Monet: An Ink is Thicker Than Blood Story

Part One: Legend

Somewhere in the world, 110 years after the Darwin Initiative was created...

The light seems to flood through the stained glass art windows. The church's halls are forcing her footsteps to echo. In the shine of the afternoon light through the windows, you can see the dust dancing in the air and lying on the crimson rug leading to the altar. Rows upon rows of seats all leading to the front. Candles are lit but look almost done. The girl's long light blonde hair floats behind her. Her blue skirt with a golden rim, her white shirt with a blue collar and a golden ascot, her blue and gold headband, all shining like an angel's robes. Her knee high socks and her black shoes are now colliding with the soft carpet. Her hands are in front of her, tightly tying themselves together. Her head is hung, staring at the floor. When she reaches the foot of the steps to the altar she looks up, her sky blue eyes staring at the cross with a twinkle of hope in her eyes. The smell of wine reaches her nose, but when it does she moves towards the confession booth. She takes her seat in it and closes her eyes. "Confess, my child." An elderly man says from the other side.
"Father I have sinned." She whispers. "I have fought in wars from times long ago. I killed. I have done so much. So many bad things."
"Do you repent?" The priest asks from the other side.
"Yes father, I repent." The girl begins to sob.
"You are forgiven. But before you go, I must ask you one question." The priest says.
"What question, father?"
"Are you an angel?"
"What?"
"You're but a school girl. How could you have fought in wars, and killed?"
"So what if I am?"
"Why would an angel need to confess? Or repent?"
"I believe the end is coming."
"How can you tell?"
"A friend told me." With those being her last words to the priest, the girl steps out and begins to walk out the church. When she steps on the gravel, her bright and colourful wings emerge from her back. Then with a grim and dark face, and a single flap, she's gone. Her name is Petra.

A few days later, a New York City skyscraper...

Monet Abel. A Keeper. A Keeper of what? Of the Balance of Karma. A cosmic force that if tipped too much to one side, it'll be interstellar armageddon. Monet is sitting atop a high building in Seattle. Her legs dangle off the building as she sips on her iced coffee from Starbucks, and listens to Legend by twenty one pilots through her headphones. Not a care in the world from the looks of it. Eventually she puts her plastic cup down next to her and grabs a bag sitting next to her. She unzips it and pulls out a laptop. She turns it on and logs in. As it signs her in, she looks around--bobbing her head to the beat as she does--at the clear blue sky and the surrounding skyscrapers. She smiles as she clicks through several apps and tabs on her laptop. When she arrives at a document she begins reading it through. It's a story being written by a writer she quite admires who goes by Snowwalker3333. He posts all sorts of things, including collaborative efforts. As she reads the story she reaches into a small plastic bag with the Starbucks logo on it. She pulls out and unwraps a sandwich. The sandwich had a classic white, green,and yellow Subway wrapper on it. Monet takes a deep breath as she takes a big bite of the sandwich. The tastes flooding Monet's mouth were all various and had huge differences, but when chewed and tasted together they felt unnaturally good. As she eats the sandwich her eyes scroll through every sentence. If her sounds of shock and empathy weren't enough to tell you the story she's reading is really moving, her facial expressions and her body language screamed it at you. When she finished her sandwich she crumpled the wrapping paper and shoved back in the bag.
    As Monet reads a loud whooshing sound can be heard behind her. It's so loud it can be heard over Monet's music. Monet takes off her rose red headphones, shuts her laptop and safely puts it away before turning around. Her gaze is met with Petra's. When Monet sees Petra, her face goes from pumped up, to worried quicker than you can say "okay". Monet shifts her body around and continues to pack up her things. "Monet. Please wait and talk to me." Petra says.
"I have nothing to say to you or the other archangels." Monet says as she places her headphones into her large white tote bag that was previously slanted against the wall.
"The demons have returned." Petra sighs. Monet stops moving.
"That's impossible. We eradicated them in 1914." Monet grunts, lifting her things.
"They've regrouped Monet." Petra hisses. Monet places her hand on the door handle that leads to the stairs. "Michael would not be pleased with your actions." Monet halts. Monet chants the name in her head. Michael. Michael. Michael! Michael! Michael... Monet backs away from the door and turns to face Petra.
"Shut up." Monet says.
"I'm being honest. Do you think Michael would approve of this? If only he could see just what you were doing!" Petra argues.
"Shut up! You didn't know Michael! He was the chief of the angels! He's gone! He vanished and left me as the leader of the Archangels!" Monet barks. Petra took a few steps back, her eyes filled with fear. When she reaches the edge she uses the ledge as a support as she falls to her knees, holding her mouth. That's when Monet remembers just what Petra is like. She's the most sensitive angel. The nicest. The cutest. The kindest. The smallest. "Petra." Monet sighs as she slowly steps towards Petra. Monet sits down beside Petra, putting her arm around Petra to help comfort her. "Petra I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Look, come with me to my apartment and we can talk about this a little more." Monet whispers. Petra's eyebrows draw together and she quickly stands, forcing Monet's hand on her off. Petra turns to look down at Monet. Petra's eyes are overflowing with tears. But her eyes look so filled with anger.
"We all trusted you, you know? We all thought you'd come back. Now you say you have an apartment! What is wrong with you? What happened? You were never like this, Monet!" Petra exclaims. Monet rises to her feet and puts her arms out, offering a hug. "No! I need some time to think." Petra hisses. Petra's wings reveal themselves and just as fast as she arrived, she's gone. Monet is left standing there to reconcile on that interaction. As she stands there thinking of her actions, she sees something. A feather. A colourful feather. Vibrant and light colours. The most notable thing about Archangel feathers is that they always look like watercolour. Monet sighs as she catches the feather and holds it in her hands.
"Come find me when you're ready Petra. I'll be waiting." Monet sighs as she picks back up her things and leaves the roof not like an Archangel, but like a human.
    Monet spent the next few days waiting for Petra to come back. She sent most of them in her apartment. Some in a bookshop, some in a cafe. But eventually she returned to the scene of her and Petra's fight. The sky is dark and cloudy, Monet has her head hung and an umbrella guarding her and her lunch from the rain. Monet reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a stand for her large umbrella. When she sets up the stand she places her picnic mat down. The umbrella is just big enough where it can protect the lunch and the laptop from the light rain. When she has her food, iced coffee, and laptop out, she hears something. A whoosh. She looks up from her laptop screen. She can see Petra standing on the other side of the building. She's clutching her left arm. Not from a flesh wound though. In agitation. She slowly starts to walk over until she reaches the edge of the umbrella and the picnic mat. "Hi Petra." Monet says in a welcoming voice. "You're welcome in. I brought you your favourite sandwich. The sandwich you liked from when I last saw you though. And that was 1969, right?"
"It was." Petra croaks, as she begins to cry again. "I invented you to a lunch, just us. And you came."
"That's what sisters are for right? It's also the day of the moon landing." Monet chuckles. "Petra, come on. Sit down and let's talk. But not about Archangel stuff. Lets just catch up."
"Okay." Petra sighs as she sits down under the tent. After that, the sky began to clear, and Monet and Petra both smile and laugh as they recount stories about how their lives have been.