Luc looked up. One of the masters was gesturing to the cushioned marble bench next to his.
Master Hadraniel. The Council architect.
“Of course, sir,” Luc answered, straightening automatically, then turning back to his platter of food. He plucked a cherry and popped into his mouth. It unraveled under his teeth until only the seed remained, rough against his tongue. He spit it out.
“It’s a good choice,” the master noted, reminding Luc of his presence. Luc pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth; he inhaled his desire to be alone and exhaled the patience required of him.
“Sorry?” Luc quirked an eyebrow at his dinner partner—a rotund, bearded angel devouring a cinnamon cake.
“Sitting this far from Master Nathaniel,” the master explained once he’d swallowed. “He spits when he talks.” The older angel gestured to the opposite end of the marble table, where most of Luc’s classmates had crowded around the other masters.
“I’ve never met him,” Luc replied. “Only seen him in passing.”
“Probably best. Nothing like spit in your eye to help you see your work clearly.” The master laughed as though he’d made quite a clever joke. “I don’t believe we’ve met either.”
“Lucifer, sir.” He offered his hand to the bearded angel.
“Well, my name is Hadraniel, but don’t tell anyone.” The angel shook Luc’s hand as he brushed crumbs off his robes. Some clung to his beard. “Call me Hadri.”
“Oh…but aren’t you…?” Luc gestured to the angel’s gold insignia pins: thefirst, an outlined shard of granite, denoting a master mason; the second, a half-circle inside a circle, each formed from a series of interwoven knots, denoting a master architect.
“Oh those?” Hadri squinted at the pins like he’d never seen them before. “They make me wear them to official occasions like this, but don’t let them put you off.” He chuckled heartily, his eyes twinkling. “Lucifer, is it?”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
Hadri raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be waiting for something else, and after a moment, Luc corrected himself, “I mean, most angels call me Luc.”
“Aha! Luc!” Hadri nodded his head as though ‘Luc’ were a word he’d been trying to remember. Or the answer to a question he’d been pondering for some time. He tugged on his beard, and the crumbs tumbled out.
Luc gave a mild head nod to this declaration, then turned away. He wanted to leave early, but he didn’t want to leave first.
Hadri seemed friendly enough, and it was important for Luc to get to know him, but his cheerfulness grated against Luc’s desire to sulk.
Alone.
At the end of this table like he’d been doing.
Rising from his seat, Luc announced, “I think I’ll take a walk around the building. I haven’t seen much of it.”
To his chagrin, Hadri stood as well and replied, “Oh? I’ll go with you! I haven’t seen all of it myself. I float around to different projects, you see. A little here. A little there. Wherever the Council needs me.” He chuckled. “Shall we?” Hadri gestured for Luc to leave first, his eyes sparkling merrily, and Luc had no choice but to offer him a tight smile as he passed. No one rejected a master’s invitation—not even Luc.
Present Aeon
As Luc neared his house, having trudged up and down the length of Heaven—in search of what, he didn’t know; a sign, perhaps, that he should have seen this coming—he found himself hoping that if he lay down and woke up again, everything he’d seen would vanish.
A dream, a figment, it would be. Nothing more.
Unfortunately, the figure of his neighbor Braun waiting in front of his house was very much real. The scrawny young warrior had an irritating habit of fawning over Luc, though he’d grown on him over time. Perhaps he reminded Luc of himself at that age—over-eager to impress—though Braun possessed a desperation Luc never had need of.
Like now. Braun was flinging himself against Luc’s door, his unruly black hair erupting from its knot. Luc used to think he only saw Braun when he’d just come back from sparring practice, but now he recognizedunkemptas the normal state of Braun’s dress: a twisted gold belt and crumpled white robes.
“I’m sorry, Master Lucifer! I tried to stop them, but?—”
“Stop who?” Luc frowned.
“The warriors!” Braun panted. “They said it was Master Michael’s orders, sir. But I tried to stop them, sir! I told them you weren’t at home.”
“Move.”
