Icarus | Good omens

f o u r : e a r t h

The next few days were incredibly busy for Raphael and his fellow angels in preparation for the new earth project. The Almighty hadnt given them much information on her plans for the new planet just yet, but no angel dared ask. Each and every one of them new better than to pester her for information which she hadn't given out; rather, they knew to wait. She would inform them of her intentions when the time was right.

Raphael wanted to know why he had been chosen to play a part in all of this more than anyone, but he too knew his place. Upon looking around at the other busy angels, he came to the conclusion that he had no more of a right to know than they did. Sure many of them were superior to him, but if they didn't ask, why should he?

His golden gaze wandered the area, pinpointing each and every angel that worked there. Many he didn't remember the names of, and had only seen a few times. Others, he was familiar with - like Gabriel and Michael. She must have trusted them all and thought of them quite highly to want them to help with such an... important project.

"Raphael! Just standing there won't get a world made, will it? No? I didn't think so either. Back to work!" The words of another angel caught him off guard, but Raphael gave a quick nod and turned back to the thing he was supposed to be doing. He stared at the clipboard which rested against the wall, this contained his jobs. Except, there was only one job there; prepare for earth.
That was an awfully vague duty.

But, as he looked around the others once more, he knew they would soon be done. Preparations would be complete, and God's plan would be set in motion for definite. He wondered how it would go. Had she thought it all out? He hoped she had done it well. His thoughts drifted.

Then, something else. A horrible feeling in the deepest pits of his celestial stomach. A terrible mix of dread, and panic, and regret, and pure, unadulterated terror. It welled up and up and up inside of him. His skin felt as if someone had pressed a burning hot rod to it and seared him all over. The pain was almost completely overwhelming to his fragile body. He resisted the urge to scream, to cry out against the burning agony.
Instead, he simply dismissed himself, muttering to a nearby angel that he needed to take a short break, and that he would be back soon. All she gave him was a nod. For that, he supposed he should be grateful.

And so he wandered away from the worksite, doing his best to keep his posture straight and his steps in line until he was out of view. When he was able to, he ducked behind a large pile of heaven's pristine white 'clouds'. He pressed his weight against them, taking in a sharp and heavy breath.

What in heaven's nine spheres was that?

He took a moment to steady himself, the previously immense pain dulling into only a slight ache, though it was still there nonetheless.
Was it because of his questions..? What had he done?