God's Gone AWOL

[5] The Angel of the Moon

Bentley still hadn't let go of Atticus' hand, even after several hours had passed.

The whole time, Atticus remained seated on the floor, his head resting against the red velvet fabric. After a while, he closed his eyes, listening to the silence of the night. He knew that if he could find a way to stay there forever, he would.

...An eternity at peace, in the quiet sanctuary of the Cupboard. Away from the world and away from everyone else. Just him and Bentley.

To immortal beings such as angels and demons, few things in existence were ever consistent. Friends came and went quickly. Plants, animals, everything that could die would disappear eventually. The shape of the Earth would change, structures and cities would build themselves up, then crumble back down. Even everyday objects would crumble or disintegrate in the blink of an eye. For mortals, such things would take centuries to pass. But to those unfortunate souls bound to an eternal life, it hardly felt like any time at all. Only a few, very certain things would remain the same.

Moonlight crept into the little store, pooling in from the small windows positioned at the very top of the wall.

No matter who they were, no matter where they were, no matter when they were alive, everyone, across all eras and walks of life, knew about the sun and the moon —those distant, unaffected gods of life, death, water, and light. The moon had been around for nearly as long as the Earthly realm itself. For countless years, civilizations had worshipped it, feared it, used it to mark the changes in seasons and the passage of time. The moon was a vital landmark, one of the few reliable things in all creation.

However, Atticus had a slightly different relationship with the moon.

After a long while of complete, tranquil silence, Something suddenly startled Atticus into sitting up. Around his wrist, a small silver bracelet started to glow, pulsating with energy. Even though he had worn this bracelet since the dawn of time, he had only seen it light up like this on rare occasions throughout history. And like an angel of death, whenever the little thing did light up, nothing good ever came afterwards.

Having been laying at Bentley's side for so long, the recently opened space between him and the couch felt like a rather chilly void, and he silently hoped to fill it back in again as soon as possible; as soon as he resolved the matter his bracelet was informing him about. Carefully, so as to not disturb the sleeping demon, Atticus extracted his hand from her unconscious grip and rose to his feet. Then, taking one last glance back to make sure she was still safely on the world of her dreams, he soundlessly slipped up the stairs.

The 'Closed' sign hanging above the doorknob swung to and fro as Atticus pushed the door open —slowly, so it wouldn't ring the bell. Outside, the street was completely silent save the gentle rustling of the chilly early morning wind, stirring up the leaves of the freshly blossoming trees and ruffling Atticus' hair slightly. The rain had also subsided for the first time in several days. However, as Paris was a rather large city, the light pollution prevented anyone from being able to see the stars. So the only thing visible in the sky was that ever-constant pale moon, shining so heavenly and bright above the entire planet.

That moon was precisely the reason why Atticus was standing in the center of the street, unmoving. He froze, bathing in the soothing glow, his soft features illuminated and enhanced by the beauty of the light. Waiting.

Waiting...

At first, there was only a soft, white glow of light and a light scent of vanilla on the air. Then a figure materialized before him.

Like Atticus had done for the majority of his life, this particular angel presented the body of a human woman, despite aligning himself more with the "masculine" side of the human gender spectrum. His long, dark hair was swirled up into an elaborate crown of silver pins, beads and tassels. A trailing, elegant, white robe wrapped itself loosely around the angel's slender shoulders, trailing down at the sleeves. Every step he took, every movement he made was done with careful precision. There was nothing accidental about him. Not a single detail about his entire character could be ignored, it was all flawless to an ethereal degree. And it was terrifying.