note the suicidal thoughts tag!
What the fuck. What the fuck.
His head is still pounding, phantom needles still piercing deep in his chest, left at the back of his mind when he was asleep. He looks helplessly towards V2, who is standing like a bad cardboard cutout, arms extended, completely dumbfounded. Mirage rubs the spot above her optic lens and sighs, resting her head on the table. V1, the smug asshole, signs, ‘Is this another old man you evicted from his home?’
‘Is the blue one speaking?’ says Sisyphus, and he sounds the same as he did years ago: an undercurrent of danger in that smooth timbre.
V1 nods at Mirage. She says, monotone, ‘V1 is asking if you are a second Minos incident.’
Gabriel contemplates the ethics of blowing himself up where he stands.
‘Well.’ Sisyphus steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. He leans his long cane against the doorknob, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. ‘Let’s get this out of the way. Well met, archangel, once more. The red one, you know what to get me.’
Sisyphus walks over, hand against the wall to find his way. Gabriel leaps off his seat, an action he pays the price for in a piercing headache. Sisyphus sinks into the couch with a sigh, catching the cigar V2 throws him with practiced ease.
Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he lights his cigar and takes a long drag on it. The acrid smell of smoke makes Gabriel sneeze into his sleeve. Sisyphus laughs outright and pats the seat next to him.
‘Sit. I won’t kill you. Not in front of a girl.’ He tilts his head in Mirage’s direction.
Mirage lets out an audible groan as V2 pats her on the back.
Gabriel sits down, folding his wings away to make space for himself. V1, skulking a fair distance away up to this point, takes this as an invitation to scooch closer, perching itself on the armrest next to Gabriel. Its wings flutter like a hummingbird’s when Gabriel moves closer to it.
‘How’s life been treating you?’ Sisyphus begins. It takes Gabriel an embarrassingly long time to realise that Sisyphus is talking to him.
‘It is no different from before.’
Sisyphus laughs, a sound that shakes the walls of the room. ‘You’re away from home. You’re studying Theology. Your divine body is failing you to the point where you must ask a stranger for sanctuary. Lie better next time.’
Gabriel shoots V2 a look. She shrugs and holds up her hands.
‘So,’ Sisyphus continues, addressing V1 now, ‘Your friend there mentioned Minos. Interesting. Have they met?’ He jabs his cigar in Gabriel’s direction. Gabriel feels his hackles raise. ‘I suppose a second stain on the archangel’s reputation won’t hurt.’
Gabriel wants to yell, to leap at this man and get him to shut up, but his spinning head holds him back. Sisyphus grins widely, the poor lighting of the space lending him a sinister air.
‘Let me start from the beginning.’ Gabriel shrinks back at the words.
‘He gave me this,’ says Sisyphus, indicating his blinded eyes. ‘But before that, he busted my union. All on his own. I’m so proud.’
‘Futile, perhaps, to struggle against a council of angels,’ he continues, taking another drag on his cigar. ‘But they still remember me, do they not?’
Gabriel jumps at the sound of a door slamming. Mirage and V2 are no longer in the room, leaving him with a mute machine and the only person he does not wish to see on this earth.
‘Well?’
‘They do not speak your name,’ says Gabriel, trying to keep himself from snarling. ‘Your ego trip has hurt more people than it has freed.’
‘Ah, but you were the one wielding the swords.’ The man towers over him, forcing him to back up until he hits the armrest of the couch. V1, still perched in the same spot, grabs onto his shoulder for support.
‘Will they remember me,’ says Sisyphus, cigar ash dropping onto the floor. ‘When I take down their loyal blade with my own two hands?’
V1’s grip on Gabriel’s shoulder becomes painful. Gabriel places a reassuring hand on its arm.
Isn’t this what he has been asking for? Absolution for everything he has ever done. Yet something holds him back from telling Sisyphus to go ahead; the memory of himself pinned to the ground in a parking lot, metal fingers sinking into his wounds, his promise in a darkened church.
V1 is resting its feet on his lap, stance relaxed, observing Sisyphus with a practiced curiosity. He looks at V1, as if asking for permission, only for it to wave a hand. Do what you want.
‘You will find no pleasure in taking my life in my current state.’ Sisyphus’s brows raise in surprise. Gabriel continues, ‘However, I do owe you a fair fight, which I am honour-bound to give you.’ If he ever recovers.
‘Hm.’ Sisyphus mulls it over. ‘Deal.’
He extends a hand. Hesitantly, Gabriel takes it. Sisyphus grins.
‘You’re less of a hypocrite than those Council angels,’ he says. ‘I like that.’
~~~
An extended single chord
(Dm9)
it stretches from the depths of silence, growing and swelling, nestling in sore muscles and needle-stabbed ribs. flesh and blood and bone in one neat package, taken apart too often within these couple days. resting for now, sheets soft against skin.
The second chord comes in later
(F♯13)
if the first chord was a swell then this is a storm. this one is loud, almost a scream, reverberating through bones and digging deep into marrow. the heart pounds faster, a primal response more suitable for animals than divine flesh.
run
something is wrong he needs to go home he needs to stay he has made so many mistakes than he can never fix where is his Father where is God please he hasn’t prayed since he has come here
Someone tell me what is right.
~~~
Gabriel comes to in the middle of the park, sweating hard, the overhead sun beating down on him. He summons his wings, shielding himself from the heat, heading towards the nearest bench he can see, shadowed by a large tree.
‘Hey.’
He flinches, ready to run, until he sees the figure leaning against the tree, her thin shirt visible now that her jacket is tied around her waist. Mirage flips through a tattered notebook, shutting it with a quick flick of her wrist.
‘You doing okay?’
She doesn’t move any closer, for which Gabriel is grateful.
‘I am in good health.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ she says. ‘We were worried when you ran off this morning but V1 told us to give it half a day. You tend to run, don’t you?’
Gabriel wipes his sweating hands on his skirt. The question feels like a trap.
It’s just a series of chords.
Mirage leans closer, optic half-lidded.
‘What have you been doing? You’re shaking.’
And he is. Gabriel forces himself to meet her gaze.
‘I have been listening to—’ The device is still in his pocket, wired earphones attached. He shows it to Mirage, who almost overbalances trying to read the words on the screen.
‘Oh, that.’ She crosses her arms. ‘That did this to you? You know what, that’s fair.’
‘Musical vivisection,’ she mutters. ‘I want to do that eventually.’
She hands the phone back to him.
Gabriel looks at her out of his peripheral vision. Out of his three bandmates, she is the one he knows the least about. The strange human likeness, her almost identical appearance to V1, something he has no summary for. She checks her non-existent nails before turning to him.
‘I have nothing to do while the other two prepare for the trip,’ says Mirage. ‘The camping trip,’ she adds in response to Gabriel’s evident confusion. ‘You’re coming with us. Just in case you can’t later. Can’t have a college friend group without a camping trip.’
Her tone is light but carries a certain unseen weight. She checks her nails again, carefully avoiding Gabriel’s gaze.
‘I’m going hunting,’ she says. ‘Movie hunting. I want to sample some old movies in the attic of some guy’s house in bumfuck nowhere. Come with me?’
And because he has nothing better to do and he needs to keep moving before his thoughts can catch up with him, he nods.
~~~
Mirage visibly brightens when she enters the library, waving hi to Minos at the desk. He returns her wave and nods curtly at Gabriel who enters after her. The angel returns the nod, just to be polite.
Nothing more. Nothing that can be mended.
Mirage walks over to the front desk, leaning casually against it. Minos puts down the book he is reading.
‘What is thy request?’
‘Can I access the archive? And the movie projector. I’ve got some things I need to record.’ She extracts a microphone from within her jacket.
Minos nods. ‘Thou should stop by more often.’ He hands her a key. ‘Thou art the only person who cares to dust off the archives.’
‘Hopefully he’ll catch on,’ says Mirage, nodding at Gabriel, who quickly focuses on an interesting-looking floor tile. Minos laughs, a full-bodied sound.
‘Remember to leave the door unlocked when thou art done,’ Minos calls after them as they make their way towards the back of the library, heading for the old wooden door. ‘The children need a place to stay at night.’
Mirage misses the keyhole twice before using both hands to steady the key. Gabriel nods to Minos again before slipping in after Mirage, hearing her flick on the lights.
Racks and racks of film reels fill one corner of the room. Another corner hosts a small bed, shabby but well-kept blankets heaped on top of it. Mirage makes a beeline for the moth-eaten couch in the middle of the room and pulls out her tattered notebook.
‘Alright. I’m going to need your help with these.’ She shows Gabriel the list. ‘The film reels should all be labelled, just be careful with them. I’ll set up the projector.’
Gabriel heads over to the racks. ‘I watched a movie with V1 last time,’ he says, watching Mirage fiddle with the projector. ‘They used the same projector.’
‘Oh?’ Mirage clicks something into place. ‘Was it seven hours long?’
‘I enjoyed it,’ says Gabriel immediately. ‘Though mostly in retrospect. It is hard to grasp the themes of authority and nihilism in the rapid pacing of the second half.’
Mirage looks up in surprise. ‘You’re one of the few people I’ve seen actually understand that thing. I might like you.’
Gabriel spots the correct reel near the bottom of the closest rack and leans down to grab it.
‘Mirage,’ he says. ‘When are we going to practice again?’
‘Oh? Hell yeah—sorry,’ she says, ‘Got the projector done… What was I going to say? Once I get the last samples from the transmission tower, which should be after the trip. Why do you ask?’
Honesty’s never looked good on you.
Oh, he’ll prove V1 wrong.
‘I miss playing with you,’ he says. Mirage places a hand over her heart dramatically.
‘You can just grab V1 or V2,’ she says, chuckling. ‘They’ll be happy to improvise over your playing. Especially V1. Can’t get it to stick to a pre-determined pattern.’
Gabriel finds the second reel, right next to the first one. He leaves half the truth unsaid: that they fit him in so seamlessly, this angel with rigid views on music, who lies every chance he can, who has been so, so cruel in the past. Yet here she is, inviting him to watch strange movies in a dusty storage room, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.
‘I hope you find your guy.’
Gabriel stands upright to see Mirage, leaning against the couch.
‘It’s been an eventful couple of days,’ she says. ‘I don’t blame you if you put it on the back burner for a while. Take care of yourself, alright?’
Gabriel finds the last reel and brings it to her, watching as she loads it into the projector.
He wants to tell her that he doesn’t deserve this kindness, that in his vision of justice he is already dead, but she makes a delighted sound when the projector begins to spin and he says nothing more when he sits down next to her.
feeling better now! thanks everyone for all the well wishes.
thinking of brushing up my guitar skills