O, Brave New World!
Oct 30, 2007 15:55:51 GMT -5
Post by Zirielle on Oct 30, 2007 15:55:51 GMT -5
The trouble had all started when the Angel Zirael discovered the concept of sex.
Not sex as in what teenagers do in the backs of cars on Prom Night. Sex as in the state of being male or female.
The Angel Zirael had always known there was something a bit strange about the Archangel Michael, and the answer occurred to Zirael one day like a bolt out of the blue.
Michael was male.
Sure, he had lips your average Hollywood starlet would kill for and eyelashes like little brushes, but he was male. This was quite an achievement for an angel- most of them have to try pretty hard to even completely resemble either a man or a woman.
But Zirael, who had always felt a rather giddy attraction to Michael, started researching the matter, in hopes that maybe Michael would actually pay attention to Zirael on his own.
The first step was spelling it Zirielle. Not only did it seem that the simple task of adding two consonants and an e instantly made the Angel Zirielle female, it sounded cool, to Zirielle's own young* and inexperienced ears.
After that, she had started working on making her aurora pink. She hadn't quite succeeded yet, but the sickly sort of mauve she'd managed to produce was probably on the right track.
Zirielle developed a habit of tying ribbons into the down of her wings and a small way of waving using only her fingers. She practiced it on Umbriel, who nevertheless usually didn't react, and decided that she would eventually try to use her new Feminine WilesTM on Michael the next time God was in the mood for throwing a party.
What had actually happened was Zirielle had referred to Michael's armor as having a skirt, blushed fiercely red when he stared at her in slightly confronted confusion, and decided at that very moment that she was going to have to leave Heaven until Michael forgot the whole incident and she could try for a better impression.
So now, Zirielle was being human, which for her meant wandering around Paris in robes that flowed around her rather too diaphonously for someone who'd decided to be female, and with the ribbons in her rarely concealed wings coming undone in a particularly pathetic way.
It was a cold day.
________
*About a thousand years old. She hadn't been allowed to participate in the almost-Apocalypse a few years ago and had to listen to it on the radio.
Not sex as in what teenagers do in the backs of cars on Prom Night. Sex as in the state of being male or female.
The Angel Zirael had always known there was something a bit strange about the Archangel Michael, and the answer occurred to Zirael one day like a bolt out of the blue.
Michael was male.
Sure, he had lips your average Hollywood starlet would kill for and eyelashes like little brushes, but he was male. This was quite an achievement for an angel- most of them have to try pretty hard to even completely resemble either a man or a woman.
But Zirael, who had always felt a rather giddy attraction to Michael, started researching the matter, in hopes that maybe Michael would actually pay attention to Zirael on his own.
The first step was spelling it Zirielle. Not only did it seem that the simple task of adding two consonants and an e instantly made the Angel Zirielle female, it sounded cool, to Zirielle's own young* and inexperienced ears.
After that, she had started working on making her aurora pink. She hadn't quite succeeded yet, but the sickly sort of mauve she'd managed to produce was probably on the right track.
Zirielle developed a habit of tying ribbons into the down of her wings and a small way of waving using only her fingers. She practiced it on Umbriel, who nevertheless usually didn't react, and decided that she would eventually try to use her new Feminine WilesTM on Michael the next time God was in the mood for throwing a party.
What had actually happened was Zirielle had referred to Michael's armor as having a skirt, blushed fiercely red when he stared at her in slightly confronted confusion, and decided at that very moment that she was going to have to leave Heaven until Michael forgot the whole incident and she could try for a better impression.
So now, Zirielle was being human, which for her meant wandering around Paris in robes that flowed around her rather too diaphonously for someone who'd decided to be female, and with the ribbons in her rarely concealed wings coming undone in a particularly pathetic way.
It was a cold day.
________
*About a thousand years old. She hadn't been allowed to participate in the almost-Apocalypse a few years ago and had to listen to it on the radio.