The Archangel of Dragonflies

Pat stands up from behind his desk. "Daimon?"

Daimon says "Hi."

Pat says "Hello. Are you bored?"

Daimon grins a little bit. "I am never bored these days."

Pat chuckles, pulling on his jacket. "I meant right now. Feel like taking a break?"

Daimon says "Sure. It's been a long, painful, ugly day."

Pat says "Grab your jacket. I know a good place."

Daimon grabs his leather jacket, and shrugs it on.

Pat grabs his overcoat, pulling it on and moving for the door.

Daimon follows behind. Pad pad pad.

Pat leads Daimon along the DC streets for a few blocks, eventually coming to a cozy, gloomy, terribly Irish pub.

Daimon grins, on looking at it. "Cool."

Pat chuckles. "I'm a Murphy, remember?" He opens the door and gestures for Daimon to lead.

Daimon walks into the bar, blinking in the gloom.

Pat follows, gathering quite a few nods and giving out a good number in return. The bartender nods at Pat, and starts filling a pint before looking at Daimon. "Light or dark?"

Daimon says "Dark, thanks."

The bartender nods, and fills a second pint, handing them both across.

Daimon takes his pint, and watches Pat to see where he goes.

Pat takes his own pint, and starts wending his way through closely-spaced tables to one of the few booths, high-backed and fairly private.

Daimon follows Pat to the booth.

Pat shrugs out of his overcoat and sits, settling himself. "Remember when I told you about the mall?"

Daimon takes off his coat, and slides into the booth. "The mall?"

Pat nods. "The one where I would just sit and watch...so I wouldn't forget."

Daimon says "Oh, sure. Certainly, I remember."

Pat nods, taking a swallow from his pint. "This is the other way around. It's a place to get in touch with their world. To take a break."

Daimon looks around. "Oh, cool."

Pat leans back, fishing out his cigarettes and dropping them onto the table. "I thought you'd like it."

Daimon says "We have a place like this back in LA, but it's a demon bar."

Pat considers. "I have no idea what that would be like."

Daimon says "It's a bar.... where demons congregate. Like this."

Pat says "Oh." He drinks again, considering. "I don't think we have any of those here. At least, I hope not."

Daimon says "I don't think so. I mean, we're a bunch of Hollywood folk, you know, so congregating isn't unusual. And our Bosses aren't as paranoid as most. We just... talk work, mostly. Who is working what, where."

Daimon says "Gossip."

Pat nods. "That almost sounds pleasant."

Daimon says "Sometimes. Sometimes people come to play 'stick the knife in the friend's back and twist'. Who is on the outs. Who made a stink. It's a politics game."

Pat wrinkles his nose. "Why?"

Daimon says "Because that's Hollywood. I usually just listen and drink."

Pat reaches for his cigarettes. "Do you miss it?"

Daimon says "I dearly miss performing. Very badly. And writing."

Pat says "Well. It's only been a few days. I was speaking more of the congregation. The drinking and listening."

Daimon waves a hand. "I was in Hell before this. I've been out for a few weeks. But listening to them banter and be threatening with smiling eyes? I miss my sister, I miss my friends, I don't miss the bullshit."

Pat nods, lighting a cigarette and sliding the pack over. "It sounds like it'd get tedious very fast."

Daimon says "Not if you play the game."

Pat shrugs. "To what end, though? Why play it out?"

Daimon says "Something to do? That's the nature of Hell, I think."

Daimon says "It's a selfish game of wants and haves and have nots."

Pat says "And looking for something to do?"

Daimon says "Well, your selfishness stems from somewhere, and it's from seeing something someone has and covetting it for yourself. Making them look bad so you can step into their shoes. You know, jobs, power, money, significant others, all of it. So the back stabbing game goes on and on and on."

Pat nods, listening.

Daimon says "So when demons congregate, they tend to play it in a friendly way. Gossiping, dropping comments, making deals, playing up favors. The way Sisters conduct business."

Daimon says "Me, I drink."

Pat says "It sounds like it would be more fascinating to watch than to participate in."

Daimon says "Since I'm always on the move, I'm sort of an outsider. I'm not around long enough to form those sorts of relationships because, zip, I've got to be in New York or Vegas or Chicago or Milan or who knows the next day. But from a purely socio-econom ic outlook, it's fascinating to watch demonic culture at its most tame."

Pat says "Its most civil, at least. I've a mental picture of stilettos and poison rings."

Daimon grins. "No, not really. More like grins and swarthy commentary."

Pat chuckles. "Aha."

Pat says "And careful attention to one's hair?"

Daimon says "Always, if your friends are Balseraphim. And some of mine are. They really aren't that bad."

Pat's mouth twitches. "Under certain circumstances."

Daimon says "Some of them can be pretty Funny, and tell the best stories."

Pat takes another swallow of beer. "I don't doubt it. I've heard a few very convincing ones."

Daimon drinks some of his beer. "They're a little difficult to keep friends without reminding them when they forget, but they tell wonderful tales."

Pat nods. "Is that a usual entertainment, in Hell? Balseraph stories?"

Daimon says "Um, no. I just have a weakness for stories, something I'm working on."

Daimon ponders.

Daimon says "I live in Shal-Mari. Imagine... imagine combining Vegas and Manhattan and some of the sleazier bits on the strip in LA. Now, make it really huge, densely packed, and even more frantic. That's my home."

Pat blinks. "Wow."

Daimon says "You want entertainment? We can do entertainment. Casinos. Theaters. Movies. Books, Magazines. Television. Sex. Clubs. Throbbing thrash music. More sex. Clothes. Food. You want it? We have it."

Daimon says "I have an apartment filled with books and comics. And computer toys. Techno toys are very popular nowadays."

Pat says "Gratification made physical."

Daimon says "Everything you've ever wanted or ever imagined. Some humans call it paradise."

Pat wrinkles his nose.

Daimon says "To be honest, I prefer Earth, although Shal-Mari is a cool place to vacation. Even beaches along the river."

Pat says "Why prefer Earth, though, if Shal-Mari has everything?"

Daimon says "Humans. Life. There is a certain beauty here that is lost in Hell. Granted I have a kick ass guitar collection at home, but they don't sound the same as when I play with three humans who really LOVE their music and their instruments. Poetry is lost in hell. And there are no trees. No clouds. It never relents."

Pat says "Not even with the facade?"

Daimon says "It never leaves you alone, Pat. It's like living in 1984, or Brave New World."

Pat frowns. "There's never any real, lasting happiness there, is there?"

Daimon says "No, not really. There is lots of momentary fleeting happiness at having stuff and satisfying your carnal desires. You feed your wants, no problem. But never lasting happiness."

Daimon waves his hands. "But that's not my job. I'm a Comedian. When I'm there I work the stages."

Pat says "What does that entail?"

Daimon says "Doing bits to crowds. Putting on shows. You know, standing on stage and doing stand-up. Of course, the routines I do down there are drastically different to those I do on Earth."

Pat says "That was my question, actually."

Daimon says "Oh. It's more celestial based."

Pat says "Ah. Commentary on Hell itself?"

Daimon says "And Heaven."

Pat nods. "Would you mind if I asked to hear some of it?"

Daimon says "Um."

Pat says "If you'd rather not, it's alright. I'm curious, though."

Daimon says "My last stream of comments was Gabriel Madness jokes."

Pat says "Oh?"

Daimon nods.

Pat looks interested.

Daimon looks a little uncomfortable. "There's lots of material there."

Pat blinks. "You're unsettled."

Daimon says "I'm embarrassed, actually."

Pat says "Why?"

Daimon says "Because I feel like a jerk."

Pat says "I don't follow."

Daimon waves a hand. "I stood on stage two weeks ago and made some crass comments about Gabriel's Madness and Love Life. I didn't know angels then, so at the time, it was pretty funny. People laughed. They always laugh. But now I feel stupid."

Pat says "They're jokes, Daimon."

Daimon says "Yup. I know."

Pat says "At worst, they could be base appeals to low humour. At best, they could contain truth. Why feel stupid about them?"

Daimon says "Because I never expected to be having this conversation, in my wildest dreams."

Pat says "Discussing Gabriel jokes with an angel?"

Daimon says "Yes."

Pat says "Ah."

Pat says "There's no reason, you know."

Pat sips beer. "And I admit to being terribly curious."

Daimon grins. "I had made some crack about Gabriel going hunting with Laurence for Demons to Smite, getting confused, and in trying to make amorous overtures toward everyone's favorite Malakite, ended up getting it on with a tree. Not that she could tell the difference."

Pat clears his throat. "One might feel sorry for the tree."

Daimon says "Laurence, much relieved, ends up going off to kill small defenseless deer in a most honorable manner with a Ramboeque collection of weapons to give Baal a hardon."

Pat smiles. "I've heard rumours of Laurence's collection."

Daimon laughs. "Die Bambi, you souless peon of the hellous legions! _blam_."

Pat says "He probably wouldn't feel it was honorable unless he gave the deer at least two chances to gore him."

Daimon says "My God, you evil cretin, you Piddled on my brand new $500 combat boots!"

Pat says "Riding boots."

Pat smiles.

Daimon says "I've never seen him for real. Riding boots?"

Pat nods. "Knee-high, at least."

Daimon says "Woah. Sexy."

Pat says "It's a leather thing."

Daimon says "So the rumors ARE true."

Pat says "Which?"

Daimon says "That Laurence is sexy."

Pat says "Well, it depends."

Daimon says "On what?"

Pat says "On whether you consider small wiry men in leather sexy. Especially with swords."

Daimon sits back in the booth and grins. "Why, gee, I dunno. Hmmm. Small wiry men in leather with large phallic symbols? Just possible."

Pat says "There you have it. A certain truth."

Daimon grins. "Cool."

Pat says "Ok. So we have Laurence giving deer a fighting chance and Gabriel rutting with trees."

Daimon says "The majority of the bits are hell jokes."

Pat says "Are they context-dependent?"

Daimon says "Mostly, yeah."

Pat takes a swallow of beer. "Hm. Any that would make sense to me?"

Daimon says "Probably not."

Pat says "Ah. That's a shame."

Daimon shrugs, and sips some beer.

Pat says "Ah well."

Daimon says "No great loss, really."

Pat says "Not very amusing?"

Daimon says "Very amusing, but in context."

Pat says "Ah."

Daimon drinks his beer.

Pat says "Jokes in Heaven are usually simpler...Although if you've noticed, we've a taste for dry humor."

Daimon says "I have noticed. It's sort of a shame."

Pat says "Well, it has to be true, you see."

Daimon says "Oh."

Pat says "At least, in Heaven proper."

Daimon says "That takes some of the fun out of it."

Pat says "It becomes more akin to pithy commentary than straight comedy."

Daimon says "So you tell a funny story about Azzie's toilet, and its various uses. It's definitely not true, but it's funny to those who, well, don't like the Game. But you can't do that in Heaven."

Pat nods. "Right. In Heaven, we're on the level of light bulb jokes, or amusing anecdotes."

Daimon says "Oh. Amusing ancedotes."

Pat nods. "Earthside stories are very popular. Or were, the last time I was there."

Daimon says "Oh. No jokes. Just amusing ancedotes."

Pat says "Well, they're still funny."

Pat says "Like Jello-covered Calabim."

Daimon grins a little bit. "I wasn't there. No one saw me. You can't place me at the scene of the crime."

Pat chuckles. "It /was/ funny, though." He lifts his glass in a half-toast.

Daimon says "Funny is my life, man."

Pat says "You do it well.You've an eye towards the poetic."

Daimon says "Every so often, something really good hits me. And I follow through on it. Call it inspiration."

Pat nods.

Daimon says "I followed through on that one. And on the wedgie-giving to that Impudite in Focals. I can't kill anyone, so I make up for it with funniness."

Pat says "Wedgie?"

Pat blinks.

Daimon says "Well, actually I think that one was just a solid goosing. A wedgie is when you ah, grab the waistband of their underwear from behind and tug upwards."

Pat says "I knew that. I didn't know about the Impudite."

Daimon says "The one Liz shot?"

Pat says "Oh."

Daimon nods. "I was being, uh, helpful."

Pat says "Was it a distraction?"

Daimon says "Certainly."

Pat nods. "Well done, then."

Daimon shrugs. "Sure."

Pat says "You don't seem very certain."

Daimon says "I'm not very certain."

Pat says "About?"

Daimon says "Stuff."

Pat says "What sort of stuff?"

Daimon says "Most stuff."

Pat says "Is there anything I can help with?"

Daimon says "I dunno. I feel... out of place."

Pat blinks. "Out of place?"

Daimon says "Underfoot? Like I'm dragging friends into deadly situations where they don't need to be? Out of sync."

Pat says "Hm. I don't think that's the case. But why do you feel that way?"

Daimon says "I dunno. Maybe because I'm a big bad nasty slime dripped demon who sits around gnawing on the souls of the innocent. I mean in the above case, by being a goof I could have gotten Liz killed. Or Sephar."

Pat considers this. "I don't think of you as slimy."

Daimon says "Sweaty?"

Pat studies Daimon. "No, not really. Unless you go jogging, maybe."

Daimon says "Oh, hmmm."

Daimon drinks some beer, looks vague.

Pat says "Hm?"

Daimon says "Just jogging."

Pat says "Well..."

Daimon says "I just feel weird around a group of angels. I don't really... fit."

Pat says "I think you fit better than you think, Daimon."

Daimon says "It's not really where I belong."

Pat says "How so?"

Daimon says "I dunno. It just doesn't feel right somehow. I don't fit right."

Pat says "It's different."

Daimon says "It's not just that. It's just that... I'm not an angel. I'm still a me."

Pat says "The two are not mutually exclusive."

Daimon says "Well, they are right now."

Pat says "They're separate. Not incompatible."

Daimon says "Maybe not, but there are some serious nagging fears that I'm going to do something really wrong."

Pat blinks. "Such as?"

Daimon says "I have no idea. Something that will cause you or someone else to do 'what you have to do'."

Pat says "Do you want to?"

Daimon says "I don't even know what the criteria is."

Pat says "Nothing Evil."

Daimon says "But what IS 'evil'?"

Pat says "Short form?"

Daimon says "Please."

Pat says "Abject selfishness."

Daimon says "Hmmm."

Daimon says "But I am selfish."

Pat says "You're self-interested."

Daimon says "I'm _selfish_."

Pat says "I have to disagree with you."

Daimon says "I selfishly don't want to stop doing what I'm doing and give up my life and friends because they're my friends. I selfishly don't want anyone to get hurt because then it will hurt me. I selfishly want my boss back because I want my world to come back into focus. I'm selfish."

Pat says "You've some selfish motivations."

Daimon says "Extremely."

Daimon says "I'm not that good of a person."

Pat says "Do you want to be?"

Daimon says "I've been trying to rationalize how I can be 'good' and still be 'me' at the same time, without getting killed by you or anyone else."

Pat says "Daimon, I've seen nothing in 'you' that requires killing."

Daimon says "But I'm evil. I assume it is just a matter of time."

Pat says "You're not evil."

Daimon says "Sure I am. I wouldn't be a demon if I wasn't."

Pat smiles. "Maybe that's just a technicality."

Daimon says "It can't be."

Pat says "No?"

Daimon says "The universe doesn't make mistakes like that."

Pat says "Daimon, Hell functions in defiance of the universe. Have you considered that maybe you don't /belong/ there?"

Daimon says "No."

Pat says "Why not?"

Daimon says "Because everyone I've know who has been there, belongs there."

Pat says "Perhaps if they don't belong there, they are provided a way out."

Daimon says "I dunno. That sounds too much like Fate or Karma."

Pat says "Or Destiny."

Daimon shrugs. "But Destiny doesn't come to people like me."

Pat smiles. "I think Sarah would disagree with that, Daimon."

Daimon says "But why me? Are you saying the universe conspired to take me out of hell?"

Pat says "Yes."

Pat says this with all seriousness.

Daimon says "But _why_? Why the special selection?"

Daimon says "And why now?"

Pat says "Does it matter?"

Daimon says "I don't feel specially selected."

Pat says "Daimon, it's not as if you've been lifted by the hand of God to the gates of Heaven. You've nothing more than the opportunity. A ticket out, as it were."

Daimon says "Oh."

Daimon pauses.

Daimon says "What if I don't go? What if I'm not worthy? What if I don't want to change? What if I don't want to atone?"

Pat says "Then you answer the last question."

Pat says "Do you want to stay in Hell?"

Daimon says "My family and friends and duty are all there."

Pat says "Not all of them."

Daimon says "And those that aren't I can see here, on Earth."

Pat shrugs. "I can't answer it for you, Daimon. No one can but you. But you can only answer it once."

Daimon says "It's _wrong_ to just walk away."

Pat says "Away from what, Daimon? Away from brief, ephemeral pleasure? Away from the games, the politicking? Away from the /relentlessness/?"

Daimon says "It's _wrong_ to walk away from people who... who trust you, who expect you to be there, who expect you to do a job. It's wrong to betray that."

Pat nods. "Then that needs to be considered in your answer."

Daimon says "It's wrong to betray people, Pat."

Pat nods.

Daimon says "And you ask me to do that. But I will do it, if it makes... things better in the end for others."

Pat says "That's not what I'm asking, Daimon. I am asking you to look at yourself, long and hard, and ask yourself where you want to be. Not where you think you should be. Not where you think you deserve to be. Where you /want/, with your being, to be."

Daimon says "I don't get that, Pat. That's... that's a selfish way of being."

Pat says "Look deep enough, Daimon, and you may find that it is selfless."

Daimon shrugs. "I don't see how doing something purely for the betterment of oneself can be seen as selfless."

Pat says "No others would benefit?"

Daimon says "Would others benefit?"

Pat says "Of course."

Daimon says "How?"

Pat says "The entire purpose of Heaven is the betterment of others, Daimon."

Daimon says "But I'm making this decision based on what _I_ want, not based on what would be the greater good of the whole."

Pat says "You have no opinion on the greater good of the whole?"

Daimon says "I do have an opinion on the greater good of the whole. I just don't understand how turning my back on my loyalties and ethics is going to further it."

Pat quotes, with small but present reverence, "And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom you will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in wh ose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."

Daimon sags a bit. "I can't come up with good rebuttals to the Bible."

Pat says "It wasn't an argument, Daimon."

Daimon says "You ask me to give up my sense of duty."

Pat says "I ask you to consider."

Daimon says "Consider what? Being a traitor? Turning my back on people I care about?"

Pat nods. "Among other things."

Daimon frowns and blinks and falls silent for a bit.

Pat lights a fresh cigarette.

Daimon says "I've always prided myself on my sense of duty. I mean, there isn't much else."

Pat nods.

Daimon says "It's my belief in my purpose that keeps me going. And now you ask me to turn my back on it."

Pat says "No."

Daimon says "But you ask me to turn my back on my purpose to, as they say, 'serve the Lord'."

Pat says "I ask you to consider if it is worth it."

Daimon says "Why would it be worth it? How would it be worth it?"

Pat says "A higher purpose. Duty beyond the self. Love, infinite and pure. A place where you belong, not clawed out of a hierarchy, but bestowed through grace."

Pat says "I will not ask you to Redeem, Daimon. I will not threaten, cajole, manipulate, or bribe you."

Daimon says "Oh."

Pat says "I will answer anything you put to me."

Pat says "I will offer my opinions and my advice."

Daimon says "I dunno if Lilim have a _purpose_ in Heaven. How would I have a place where I belong?"

Pat says "Everyone does."

Daimon says "None of us, not a one, are born in the Light. How can we possibly have a purpose there?"

Pat says "/Everyone/, human, angel, demon, and Lilim, has a place in the Light. For them. Just for them."

Daimon says "But why do we have to fight our way out of Hell? Why were we made this way?"

Pat says "I don't know."

Daimon says "It seems to me we're made like this because we belong there, and we're cursed to simply try to be decent beings in the darkness."

Pat says "Hell should not exist, Daimon. It is impossible for anyone to belong there."

Daimon says "It does, and we didn't exist until it did. Maybe it is part of some sort of divine fate that we should be born there, and be forced to pay for Lilith's overtures at wanting to be equal to man - equal to God - for all over eternity. And that's why we have no place in Heaven - we're created outside the Light, as an accident, and oversight, and unfortunate consequence of the experiment in Eden."

Pat says "Perhaps that is /why/ there is a place for you in Heaven."

Daimon says "Because we are an accident?"

Pat shakes his head. "So you need not pay for your mother's choice."

Daimon says "But we do. Every one of us. Although, admittedly, some do not mind."

Pat says "Why continue?"

Daimon shakes his head. "I do not know."

Daimon says "Loyalty to Lilith, possibly."

Pat nods.

Hitherby hums, softly, "They will come back, come back again, as long as the red earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or tree. Do you think He would squander souls?"

Hitherby adds, "Nethaniah told me that. It's by the author of a book about jungles."

Hitherby goes back to her silence.

Daimon opens his eyes wide, looking for the source of the voice, and then suddenly realizes it's Hitherby.

Pat blinks.

Daimon says "Huh?"

Hitherby says "There is a place for you in Heaven, Daimon, and the proof of this can be put in four simple words."

Hitherby says "God Is Not Dumb."

Daimon says "Oh. Well. Then God has plans that none of us can figure out."

Hitherby hums agreeably.

Pat says "Of course."

Daimon cocks his head to the side. "I suppose it is possible that we are born in Hell because those of us who Redeem are that much more stronger for it."

Pat says "It takes strength, certainly."

Hitherby says "That is possible. It is also possible that Heaven is a state of being experienced by those who accept God, and everything but Heaven is a random differentiation of a universe that has not completely accepted God yet. The latter is my opinion, but I am only offering it -- not insisting on it."

Daimon says "But why? Why must we go through this? Our resonance alone makes us a fiercely loyal Band to those we choose to be loyal to. Why force us to break that and go against our natures to accept Heaven?"

Pat says "Is it against your nature, or against your culture?"

Daimon shifts a little uncomfortably. "I would say both."

Pat tilts his head. "Oh?"

Daimon says "There is a Need for loyalty and trustworthiness and duty and reliability which cannot be expected from any other Band. Only we can give these things, and keep them, without having to go against our natures. And since we resonante for Needs, we see them, and fulfill them naturally."

Pat says "And how is this inherently demonic?"

Daimon says "I have no idea. Except that here I am, a demon."

Pat says "A Lilim."

Hitherby says "Oddly enough, everything that has not accepted God has not accepted God, and does not have a nature that accepts God."

Daimon says "And therefore, no matter how inherently 'good' you are, you're damned. It's sort of a lose lose situation."

Hitherby says "Interestingly enough, though, everything has the possibility to *change* to accept God."

Daimon says "I just can't accept God's absolutely arbitrary judgment."

Hitherby says "God has made no judgments in this matter."

Pat says "It's not arbitrary."

Pat looks almost offended.

Daimon says "It's not to me, it's to the humans."

Hitherby says, "It really isn't fair to blame God for someone's failure to choose to change to accept him."

Daimon says "It's not that. It's that the choice to send a soul which has maybe, at best, 80 years of struggle down to eternal damnation and pain because of the morals of society isn't fair, or just. So someone does not go out and reach their destiny, which they don't know what it is or how to achieve it - does this mean that they should have been lied to their entire lives by the religion of their choice, and be robbed of some sort of abolution at death? Well, they are robbed, and it is a lie, and they do get to suffer for eternity for the sins of a few years."

Daimon says "And me? I get to watch it."

Pat says "That is not God's work."

Daimon says "It has to be God's work, because who else makes the Judgment to send a soul to Heaven or to Hell or to Oblivion or elsewhere?"

Pat says "The soul itself."

Daimon shakes his head. "That can't be true. How can a soul _want_ to go to Hell?"

Pat says "Temptation. Corruption. Lies."

Pat says "You yourself have said that Shal-Mari appears as paradise to some."

Hitherby says, quietly, "It is not eternal."

Daimon says "I love humans, and especially their works, but sometimes it pains me to know that for them, no matter what sort of person they are, death is only the beginning of pain. Can you imagine a suicide from a chronic, terminal illness waking up in eternal pain, believing they were going to God?"

Daimon says "To some, yes, Shal-Mari is as paradise."

Hitherby says, quietly, "It is *not* eternal."

Daimon says "Okay, it's for a long time and you don't get to escape."

Pat says "Yes, you do."

Daimon says "_I_ do. What about everyone else?"

Pat says "If you choose to."

Pat says "Anyone can choose."

Daimon says "I live every day knowing that those I may be with will one day be empty souls with empty eyes begging to know WHY, and I won't be able to tell them."

Pat says "There are only two who /are/ able, Daimon."

Pat says "And they do not speak of it."

Daimon says "_I_ will not kill. I will not take a human life. I believe they should have every second of life on Earth afforded to them, because after it's over, I won't be able to do anything anymore. It'll be a long time for them trying to get peace."

Daimon says "Hell is such a _lie_."

Hitherby says, softly, "These are deep matters, Daimon. They are beyond what we can answer, for it amounts to reading God's mind. However, are you certain that Hell can hold a soul that transcends it?"

Daimon says "I believe Hell will certainly try."

Pat says "Yes."

Hitherby says "You mean that demons will certainly try."

Daimon says "Yes, the demons will certainly try."

Daimon sighs, and sags.

Hitherby says, finally, "Deep matters, Daimon. But they cannot take away choice. Not this choice -- a choice wholly internal, wholly inside the self."

Daimon says "I just _don't know_ if this is _right_."

Pat says "That is the choice."

Daimon says "I always try to do the _right_ thing. Not what is best for me, because I'm just a servitor, one small pawn in a very large chessgame. But I try to do the _right_ thing, that which will either hurt the least amount of people or further the greatest good."

Pat nods.

Daimon says "I'm afraid this is not the _right_ thing to do."

Pat says "Why are you afraid?"

Hitherby says, quietly, "I have heard whispers that when time comes to an end, all who have ever been will be gathered up by the Lord, and each will be stronger and brighter and more beautiful than they ever were in the world we know. That even the demons and the damned souls will walk straight and proud and clean with starlight in their eyes and joy in their hearts, and that all this will be a -- faded, half-forgotten memory. It is not our task to make the world what it should be; that is in greater hands than ours. It is only our task to learn what we must do and do it as best we can. But you will never learn that in Hell. Your lords will betray you. Your fellows will betray you. Your nature will betray you. There is no rightness outside of God; there are only shadows."

Daimon sighs, sags, and bows his head.

Pat closes his eyes.

Hitherby says, with compassion struggling to be heard through the random harmonics in a voice made of wingbeats, "It is a harsh truth. I am a harsh person. I am sorry. But it must be said."

Daimon says, softly, "I feel like there are a thousand thin threads spinning out of my soul, and on the end is a different person, all pulling me in a different direction. And I, I have no will of my own. I only go where the tugging is the strongest."

Pat places his palms on the table, looking at the backs of his hands.

Hitherby says "This feeling is a part of life. But it is not necessarily accurate."

Daimon keeps his head bowed.

Daimon finally says, "I just don't know."

Hitherby says, equably, "We cannot force knowledge on you."

Daimon says "I feel like... like there's this huge black pit under my feet. And just as I finish climbing out, at the lip, something comes out of the darkness, twines around my leg, and drags me back down again. Powerless. Helpless. Not knowing what is the right thing to do."

Hitherby says, "The first lie of Hell is this: you are powerless. It is said to every demon by the Princes, every soul by the demons, every Prince by the Lightbringer, and by the first Balseraph, over and over again, to himself. I do not know whether you have power, at least not as a direct experience, but I do know that this lie influences you."

Hitherby says "It could not do otherwise, given the life you have spent there."

Daimon says "I don't _want_ to think. I feel powerless. I feel helpless. I feel lost and confused. I feel like I want someone to tell me that it's all Okay."

Pat says "You want faith."

Daimon says "I want something."

Pat says "Something is there."

Daimon says "There's Sartre's God Shaped Hole in my soul."

Pat says "It can be filled."

Daimon says "Can it, though?"

Hitherby says, softly, "If power was the ability to cast down Demon Princes and raise up Archangels, then you would be powerless. If it was the ability to rend the sun asunder and part the seas, then you would be powerless. But surely power is in the decisions you *can* make. Always. Surely powerlessness is an oxymoron."

Pat says "Yes."

Daimon says "I would leave so much behind just to fill _me_. My life has been personal sacrifice for the betterment of the whole."

Pat looks at Daimon. "He is there. Is is always there. All you need do is let him be there for /you/."

Daimon says "I have always - ALWAYS - been alone. Down inside."

Hitherby rains from the air onto a surface and whispers, "Oh, to have the power to unmake damnation, as you have wished for. The power to --" She sings a Kyriotate scale. "I lack this, but I am not powerless."

Pat says "You don't have to be, Daimon."

Hitherby says "We must have limits to grow. -- I'm sorry. I am thinking at a tangent again."

Daimon says "I feel like you're scratching too deep to the pain. My pain. The pain that keeps me going. Now I just want to get drunk and forget it again."

Pat leans back. "I apologize."

Daimon says "It's okay. Really."

Pat says "I should not press."

Daimon says "Maybe I just look down inside and go, ew."

Hitherby chrisks in vague amusement. "I would offer a diverting story, but the one I had scheduled would be too apt, and Sarah is not here."

Daimon says "Oh."

Hitherby says "If you wished one, and gave me a few moments, I could attempt to dredge up another that was suitable-but-not-too-much-so?"

Daimon says "Sure, Hitherby. If you feel it's appropriate."

Daimon looks just sort of defeated.

Hitherby suddenly gives off a giggle.

Hitherby says "I have a story told by Kyriotates that you might appreciate."

Daimon says "Okay."

Hitherby says "It so happened one day that a Kyriotate of Dreams was captured by certain Djinn and Calabim of Nightmares that it had offended in its long and distinguished career."

Hitherby says "It was in a mortal host at the time, on Earth, and they explained when they captured it that if it should abandon the host, the host would suffer for it. And because this was a true and worthy Domination, it therefore did not leave."

Hitherby says "They took the host quickly to a Tether of Nightmares, so that it could not be easily rescued, and began to torture the poor thing. After all, once they had hurt the host significantly, the Kyriotate was *completely* trapped."

Hitherby says "On the first day, they poured acid into the host's eyes, and the Kyriotate did not scream. And they wondered at this, and then the Djinn grumbled and healed the eyes again -- so that the Domination could see what was happening to it."

Hitherby says "On the second day, they did various unmentionable things to the host's feet, involving needles and such, and again the Kyriotate did not scream. And they wondered at this, and then the Djinn grumbled and healed up the feet -- because if the Kyriotate could not even *hope* to escape, some of the spice would have been lost."

Hitherby says "On the third day, they bloated the host with water and set large stones on its stomach, making it very difficult and uncomfortable to breath. But the Kyriotate did not seem to mind. And they wondered at this, and finally removed the stone - - because they did not want their toy to expire."

Hitherby says "On the fourth and final day of the torture, they grew so frustrated that they called in help -- a Calabite of Lust, who reached into the Kyriotate's soul with his grubby little fingers and caused it great pain. And again the Kyriotate did not scream. And, finally, frustrated beyond bearing, the Djinn cried: we have blinded you and you cry out not; we have maimed you, and you cry out not; we have bloated you, and you cry out not; we have ripped your soul, and you do not even frown -- whence comes this dignity? Whence comes this *power?*"

Hitherby says "And the Kyriotate said, 'When you blinded this host, I took the body of a bat and soared through the night, learning that I needed no sight. When you tore my feet, I took the body of a snake and crawled through the grass, learning that I needed no limbs. When you restricted my breath, I took the body of an octopus and learned that I needed no air. For this is not all of me that you have here captive. And I will say further: when I soared as a bat, I knew *joy* in blindness. When I crawled as a snake, I knew *joy* in the motion. When I flung myself through the water, I knew a whole other *world* ..."

Hitherby says "And the demons said, 'But what of when we tore your soul?'"

Hitherby says "And the Kyriotate said, 'Well, it is true that there was no host that could mitigate that loss. But your expressions on the first three days were so priceless that I could not resist seeing them again.'"

Hitherby says "And, defeated, they let him go."

Hitherby says "And it is a triumph of Kyriotate cunning that they never guessed that this last was a lie --"

Hitherby says "For it was not seeing their discomfiture that saved the Kyriotate on the final day, but the fact that the remainder of its Forces were held in Heaven in its Bright Lord's arms."

Hitherby says "Anyway. That's the story."

Hitherby hums a Kyriotate scale.

Daimon says "Ah."

Daimon says "I am humbled before your mind, Hitherby."

Hitherby says "It's not *my* story."

Hitherby hums amusedly. "I would have screamed bloody murder."

Daimon says "Well, I am humbled before the might of Kyriotate stories."

Hitherby says "But I can see how it could be otherwise, when enough time and growth and learning has passed."

Hitherby says "Thank you."

Hitherby lifts off her surface and whirls in a Kyriotate shape. "We like being appreciated."

Daimon says "Well, you are, by me."

Hitherby bobs. "Thank you."

Daimon says "You are most welcome."

Hitherby reorients her components and forms a smiley face in midair, complete with two insects for eyes and all the rest forming an arc-mouth.

Daimon says "I dunno what to say."

Hitherby says, agreeably, after a few moments, "You are not required to speak. You could --" She rotates the smiley face, looking around. "You could play hug the Elohite, or you could call Liz, or we could discuss sneaky plans, or, hm."

Daimon has fallen completely silent.

Pat turns his glass, observing it.

Daimon says "I just lost some sort of battle, but I don't know what it is."

<> Liz would be happy to point out that Aquinas lost the same battle on rational grounds, and wound up chalking it all up to 'faith'.

Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "Specifically Kyriotate stories tend to have implications about loneliness and harmony, since we are the incarnations of unity. If this battle was lost while you were listening."

Daimon says "Something like that."

Daimon just looks very... vague.

Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "Of course, my attempting to measure these implications myself is like a human trying to observe the contents of their stomach by looking through their belly button. I hope it was a -- good battle to have lost, in the long run , and not a bad one -- I know they would both feel the same way in the short run, which is why I am both worried and hopeful."

Daimon says "I think you, Hitherby, have something I lack, and as thus, it makes you an infinitely better person."

Hitherby reverts to a swirl and swirls for a few minutes.

Daimon blinks, and studies his beer. "Well, I've killed any good mood the night might have had."

Hitherby says, flatly, "I do not agree with this assessment."

Hitherby says, "You are under a shadow. That is all."

Daimon says "I am in Hell's death grip. So brainwashed, I can't see past the next hour, or the next minute."

Hitherby says, "You have come very far. The last small piece of the path is the hardest, the most arduous and difficult, but you should not overlook the distance you have come -- the distance you came ever before we knew you, and the steps you have taken since."

Pat slides a cigarette from his pack and studies it, leaving it unlit for the moment.

Daimon says "It's horrible and painful, and I feel like I am some creature completely out of sync with the rest of the universe. Like I have no place, neither in Heaven nor in Hell."

Hitherby says, "You are loved. And not simply as a creature under the stars; it is more specific than that. By more or less all of us."

Hitherby thinks. "I am not certain about Shannen, Jordan, and other peripheral figures."

Daimon says "I feel like I should be the monster under the stairs, waiting to kill little children."

Daimon sighs, plops his elbows on the table, and drops his forehead into his hands.

Hitherby says, wryly, "I believe that if there were a definite answer to that feeling, it would be in the standard instruction book in Heaven. We hear about it from mortals often enough."

Daimon says "We Lilim are very close to mortals."

Hitherby says "This could be considered a virtue."

Daimon says "And a sin."

Hitherby swirls. "I would not say 'sin', but rather, 'burden'."

Daimon says "It is a burden that we come from the same origins, and as such, are the closest of all the divine beings to mankind itself. So close... but so far away. There are old Jewish legends that Lilim lurk in the reflections of young girls in mirrors, waiting to tempt them to evils while they gaze into the glass, vainly brushing their hair."

Hitherby says "Tangled hair can catch in trees and impede free passage in the woods."

Hitherby says "But, yes, being somewhat in between is what I meant when I said burden."

Daimon says "The Lilitu, are Assyrian name, are the closest to man, always been among them, in their beds."

Hitherby says "Kyriotates are --" She reflects. "Less divine than most angels, but we aren't very hu -- interesting. Did you notice that you called Lilim divine beings?""

Daimon says "Freudian slip."

Hitherby says, "Perhaps that is the Lilim's role in Heaven. To be a bridge between the worlds, as even the Mercurians cannot."

Daimon says "Possibly. We certainly don't do that in Hell."

Hitherby says "The Princes are not as inclined to listen, I think, as the Archangels are. Not that we go around giving orders to our Archangels, but they hear our concerns and care about them, and the oldest and the wisest angels, not necessarily the same group, participate in the council that

guides all of Heaven."

Hitherby hums amusedly. "I do not aspire to that Council; the height of my honest ambition is the Word of Dragonflies. But they might benefit from your perspective."

Daimon says "In Hell, the Lilim's purpose is to collect geasa and build their own little empires of power and webs of favors. They want nothing more then to control as many others as they can, be this angels, demons, mortals, or whatnot. The geasa is an end unto itself, and the resonance for Need is nothing more then a tool, a media to achieve that end. In Heaven, this can't possibly be the point, because the webs of control is nothing more then an extension of one's own selfish nature. But I know of no other use for a Lilim nor for her continued existence; possibly your Archangels know of others, and that may be communicators between the mortal realms and the celestial, where the geasa are either used as the tool or are neglected entirely, or are used for en forcing loyalty, or honesty in a doing. But I do not know."

Hitherby hums atonally, "Sensing Needs, without the Geasa attached, is very much an angelic resonance. Whether Geasing someone to good works brightens their soul or darkens it, and therefore whether Geasa should be abandoned -- that is beyond my wisdom. It is not beyond that of the Almost-as-Great Ones, however."

Daimon says "I do not know. Part of the binding to geasa is the Lilim nature. Perhaps it dissipates when one goes Bright, perhaps one is forced to swear an oath never to use it, which seems counter to everything one would believe. If there is a part of our nature which is forbidden to be used, then we are probably truly Infernal creatures and only through chains of oaths can we function in Heaven."

Hitherby says, softly, "When a demon is Redeemed, they become Bright. Bright in thought, bright in action. The only darkness is in memory and perhaps habit."

Daimon says "But this is nature, and our natures do not change."

Hitherby says "Calabim are broken Ofanim; Lilim are broken Bright Lilim. What you should be, what you should do -- you will know. It will be a part of you."

Hitherby says "It does not matter that you are Hellborn, any more than it matters for a Calabite."

Daimon says "I hope so, because I certainly do not know now."

Hitherby says, seriously, "It is my belief that uncertainties and doubts and dust upon the nature of an angel -- that these are the effects of trauma and time on Earth. It is also my belief that a Redeemed angel is made as pure as a newborn angel is -- that --"

Hitherby says, "Each time I go to Heaven, I come back full of joy and knowing my purpose a little better."

Hitherby says "Being born, or Redeeming, is like that, only much more so. This is my understanding."

Daimon says "I have heard it's extremely painful, and a large portion of those who are to redeem die in the process."

Hitherby hums thoughtfully.

Hitherby says "I have noticed that when I do a good thing, it is usually somewhat painful, and puts me at some risk, and then when it is over I am glad I had the strength to do it."

Daimon says "I don't think I can continue to do my duty if I am dead."

Hitherby says, "There is no choice that does not risk death."

Hitherby says, quietly, "I don't want to push you. You have the right not to Redeem, and I enjoy you even as you are."

Daimon says "I have two missions. I must succeed in at least one of them."

Hitherby says, "But please accept that, all other concerns aside, Redeeming is a very very good thing, and the existence of each being that could Redeem but is instead condemned to Hell is a very very bad thing."

Hitherby says "Arguing the case is, therefore, almost reflexive."

Daimon says "I know. And I am _trying_. I'm lost, but I'm trying."

Hitherby says "I just don't want this to end and have you walk off into Hell. I don't know either if it's a good idea to go to an Archangel and ask to be Redeemed right now, but -- I don't want it --"

Hitherby swirls about. "Just as long as it doesn't end with you damning yourself again, I'm okay with where we go in the meantime."

Daimon says "I have to do my duty. There is more riding on this then my infatuation with my Prince."

Daimon says "When that is finished - then that is another story."

Hitherby says, quietly, "I sometimes meditate on the human statement, 'The end does not justify the means.' I have never come to a solid conclusion on whether it is true."

Daimon says "I am too broken now to go back to Hell and pretend nothing ever happened."

Hitherby says "I am sad that this is a brokenness, but glad of what it requires."

Daimon says "It is pain. It is a horrible pain. But I must go on, no matter how badly I want to crawl into a corner and die."

Hitherby reflects. "I have sometimes shared this feeling, although not precisely out of pain."

Daimon says "I'll survive. I always have before."

Hitherby bobs. "In a way it seems that the 'means' is the denial of self -- and the denial of yourself to God and Heaven. The loss of a very beautiful thing that could be. And the 'end' is, well, lots of things, but all the things you feel you must accomplish and so cannot risk the chance of death."

Hitherby says "But you must act out of your own perspective, not mine."

Daimon says "I have to do what I have to do, and they can't be accomplished if I'm off in Heaven flittering around on gossamer wings. If it is to be, then time and fate and destiny will do their things. If it isn't, then maybe I was always simply miswired from the get go, and I'll accept my death at the hands of those I currently call my friends."

Hitherby laughs.

Daimon blinks.

Hitherby says "Daimon, one of the harshest Archangels in Heaven has specifically ordered you to investigate the current issues. Rest assured that whoever you wound up with would be even more sympathetic to your desire for Earthly service in this matter than Dominic."

Daimon says "I don't know. Isn't there a whole atonement and all that that has to happen?"

Hitherby says "I'm sorry for laughing. It's just that flittering around isn't an angelic *lifestyle* and --"

Hitherby says, "Not as you think of it."

Daimon says "I was under the impression that there was a certain amount of breaking of will and pain for sins involved."

Hitherby says "You have to prove yourself, of course, but you do that *by doing angelic things*."

Hitherby says "Self-torture is an aspect of Hell. Almost by definition."

Daimon quotes Jung, reflexively, "In this matter the tortured become the torturers."

Daimon says "All I know is, if I do slide back and begin to Fall once again, I hope one of you kills me. And I mean soul-kills me, not takes out my vessel. I do not want to return to being another member of the legions of Hell. That's just as much of a loss of myself as Redemption, and probably worse."

Hitherby says "The only reason an angel should ever hurt themselves is as a direct sacrifice for someone else. Or an abstract cause that has concrete but subtle manifestations, maybe, like War angels do."

Hitherby says "Even sacrificing for someone else should be practiced in moderation, although there are some circumstances where it's appropriate to be a bit extreme."

Hitherby says, seriously, "If you should start to Fall, then I will do what I can to honor your hope."

Daimon says "Good. Because the discord prevents me from doing it to myself."

Hitherby says, "Pardon? Discord?"

Daimon says "I can't kill."

Hitherby says, "Ah."

Daimon says "It is not, realistically, a bad thing."

Hitherby bobs. "I have posed myself the question of whether it should be removed, and was unable to answer."

Daimon says "I would prefer it not removed."

Hitherby reflects. "Were I an Archangel, I would integrate it into your nature, when you Redeemed, so that you became staunchly unwilling to kill rather than Discordantly unable. But this is beside the point."

Daimon says "True. And you are not an Archangel, only an Angel of Dragonflies to be."

Hitherby laughs.

Hitherby says "I could be the Archangel of Dragonflies. It is a Word with global implications."

Daimon says "And I am merely an experiment in the nature of Lilim when they ascend to Brightness,"

Daimon contemplates this.

Daimon says "It is a Word with global implications. You would be a masterful Archangel."

Hitherby giggles for a long time.

Daimon says "I'd want to work for you, for a while, to hear the grand tales of Dragonflies."

Hitherby says, "I would be pleased to have you as a Servitor."

Hitherby giggles some more.

Daimon grins a little bit, the first time in a while. "I should warn you, I'm terribly loyal."

Hitherby says "Then I should send you only on the most delicate of missions, requiring a steady hand and a trained eye."

Daimon says "I will be honored to serve you, my Bright Lord of Dragonflies."

Hitherby says, amused, "Bright Lady. For two hundred years, you see, I happily wobbled between genders as a Kyriotate should, but then I got horribly confused at a Creationer orgy and wound up making a Resolution."

Daimon laughs out loud. "Are the Creationers everything that rumors claim, Bright Lady?"

Hitherby bobs. "They love all things, not just as angels, but as their service to Creation; and they love amore, they love romance, they love touch and dance and togetherness -- all these things feed their Word, and so they take in them a joy."

Hitherby says, "Although, unfortunately, attempts to persuade them to conduct their revelries in dragonfly vessels have failed."

Daimon says "A shame."

Daimon's eyes light up with a bit of interest.

Daimon says "Imagine Dragonfly romance. Dragonfly revelry!"

Hitherby bobs. "These are key concepts necessary to the service of my Word! I should appoint my Seraphim to the revelry, and I will offer the romantic aspects of the Word to -- hm. I shall be magnanimous and assign that duty *both* to my Malakim and my Br ight Lilim!"

Daimon laughs out loud. "I can only hope that I carry out the romance of the dragonflies to your fullest expectations."

Hitherby laughs.

Daimon makes appropriate buzzing noises.

Hitherby giggles more.

Daimon says "I'm hoping I am simulating the proper amorous dragonfly sounds, as to attract myself a mate. And then I will recite to my mate the deepest of the dragonfly love poetry."

Hitherby says "With dragonfly stories of honor in the name of love, you shall be able to evoke a mood of romance and passion. The air shall be full of sparkling wings, the sound of a running river, and the fresh breeze of the open air. I have to invent a bunch of Attunements anyway."

Daimon says "Man, it sure is hard being an Archangel."

Hitherby says, sadly, "In fact, your buzzing indicates that you would like to climb onto the roof and throw buckets of water at the stars. To make them glisten and glimmer more brightly, or perhaps simply to embarrass them as a harmless practical joke."

Daimon laughs. "That is also a possibility. I'm not very good at being a Dragonfly yet."

Hitherby sighs, happily. "I should not speculate longer. I believe that one should accept no bounds on one's aspiration, but this verges on disrespectful."

Daimon says "Oh, I don't know. I think you'd make a good Angel of Dragonflies."

---

Fiat Justitia