Gabriel falls.
Down and out.
Down and out.
Down and out.
Passed Night-Stage, numerous Stars and into cold,
wet cloud.
Blinded, he instinctively spreads his wings,
slowing his fall. Feeling heavier, it takes more effort to lift himself than
normal. Muscles bunch and release, as he he drags his less luminous body up.
Breaking free of the sky-sheep, Gabriel hovers
taking control of himself again by checking his hair. His toes skim the fluffy
looking surface. Water droplets, cling to his feet and his physical body shivers.
Looking down, he sees his hands are nearly transparent, but otherwise they feel
just the same. Flexing his fingers, he can’t see spots or warts or sickness. He
doesn’t look contaminated.
The Long-Blue stretches overhead, the colour looks
paler from the Wild. The light is dimmer
too, but there’s something interesting about it. The constant movement of air,
the refracting light, and the clouds reshaping every second. Taking several deep breaths of the thick atmosphere,
Gabriel waits for some reaction but again he doesn’t feel contaminated.
He feels – alive!
Smiling his glorious grin, he looks round for
someone to share the moment with. Realising he’s looking for Molly, he stretches
his wings and soars as high as he can, but when he can rise no further, he
reaches out a hand grasping toward the heavens. The perspective here makes it
look like he could pinch the sun between his fingers, but he can’t return.
There’s no way back to Molly.
His decision was final.
Forever.
But?
Before he turns away, he wonders if maybe,
just maybe, she’ll follow. Did she
understand his message?
Watching and waiting, he hovers between the Long-Blue
and the coming dark. As he waits the sun sinks into the west and the curtain is
raised on Night-Stage. Time is different here; he could live a Wild day and it
would feel like a moment in the Light.
If Molly was coming, she’d have already arrived.
But still, he waits.
The longer he waits, the tighter his chest muscles
tense, the harder it is to breathe. Unable to bear it any longer he stops
flapping, and like a swimmer giving up on treading water he sinks down and down
and down. As he falls, he tries to let go. To shed everything he thought he was,
like water sliding off an umbrella, and become who he was made to be; a messenger.
Landing lightly on a grassy plain, he startles
some nearby earth-sheep, which run away bleating. Below him in the darkness he
can make out many regular, dark shapes – buildings he thinks – set in a natural
basin and surrounded by hills.
Behind him, is a fire some distance away. Mortals
are moving round it. He can hear shouts.
Refracting his light, Gabriel casts a glamour on himself and walks toward the fire.
One mortal rises as tall as Gabriel, but not as broad. He grips a wooden rod, but then says in a voice with some depth, “Welcome stranger.”
