Fragile Glass | Morpheus

Chapter 15

To Astraea, rain was a truly preternatural phenomenon that she wished to cultivate into her inner palatial mind. To memorise each effervescent drop of liquid gold that nourishes the worlds life force and gives hope to the burgeoning nature in the esoteric way that only god themself could understand.

It was this beauty that led to her standing in the small garden at the back of the house she shared with Jacob. Bullets of water hit her neck as she preened at the sky and gazed into the murky abyss of a thousand clouds weaving together to create a tapestry of grey that obscured her vision of the blistering sun. For as long as her charred memory stretched back she had always been fond of the darkness, finding solace in its encompassing embrace. The shadows of a rain soaked day were, to her, the ideal scenery for her shallow life.

A glint of sunlight peaked through the clouds and glistened in a million rainbows, casting their opulent shades onto the willowy buildings around.

She was sure she was in heaven.

__________

Aziraphale paced the length of the bookshop. Though he didn't need to breathe, as was the want of angels, his breaths were coming out quick and shallow. If he were human, he was convinced that he would be experiencing what would be known as a panic attack.

"We can't go in all guns blazing, angel. Who knows what this guy's capable of." Crowley whispered from his perch on the arm of the sofa. If this was any other day, Aziraphale would have reprimanded him for sitting there when there was a perfectly good seat attached the the blasted thing. Morpheus nodded from his place in the corner of the room. The angel still didn't quite know what to make of the endless, or in fact, the idea that there was an endless currently inhabiting his book shop and who had a strange relationship with his darling sister.

"Well what should we do then? We can't very well sit here and wait. She could be in danger." He turned in his pacing and began in the opposite direction, "she probably is in danger." He fretted over the well-being of his sister and from the corner of his eye saw the demon retreat into himself, his body coiling into as small a space as he could in this form.

"We need a way to see what's going on on the inside. A way to peer into her life as it is now." The angel muttered more to himself than the other two occupants of the room, "any ideas?" He turned his ire on the deific being in the corner.

"Just as a sparrow questions not the eggs already in its nest until the hatching of the snake, so too shall we lie in wait in the nest of Apollo." The twinkle that glinted in the man's eyes did not placate the wrathful angel who was at the end of his tether with celestial beings for this half of the century.

"Do not speak Homeric simile to me, Dream of The Endless. I do not have the patience for it today." The hiss that escaped aziraphale would have been more natural coming from Crowley and yet it fit him perfectly. This was no longer the put-together angel of days gone by, no, this was the deranged brother who was one wrong word away from delving into a spiralling ocean of madness from which he would never be able to claw his fastidious way out of.

Crowley's lithe form slithered from the sofa and to the man before him, "Aziraphale, angel, he might have a point. As much as it pains me to agree with the bastard, this might be the job of a snake." His serpentine eyes rested on those of the angels and his hands came to rest tentatively on the other's shoulders, almost hovering above the flesh in fear of being rejected. The pain of Crowley's earlier deceit was still not wholly forgiven.

"And I suppose you, wily serpent that you are, wish to volunteer? Hmm?" Aziraphale took a step away from him, shrugging the slender fingers from his shoulders and sniffing at the dejected look on Crowley's features.