Juvenile Orion Fan Fiction ❯ Fallen ❯ Memory ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: DesertIllusion 
Admit it. Admit that you wish he were here instead of me. Lafayel. Israfel. Tell me you want him back. That you grieve for him, that you cared for him when he was alive, that you cared for me when he was alive. Even if it hurts me now, I need to know you can still care.
Anime/Manga: Juvenile Orion Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 10.23.2006 | Updated On: 06.27.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 314 | Status: Completed
Admit it. Admit that you wish he were here instead of me. Lafayel. Israfel. Tell me you want him back. That you grieve for him, that you cared for him when he was alive, that you cared for me when he was alive. Even if it hurts me now, I need to know you can still care.
Anime/Manga: Juvenile Orion Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 10.23.2006 | Updated On: 06.27.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 314 | Status: Completed
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a teenage girl who experienced a great amount of pressure from society. She longed for the old times, when life was less rigid and strict copyright laws did not exist; when Bach could alter Vivaldi’s work and claim it as his own. She knew, in the time of the European Age of Enlightenment, she could have safely claimed the angels as her own, but sadly, in this modern age, her wretched soul and heart became the gateway of despair as she forlornly gave up the claim to the all-mighty Sakurako Gokurakuin.
Another interesting aspect of the angel race concerns aging. Unlike all organisms on earth, which eventually weaken from multiple cell divisions over time, the angels show no such signs of age once they have reached adulthood. The angels’ DNA polymerase appears to transcribe the genetic coding perfectly, with no shortening of the telomeres. As a result, it is impossible for an angel to die of old age. In fact, it is believed that the older the angel is, the less likely he is to die. However, the species is not immune to disease or physical injury. In fact, most angel deaths are caused by fatal injuries, usually during battle against a younger, more powerful angel. Evolution has promoted rapid maturity and the angel population, in effect, reaches maturity within an average of two years. Beginning as small cherubs, the growing body fat easily converts into muscle and the body cells undergo rapid mitosis to promote growth and rapid healing. The body ceases to change in appearance once the angel has reached the human prime of health. As a result, they appear to remain eternally between the ages of fifteen to 25 years of age.
Fallen
Chapter 2
Memory
By Illusion
It was time. Still within their critical learning period, the two cherubs had finally reached the age Rayyu had deemed appropriate for sparring. The column field Gabriel waited in was void of any activity, one of the many places where angels were known to train. Rayyu had been given temporary leave after attaining custody of all three cherubs and now that the two new additions to the family had outgrown their cherub awkwardness, he returned to the nursery, leaving them to Gabriel to teach them what he had learned the previous year.
“I don’t want to learn how to fight. It hurts even when we play together at home,” a familiar voice complained.
“We have to,” a second voice answered. “We’re angels. Besides, it’ll make Rayyu happy.”
“Are you sure?”
“My instincts are screaming it.”
A pair of cherubs rounded a block of columns, one with an extra pair of wings folded by his head and one with glittering lavender eyes. The two halted in front of their comrade, though the years of growing together prevented them from the formal greetings that occurred between master and pupil.
“You’re late,” Gabriel pointed at the position of the spindle installed in the columns.
“What did you expect?” the purple-eyed cherub replied. “There are only 24 hours in a sun and we need at least ten for sleeping.”
“Lafayel,” Gabriel growled, “humans need ten hours for sleeping.”
Lafayel shrugged. “Well, since angels consume more energy, I thought we’d need even more sleep.”
Gabriel closed his eyes crossed his arms, one eyebrow twitching slightly in irritation. “Israfel. Correct your comrade, seeing as how he evidently does not pay attention in class.”
The four-winged angel sent his friend an apologetic look. “Our bodies are actually more efficient at extracting energy, Lafayel. We learned that two moons ago.”
Lafayel waved the correction aside casually. “Jibril, you said we were going to spar today,” he said, not bothering to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Let’s begin.”
Gabriel shook his head at Lafayel’s cherub-like habits, but resisted the temptation to smack the younger angel. Instead, he drew a ribbon out from underneath his robes and fastened his hair in a high ponytail. “Make sure your hair is out of your face,” he instructed, handing two more ribbons to his comrades. “It will only get in the way.”
“Missionaries always keep their hair down,” Lafayel grumbled, still holding the ribbon as Israfel pulled his blond locks behind him.
“Missionaries are not cherubs learning how to spar for the first time,” Gabriel snapped.
The cherub shrugged and began to braid his hair. Gabriel suppressed a sigh. Always the non-conformist; he just has to express individuality. “Now, shed your outer layer,” he barked. “Loose clothing is a disadvantage as it can be easily caught and used against you.” They obeyed immediately, dropping their robes in a pile at their feet. Gabriel kept both layers on, deciding to interfere as little as possible once the two began their mock battle.
“Jibril?” Israfel looked questioningly at the older cherub.
“Experience is the best teacher.” He smiled in reassurance. “Now, I want you to go through your preliminary exercises to warm up. After that I want you to do simulation number eight. I will correct any mistakes you are careless enough to make. Understood?” Even Lafayel bowed his head, pressing his hand above his heart, a display of respect and compliance. “Begin.”
Heaven’s mess hall was never quiet. Squabbles over food and positions between angels were common, especially among the cherubs. Wings were displayed and auras fluctuated, but on the pillar where Rayyu and his cherubs sat, each angel ate his meal in silence. He did not ask how their training progressed and Gabriel did not offer it for conversation.
To Israfel and Lafayel, meals had always been so; no playful banter between the cherubs, no discussions of how to improve, just tense silence. Each relayed in his mind how he had attacked, defended, and dodged, and stored the information away for later, when they would be able to spar again. Gabriel stared at his own plate, though it wasn’t the training that occupied his mind.
“Rayyu! I beat Hermes today in sparring.”
Rayyu glanced up from Lafayel, who was squirming away from the fruit Rayyu was trying to put in his mouth. “That’s great,” he said distractedly, though he spared a strained smile. “Feed Israfel.”
Gabriel glanced at the cherub busily sucking the juice out of the fruit piece in his hand. Feeling eyes on him, Israfel popped the food out his mouth and smiled, almost shyly. “Jibril?” He offered the mashed fruit in his fist. “Hungry?”
“It seems ‘Gabriel’ is too hard to pronounce. Right, Israfel?” Rayyu chuckled, not noticing Lafayel taking a tentative lick of the fruit.
Israfel giggled. “Jibril! Jibril!”
After Calandra’s death, Rayyu had preoccupied himself with raising the cherubs, forcing all despair to the back of his mind. Not until the two younger cherubs had been excused did Gabriel dare address the turmoil that he sensed within his guardian. “Do you miss Cala?”
His first response was silence, but that was to be expected. Rayyu was a proud angel, despite his low rank. “Angels control their emotions, Gabriel. It makes us stronger.”
“Nobody shows them. The only angel I have ever known to share his emotions was Cala.” And you. When he was alive, you could feel.
“Calandra was unique. He lost his life because he allowed his emotions to control him. So much power, but a foolish heart.”
Gabriel bowed his head. Calandra had died for him. Died for Lafayel and Israfel when they were not yet born. Died for the colony. “He lost his life to protect the future generation’s lives.”
“He was a fool not to protect himself first.”
Yes, Rayyu. Admit it. Admit that you wish he were here instead of me. Lafayel. Israfel. Tell me you want him back. That you grieve for him, that you cared for him when he was alive, that you cared for me when he was alive. Even if it hurts me now, I need to know you can still care.
But Rayyu refused to continue and more prodding on Gabriel’s part would be a challenge from a lower ranking angel. He would gain nothing more from digging into the older angels’ past relationship. Rayyu would only come to him if he wanted to. Gabriel finished his meal quickly and excused himself.
Nobody was watching. Rayyu glanced around to make sure all three cherubs were asleep before slipping out the door. He allowed himself to fall against the smooth wall, spreading his wings to slow his descent enough to prevent a fatality, but folded enough for gravity to make him pass through the open doorways as only a flash of white. He would be too easily spotted if he flew and Rayyu wanted to remain inconspicuous. He landed lightly on the floor and folded his wings, deciding to walk. His destination was not far and his leg muscles were stronger than most angels. Most angels would not bother to look down and his robes would be harder to distinguish from the feathers that camouflaged him.
The barracks were made of rows of thick walls with sliding doors every few meters. Each door opened into small rectangular rooms where the angels slept and meditated. Piles of feathers gathered at the bottom of the narrow halls that joined into a main hall, which led to the other three sections.
The docks, originally meant to hold their ships, were usually vacant, only used several times every century. The missionaries that pioneered the crafts were rarely at the colony, spending most of their time in other galaxies where they would eliminate threats against the angel species and often obtain exotic delicacies to bring back to the colony. There had been a time when they had retained communication with other colonies, such as Hades, but now the closest angel colony, Hell, lay in another solar system.
Beside the docks lay the mess hall, made up of columns of various heights and diameters. Along the back was a row in which all were of equal height and diameter, each displaying heaps of fruit and delicacies from other worlds. When meals were not being served, the mess hall became the learning site where cherubs would learn maneuvering and basic defense. Old column fields were more commonly used by the older angels and occasionally, they would host a duel between angels fighting for rank or territory.
Rayyu bypassed the mess hall and cut through the docks, heading straight for the nursery. Nobody would be there. Angels are selfish creatures; they don’t care for anything other than themselves. The nursery was similar in design to the barracks, but instead of rows, the walls were arranged in rectangles, surrounding courtyards. At each corner, instead of a room with two doors (one opening to the hall and one leading into the courtyard), there was an open path leading into the orchard. Rayyu passed through the arch and entered the dimmed courtyard. The meliads were silent and still, a few weighed down with their fruits.
This is where we met. He was barely 300 and still acted like a cherub. Rayyu stopped in between two meliads. Their fruits were gone and their trunks bore scars of previous births. Veteran breeders. They would lose their fertility in another five hundred years or so. He turned when he felt a gentle brush against his left wing.
“They can speak if you let them to. Not in words, but in their actions, their leaves, their branches. Meliads are also angels.”
36. She was one of the oldest living meliads in the orchard as well as one of the healthiest. Far past the age in which her eggs should have declined in fertility, she had still managed to give birth to several more healthy cherubs. Israfel was her youngest and her last. 36 caressed his face. He smiled bitterly.
“He was a fool, wasn’t he? Sacrificing his own life to save another’s. Stupid angel. Only the strong persevere. Look at you. You’re the perfect example. Several thousand years old and you’ve only recently stopped giving birth.” He laughed.
I was well taken care of. I was raised with gentle hands.
“Gentle? Angels aren’t gentle. Old meliad. Have you finally lost all your senses? Have I lost my senses? I’m talking to a meliad, and she’s talking back! I should be at the barracks, asleep.”
Rayyu.
“It’s all his fault, do you realize that? It’s all his fault. Before I met him, I was like any other angel. I planned to challenge the first missionary or sentinel I saw once I was strong enough. Then he had to come along and make me soft. I was weak before, but never soft. And I didn’t care. Then he died and I’m suddenly finding myself wishing he were alive. It’s against our nature, isn’t it? 36? An angel isn’t supposed to want another angel to live, does he? They’ll have to fight eventually, won’t they?” It was that feeling again. That burning that had engulfed him the day it happened, but this time it was stronger. Water was flowing from his eyes unchecked and he didn’t feel them. 36 continued to caress his face, brushing the tears away. He barely noticed when she held up a lock of his hair. He managed a weak smile. “So you were there? It was probably before you were transferred up. We were in another orchard. It was a meaningless conversation. Just another of our humanity banters.”
“Have you ever wondered why we have to keep our hair long? Even though it can be an impairment during battle?”
Rayyu glanced up from the birthing report he was writing. “It’s to impress the humans. Those insignificant creatures are more obedient if we fit their imaginations better. Where are you trying to lead this conversation, Calandra?”
Calandra smiled. “You know me too well,” he laughed. “Very well. I learned another interesting fact about the humans from one of the missionary apprentices.”
Rayyu groaned. “The last time that happened, you made me soak in the juices so long that I smelled like fruit for a moon.”
“Please? At least hear it.”
“Don’t expect me to act on it.”
He laughed again. “It’s just a small thing,” he said. “I’ve heard in some places humans cut their hair to mourn. They give it to friends they will never see again.”
Rayyu scoffed. “It’s a useless tradition. Humans may do it, but angels will never have to.”
“Why?”
“We don’t mourn.”
A light touch on his hand. Jade eyes gazed into his. “I would mourn for you,” Calandra said, suddenly serious. “I would cut my hair for you.”
36 dropped her branches and brushed the tips against her roots. Rayyu touched one of the braids by his face and stepped closer to the meliad. She draped her branches over his form.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
I know, I know. This chapter seems kind of like a filler, doesn’t it? Well, at least you got some insight into each of the characters. Sorry to have so much Rayyu, but he’s important. After all, the ones who influence people the most are parents, so we’ll see how Rayyu affects our three main characters. Also, I know that I’ve been saying how I will update every three weeks, but I’m going to be taking a short break. I got hit by a huge plot bunny this week and I’ve already written about two pages of that other story. However, you might get lucky and I’ll post another chapter of Fallen instead. Both scenarios are equally likely, but I just wanted to warn you.
Allusions and Explanations:
DNA polymerase: the thing that copies your genetic information
Telomeres: the extra codes at the ends of DNA strands. They are codes of just ATATAT etc. and contain no genetic material. It’s just there to prevent any cutting of the important genetic material.
Mitosis: a form of cell division in which the cell copies its genetic material then splits into two daughter cells.
Jibril: the Arabic form of Gabriel’s name. I felt I should include this because I’m using the Islamic names for all the other angels.
Hermes: The Greek god of mischief.
It is implied that by Gabriel not mentioning their training that Lafayel and Israfel shouldn’t, as they are his students and therefore lower on the hierarchy.
Cutting Hair: Yes, this is actually true. In Chinese and Japanese culture, one cuts ones hair to mourn the loss of a loved one. In China, it would be given to a friend that you’d never see again and in Japan, it’s for a tragedy in love. I’m sure there are other places where hair is significant (I remember an Indian girl telling me that hair is a gift from God, so you shouldn’t cut it, but I don’t know what religion she follows), but I chose to use this one because it fits and I know Chinese culture pretty well.
Posted: 23 October 2006
Next Post: 20 November 2006
Another interesting aspect of the angel race concerns aging. Unlike all organisms on earth, which eventually weaken from multiple cell divisions over time, the angels show no such signs of age once they have reached adulthood. The angels’ DNA polymerase appears to transcribe the genetic coding perfectly, with no shortening of the telomeres. As a result, it is impossible for an angel to die of old age. In fact, it is believed that the older the angel is, the less likely he is to die. However, the species is not immune to disease or physical injury. In fact, most angel deaths are caused by fatal injuries, usually during battle against a younger, more powerful angel. Evolution has promoted rapid maturity and the angel population, in effect, reaches maturity within an average of two years. Beginning as small cherubs, the growing body fat easily converts into muscle and the body cells undergo rapid mitosis to promote growth and rapid healing. The body ceases to change in appearance once the angel has reached the human prime of health. As a result, they appear to remain eternally between the ages of fifteen to 25 years of age.
Fallen
Chapter 2
Memory
By Illusion
It was time. Still within their critical learning period, the two cherubs had finally reached the age Rayyu had deemed appropriate for sparring. The column field Gabriel waited in was void of any activity, one of the many places where angels were known to train. Rayyu had been given temporary leave after attaining custody of all three cherubs and now that the two new additions to the family had outgrown their cherub awkwardness, he returned to the nursery, leaving them to Gabriel to teach them what he had learned the previous year.
“I don’t want to learn how to fight. It hurts even when we play together at home,” a familiar voice complained.
“We have to,” a second voice answered. “We’re angels. Besides, it’ll make Rayyu happy.”
“Are you sure?”
“My instincts are screaming it.”
A pair of cherubs rounded a block of columns, one with an extra pair of wings folded by his head and one with glittering lavender eyes. The two halted in front of their comrade, though the years of growing together prevented them from the formal greetings that occurred between master and pupil.
“You’re late,” Gabriel pointed at the position of the spindle installed in the columns.
“What did you expect?” the purple-eyed cherub replied. “There are only 24 hours in a sun and we need at least ten for sleeping.”
“Lafayel,” Gabriel growled, “humans need ten hours for sleeping.”
Lafayel shrugged. “Well, since angels consume more energy, I thought we’d need even more sleep.”
Gabriel closed his eyes crossed his arms, one eyebrow twitching slightly in irritation. “Israfel. Correct your comrade, seeing as how he evidently does not pay attention in class.”
The four-winged angel sent his friend an apologetic look. “Our bodies are actually more efficient at extracting energy, Lafayel. We learned that two moons ago.”
Lafayel waved the correction aside casually. “Jibril, you said we were going to spar today,” he said, not bothering to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Let’s begin.”
Gabriel shook his head at Lafayel’s cherub-like habits, but resisted the temptation to smack the younger angel. Instead, he drew a ribbon out from underneath his robes and fastened his hair in a high ponytail. “Make sure your hair is out of your face,” he instructed, handing two more ribbons to his comrades. “It will only get in the way.”
“Missionaries always keep their hair down,” Lafayel grumbled, still holding the ribbon as Israfel pulled his blond locks behind him.
“Missionaries are not cherubs learning how to spar for the first time,” Gabriel snapped.
The cherub shrugged and began to braid his hair. Gabriel suppressed a sigh. Always the non-conformist; he just has to express individuality. “Now, shed your outer layer,” he barked. “Loose clothing is a disadvantage as it can be easily caught and used against you.” They obeyed immediately, dropping their robes in a pile at their feet. Gabriel kept both layers on, deciding to interfere as little as possible once the two began their mock battle.
“Jibril?” Israfel looked questioningly at the older cherub.
“Experience is the best teacher.” He smiled in reassurance. “Now, I want you to go through your preliminary exercises to warm up. After that I want you to do simulation number eight. I will correct any mistakes you are careless enough to make. Understood?” Even Lafayel bowed his head, pressing his hand above his heart, a display of respect and compliance. “Begin.”
Heaven’s mess hall was never quiet. Squabbles over food and positions between angels were common, especially among the cherubs. Wings were displayed and auras fluctuated, but on the pillar where Rayyu and his cherubs sat, each angel ate his meal in silence. He did not ask how their training progressed and Gabriel did not offer it for conversation.
To Israfel and Lafayel, meals had always been so; no playful banter between the cherubs, no discussions of how to improve, just tense silence. Each relayed in his mind how he had attacked, defended, and dodged, and stored the information away for later, when they would be able to spar again. Gabriel stared at his own plate, though it wasn’t the training that occupied his mind.
“Rayyu! I beat Hermes today in sparring.”
Rayyu glanced up from Lafayel, who was squirming away from the fruit Rayyu was trying to put in his mouth. “That’s great,” he said distractedly, though he spared a strained smile. “Feed Israfel.”
Gabriel glanced at the cherub busily sucking the juice out of the fruit piece in his hand. Feeling eyes on him, Israfel popped the food out his mouth and smiled, almost shyly. “Jibril?” He offered the mashed fruit in his fist. “Hungry?”
“It seems ‘Gabriel’ is too hard to pronounce. Right, Israfel?” Rayyu chuckled, not noticing Lafayel taking a tentative lick of the fruit.
Israfel giggled. “Jibril! Jibril!”
After Calandra’s death, Rayyu had preoccupied himself with raising the cherubs, forcing all despair to the back of his mind. Not until the two younger cherubs had been excused did Gabriel dare address the turmoil that he sensed within his guardian. “Do you miss Cala?”
His first response was silence, but that was to be expected. Rayyu was a proud angel, despite his low rank. “Angels control their emotions, Gabriel. It makes us stronger.”
“Nobody shows them. The only angel I have ever known to share his emotions was Cala.” And you. When he was alive, you could feel.
“Calandra was unique. He lost his life because he allowed his emotions to control him. So much power, but a foolish heart.”
Gabriel bowed his head. Calandra had died for him. Died for Lafayel and Israfel when they were not yet born. Died for the colony. “He lost his life to protect the future generation’s lives.”
“He was a fool not to protect himself first.”
Yes, Rayyu. Admit it. Admit that you wish he were here instead of me. Lafayel. Israfel. Tell me you want him back. That you grieve for him, that you cared for him when he was alive, that you cared for me when he was alive. Even if it hurts me now, I need to know you can still care.
But Rayyu refused to continue and more prodding on Gabriel’s part would be a challenge from a lower ranking angel. He would gain nothing more from digging into the older angels’ past relationship. Rayyu would only come to him if he wanted to. Gabriel finished his meal quickly and excused himself.
Nobody was watching. Rayyu glanced around to make sure all three cherubs were asleep before slipping out the door. He allowed himself to fall against the smooth wall, spreading his wings to slow his descent enough to prevent a fatality, but folded enough for gravity to make him pass through the open doorways as only a flash of white. He would be too easily spotted if he flew and Rayyu wanted to remain inconspicuous. He landed lightly on the floor and folded his wings, deciding to walk. His destination was not far and his leg muscles were stronger than most angels. Most angels would not bother to look down and his robes would be harder to distinguish from the feathers that camouflaged him.
The barracks were made of rows of thick walls with sliding doors every few meters. Each door opened into small rectangular rooms where the angels slept and meditated. Piles of feathers gathered at the bottom of the narrow halls that joined into a main hall, which led to the other three sections.
The docks, originally meant to hold their ships, were usually vacant, only used several times every century. The missionaries that pioneered the crafts were rarely at the colony, spending most of their time in other galaxies where they would eliminate threats against the angel species and often obtain exotic delicacies to bring back to the colony. There had been a time when they had retained communication with other colonies, such as Hades, but now the closest angel colony, Hell, lay in another solar system.
Beside the docks lay the mess hall, made up of columns of various heights and diameters. Along the back was a row in which all were of equal height and diameter, each displaying heaps of fruit and delicacies from other worlds. When meals were not being served, the mess hall became the learning site where cherubs would learn maneuvering and basic defense. Old column fields were more commonly used by the older angels and occasionally, they would host a duel between angels fighting for rank or territory.
Rayyu bypassed the mess hall and cut through the docks, heading straight for the nursery. Nobody would be there. Angels are selfish creatures; they don’t care for anything other than themselves. The nursery was similar in design to the barracks, but instead of rows, the walls were arranged in rectangles, surrounding courtyards. At each corner, instead of a room with two doors (one opening to the hall and one leading into the courtyard), there was an open path leading into the orchard. Rayyu passed through the arch and entered the dimmed courtyard. The meliads were silent and still, a few weighed down with their fruits.
This is where we met. He was barely 300 and still acted like a cherub. Rayyu stopped in between two meliads. Their fruits were gone and their trunks bore scars of previous births. Veteran breeders. They would lose their fertility in another five hundred years or so. He turned when he felt a gentle brush against his left wing.
“They can speak if you let them to. Not in words, but in their actions, their leaves, their branches. Meliads are also angels.”
36. She was one of the oldest living meliads in the orchard as well as one of the healthiest. Far past the age in which her eggs should have declined in fertility, she had still managed to give birth to several more healthy cherubs. Israfel was her youngest and her last. 36 caressed his face. He smiled bitterly.
“He was a fool, wasn’t he? Sacrificing his own life to save another’s. Stupid angel. Only the strong persevere. Look at you. You’re the perfect example. Several thousand years old and you’ve only recently stopped giving birth.” He laughed.
I was well taken care of. I was raised with gentle hands.
“Gentle? Angels aren’t gentle. Old meliad. Have you finally lost all your senses? Have I lost my senses? I’m talking to a meliad, and she’s talking back! I should be at the barracks, asleep.”
Rayyu.
“It’s all his fault, do you realize that? It’s all his fault. Before I met him, I was like any other angel. I planned to challenge the first missionary or sentinel I saw once I was strong enough. Then he had to come along and make me soft. I was weak before, but never soft. And I didn’t care. Then he died and I’m suddenly finding myself wishing he were alive. It’s against our nature, isn’t it? 36? An angel isn’t supposed to want another angel to live, does he? They’ll have to fight eventually, won’t they?” It was that feeling again. That burning that had engulfed him the day it happened, but this time it was stronger. Water was flowing from his eyes unchecked and he didn’t feel them. 36 continued to caress his face, brushing the tears away. He barely noticed when she held up a lock of his hair. He managed a weak smile. “So you were there? It was probably before you were transferred up. We were in another orchard. It was a meaningless conversation. Just another of our humanity banters.”
“Have you ever wondered why we have to keep our hair long? Even though it can be an impairment during battle?”
Rayyu glanced up from the birthing report he was writing. “It’s to impress the humans. Those insignificant creatures are more obedient if we fit their imaginations better. Where are you trying to lead this conversation, Calandra?”
Calandra smiled. “You know me too well,” he laughed. “Very well. I learned another interesting fact about the humans from one of the missionary apprentices.”
Rayyu groaned. “The last time that happened, you made me soak in the juices so long that I smelled like fruit for a moon.”
“Please? At least hear it.”
“Don’t expect me to act on it.”
He laughed again. “It’s just a small thing,” he said. “I’ve heard in some places humans cut their hair to mourn. They give it to friends they will never see again.”
Rayyu scoffed. “It’s a useless tradition. Humans may do it, but angels will never have to.”
“Why?”
“We don’t mourn.”
A light touch on his hand. Jade eyes gazed into his. “I would mourn for you,” Calandra said, suddenly serious. “I would cut my hair for you.”
36 dropped her branches and brushed the tips against her roots. Rayyu touched one of the braids by his face and stepped closer to the meliad. She draped her branches over his form.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
I know, I know. This chapter seems kind of like a filler, doesn’t it? Well, at least you got some insight into each of the characters. Sorry to have so much Rayyu, but he’s important. After all, the ones who influence people the most are parents, so we’ll see how Rayyu affects our three main characters. Also, I know that I’ve been saying how I will update every three weeks, but I’m going to be taking a short break. I got hit by a huge plot bunny this week and I’ve already written about two pages of that other story. However, you might get lucky and I’ll post another chapter of Fallen instead. Both scenarios are equally likely, but I just wanted to warn you.
Allusions and Explanations:
DNA polymerase: the thing that copies your genetic information
Telomeres: the extra codes at the ends of DNA strands. They are codes of just ATATAT etc. and contain no genetic material. It’s just there to prevent any cutting of the important genetic material.
Mitosis: a form of cell division in which the cell copies its genetic material then splits into two daughter cells.
Jibril: the Arabic form of Gabriel’s name. I felt I should include this because I’m using the Islamic names for all the other angels.
Hermes: The Greek god of mischief.
It is implied that by Gabriel not mentioning their training that Lafayel and Israfel shouldn’t, as they are his students and therefore lower on the hierarchy.
Cutting Hair: Yes, this is actually true. In Chinese and Japanese culture, one cuts ones hair to mourn the loss of a loved one. In China, it would be given to a friend that you’d never see again and in Japan, it’s for a tragedy in love. I’m sure there are other places where hair is significant (I remember an Indian girl telling me that hair is a gift from God, so you shouldn’t cut it, but I don’t know what religion she follows), but I chose to use this one because it fits and I know Chinese culture pretty well.
Posted: 23 October 2006
Next Post: 20 November 2006