The Ascent of the Angelic

One of the more striking features of this center was the explosion of pictures around them. They featured all too happy people, usually holding an object with a logo plastered on it. Rhys had seen some of those objects in the pictures, odd drinks in cans. They always tasted terrible the scarce times he had them, so he wasn't quite sure what they were happy about.

"I had expected more sin about, despite the clearance within," Mehira said.

"Perhaps they did a more clean job?" Rhys said. It was hard to imagine how much worse it was beforehand if the 'lower rank' angels such as Mehira weren't allowed at all. "We should enjoy it in any case. It's our first trip to a center after all."

"The question of my fate here troubles me." Mehira stopped and hit a nearby pole, sending out a hollow clang that echoed through the center. Not another sound stirred other than the wind that played through the paths between the buildings, a hollow groan. "I had figured in some way this was a test of faith, and yet in its stead I find the coffin of a city. Sad and dead in its magnificence."

"I can't say I know what the heavens plan, sorry," Rhys said. He on some level also expected some grand test for Mehira. Some angel would stand in the middle and grant her a higher rank or something. Instead, nothing. Only silent monoliths and the silly little things stored inside them. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come?"

"No," Mehira instantly replied, shaking her head. "It was your decision. The cherubim showed no sign of rejection." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish that my people were not so keen on the idea of silent agreements of faith. The Lord may move in mysterious ways, but I do pray that I would one day be able to understand those. Ridiculous, I am more than aware."

The two began walking again.

"I think it's for the best we don't know these 'mysterious ways', don't you?" Rhys asked.

"And why would that be?"

"Consider me. A mere mortal on Earth, unaware of all the consequences going on around me. Ignorance is bliss and all."

"True, I do envy the shreds of intuition you contain, and at the very same time I feel as though I cannot properly protect with all the pieces of the message."

"You've done more than enough for my little town as is," Rhys said.

"Is there not more for me to do? My only role is as guardian, protector of this place."

"And you've done your job wonderfully. That's not to say you're only your role. You can do things outside that."

"Perhaps once my role is done, but I am now only the holy knight."

"And a friend," Rhys replied.

Mehira marched on silently for a moment before saying, "I would say that ranks higher than knight."

Hearing her say that put a smile on Rhys. As grand as it was to hear confirmation from an angel, there was a human warmth to her response. Were there not the horrible ravaging of the world, he wondered if the angels would have ever visited. A terrible thing to want damnation of the world for one person, but Rhys knew he would sorely miss Mehira if she were gone. There's always good in the bad, he supposed. Humanity would have been extinguished without them regardless, one way or another.

A brisk chill picked up on the wind, causing Rhys to rub his arms.

"Are your extremities feeling well?" Mehira asked. She casually reached over with a lower arm and gently touched his skin. "Prosa is known to be harsh with his healing."

"So then it was Prosa's doing?" He didn't seem the healing type.

"Prosa still cares for the protected, just as the rest of us do." She pinched his arm. "Usually it would take some time longer unless--" Mehira cocked her head. "Unless the cherubim assisted him."

"Something wrong with that?" Rhys asked. Aside from their blank, worrying stare, that is.

"Not necessarily. I am merely unaware of when that would have ever happened in the span of time."

"Is that something special, then?" Rhys asked, excitement growing in his voice.

"Perhaps. Mysterious ways." Mehira retracted her arm. "Perhaps you are here for a reason then?"

"See? It's good I came along then," Rhys replied with a smile.

While he put on a cheery facade, the thought of the cherubim orchestrating his life was a frightening one, or at least one to worry about. Surely they had good intentions? Good for humanity, and a chance that it wasn't good for him. He swallowed and tried to redirect his mind, lest Mehira catch wind of his uncertainty. The last thing she needed was her own traveling partner becoming weary of the already terrible task set out before her.

"It is good for many a reason." Just as Mehira said that, she flung open her wings and braced her spear. "Something is ahead." Her lower arm yanked Rhys to her side. Rhys himself placed a hand on the hilt of his blade. Not a chance he wasn't going down without some flailing attempt.

Rhys could spot the demon thing in the distance. It was probably a bird at some point, judging on its stilted legs and awkward gait made all the more odd by the limp. Its eyes had been gouged out, leaving only holes that Rhys could peer through when it bobbed its head. Chicken? The absurdity threw Rhys off for a moment. What came next didn't help his thought process either. Before Mehira or Rhys could make their move, the world appeared to smear to the right in a streaking blur. It almost pained Rhys to look at it, his mind trying to complete a whole image that had been torn. Like water the image flowed back into place, revealing a headless demon and a cherub standing over it. The world smeared in reverse with a grind. In an instant, the walkway was empty again with nary a trace of the beast except a stripe of red along a concrete wall.

The human rubbed his eyes. A bad idea to be sure, but he needed the relief. Mehira straightened up.

"Taken care of in an eye's shut," she said. "You are alright, Rhys?"

"I think so," he replied, rubbing his temples. "I didn't merely hallucinate that, did I? I could've sworn there was something over there," he said in a hushed voice.

"There was, and now there is not." Mehira tilted her head. "Their speed outmatches even my expectations."

So that was real. "No offense intended, Mehira, but if they can do... whatever that was, what purpose do the other guardians serve?" In the blink of an eye. Dead and gone.

Mehira paused. "That is a very good question." Not one she seemed comfortable with either. Another on the long list of mysterious movements of the skies above. In any case, they were watching at least, giving Rhys that much more sense of security. It also maybe meant that Mehira didn't have to face off against some unwinnable foe. Surely they'd get the cherubim to pull that trick on anything that looked at a human funny? "I... suppose we should continue on our journey."

"This place does echo quite a bit." Rhys prayed a bad joke wasn't a sin. "But now I have to ask if you're OK?"

Mehira stared at where that demon once stood. "What purpose do we serve? Indeed."

"That wasn't an entirely serious question. There must be a good reason for all things heavenly." Hopefully. Rhys took a few steps forward and beckoned Mehira. "We shouldn't be tardy for destiny." Though with the way things were going, orchestration seemed more likely than the flow of fate.

Mehira took a few more moments to gawk then hurried forward. They passed by the red streak, which looked more like a brushstroke rather than the spattering of gore. Rhys tried not to stare while Mehira appeared to give it no mind, focused on the task ahead.

"Maybe our task is simply to enjoy the center itself?" he asked.

"Hardly a fitting tribute for the dead," Mehira replied. "Playing games in their graveyard."

"Enjoying what they have left behind for us would honor them in some way?" That's why this place existed, right? It was some cornucopia of all sorts of things enjoyable, dripping in its overindulgence. Large signs, even bigger pictures, surrounded by ever extending towers. "Though that might be harder with just the two of us."

"I feel as though if we disturb any part of this, the world may tear asunder and spew forth pain."

Rhys pursed his lips. "I suppose that is a fair assumption." He adjusted his pack.

While the center wasn't exactly pristine, it still had an air of preservation that far outstripped the small hamlet he was in before. Yet as they went further in, the buildings took on a grimier look, replacing their clean metalwork and shiny glass with worn out brick and mortar. Perhaps this was where sin piled up? The true center revealing itself before them. Fears of death eased their way back into Rhys' mind. As if to answer his fears, the sky grew angry, churning itself into a storm. The pitter-patter of rain came swiftly. Out of all things to bring, Rhys hadn't thought of an umbrella. Mehira was hardly fazed by the rain at all. In fact, the only reaction she had to it was to extend a wing over Rhys. Despite the simplicity of the gesture, it brought back into focus just how large she was. The wing didn't let a drop of moisture through. He wondered briefly if she would rust, but surely some sort of heavenly metal was resistant to the simple rigors of water. Rhys still felt bad she was stuck in the rain.

"Perhaps we should take another stop?" Rhys asked, raising his voice to speak over the now pouring rain.

"Water is of no consequence to a guardian, dear protected." Thunder clapped a moment later. "Perhaps best for your sake."

Rhys chuckled and pointed over at a building with an awning. They rushed over to it, resting comfortably under the slightly tattered fabric.

"This is the first I've seen the sky pour unto the ground like this." She stuck out a hand, letting the water fill her palm.

"There is no rain in the heavens?" Rhys shrugged. "I suppose that makes sense, being on the clouds."

"I do wonder about the artistic liberties given to humans for scripture."

"No living on clouds then?"

"No living on clouds. We do not rest upon them like feathered beds soaring above, though they do grace us." Mehira shook her hand and retracted it. "The clouds merely do not weep as deeply as they do on in this place." The wind picked up, blowing past them and bringing with it the rain. The awning was of little use now as the mist struck their side. "Nor does the wind bite at our heel!" Mehira turned around and quickly pulled Rhys inside without so much as a word. No complaints from him. Of the many things that might cause Mehira to retreat, he had not expected the weather to be one of them.

Rhys flicked his hands away, ridding himself of some moisture. "It's hard to want to stay alive with all the wonders you speak of in heaven," he said with a chuckle.

"None of that, please," Mehira said as she glanced back into the roar of the outside world. She daintily closed the door and brightened the room with her spear once more.

An odd sight was revealed to them, one Rhys didn't quite know how to make sense of. On the floor were various cushiony chairs paired up with tables. On the far end was a long table with stools lined along it. The middle was the confusing portion, being an elevated platform with a pole that joined the platform and ceiling. A small bridge linked the platform to a stage shrouded by curtains. Perhaps there was some machinery lacking to the pole? Stripped bare like the carriages outside?

Whatever the case, Rhys took a seat at one of the tables. "This is quite nice actually," Rhys said in surprise. He sunk into the thing, not at all like the cheap metal or wood he was used to. "Come have a seat, Mehira," he said, presenting the chair opposite to him.

Mehira tilted her head but obliged, sitting down in the cushioned thing. She wasn't quite the right size for the chair, giving her seating an admittedly cute flair as her legs were forced together. "I am surprised," she started, "this seating is quite comfortably reinforced." She knew that even with the armor? Mehira glanced around the room. "What do you suppose was the purpose of this dwelling?"

Rhys set down his bag. "I can't say I know. I think it must've had some entertainment, with there being a stage."

"A playhouse, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." A play that made use of metal poles? In what way? "You stay here and I'll glance about."

"Remain safe."

"What harm could be found in a playhouse?" Rhys said with a smile.

He stood up and began walking about the room, noting the elaborate carpeting on the ground. That wouldn't work well with the acoustics of a musical at all. He rounded the back of the long table, finding nothing but empty glasses. Beverages with a play? The center was more developed than he had figured. The curious man quickly turned his attention back over to the pole, clambering onto the platform. The platform was covered in an odd glass and scattered with what he recognized as old currency. Mehira watched him silently, hand still lingering near her spear. Naturally, anything could spring out. Rhys walked over to the curtains and took a peek inside.

"Do not stray far," Mehira said.

Rhys gave her a reassuring nod and continued his peeping. Her light didn't reach that far, but it seemed to be a stage like any other from what he could gather. Still, none of it made much sense to him. Perhaps just one of those unknowable things from the centers. There was a hot pink lining to some of the furniture here so there must've been a kind of theming going on. Just as Rhys was about to return to his seat, something on the far wall of the backstage caught his eye. A framed image of some sort. He pulled a stage curtain aside and delved in.

"Rhys?" Mehira said.

"I'm fine," the man replied.

He could hear Mehira following after him, her feet loudly clacking against the glass of the stage. As she approached, the framed image was revealed, along with several others. It was a magazine in fact. The impressive rarity of such a flimsy thing nowadays was smothered underneath what was featured on it. A woman, nearly entirely nude, gripped a very similar pole as the one out there. In fact, it was probably exactly the same one, judging on the scenery. The other magazines had much of the same, nearly or entirely nude women dancing around a pole "Oh." Rhys managed to pry his eyes from the woman and notice the headline attached. 'Our Top Strip Clubs!' A very devious playhouse indeed.

"I see," Mehira said simply. "That is not what I had expected from such a nice abode." There was a pause. "Shall we return to our seats? Rhys? Away from the... Attraction?"

"Sure, sure."

Rhys forced himself to turn around and follow after Mehira. Did she have more of a womanly swaying gait than he remembered? Probably not. That thought wasn't helped as she passed by the pole. Funny how such a simple cylinder was made all the more embarrassing with context and a pretty lady next to it. His mind was already at work imagining what Mehira might look like, gyrating against it. That must have been a sin, right? For certain. And yet Rhys couldn't stop picturing it. Hopefully helping an angel along their pilgrimage outweighed that spice of ungodliness. The pair hopped down and sat down near the door, allowing them some view into the torrent going on outside.

"I pray no abode like this is within your home, Rhys," Mehira said.

"I'm afraid we're a little too focused on surviving to enjoy something like this."

"I understand the reasoning. The body's urge to indulge in all things hidden. Yet there is a distaste to encouraging something that may lead to sin out of wedlock. You understand, I hope?"

"Of course."

Could have been one reason a center like this was filled with the demonic. At the same time, Rhys doubted some women flaunting their bits was enough to cause something so heinous. The other part of her words made him wonder one thing.

"Do you plan on getting married once you're finished on the ground?" he asked.

Mehira tilted her head. "We do not partake in a sacred bonding, nor do we have the push and pull of the soul given flesh."

They didn't do either of those? Then what stopped them from having their own holy strip clubs? Rhys quickly discarded the thought.

"Uhm, do you mind if I ask something, Mehira?"

"Of course."

"Underneath your armor, is there not flesh and a human form?" Mehira turned to look at him. "I only ask because you say you don't--"

"I understand the question and why you ask." She stared at him for a little while longer. "I suppose then that-- If I am blessed with a form like-- Perhaps if I were to--" A wing twitched and her halo spun. "It is not flesh, though I do bear the human form." She shifted in her seat, her back now more toward the pole. "We on this Earth certainly would not partake in anything that occurred within this structure."

Rhys leaned back in his chair. "With how fast you move you'd probably be good at it," he said, quickly realizing his incredibly poor choice of words.

Mehira was taken aback. "Let us not give the idea any credence."

"Sorry."

In an attempt to shift away from his libido, Rhys began imagining what Mehira looked like underneath. As before, every part of her was covered, giving no hints at even the most basic of her features. For a moment he imagined her as simply a large woman, though with Prosa and the cherub's appearance it was unlikely she was a bog-standard human. His mind swung to the other side of the spectrum, picturing some unknowable formless mass writhing around underneath, being crushed into a humanoid body by her armor. With the way she huffed and laughed, that was also unlikely. There must have been some sort of middle ground to her, as it was plainly obvious her armor fit to something suggestively feminine.

"Rhys?" Mehira said, breaking him out of his stare.

"Yes?"

"Is there something you see as curious about my form?"

"Sorry, again, I was just... curious as to what does lie underneath." He turned his attention back to the storm. It was only getting worse, or maybe that was simply his mind wishing it was.

"Curiosity is one of your biggest strengths and worrying downfalls," she said. There was a waver to her voice. "I had never expected such a striking interest in the skin underneath."

"It's just that the guardians are so inspiring and fantastical. I have to wonder what you truly look like."

"Bring back to your thoughts that this form is not my own. It is a shell, much like your form until the heavens prize themselves open to you."

"And until then, I am still curious what that shell looks like."

Mehira ran a hand across her arm. "There is a bubbling embarrassment to those words." She chuckled. "Nudity, in a way, though the idea of a naked form is alien. Even so in that I have not bore witness to any of the human flesh here." She paused. "How is it that you direct your mind away from pains of the seen body?"

Rhys directed his attention back over to the door and answered as truthfully as he could. "I would have to be alone for some time." And commit a slightly lesser sin.

"We may pray together. Solitude is not necessary when conversing with the Lord." She folded her palms. Rhys decided not to comment on the oddity of praying within a place like this and merely went along with it, mumbling along with her short prayer. After a minute of pious muttering, Mehira clapped her hands. "You were deservedly correct. That has steered my thoughts across the sea of unease."

"Good to hear." Though now he only wanted to leave the place, since its entire existence only reminded him of fornication. That was increasingly unlikely as the storm raged on outside, the rain now battering against the window itself as if threatening anyone within. Then a thought occurred to Rhys. If they couldn't go out they could go up, right? It was a tall building after all, ripe for some sort of exploration. While the chances of finding an angel's purpose directly on top of a 'strip club' seemed unlikely, Rhys was motivated by his desire to leave most of all. "I'm starting to feel like I want a change of scenery," he said suddenly, unsure how to broach the topic.