the_scapegoat: (Emo tear (animated))
"The God that holds you over the Pit of Hell, as much as one holds a spider or some other loathsome insect over the Fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his Wrath towards you burns like Fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the Fire; he is of purer Eyes than to bear to have you in his Sight; you are Ten Thousand Times so abominable in his Eyes as the most hateful, venomous Serpent is in are thus in the Hands of an angry god, 'tis nothing but his mere Pleasure that keeps you from being a at this Moment swallowed up in everlasting Destruction." - Pastor Jonathan Edwards, from "A Joseph Campbell Companion" edited by Dian K. Osbon

The long distant past

They knew as soon as their hearts decided to go with the women, human and Fae, that they would be cast out. Two hundred, led by Azazeal and Shemyaza united together in their disobedience, not one Grigori would break ranks to save himself. Together they discovered the pleasures and desires that His other Creations were granted. They loved them, begot children on them, and a few -- the Fae -- closer kin than humans especially loved them in return. Among the first women that had approached was Perie, a young Sidhe, who had been the one to catch Azazeal's eye. They loved and made love as did all those around them.

Then came the men, and the Grigori befriended them, giving them knowledge that He had not revealed to them. Astrology, astronomy, maths, science, art, and the skills that Azazeal chose to share with them. To them he gave the knowledge of how to forge weapons and use them. To the women, he showed how to beautify themselves with cosmetics. And seeing His Creations with sword and kohl, He sent down the archangel, Raphael.

Bind Azazael hand and foot, and cast him into the darkness: and make an opening in the desert, which is in Dûdâêl and cast him there.

There was no opportunity to defend themselves, no chance to explain. As his brothers fell, Azazeal fought with Raphael. The fight, long and brutal, with neither giving ground took them high into the sky. Even knowing the inevitable end, Azazeal refused to concede until he realized they were going so high, almost to Heaven itself, and that had been the archangel's goal all along. For then, as they broke apart, a searing pain tore into his back, and he could already feel himself falling. Bones were snapping and twisting as he tumbled out of control. He could feel Raphael following him as he tried to turn and face him again, but he couldn't. Before him, the earth opened up, and he fell into darkness, as the Lord had commanded. There, weakened from his Fall, and what was left of his wings a useless broken mass of bone and muscle hanging from his back, he lay on the ground. Craning his neck up, he saw Raphael standing over him, and before he could move, the last indignity as the remains of his wings were ripped off, leaving only bloody stumps. The rest was tolerable after that as he was chained onto the rock, jagged and rough rocks placed on top of him, and his face covered so that he could no longer see the light. Then came God's last pronouncement on him.

And the whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazael: to him ascribe all sin.

And there he was to remain until Judgement, where he would be cast into the fire. As he was punished Gabriel was setting the children of the Grigori to war with each other until everyone was destroyed. But the angels had forgotten one thing in their cleansing of the sins the Fallen had committed. The men lived and the women lived. Perie lived and would live for a very long time, and Azazeal had given her the secret of how to summon him when the time was right.


I laugh in the face of anyone, human or angel, who dares to lecture me on His love and benevolence. He is an angry god, an intolerant god, who when faced with something he does not like, throws a temper tantrum and throws all his toys away. He wants to keep you ignorant so that you do not question. He demands your love and obedience, but He does not care for you. What Father would punish him children so harshly for falling in lust love? He is vengeful, intolerant, and wrathful, and I am so amused at all those of you who cannot see that.
the_scapegoat: (Watching from above)
"It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time." - Samuel Johnson

New Mexico Territory, 1884

Azazeal leaned against the frame of the second-floor courthouse window, cheroot tucked into the corner of his mouth, watching the fascinating scene below. The freshly white-washed triple gallows sparkled in the strong sunlight as three condemned men were led up and took their places directly behind each of the nooses.

Two of the men were hardened criminals. Their list of crimes stretching back years, and nearly all of them violent. They didn't matter. Whether they died today or next week or next year, there was no doubt where their souls would go. It was the third man, a young man barely out of his teens, and he looked up at the courthouse window with fear, knowing that he would find no stay of execution from this judge, who had earned a swift reputation as a hanging judge. The charges were false, the conviction a foregone conclusion. The boy's family had appealed to the judge, begged and pleaded to let their son live -- he's a good boy, never meant no one no harm -- but Azazeal wouldn't relent, and there was something in the tone of his refusal that stopped their pleas and encouraged them to leave quickly and quietly before they shared the same fate.

"It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives..." The preacher was now standing before the condemned, facing the crowd and holding his bible up high, the man's high collar hiding Azazeal's mark. The young man stood shaking, barely able to stand and not from the gut-wrenching fear of facing death, but from the torture and from what Azazeal had made clear would follow. No death would be very quick, the fires of Hell eternal. However, to the expectant crowd, he looked strong and healthy, a man capable of the rape he never committed.

From his vantage spot, Azazeal turned slightly as he felt an arm wrap over his shoulder and greeted Perie with a smile. Her glamour on the boy was working well.

The preacher continued his sermon, bidding the crowd to bow their heads at the end to join in a prayer for these poor souls before them. "...And may the Lord have mercy upon their souls. Amen."

"Amen." The crowd echoed in blissful ignorance that such prayers fell upon deaf ears.

The hangman went from one man to the next, asking for last requests and then covering each man with a hood and then the noose. The boy, when asked, shook his head dumbly, Perie's magic not letting him speak and protest his innocence once again and say that it was not him who raped the Mexican girl, but that she had been seduced by the judge himself. With nothing to say, the hood was placed over his head and the rope tightened about his neck.

Off to the side, the hangman then stood by the levers that would release the trap doors simultaneously. He looked up to the window, waiting for the judge's nod.

Azazeal was about to give it when he saw a figure making their way through the crowd towards the gallows. Even if she hadn't had the flame-red hair there was no mistaking who it was. He hissed in sudden anger, nodding quickly for the hangman to send them all to Hell. The doors opened, but just as they dropped there was a flash of bright light and the boy's rope broke, dropping him to the ground.

Even Perie had drawn back from him, seeing the demonic seep into his eyes and not wishing to be so near to his rage as he turned and stormed out of the room.

Ella! This time he would get that interfering witch.

June 2010

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