Did you know? Some angels don’t like being angels. Those angels take off their wings and are called the Fallen. The first of them was Lucifer, who doesn’t like God very much, but does like making friends with humans. Many other Fallen get along with God and the angels though!
—Fun Facts, a primary school workbook commonly used in Ēnnuh
The sun rises and light creeps into the tarp and Elīya is so, so not ready. Her body seems to be screaming something at her about sleeping more, and she keeps blinking her eyes. To her side somewhere Yenatru’s groaning too; did he get to bed even later than her?
This is probably why Lucifer suggested that she actually sleep, she realizes.
Oh well.
“Good morning,” Tamar says to one or both of them; Elīya has no idea. She’s not looking at either, but she is blind, so that doesn’t tell anyone much.
“That’s a lie,” Elīya complains. “The morning isn’t good.”
Yenatru makes another groaning sound and nods his head. Sounds like he’s with her on this one.
“I’m… sorry about this,” Tamar says. “The fact that you’re awake; it’s kind of my fault. We’re going to need to leave early, if Lucifer’s going to have time to take me back to Eden before work tomorrow…” She trails off a little.
Wait. Oh God. Elīya also has something tomorrow. Classes.
Elīya’s just about ready to hide her head in her hands and pretend that no such things exist, but unfortunately, she did just reaffirm her interest in honesty, and clarity, and flame it, she’s going to have to accept the plain facts on this one.
So she sighs, stretches her arms in front of her, stands up, stretches again. Tries not to groan too much. She glances to her side; Yenatru’s sitting up now, at least, rubbing his eyes. Bracing herself, she turns and steps outside the tarp, into the sun and toward the promise of pancakes to help power her on this journey.
She’s still flaming unsure how this whole classes tomorrow thing is going to work out.
Elīya’s again stuffing pancakes into her mouth, each of them covered with both yoghurt and Lucifer’s best idea yet: a sprinkle of crushed coffee beans. Her mind’s starting to feel again like thoughts might actually connect, even like her body might respond to some of those thoughts, mercifully meaning she might actually be able to operate a motorcycle.
And above her, the open sky—
But Elīya shakes her head suddenly at the thought. Because sitting next to her, around her, there’s Yenatru, sweet Yenatru, who turns out to be a soft breeze, whose true smiles are worth the world. And there’s Lucifer, who… Elīya purses her lips. Is Lucifer. There’s not much more she can say or think about them.
And, of course, there’s Tamar.
Tamar.
The entire reason she’s out here, the reason she stormed on Lucifer that day in the library, the reason she’s learning Theurgy, the reason behind every factor of this moment. And she’s just kind of smiling to herself, looking pleased with those white-fire eyes of hers which thankfully didn’t burn down the tarp last night, not even making conversation.
And now Elīya feels… what? Satisfied, now that they’ve talked? Like they can be friends again? No, that doesn’t seem quite right, and yet—
The wind, to be the wind—
Make my own heaven, he said—
Unimpeded—
Flame it, there’s other things she wants to be thinking about. Things more important than Tamar.
What the fuck has happened to her?
The walk back downhill really would be better if Elīya was fully functional, but thankfully, she hasn’t tripped too badly yet. And the sun isn’t even up that high yet, which helps too.
But her head is fuzzy, her eyes in need of rubbing, and she needs something to keep her awake.
And Yenatru is walking closely next to her, and she does have something she needs to be honest about.
“So,” she starts. “Yenatru, I… did overhear some of what you said, what you and Lucifer were talking about.”
He frowns a little. “How much?”
“Just what you were saying before Tamar tripped. Before she asked me to trip her. I guess she thought it was getting too emotional, and any eavesdropping we were doing—which I guess we kind of were—was crossing some kind of line. Imagine that, her being more ethical than me.” Yenatru’s raising his eyebrows. “Anyway. So I heard that you have a new manifestation and stuff, but what I was wondering about, is just… well. What did you mean by ‘making your own heaven?’”
Yenatru’s blush is immediate, as is him stumbling on a rock. Thankfully, he regains his footing before actually falling on his face. “I… I don’t know. It was just a thought, a thing I said. I mean, it’s not like I know what’ll happen after Resurrection. But…” he smiles, or at least Elīya thinks he does; he’s very much not facing her.
“Can people make their own heavens, then?”
“I don’t know. But Lucifer seemed to think that we can.”
“…Huh.”
She doesn’t know what to make of this; making a heaven isn’t something she’d ever considered as a possible post-Resurrection event, and it doesn’t really give her any feelings, not the way the mere word openness does. Not that she’s sure what that means either.
But Yenatru sure seems to smile and blush when he thinks of it.
Being the wind, making heavens, touching souls, seeing God…no one agrees, but there’s a lot. There’s so much...
And she’d really love to think about that more, if she wasn’t so flaming tired.
Elīya doesn’t seem to be the only person almost falling over once they finally get back to the trailhead; Yenatru looks close to wilted. Tamar, however, stands tall—or as tall as she can, when she’s still really flaming short—probably because unlike Elīya, she didn’t have to try to figure out her entire soul over the weekend.
And Lucifer doesn’t even need sleep, so they’re good.
“So, Tamar,” they start, changing form to darker skin and an almost square jaw, “I’ll be taking you to Eden?”
“Yeah.”
Elīya can’t help but stare at Tamar, feeling—not what she’d have expected just two weeks ago, not desperation, but curiosity, and maybe even hope.
And maybe Tamar notices those feelings, because she says, “I’ll be keeping in contact, actually. At least that’s my thought.” She tosses her head down dramatically, extending an arm almost as if she’s bowing. “Phones exist, after all. Date at our respective libraries in a week, maybe? Unless either of you actually have access to a personal phone that can do cross-city calls.”
“I live in a dorm, Tamar.”
“Right. So libraries it is, it sounds like.”
Yenatru nods, smiling a little—not one of his true smiles, Elīya knows that now, but a smile all the same. “I’d like that.”
“I did kind of miss you,” Tamar says with a shrug.
“Well, I’ll hear from you then,” Elīya says. “And Yenatru will too, right?”
“Right.”
At that, Tamar waves, a huge motion that covers all the air her arm can reach. Then she turns off toward the wayhouse.
But Lucifer isn’t following her just yet. Instead, they take a few steps toward Yenatru, instantly changing to a feminine form. “So, friend. You seem a little tired.”
Friend.
Of course they’re friends, he knows they’re friends, but yet each time she says it, it surprises him.
“I… yeah,” he says. “I am pretty tired.”
Lucifer nods. “Obviously I’m taking Tamar to Eden, so I’m not going to be back here for a little bit. But I was thinking… you’re the type of person who needs multiple days to rest from weekend-long social adventures?”
Yenatru doesn’t have to think about that. He nods.
“So, if you’re going to be resting anyway, I was thinking of spending a few days out there exploring. But I wanted to ask you, just to make sure I’m not missing out on talking to you.”
“You wanted to… ask me.” He’s trying to take deep breaths, hoping that’ll help him not blush. It doesn’t.
“Yeah. Don’t want to stay away too long, if you’d be missing me, if I’d be missing out on your company.”
Okay, yeah, he’s blushing a lot now. “Um. Y-yeah? Yeah, okay, um. It is true that I can see myself kind of just… sleeping, and homework, and not people, for a few days.”
Lucifer smiles. “Alright then. I’ll see you on Fourthday?”
“Okay.”
With that, Lucifer follows Tamar into the wayhouse.
Yenatru takes a moment before turning slightly to Elīya. “Well, we should go get our bikes too, probably,” he says.
“Right.”
“And then sleep.”
“Definitely.”
Elīya finally stumbles through her door some hours later. And wow, there really is something comforting about a room of solid walls, especially ones covered with Hannuša’s geometric art.
Speaking of Hannuša, she’s sitting on her bed, perking up as she looks at Elīya. It’s a testament to the lack of muscles in horns that those don’t bounce up too. “How’d it go?”
“More sleep,” Elīya mumbles. “I think I need it.”
“That bad?”
“No, actually. Probably something like not bad at all.” She starts taking off the outer layers of her robes, oh God, she probably should have changed clothes sometime at all in the last two days, this is really questionable. At least she’s aware that Hannuša doesn’t mind seeing her naked.
“Oh?” Hannuša’s asking.
“I would say I’m making progress.” Elīya kicks her shoes off. “On, well, Theurgy. And that sort of thing. You know how I come across, how do people put it, as if I have ethical arguments in my veins instead of blood?”
“I think that particular phrase is a new one, but yes, I definitely do.”
“It’s possible, probable even, that that’s not actually me. Or, not all of me.”
And now Hannuša’s slow-clapping. Of course. Elīya probably deserves that, she thinks, but she decides to focus on removing this really dirty clothing before saying anything about it.
“So, it sounds like you’re actually gonna pull off Theurgy?” Hannuša asks.
“Honestly, yes.” Elīya pulls some loungewear over her head, wow, thank God for comfortable clothing. “I’m close, but… I do need more sleep.”
“Do you have homework for tomorrow?”
“Flame and fire.”
“Figured you might.” Hannuša leans back a little. “You’d totally have forgotten if I hadn’t asked, wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, while I’m on a roll with doing all those things friends are for, I should probably ask about the other part of this whole adventure, you know, the part you didn’t shut up about for like, weeks?”
“Tamar?”
“Exactly. It’s very interesting how you didn’t even mention her until right now. Super fascinating. Implications, etcetera.”
“Things seem to be going well there too.”
“Wow, and you’re not even jumping up and down in happiness,” Hannuša notes, making a tsking sound. “Could it be, has the moral crusade finally come to an end?”
There’s only one response to that: Elīya glares at Hannuša.
And even Hannuša averts her eyes a bit from one of Elīya’s glares. “Flames.”
“Seriously. It’s going well. Various things are going well.”
“Hm, I’m gonna take that as a hesitant ‘yes.”
Elīya’s avoiding saying it directly, but Hannuša’s right.
“So anyway,” Hannuša says, “there’s definitely a thing I need to ask, and I kind of want to ask it now. Because, like, yeah.”
“Okay?” Elīya says. She’s heading over to her own bed to sit on, though she recognizes that’s kind of dangerous, as there is some chance of her falling asleep on the spot.
“So, um, would it totally freak you out if I, um, eventually decided to become Holy,” Hannuša says, extremely quickly. Takes a breath and slows down. “Because, you know, of what happened with you and Tamar—”
“Well… would you suddenly stop talking to me?”
“Obviously not,” Hannuša says, complete indignation in her voice. “But like, you, of all people, doing Theurgy, that really… kind of convinces me that I actually could do it. That I’m enough to do it, it doesn’t have to only be people who more obviously seem like the type. Not now, but like, after graduation. I’m really considering it. Like, that’s a thing I could do? Become Holy. See what Lilith saw… and help out my family in the process, burn away their disease, listen to their minds, heal. Because last time I visited, they were kind of lacking a healer. And I… I could. Yeah, that sounds like something I’d like.” She finally takes a deep breath.
“Why are you even asking me, though?” Elīya crosses her arms, frowning. “It is your decision. And you graduate two years from now.”
“Well, I thought it’d be good to know now. So if I need to change plans, I have plenty of time, and all that?” She shifts a little on her bed. “And it’s like, what even would be the point of doing something if it ends up hurting people? Like yes, I want to, but if in the process I’m losing you as a friend, maybe seriously hurting you—”
“Yeah, don’t worry. You’re not Tamar.”
“But—” Hannuša starts again.
“Seriously.” Elīya hardens her voice as much as possible. “Tamar doesn’t worry about that kind of thing at all. You do. There’s no danger of you becoming her, in any way.”
“Okay.” Hannuša falls quiet, turning her head to the wall nearest her bed, looking at her various bits of art.
Which leaves Elīya to wonder how her learning Theurgy has managed to affect someone else, and before she’s even made a manifestation.
But she doesn’t wonder long, because she can’t help but lie down on this nice, nice bed and curl up. God, she’s tired, tired enough that the sunlight filtering into the room doesn’t even bother her.
Hopefully, she thinks to herself, she’ll have a chance to work on making Theurgy happen later.
But she doesn’t have a chance, she finds out when she wakes up, starting to fully remember the pile of homework. Not today.
And maybe not for several days, flame it, she’s remembering that there are things due each day this week, it’s so close to the end of the term, and she’s certainly not ahead, and after all, oh God, the things she was supposed to have a weekend to get done that are due Monday, she has to do all of them today.
Her hand clenches into a fist.
And the sun’s setting. She’s going to have to get working. And force herself to wait to do the work she really wants to do, what’s actually important at this point.
God, how her priorities have changed.