Harbonah
There are no beginning memories for me.
Only the expulsion and that that came after.
There were eight of us. Eight souls screaming in perfect, nameless, agonizingly heartbreaking harmony.
My first clear memory after the pain and fear was my name.
We sat on the ground, unsure of our new forms. They were so . . . heavy. Awkward and bulky sacks of meat. Not only that, but the sensations were so absolutely overwhelming. The air was . . . cold, but was that the right word? Thoughts, something we had never had to consciously control before, came slowly.
The thing that came after the realization that we had to think about thinking was the fact that, for the first time ever, there were things to see. Burnt and blackened trees, but more than we'd ever seen nonetheless.
And then, there was each other to look at.
The first one I saw was Raziel, and I knew, yes, I knew right away that he was mine.
He was stunning. Taut, toned muscles were covered by a thin tunic and so much white, white skin. His face was strong, with a chiseled jaw and a large, sensitive mouth. His hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail and black as the scorched trees that formed a backdrop to his jaw dropping perfection.
The others were superhumanly beautiful, but Raziel, my Raziel surpassed them by leaps and bounds.
Raziel . . . The Warrior.
He looked at me with huge, blue-green eyes, the same intense study that I was awarding him. One of his brows, a little on the thick side, was drawn down.
"Harbonah?" His voice was deep, and more than a little shocking. None of us had ever heard a spoken word before. We all jumped.
Things clicked together easily. I was Harbonah.
Harbonah . . . The Guardian.
"Raziel?"
Slowly, shaking, I reached out and brushed a hand over his chest. He jumped at my touch and I drew back my hand with unnatural speed.
"I'm . . . sorry." His words were slow and strained. "You didn't have . . . to stop."
I was about to replace my hand when a sound drew my attention. It came from across the circle. Azrael, his skin dark, his hair darker, had his mouth open in an ear-shattering shriek. Abbadon, her golden curls bouncing, tossed back her head and joined him.
One by one we did the same, until there were eight voices. We all screamed at differed pitches, different tones. They melded together into palpable strains in the air, twisting together.
Forming . . . Music.
Out of our pain came beauty. Was that how the Lord had planned it? Why we had been forsaken?
I found Raziel's hand with clumsy fingers and held tight. He returned the pressure.
The meaning was obvious.
Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me.
Author's Note: I'm baaaaccckk! *bwuhahaha* As you may have figured out by the above piece of amazingly breathtaking fiction (j/k, j/k, I kid), this is a tangent of "Fallen" that deals with two more of the Lapsus Ones. Enjoy the story of Harbonah and Raziel! (and don't forget to send fan-mail!) (once again, I kid.) (but if you want to tell me nice things, I wouldn't object.)
