Azrael Has His Say
Essay Five: In Which Raguel Earns A Place On Azrael's Shit List
So. Lucy fell out of Heaven. Well, not so much as got pwnzored. If they'd left it at that, I wouldn't have gotten so angry at Raguel. And if the Council hadn't let the whole world start believing that Lucifer was Satan, I wouldn't have left angelic thumbtacks all over Raguel's chair. (He was one pissed off archangel.) I caught him once after an ass-poking and told him he should smoke some All Holy Reefer, mellow out a bit, name some new colors. It's not as though anyone was USING the stuff.
On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that only made him dislike me more, but come on. Does anyone WANT to be liked by a guy who invented pseudo-goth fashion?
I rest my fucking case.
Anyway. The trouble with making Raguel angry is that he gets really angry. They don't call him God's Vengeance for nothing. In fact, there're several very good reasons, one being that he likes his sword. A lot. That is not a reference to his sexuality, though said item IS questionable. I mean that he likes long pointy metallic objects, especially when they belong to him. Now, I, being Lucy's brother and all, turned out to be under the Council's suspicion. According to some of their memos (I later discovered), I might have been in full cahoots with the guy and probably served as a huge recruiter. There were also some comments about what exactly was under my cloak and whether or not I was addicted to any odd substances.
I look like a tanned sun god, and the only thing I'm addicted to is Wild Cherry Pepsi, which is trademarked, and now that I've mentioned it, they can't sue me.
So I went about my business as usual, trying not attract attention or do anything suspicious, like hiring earthly prostitutes or snorting coke. Except, like clockwork, I got called up for a Council hearing because there were some (and I quote) snags in some paperwork regarding the angel of death. Snags in paperwork my ass. I got every comment in those files thrown at me, despite my best efforts to shoot them all down with logic. Sammael, creepy bastard that he is, alluded to a deal in which if I agreed to sleep with him (do I look suicidal?), he'd get the Council to lower my sentence.
Well. I didn't like that much. So I went off on a mildly incoherent rant in which I proceeded to diss Raguel, Sammael, the Council, all of the archangels, hypocrites, and the French (more on them later). Nobody else could have done my job back then, and besides, family relations were no reason to accuse someone of a crime. Unless perhaps there was incest involved, but in Texas that's evidently not a crime anymore. Cough, cough.
My little rant evidently pretty much condemned me in most of the Council Angels' eyes. But then Raguel had to go and make it worse. He stood up very slowly, holding a scroll or two, and addressed the Council thusly: I would like to bring to your esteemed attentions these reports of confessions to the Lord, overheard by myself as per regulations. Pretentious fucker, isn't he? He went on to explain how I had kept my relationship with Sariel hidden from absolutely everyone. From that little piece of info, he managed to draw the conclusion that I must be a sneaky, filthy, rotten liar who was involved with Lucifer's rebellion from the start.
Funny, just from listening to him TALK, you can draw the conclusion that he's a predecessor to George W. Bush...
Ahahah, humans. What can I say? After Raguel's speech (which earned him a permanent spot on my Shit List), the Council felt inexplicably moved to toss me out of Heaven. But, I suppose, thanks to the intervention of Sammael, who must have really wanted to bone me (again, creepy), I was allowed to keep my job, and because I no longer had command over the lower angels who occasionally had been ordered to help with the reaving of souls, I was also given the ability to create and use black-winged, dark-skinned half-angels we now like to call the Azraelim.
Which brings us to present day. And the goddamn French.