In Their World

History Extra: Celeste Foraskes the Divine Realm

Celeste's POV

I trail along behind my father, his large frame appearing as big as building to my tiny stature.

The sky is beautiful and I find myself admiring the view, wondering what it was like if I was an Angel. Or even a devil.

Anyone who had the power and freedom to soar away and escape your problems at a moments notice. "Celeste stop daydreaming and let's move it. The least you can do is to be of some use since your mother left me to deal with this burden." I find myself tearing up at his words, most of them hurtful, but my heart still flutters as I follow along.

It's been so long since he's talked about it. Every time I try to, he hits me in the face, telling me I'm not allowed to speak ugly in front of my father. I was born over twenty years ago according to him but because he's a powerful Daemon Lord and my mother is some fancy important Goddess, I age slow.

Physically at least.

That's what father says anyway.

Though of course he found a way for me to be useful and find the good in my power. As he urges me, I hurry to catch up to him, allowing him to usher me forward faster as we arrive at a bar that's far away from any place I recognize.

It's been years since I've last senenmother. She used to visit at least once a year, taking a vacation from her important job to come for a week.

Every time I ask father where mother is, all he ever tells me is back to her people.

Which I don't understand.

I thought we were her people?

I used to think that I had experienced an indescribable horror that no one else had felt anything close to, but when father makes me go with him places like today, I see that I'm wrong.

As we walk deeper into the bar, people turn, searching for a familiar face, and eyes lighting up when they see my father and me trailing behind him. I hate this place and all the places like it. I have touching people and telling them their luck. Telling them their future, telling them their soulmate, revealing their biggest sin. I hate it because they never listen. They pay my father to use my powers and ignore everything I tell them, only using and manipulating the parts that can get them what they want.

I hate them.

I hate this.

Especially when Father wants me to use my powers on Arch-Angels the most powerful, largest and scariest beings in all the realms excluding Gods themselves. With their cold stares and disgusted thinly veiled looks of pity and disgust remind me repeatedly of how much I don't belong.

How much I offend them their Divine blood and power with my half Daemon blood presence.

Daemons themselves are respected in a sense. They're a necessity, my Father explained, a way to keep things balanced, to help appease the natural order of the world.

He had that talk with me after an Archangel spit into my face with a haunting laugh that made me burst into angry tears. It was then that I learned that they respected and even feared beings like my father for their ruthlessness and cruelty and strength and roles. Children like me made them face a reality they couldn't accept. That Daemons and Gods could be equals. That we could somehow look past our differences and embrace the ways and values we share. It's much easier to punish a child for being half Daemon. For offending.

The lower Angels only whisper and stare, gossiping to each other about the exiled Daemon Lord and abandoned half blood child that doesn't fit in anywhere.

They say other things too, but they hurt too much and their words mean things that I don't yet understand.

Though that doesn't mean I don't understand their mean intent and the way their laugh seems to cut me on the inside instead of out.

I hate being the odd one out.

I've lived for twenty years, and my thoughts and understanding of the world races like an adults, but my body and mind are at the stage of young teens. Tweleve at most. And it's an infuriating existence when my experience, mind and body are all warring with each other, my father is exploiting you and I can't get rid of this innate desire for my mother.

One thing that I know for sure, is no matter how old or young I seem compared to Angels, Daemons, or Gods themselves, I can't help but realize that none of them truly seem to realize what this existence and this life is meant to be.

Growing up on Mt. Olympus you hear people all the time praising the Gods and all their hard works towards making all realms a happier safer place. For years I believe them. Or I suppose, I really wanted to, but it's been harder and harder to ignore the reality of the world. The Gods mistreat the Archangels who in turn abuse their power against the common Angel folk who do all they can to fill the holes left behind by ridicule and hate, only by filling it with more. A desperate and never ending cycle that seems to be leading the creatures of this and every realm into a deep pit of despair and ruin.

Maybe I'm not as smart as I would like to believe I am, but I'm starting to think that maybe we shouldn't be praying to and protecting these so called Gods that break their promises, abandon their children and shun those that are different.

Why should we follow or support Gods who use their overwhelming power to control and manipulate those that only crave peace and belonging?

What kind of God is that?

And as I'm sitting there pondering this question in the middle of a bar, eyes down, shoulders slumped, I realize that they aren't. And they shouldn't be. Those aren't real Gods. They're pretenders. Liars. Thieves of dreams and manipulators of reality.

They don't deserve our praise. Our glory. Our sword. Our magic.

None of them do.

Especially not those happy to accept their blessings and ignore the pains and sorrows of those around them.

And I could show them. I could show them all what it means to be a God. What it means to look after your children, guide them, protect them, love them, fight for them. I can become stronger and show every one of these bullies what it really means to be a God of the people.

Goddess Celeste, Mother to all.

I like it.

So as my father turns to charm an Angel into buying his- or should I say my, services, I use the distraction to slip away, my small stature keeping me out of the watchful gaze of most.

I slip into the pack streets of Mt. Olympus and make the long painstakingly cold walk towards the express portal, the mystic doorway empty for once.

And with a determined set to my mouth and tears streaming down my face, I run for the portal, promising myself and the world that I would be back one day. I would be back to show them all what it's like to be a true God. What it's like to be worthy of love and praise.

I will surpass them all.

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Shirt sweet and simple and a surprised extra from celeste's POV of all people. What do you think?

Thoughts?

Comments?

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