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.”