Angels Before Man

by Rafael Nicolás

Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. So I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you EZEKIEL 28:17 (NIV)

Listen here — the Lord, our God, spoke once more. Lofted between heaven, another fruit still — seraph-held — found the windswept cherub’s loose, wanton mouth, wet still with Life’s juice. It opened itself, tongue slithering out, lapping at skin, before teeth pierced. The Fruit of Knowledge — the Lord had commanded His creation to taste the Fruit of Knowledge.

Oh god so descriptive im EATING

Lucifer missed the darkness, longed for what had come before. This was his first wanting. The stories he’ll tell of this time will be about wanting.

:o im interested

“I asked Father for guidance, but I continue to be lost. It isn’t that I don’t like helping Rosier. I enjoy my time with him, but… I can tell it isn’t what I’m meant to do.” Chewing. “I can feel that our Heavenly Father has a different path for me, but I can’t decide what it is. He left me with all this jewelry you see on me,” he wore it all today, “and some instruments, but I have no clue how to use them! I’m not nearly as good as the angels of music I hear out in the streets. It fills me with shame; I worry our Father looks at me with disappointed eyes.”

He was made wise, after all, and thus felt a downy warmth in his chest, this nostalgia; the wise know to be nostalgic for the good times even while they’re happening.

But we’re always looking for narratives, looking for meaning, looking for God. Even the angels.

“How can I go to Earth?” Baal pursed his lips, then crossed his arms. “You’d have to ask an archangel.” This question was harmless, nothing but curiosity: “What if I wanted to be an archangel?” The angel of flight laughed, but in surprise. “You’d like to be a prince, brother? But you’re so beautiful; it’s hard to imagine other angels taking you seriously.” Lucifer’s simple smile wilted into a frown; maybe Baal noticed, maybe he did not. “But don’t worry, Lucifer. I can tell the Lord has great plans for you. Looking at you — I can feel His mercy.”

“I remember when you were created, Lucifer. I saw how our Father sewed you from coppers, how He handled you when you were burning coals and when you were settings of gold. He embroidered a nose on you, a sweet mouth on you, then the outline for a pair of eyes before He placed suns there. He sculpted your face with wet clay; He opened you like a citrus and planted a garden of budding flowers inside. Then, He weaved your hair from the streaks of three stars and your wings out of four wandering crescent moons.”

“And your hips — those came the tides of a sea, the same one whose pearls He took to carve your feet and hands. There was so much jade, so much marble; He fit it into the last places you were hollow. When He was done, I watched Him breathe life into you, then cradle you as if you were His first angel, before He settled you into fire and let you simmer.” Gabriel gasped and took his arm. “No, don’t cry, Lucifer!”

“Thank you, Gabriel. Thank you, thank you.” Lucifer trembled, wanting to throw himself at this angel and embrace him tight. “You must be the angel of kindness.” “I’m not,” the prince laughed. “But you could be. I think it’d suit you. And, between us, I think you’re much more than the angel of beauty, brother. I hope you figure it out soon and see that you’re right where you belong.” Lucifer belonged, here, in Heaven. “God has great plans for you, you’ll see, but I ask you stay modest. Stay humble.” “Yes,” Lucifer answered, not feeling his mouth, not sure he’d said it. “I promise.” His happiness was too much.

“You stutter and you shiver — for an angel, it is unbecoming, like you are attempting to be no more than an animal.” The Lord faced the angel, but He commanded, “Bow lower. Have you no respect for your Father?” Lucifer heaved internally, but only internally, holding his own hands tighter and lowering his head. “More.” Lucifer bent at the waist, wondering if that was enough, thrashing in his own mind, being whipped over and over for his shame.

“Crumble to the ground, if that is how you feel.” And Lucifer fell, he fell, he fell to his knees and brought his forehead to the grass again, hands planted over the greenery before his head. “Do you not see your own clothes and your castings, the jewels I set on you, and the beauty I have gifted you? Your golden timbrels and pipes? See your splendor and remind yourself that it is I who created it, who has made your fair heart and your perfections.”

“You want to know if you are mine.” “Yes, Father. Not an angel of beauty, nor of anything else, but an angel of God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, and all that I see.” He trembled, even knowing he’d just been scolded for it. “Because, Lord, what is there to be, if not yours?” Instead of answering, God returned Lucifer to the bed of flowers and said he should take the chance to lay in it some more.

When they cheered, so did he, and when they threw their drinks into the air, he did too, but he had trouble following the rules. Often, he forgot to look at the ball; his gaze would settle on Michael instead, the Michael who would be up front, leading the team, or passing the ball up so that a flying angel might strike it another direction.

Real

When his friends arrived, they found Lucifer like that, in the kitchen. It was Baal, Asmodeus, Rosier, and Phanuel, and they asked him various things at once, and Lucifer smiled, and he told them, “I’m the angel of worship.” They all faltered, looked at once another, but then appeared to believe this, nodding, affirming it.

“To another galaxy, a far one too.” Phanuel shifted from one foot to the other. “A little under a hundred million years, if he were to ride on a wave of light.” Lucifer could only stare, everything within him having ground to a halt, so Baal was the one who replied, “Do you know why the Lord sent him so far?” “No,” Phanuel said, “it was really sudden.” “We won’t see Michael,” Lucifer murmured, “for a hundred million years?”

What followed were His arms, coming around His creation, who was infinitely small but eager to embrace. Between them — the weight of the universe. Soon, Lucifer would tell Him about his life, about all his tiny dreams and worries. “You are loved, my morning star. See how I love you. The angels and you are what matter most to me.” ‘Do not ever let me go,’ the angel pleaded. ‘Hold me tight, Father. Do not ever let me go.’

<\3

“The moment I landed,” he laughed, both full and breathless, “I flew through all of Heaven, asking everyone I saw, ‘Have you seen an angel named Lucifer? Do you know where he lives?’ They told me about this feast, so I landed outside. And then I heard singing, your singing, the same way I did just before I had to leave. By Father’s will, I saw you right through the window.” Lucifer couldn’t help a smile as the other removed his hand and plopped down onto a stone bench by a shrub. “You’re as beautiful as I remembered.”

!!!!youre in his mind rent free

Lucifer thought of the time that had passed — years he’d spent waiting to meet Michael, in inexplicable and desperate longing. There was something so inevitable about this, as if he’d seen it coming, as if angels could really taste, just a little, omniscience. “When may I see you again? I want to see you again soon.” Michael was radiant against the forever brilliance of Heaven. “Not long. I’ll find you. And if I’m told to take to the stars again, I’ll just take you with me.”

STOPPPP OMG

Stepping past the gate — which was painted white but made of iron that had been meandered into flowery shapes — Lucifer hummed curiously at the staircase that greeted him immediately. It appeared the heart of the house was the second floor, rather than the first. Climbing up the steps, looking around, the beautiful angel asked himself if he’d ever come near to this place; surely, he had. It wasn’t familiar, but he’d traveled everywhere back when he delivered fruits with Rosier. What if he’d left a basket of pears outside Michael’s home thousands of years ago without realizing it?

CRAZY time is truly not real

Our younger brother always talks to me about how much he admires you.” Flames rushed his face, and Lucifer nearly screamed, ‘Be silent, Phanuel! Be silent! Be silent!’ “Oh?” Michael was smirking and quirking a brow. “He does? What does he say?” Phanuel opened his mouth before his gaze flickered to the younger brother in question, who was looking at him, desperate, nearly trembling as he tried to tell him wordlessly to close his mouth and leave. Phanuel blinked, and he laughed, “You can ask him yourself.” He put his hand on the door. “But hey, Lucifer! Thank you for the bread! And make sure to ask Michael why he talks so much about you too.” Michael’s face instantly stumbled into a warm tint. “See you two some other time!”

Ahaha bfsss <333

But no — I still think you’re shyer.” With that, Michael swung back onto his feet and waltzed over to his kitchen once more. “Didn’t I tell you we have to do something about that?” Lucifer planted an elbow on the table, so that he could hold his cheek against his palm, and found himself equally amused and nervous — his ankles crossing to keep himself in place. “But what if I enjoy being so timid and so humble?” What if Lucifer enjoyed hating himself?

Real af

Rosier hummed before reaching to grab his belongings, set by the ground. “And what about the rumors that Michael and you are friends?” “I will not comment on those.” “Is it true? Are you and him friends?” Lucifer waved a hand, but the simple question had done enough to make a scattered blush rise over his cheeks.

Lol friends so scandalous

“But you must keep it in your heart that you shall always remain clean, in all ways. Your mind and your body belong to me — see what goodness has produced in you, what eagerness to clean yourself, what earnestness and longing and concern to worship has. Thus far, you have proven yourself to be innocent. But your eye is the lamp of your body and when your eyes are healthy, your whole self is full of light. When they are soiled with filth, you become full of darkness.”

:(

He cried, “Holy, holy, holy Father. Great and boundless. Creator of all things.” He clutched at his robes, heard the crinkle of the psalm he’d written. “I am your servant. Please have mercy on me.” “You have my mercy.” But the Father didn’t tell him to stand. “And you have my love, Lucifer.” It took everything Lucifer had not to burst into tears of affection, even if his knees pressed onto prickling rocks. He thought, ‘It is good to bleed, right?’ “All that I say comes from a place of love.” ‘Is love meant to pierce?’

Michael’s eyes were soft again. “When I asked of you, angels said to me that your beauty was so great, one could take a glance, but never stare. That your face alone was as dangerous as too much wine, that you made their heads hurt and their visions blur.” He laughed, shakily, as he moved closer; with a tug on his heart, Lucifer realized the other was horrifically nervous. “I learned that their words were true. When we wrestle, when we spend time together — the pain you give me is indescribable. But I also thought, ‘How terribly lonely that must be, to be so beautiful that others think of you a thorn.’”

:O dont make cry

“And how worse it must be to think that of yourself.” Something in Lucifer’s chest was shattering, but slow — a carnivorous, pulsing ache. “So,” Michael continued, a grin taking his mouth, “I’ve decided to help you. From now on, I’ll carry some of your burden. Give half your beauty to me, Lucifer, and stare at me all that you wish.” Just like that, the tension coiling Lucifer’s muscles stuttered, then unraveled itself; the younger angel laughed quietly. “Go ahead. I’ll do a twirl, if you like.”

:')

‘I feel aged. I feel as if you’ve aged me with your own hands, Michael. Ripened me. Like a red fruit, at the edge of a branch, hanging at its peak. Beautiful — and just about to fall.’

The sun fell, past Eden, into the Earth. And you, in His image — do you relate to Him? Do you relate to Him now, do you feel yourself an observer now, scratching at the pages? Do you watch the end approach impatiently or miserably?

Uhhhhhh why are you talking to me

Lucifer wouldn’t realize how close Michael was until the angel of strength had fallen to knees before him, snaked an arm around a leg, then pressed his cheek to a supple, pliant thigh. Whispering — “I daydream of you, of loving you.” “How do you love me?” “Like this.” Yearning mouth — it’d press soft to the smooth of his tunic. “Like a flower, like a symphony, trapped in my throat, like you’re an eternity, and I need you in my veins.”

<\3 wow

PART II ETERNITY

This is where the TW come in :( im scared

Something was wrong; Raphael felt a piece inside of him unsettle at Lucifer’s words, as if the angel hinted at something confusingly morbid. “Brother, you shouldn’t say things like that.” “Hm? Why?” Lucifer raised his head again, tilting it sincerely. But Raphael couldn’t explain it to even himself. “Father has always instructed us to be modest.” Lucifer blinked, then sat up again, and blinked some more. He didn’t understand; ‘Is this being immodest? Simply wanting to admire myself? Father made me opulent, and everyone gets to enjoy it, but I can’t?’

Uh oh

Raphael was abandoned with nothing but unease, and all he could do was think he’d let Gabriel know what he saw. Maybe Gabriel would tell Uriel, maybe Uriel would tell Father. Before long, he left the river as well, with his basket of fish and walking stick.

Dont ): its not like god isnt already seeing everything

those still caught in the grapple of elated love for their Father. He watched them, thinking of how he had done this, made every angel take to the streets and sing with Michael and him. ‘It makes you wonder who they really worship — Father or us two.’ Instantly, he stopped, wondering why he’d thought that.

Ur cooked luci

Eventually, Michael’s hand found Lucifer’s waist, and he held it loosely at first, as if only meaning to steady the other. Then, he fingered the chains of jewels there, as they spoke, to each other and to the guests. Timid until his grip grew a little tighter, confident — tugged Lucifer just slightly closer to him. And loudly, grinning dignified, he said to a stranger, “Oh, and look at this fine angel I found on my way back. He was sleeping between some blue stars, over a crescent moon. He’s quite beautiful, isn’t he?”

:o so gay omg

“I’d like to keep him.” Lucifer felt so much fever rush his body he nearly squirmed, but Michael’s grip on him was sturdy. “Right here, attached to me like jewelry.” “Oh but you’ll share, won’t you?” Michael responded with a twisted sort of smile, nearly a smirk; wordlessly, it said, ‘I won’t.’

!!! Why am i also getting rizzed by an angel

“No, keep him.” Baal was all pleasantries — laughing and sipping his drink — but hollowed, bark-paper thin. “I just find it a bit strange.” Lucifer swallowed his candy; Michael asked what was strange; Lucifer didn’t like to be called strange. “The way you act as if Lucifer’s yours, like he belongs to you.”

...uhh baal wyd

“Everything has been nice since the Lord made you. I’m happy you’re here, here feeding me candies and tucking me into bed.” Lucifer laughed, breathless. “I’ve become so dependent on you. What would I do without my beloved?” “Beloved?” Lucifer, smiling and scoffing, moved to the bed, settled down at the edge, right at the side of Michael. “Your beloved what, exactly? Beloved friend? Brother?” “Simply my beloved.” Michael smiled back, grand but sleepy, before he swung up to sit again. He shuffled closer to Lucifer and chuckled warm, perhaps at the confusion on the other’s irises and brows and mouth. “My beloved Lucifer.”

:')

“Stay here. Tell me what’s wrong.” The angel of beauty stared up at his Father, a little fear in his eyes, becoming crescents as he squinted in the light of Him. Surely, the Lord already knew; why would He ask Lucifer to expose himself? “In my dreams,” Lucifer said, still, basking in the lingering touch of the Lord and the memory of His compassion, “there is a beast. Each time I sleep, it comes to me, Father. It settles itself over my head, and takes my hands, and makes them take other creatures so that I can eat their flesh.” A short, pained yelp shot out from Lucifer’s mouth as a burst of agony jabbed his torso. “Ow, something hurts, Lord, it hurts⁠—”

The Father said, “I have always said that he who loves me will be rescued; I will protect him, for he acknowledges me, I will be with him in trouble, and I will show him salvation. But, angel, the Beast is not a creature I can cast from you.” Lucifer — feeling the supernal-fire beneath his tissues drop cold. “You are the Beast, Lucifer.”

‘Was this because I started thinking less of you? I won’t do it again. I adore you, I do. I’ll love you forever. I’m your angel. There is nothing else to be but your angel.’ “Here,” said a friendly stranger, one mid-day. “I knit you these scarves, Lucifer. You used to wear them so much, over your hair and all. I think you can use them to cover the marks on your neck. You’d look very beautiful.” ‘Please don’t hurt me again.’

Walking, Lucifer came to realize Michael wasn’t at all like the angels they had just left behind. He never quite lost his reasoning whenever he touched or kissed him, he never really shuddered with timid want, never panted like an animal. Of course, Michael loved to take in his body, to watch, to stare, to even put his hands all over him, as if he were going to mold him as wet clay. But he looked at him differently, calling for him always differently, uttering his name fearlessly, taking and grabbing Lucifer in a way no other angel had the pride to do. ‘You do not desire me.’ A pleased smile on Lucifer’s lips, as he lifted a tender gaze to his beloved, stern archangel’s face. ‘Because you know I am already yours.’

“But I’ve missed you! Tell me how your days have been.” Baal put his arm over Lucifer, the way Michael always did; ‘I can see why he’s constantly got his hands on your body; something feels pleasant about it, about just having you. I want to tell you that, but maybe Michael has already said it.’ Baal felt his jaw tense at the thought of that archangel, who ate away at Lucifer’s time, took and gathered it all in his fists like it belonged to him.

Not loving your vibe baal

‘“On one condition will angels have salvation: I will put you to sleep, set you aflame, and adorn the sky with your bodies — all you here, except for one.” Did you anticipate the consensus, Father? In a matter of seconds, the creations all shouted out, “Uri-Kimah, Uri-Kimah! The angel who made the agreement with you and never partook in our violence.” You said you agreed, Father. I watched, as one by one, you caressed the faces of those you had tortured so fully moments before, calling yourself loving, wishing them sweet dreams, as they fell onto the bed of the universe.

“What,” Rosier said, though he had meant to think it. “What is happening to you, Lucifer?” He was quite tender inside, he realized; all his fear was itching the ends of his eyes, trying to tease out tears, and making his bottom lip wobble. “Please— I know you were in pain, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. I wanted to help you, but I didn’t know how, and Father is never wrong. He is good, He will always be good.” “Is Father good because He is good, or because He says He is good?”

Oop! Fair point

Why did I do this?’ ‘Why did you do this?’ ‘Why did you do this?’ “Ah.” Lucifer hacked, tried to scavenge some breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense.” He sat up, as best he could, cringing at the sharp stings on his entire front, but they would heal; water healed him when it wanted. “I was— I didn’t—” Licking his lips, he said, “I was in pain,” and that was true, “very much. Father was disappointed with me. I thought, that if all this pain inside was so great, I needed to find a way to take it out. I’m very sorry, very.”

:(

The knife struck the heart; Uriel’s entire demeanor crumbled, violently, until his whole face was twitching. One foot dragged back, and he shifted away. The first noise that came out of his mouth was choked, and Lucifer’s amusement morphed into thrill. “You—” All of him was curling up — his hands into fists. “You will face Father’s wrath for your words, Lucifer.” ‘I’ve faced it already, and I am still here, and I am angry.’ “I hope He brings His fist down not only upon you, but on Michael.” ‘You rancid, putrid filth. Rotten, squirming maggot.’ “I hope He beats him so that he becomes unrecognizable.

Fuck you dude

he made his way over to take a glass of wine and down it, eyes half-closed. He thought maybe his wild thoughts would scramble away from him, but they didn’t. They lingered, they hung on his eyelids, so that if he closed his eyes, the weight of this blooming decision continued to glare at him. It was no use; not after the stabbing, not after Michael, not after what God had done to him, would Lucifer be able to return to what it had all been like before. There was no paradise anymore, no angel of worship, no angel.

:(

Dina was beside him, staring at Phanuel’s hands again. Lucifer had noticed it earlier, and he saw it again with a knowing glee. He could recognize jealousy anywhere now, and so he put a hand on the naive angel’s shoulder. He leaned in, whispering. “Dina, if you admire his rings so much, you should take them.”

:o

“I thought earlier that if Father scolds me over being your friend again, I’d have to argue, that if He punishes me, I’d have to resist. You don’t know this, but since your muteness, I’ve fought with Him; I’ve said I don’t understand how He can be furious with us, hurting you, when He knows everything, when He can see eternity, when He should have seen this when He made you, when He made me. And, suddenly, I’m questioning everything, asking myself if this is really paradise or if you are paradise.” Falter. “I— I don’t know what I’m saying.”

!!!