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Metatron


It hurt.

 

He had expected it to hurt, expected the harshness of chemicals in the air, of greed and hatred and cruelty drawn into his lungs, allergens and intoxicants.  He had expected to feel off-kilter, not quite able to walk properly.  Like his fair skin was paper thin.  Like his long hair weighed more than it possibly could.

 

He had not expected to feel so helpless.

 

Who Metatron is: The Voice of God.  Powerful, within heaven.  One of the most beautiful angels.

 

What Metatron is:  Duty.  Focus.  Language.  Poetry.  Agency, but not for himself.  For others, agency for others.

 

What Metatron is, here:  A tall man standing on the corner in front of an art gallery.  He has fair skin that is almost more platinum than cream colored, a wealth of straight white-blond hair that dips to the small of his back, and ice gray eyes.  He's wearing a cream-colored double breasted peacoat and fawn suede leggings with gilt ankle boots.  He isn't carrying a hint of technology that predates the Age of Steam.

 

He sighs, claps a hand to his forehead, and then hisses and shakes his head.  As he lowers his hand, he waves it, as if to indicate that whatever he's thinking about doesn't matter.  And he walks onward, elegant, graceful, some sort of icy earthbound deity--- until he trips on the sidewalk where someone shoved someone else to their knees the night before, and his mouth fills with bile, and his hand clenches, because it isn't alright--

 

But it's human, even if it presses something vile at the back of his throat.  And he shoves up back off his knee to stand, and turns back to the gallery, drawing in slow steady breaths as he gathers his hair into a tighter ponytail and then steps down the alley past the gallery to a tiny door, recessed behind wrought iron fence, marked with a purple and lurid pink graffito that told the world that SJC was a baller.

 

Behind that door was elegance, compassion, the proper words to draw Metatron's dream into reality.

 

And then, someone began to scream, and there was the sound of flesh being struck, and of engines, and Metatron's hand, non-fighting angel that he was, curled into a fist at his side, lips curled back over white teeth, and the elegance and compassion and propriety could wait, because free will had always the will to deal with the consequences.
February 06, 2019 07:37 am

Olivia Campbell

Beep...Beep...Beep

Went off the annoying sounds of the alarm clock next to Olivia's bed. Groaning softly a small hand moved out from under the blankets to hit the snooze button. Throwing off the blankets though Olivia sat up to see the time.

7:30 am

It was time to start the day, normally she wouldn't be up this early especially if she wasn't stuck working. But today was a special day and Olivia wanted to make the most out of it. Even if that meant getting up extra early. Getting out of bed she padded over to the closet and opened it up. Taking out a black t-shirt and black jeans she laid them out on the bed. Quickly changing into them she also added her favorite black boots to match. Pulling off the purple scrunchie from her wrist she used it to put her long hair up into a makeshift ponytail. Opening the bedroom door she was greeted by the fresh aroma of her favorite blend of coffee. Making her way into the small kitchen she grabbed a to go cup off the dish rack. Pouring the coffee into the cup she carefully screwed on the lid before grabbing keys, cell phone, and purse. With everything, she needed for the day Olivia left the small apartment.

The weather outside wasn't too bad it wasn't hot but not too cold either. Deciding to take advantage of a nice day Olivia chose to walk instead of drive. it would be a great day to head downtown and visit the new art exhibits at the gallery. Possibly fit in a couple places to shop as well. The roads were crowded with lots of cars just going on about their day. Most probably going to work or appointments. She wondered just how many of those people were taking the time to just enjoy their day. 

"Watch It!"  She heard from someone behind her on a bike as it came fast, Olvia barely had time to sidestep and just shook her head.  There was a lane made just for the people who rode their bikes but nowadays the streets were so full of people in their cars not paying attention to what they were doing. It was like they were on autopilot or something. With a sigh, she took a couple sips of the still hot brew and just shook off the biker. 

Getting downtown wasn't a long trip and in the meantime, she would just enjoy the sights. Small business owners and their wares. Strolling past the shops she noticed shoe stores and clothing all so close together. Knowing they all sold different types of items and it just seemed they were in competition though one would have to be she guessed. Everyone fighting for people to come in and buy their inventory. Passing a small coffee shop Olivia knew she didn't have to far to go. Just past here would be the courthouse. It was an older building and it was in much need of repairs. Down two blocks from it would be the Art Gallery. Making her way past all sorts of people, either walking with briefcases or waiting on the city bus everyone seemed to be so busy.

Walking across the street she headed right to the gallery excited to see what was new. Olivia wasn't much for painting she wasn't really good at much but to see the talent and feelings people put into them was worth going to. Opening the door to the building she walked inside and looked around. With it still being pretty early hardly anyone was there. WHich suited her just fine, it meant more time to look and easier to get to the exhibits. 

One small painting caught her eye almost immediately it was just inside and to the left on the back wall.  It was very simple jut a field full of daisies off to the side was a swing set the seats were covered by raindrops. Off in the distance, a faded rainbow had appeared. Clouds moving on so that the sun could come out and say hello. It wasn't much but to her this meant peace. It was a quiet place now but she could picture the children that would play on the swing set or just pick the flowers and make necklaces and rings. It made her smile at the thought. Out of the corner of her eye she caught another one that was very dark, Slowly she went to approach it, the red glowing eyes in a dark forest..

February 06, 2019 08:12 am
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