marcel, as the first redeemed ssouls in Heaven, we've all ssseen fit to take a vote. As you've been the one to… ah," he thought for a moment to decide on the right wording, "Take us all under your wing, so to sspeak, and have this lovely ccity built for us and the friends who will follow over the yearsss, we've all agreed to appoint you as our mayor." He removed the cloth from the item in his hand and revealed a shining golden pendant on a delicate chain. "The vote was unanimouss," he added, holding the item up for Marcel to take.
Marc didn't know what to say. He hadn't done this to earn any kind of office or position, he'd just wanted to help people. He stood there, hand hovering unsteadily over the gift, "I… I don't know. I'm not really mayor material," he argued. "Don't you think one of you would be a better pick? I'm not even a redeemed soul, I'm just the mailman."
"Are you kidding?" Mayberry remarked, sounding genuinely surprised by his response, "Mailmen don't petition divine royalty to make sure people have comfortable houses and growing gardens. You've been doing all the work already. Might as well make it official. Besides," she glanced flirtatiously at his ass, "This way we can keep that cute butt around longer."
He tucked his wings around himself awkwardly, not sure how to respond to that. "But I was going to do all that anyway. I don't need a fancy title or anything."
"Just take the fuckin' necklace," Anthony rolled his eyes, "You don't always hav'ta be so humble all the damn time."
Mayberry took it for him, flittering up onto the fountain's edge and clasping the pendant around Marc's neck. "Here," she said, "Pentious went through all that trouble to make this, the least you can do is wear it."
She had a point; it would be cruel to reject something so lovingly crafted just for him. This was a deeply personal and custom designed gift. He lifted it up to study it more closely. There was fine imagery engraved onto its shining surface. On one side was the image of a flaming envelope, sealed with the symbol of an apple. On the other was a blooming rose, with wings for leaves and crowned with a halo. It was a magnificent work of art that he would wear proudly, if for no other reason than to make his friends happy.
He smiled a bright, prince-charming smile, "Thank you. I love it." He stepped down from the fountain and sat on its edge, admiring the new symbol of his surprise station. He let the tips of his wings swish about in the cool water. His friends sat with him, waiting for the signal to make their way to meet Elida at the gates. Marc would tell them when it was time.
Half an hour or so later, a new arrival showed up, which Marcel only knew because he'd given Saint Peter his number and asked him to send a text whenever a newly redeemed soul rose from Hell's depths. Luckily, Saint Peter was in the know, fully trusted by the Seraphim to have all the dirty details. As the gatekeeper, he needed to know about the possible war, so while Peter didn't usually spend much time with the regular citizens of Heaven, Marc was allowed to pester him as long as it was relevant to his job.
Right now, Husker was relevant.
The timing was right on the money. Elida had told Marc to expect him to show up, and for her to follow with a guest shortly after. He lifted himself into the air to get everyone's attention, "Okay, is everyone ready?" They all agreed that they were.
One of the nice things about being an angel in Heaven was that travel was never a problem. You could live a thousand miles away from someone and still pop over to their place for a quick neighborly chat whenever you liked. All angels, at least when within Heaven's gates, were gifted with portal magic, allowing them to roam freely. Sure, they could still fly, or walk, or skate, or drive, or whatever else they felt like doing, but the portals were the quickest way to move long distances. The only stipulation was that, unless you had a special device, the portals were limited to locations within Heaven. But that wasn't really a problem. Most angels preferred to stay up there, happy, safe, and content.
Marcel opened a portal that skipped past the vast mountains, clear streams, and mossy forests surrounding Redemption City, taking them directly to the Pearly Gates. The Redeemed filed through it, excited to see who would be joining them next. Once everyone was through, Marc followed behind them and closed the portal again to get it out of everyone else's way. The Promenade had a lot of foot traffic, and while everyone was too polite to complain, random portals could get disruptive if everyone left theirs up all the time. It was the holy equivalent of parking your car in the middle of the road.
With everyone gathered, the gates swung open. Husker stood beside Saint Peter, taking it all in. He looked just as unsure as everyone else had when they'd first arrived, as if he didn't believe he'd done it. Marcel suspected that at least a few of them didn't really think they deserved to be there. He did what he could to convince them otherwise.
Husker's eyes locked on Anthony's, and the spell of uncertainty was broken. He shot forward in a sprint, Anthony running to meet him. They collided, embracing in a hug that would have broken every rib in a demon's body. But these two weren't demons anymore. They were far stronger now. Husker twirled Anthony in the air like he was the most precious thing in the world. And, you know… maybe he was.
They held each other, the memories of their shared pain forgotten for the briefest moment while they soaked each other in, just happy to have each other back. Saint Peter had seen this same scene time and time again as families reunited with their loved ones after death. Ancestors, siblings, lovers, and friends, all embracing at heaven's gates. It was his favorite part of the job. He closed the gate behind them, returning to his post with a fresh smile on his face.
It wasn't long before two faun-like people appeared arm-in-arm at the gate. Visually, they were somehow polar opposites, and yet their souls had taken the same type of form. They could have been siblings, or strangers, or something else entirely. There was no easy way to tell. One was an ethereal blue woman with snowflakes along her halo and a type of beauty that made you want to start spouting poetry, while the other was a rather frightening-looking man with an odd staff, small antlers, and a grin that felt nothing short of sinister. They were both obviously human souls, so he greeted them like he always did; It was his job after all, even if the man in the red jacket seemed… off.
The lack of a halo really should have been his first hint. He found Elida McCarthy's name easy enough; she'd already been checked in years ago. But Alastor Hartfelt wasn't on the list. He looked quizzically at it, wondering if it had an odd spelling or something. He opened his mouth to ask, when the pretty little doe of a girl flew up to his podium and handed him a scroll instead.
"This should clear that confusion up," she explained cryptically, before offering him a soft kiss on the cheek.
Blushing a bit, Peter unrolled the parchment and scanned its contents. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. This couldn't be right…
"It's all squared away," Elida stated. "As you can see, the head Seraphim have both signed their approval."
Alastor thoroughly enjoyed seeing the look on Saint Peter's face go from welcoming and warm to completely horrified, only to be forced back into a new, far more strained smile. "I… suppose that's that then. Enjoy your stay? I guess?" He gave a cautious glance at the demon smiling creepily up at him but opened the gates regardless. This was the second instance in an unsettlingly short amount of time that this had happened. How was it possible that this guy felt so much darker than the literal princess of Hell had?
Elida fluttered back down to link her arm back in with Alastor's. The air wasn't nearly as hot up here as it was in Hell, and she shivered at the change in atmosphere. It wasn't uncomfortable on its own, but when mixed with her ice magic, she was a popsicle. Luckily, Alastor's soul still burned, so she clung tighter to him than usual. He let her. The ice on her skin was a nice relief from the flames on his.
The gates of Heaven swung open, the sound of a choir filling the air with a holy sound. It was all very joyful and triumphant. A magnificent city was revealed, each extravagant building a shining pillar of golden perfection. Whites, blues, and soft pinks gleamed under a vibrant sky. The streets really were paved with gold. Beautiful people of all shapes and sizes milled about, smiling and laughing with one another. Some flew through the air as casually as they would walk down the street, chatting and dancing happily.
Alastor hated it.
"What do you think?" Elida asked.
"Could really stand to have a bit more color, wouldn't you say?" Alastor commented. She giggled a bit at that, which he thought was odd, as he wasn't actually making a joke. She giggled at him a lot lately.
Marcel stood nearby, surrounded by everyone who'd ever ascended out of Hell. He eyed Alastor with annoyance, "Not everyone decorates with creepy animal bones and swamp plants." He turned to Elida, "I thought you'd bring Charlie? What is he doing here?"
"I never said that. What gave you that idea?" She tilted her head at him, knitting her eyebrows together. "And for the record, I like his decorations. They're aesthetically interesting."
He sighed, "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude, it's just I thought you'd bring… well… literally anyone else."
"Alastor is precisely who I need for what we'll be doing. Really, I don't get why you still hate him, he's never hurt you. He's just snarky, is all. You've met plenty of snarky people, haven't you?" She sighed, "I wish you two could get along."
Alastor knew exactly why Marc hated him, and he loved exploiting it. Egging people on, especially emotionally invested people, was just too much fun. And their glow-y little courier was nothing if not emotionally invested in Elida, even if he clearly wasn't going to get anywhere with her. Her excess shivering at that moment provided him with the perfect opportunity to annoy Marc even further.
"Oh, you poor thing. You must be frozen to death!" He fussed over Elida like a mother hen, "It's not nearly as warm up here." He grinned, dripping with false charm, "Here, take this, my dear." He removed his signature coat and placed it around her shoulders, using the gesture as an excuse to drape his arm around her. He smirked at Marcel as Elida thanked him and let him hold her closer to him. "My my, but you do look absolutely darling in red, don't you? Wouldn't you agree, Mr… what was it, again?"
"Marcel," he answered, rolling his eyes and glowering. "And dude, come on, you've known me for months now."
"Mmhm," Alastor ignored him, busy examining his fingernails dismissively.
The coat actually did help. Elida was freezing, but the jacket was as hot as a flame. That, along with Alastor's arm on her shoulders, made the shivering stop. Sometimes she wondered if Alastor just used his asshole façade as an excuse to do nice things, while publicly seeming like he wasn't being genuine. She suspected that was the case, but only some of the time. Other times he just liked making people angry. She secretly thought it was funny to watch.
"My friend!" Sir Pentious interjected from behind Marc. He came forward and tried to hug Alastor, which earned Pentious a snarl and a frightening grin-glare from the famous demon. "Ah, ssorry, It'ss been a while, sir." He shrank back, suddenly very self-conscious.
"C'mere, sweetie." Elida hugged him instead, "How are you settling in?"
"Things are going well," Pentious replied, "I've had many hours to build and tinker, though I do miss my stupid Egg-Boys. Also, Mr. Marcel has been doing quite a lot to help uss get used to being… well… not evil? I ssupose? We've made him our mayor."
"You have?" She looked at Marc, a hint of respect in her eyes. "Mayor of what?"
So, the Redeemed told Elida all about the kind things Marcel had been doing for them. Marc fiddled awkwardly with the pendant around his neck, feeling equal parts proud and embarrassed at the attention. The way she looked at him then made him simultaneously want to glow brighter than the sun and hide under a blanket. But when she reattached herself back under the Radio Demon's arm, his mood once again dimmed. He really didn't like that guy.
Alastor, seeing Marc's expression, brushed Elida's hair back from her face and ran a finger slowly down her neck. He stared smugly at the angel, enjoying how easy it was to irritate him. Marc with Elida was like Lucifer with Charlie, only less parental and more like a lovesick puppy. That poor, pathetic little man.
After pleasantries and handshakes were done with, Elida dismissed herself and Alastor from the group, insisting that while the Redeemed had eternity in Heaven, Alastor's time there was short. They needed to get to work before the clock ran out.
Elida held out her hand, summoning her tandem broom. "First thing's first," she said, "Let's get oriented. Hop on."
He didn't need much persuading. He loved that broom like a kid loved their bike; He was only ever delighted when Elida pulled it out. He mounted, kicking his feet back and forth with that mischievous grin on his face. "When in Rome!" He was ready to fly.