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Angelic - Part VI [Patron-Guided]
🕑 Added 2020-03-16 06:43:50 +0000 UTCCyth looks away from the rescue workers and back into the chamber they had discovered. There is a long pause as they ponder their options, weighing the importance of locating a devil and the value of their relationship with humans. They have half a mind to make a strike against the workers, to scare them off back into their own business, but they worry, too, that doing so would push the limits of humanity’s worship. Maintaining some level of trust between Heaven and humans, all angels knew, was as vital as keeping Hell warded. Losing followers due to careless devil hunting could prove just as disastrous as allowing the devils to have done as they pleased.
“Angel! Listen to us and move!” the man barks again, his voice blasting through a megaphone. It’s needed in order to speak over the ambulance sirens and the general commotion. Cyth does not look at him, their eyes still aimed into the hole. “Please! We need to save anyone we can--”
“In the center,” Cyth interrupts, her arm pointing towards the middle of all the destruction, “I can sense life, fighting to survive. If you wish to help the most people possible, you should begin there.” Cyth stands to their full height, the rubble under their feet snapping and cracking as they take a stance to overlook the rescue workers. Rather than have the same stoic expression, they instead express sympathy towards the humans they have troubled. “I came here because of devil activity, and I sense one deep into this tunnel. For your own safety, you must do your work elsewhere.”
“And why should we believe you?!” the man asks, an arm tossed to one side in anger. “It was you that caused this! You, dammit! Thousands are dead because of you!”
Cyth closes their eyes, defending themselves from arguments they had heard hundreds of times from those affected by celestial involvement. There was no convincing humans that they weren’t as important as their egos lead them to believe, and there was certainly no point in trying now. Though most angels were totally callous to the plights of humanity, Cyth could at least shed some empathy for them and their dire situations, how little they could do in a universe that was so much grander than them. A smile nearly took over their lips as they thought of humans and their efforts, still shadowing the rescue workers that had neared them.
“My methods were rushed, I admit,” Cyth explains. They put a hand softly over their chest, a gesture of genuinity. “But this research is important. Your interference could cost Heaven dearly.”
The megaphone droops away from his mouth. “You fucking celestials… This is all a joke to you…!” The man stomps and walks closer to the giant. He fumes and projects his voice again, “Let us in there! Let’s see for ourselves, huh!”
“You.” Cyth points at the man, the invisible weight of which forces him to a halt. “What is your name?”
The man trembles, his confidence having been shaken. “M-My-- What’s my name to you? Don’t you angels know this?!”
Cyth shakes their head. “We are not omniscient in this way. To introduce myself, you may call me Cyth.”
The man mumbles something in a low growl, but his attitude subtly shifts. He looks back at his team, then to the wasteland they all reside in. The wailing of sirens and the clouds of smoke push him to make a decision. “... My name’s Treavor. Is that a promise that you’ll help us out?”
“Only as much as you promise to leave me be afterwards.”
“Well, Cyth, I can’t leave an area go uninspected. I need to send someone down there.”
Cyth sighs and props an arm onto their hip. “Then do so yourself,” they suggest, their shoulders perked. “In the meantime, I will help where I can. Is this agreeable?”
Treavor nods and crosses his arms. “Fine. If that’s how it has to be.”
Cyth is the first to move after the discussion is settled, surprising the humans with how quickly they are to get going. With a ping for life already in progress, the angel waves at the other rescue workers to guide them into the middle. Their legs breeze past them in just a couple steps, stopping at where a large mound of debris had piled together. Before other workers can organize around them, Cyth right away begins digging into the cluster, using their long arms to unload heaps of rubble at a time and have tossed out of the way. The hill of materials slips apart section by section, making a mockery of the machines and methods the rescue workers intended to use. Within moments, Cyth uncovers a den of six people huddled together, covered in dust and weak from injuries. Rescue workers swarm in without waiting for permission, taking the victims into their arms and hoisting them out one at a time. Cyth supervises from their higher point of view, organizing the rescuer workers with what areas to begin digging in next and tearing down any obstacles that their attack on the building may have created.
The warmth of donating their power to save human lives is a distracting sensation for Cyth. Fifteen minutes pass without them realizing, not until after a batch of survivors is taken to the sidelines of the destruction. Only when they see the time displayed on a huge screen with the news do they decide to end their generosity. Without a word, they separate from the teams of rescue workers, digesting the oddity of their relationship. There were some that wished to thank the angel for their service, and others that still cursed their presence. Cyth takes it in stride as they return to the chamber, expecting to meet with Treavor.
But at the opening, no one greets them. Cyth peeks into the hole, but the same darkness is all to be found. In their attempt to not assume the worst, Cyth considers that Treavor may have already left, mixed back into the crowds of similarly-dressed rescuers. However, a ping for life informs them of an active essence under the rubble. Unless another human jumped in when they weren’t looking, it was very possible that it was Treavor making his dive into the debris.
Cyth perches at the hole, allowing a leg to dip into the shadows. Without further delay, they descend into the chamber, ducking their head in as they maneuver into the cramped space. Floors and furniture are blindly broken through as their feet find places to step down, and dust rustles through every crack. A single beam that Cyth steps through causes a minor collapse of the ceiling above, warning Cyth of dangers to come. The chamber and its passage could easily cave in with just a few careless motions.
And careless motions come naturally when moving about a dark, crumbling hall. Cyth’s feet finally discover a firm enough floor to stand upon, but all around them is shadowy walls. Only the light from above casts any illumination, revealing little other than bits of broken office chairs and desks.
Amidst the snap and crackle of debris as Cyth settled into position, they heard a distinct noise. It’s over before they can recognize it, like a fizzle or brief whistle. Something persists, like a constant flickering, but Cyth can barely make a direction of its source. With a devil potentially on the loose, it was appropriate to prepare for a magical counterattack, but it was just as likely to be a trap made exactly for them. Alternatively, Cyth realizes, it could be Treavor -- lost somewhere in the ruins and in need of assistance. Before descending any further, Cyth sorts out their own plan…
