Both angels were on tour. Their dates and places were not supposed to coincide, but someone Up There made a mistake, and on July 10th they both ended up on duty at the same part of town.
The same case to both. On different sides, of course, but still. The Bigun pulled its number on someone one of them was overseeing. Through the other's assigned soul. By his hand. Actually, by the knife he had been holding. So Matthew's soul had to be surrendered, even though he was not scheduled to be yet.
Shit happens. Mix ups, too. No one's really to blame. Julian understood the situation as such, and turned to Matthew to continue their eternal argument on human free will they had been having since the world came to be and man came to be in it. But Matthew was not happy about the mix up. He had a great deal of work yet to do with that soul. He felt cheated, being fired out of a job like that one. I mean, he had made a lot of progress. And now it had been all for nothing?
A foul stink filled the room. It was not only the blood, or the bowel contents. It just smelled like murder. That killing scent was now so condensed -thirty-eight hours after, no ventilation since-, it could even get to an angel's head if he had his guard down. Matthew, distracted by his feelings of disappointment, wasn't quite feeling like himself.
While Julian kept blabing something about the misuse of free choice, Matthew's eyes found the already bloody knife. For a split second he considered it. He knew Julian was not at fault -no one's to blame, really-, and yet the built-up frustration he felt made the thought a reality in his mind.
At this very moment, a single feather on Matthew's left wing came off. It landed in a pile of blood, out of both angels' sight. Neither of them noticed this, and they left the scene of the crime, along with a single angel feather, covered in a chosen soul's blood, behind.
The same case to both. On different sides, of course, but still. The Bigun pulled its number on someone one of them was overseeing. Through the other's assigned soul. By his hand. Actually, by the knife he had been holding. So Matthew's soul had to be surrendered, even though he was not scheduled to be yet.
Shit happens. Mix ups, too. No one's really to blame. Julian understood the situation as such, and turned to Matthew to continue their eternal argument on human free will they had been having since the world came to be and man came to be in it. But Matthew was not happy about the mix up. He had a great deal of work yet to do with that soul. He felt cheated, being fired out of a job like that one. I mean, he had made a lot of progress. And now it had been all for nothing?
A foul stink filled the room. It was not only the blood, or the bowel contents. It just smelled like murder. That killing scent was now so condensed -thirty-eight hours after, no ventilation since-, it could even get to an angel's head if he had his guard down. Matthew, distracted by his feelings of disappointment, wasn't quite feeling like himself.
While Julian kept blabing something about the misuse of free choice, Matthew's eyes found the already bloody knife. For a split second he considered it. He knew Julian was not at fault -no one's to blame, really-, and yet the built-up frustration he felt made the thought a reality in his mind.
At this very moment, a single feather on Matthew's left wing came off. It landed in a pile of blood, out of both angels' sight. Neither of them noticed this, and they left the scene of the crime, along with a single angel feather, covered in a chosen soul's blood, behind.
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