Work Text:
"Then.. then one day you're.. you exist. It takes 48 seconds to create an angel from scratch. And I was born, of fucking.. hate. Wrath, judgement. Born to hold that title. I wasn't, uhh instantly ready. Nobody is, but my conscience was so.. not there." he laughed, drunkenly, they're sat together in some bar, drinking alone with each other.
The taller sighed, he's not as drunk as Loki, yet. He's letting the seraphim rant about his job.
"Then.. well should I start at the start?" the blonde hummed, head resting on the table.
"If it helps you more, do it." the grigori states, pouring Loki more, the shorter opening his mouth to speak.
----
48. It's 48 on the dot, the bright sun in a new being's eyes, nude, wings spread, newly formed, and as it's made, it knows two things.
God, and there's something deep inside it's mind. A disgust, a wrath, for... sin. The word enters it's mind.
There's murmuring around it, standing up on its feet, nearly falling over on itself. Then it actually does, falling on a cold marble floor, body too heavy, trying to adjust. Looking back, another is being made, and it stares, wide eyed, entranced by its beauty.
Black hair, beautifully sculpted body, wings that towards the edges have some grey, and. It's been 48 seconds, the beings eyes open, brown, fluttering open. They're so similar, but something. Something tells the other, that same hate isn't inside it.
The other stares at the one on the floor, quick to try to help it, body wobbly, trying to adjust too, but picking it up. It's shorter.
"Angel of Death, and a grigori." a soft voice speaks, the two turning, a want to bow deep inside them, the two quick to on instinct.
The voice, feminine, almost glowing, brown long hair, eyes similar, smiling to them. Going to the one first created.
"You are Loki. You are, a seraphim." she smiled, Loki's wings flutter. "Angel of Death. You are Bartleby, an angel, a grigori." she said to the taller, Bartleby. Bartleby.
It echos in Loki's mind, Bartleby.
----
"You know - Oh God.. I thought you were so beautiful getting made.." Loki mumbled to Bartleby, eyes a bit blown out, taking a sip of wine.
"Crazy you remember that." Bartleby chuckled softly, before he continued. "What's this have to do with your job?-"
"I'm getting there! I'm getting there." Loki repeated, huffing, chest puffing out a bit.
----
It's an older looking seraphim who's appointed to Loki, helping him learn about his title.
The singing, the covering himself around God, the constant singing. He can sing good, memorize.
Worship, bow, he's quick, but he constantly returns to see the grigori after he's done with his lessons from the other, The Voice, as some call him. The Metatron if you're insufferable, Metatron simply.
The Grigori, Bartleby, is a watcher, a record keeper on. Humanity, Loki goes to him a lot. He tells the seraph a lot of stories, love, lost, grief, pain, sin, everything.
Sin, sin. That word causes an instinctive anger and hate towards him, like it's wired into his DNA, tangled into his very being and soul.
"I find them.. very charming." the taller cleared his throat. "You?" he asked.
Loki shrugged.
"I don't know.. depends on what God says?"
"You are a simple creature." the grigori snorted, putting a scroll away.
----
"And I mean it. You really are, so easily entertained. I could leave you in a barren wasteland, you'll find something to ruin and have fun." Bartleby nodded, taking a sip from his drink.
"Mm. You gonna- cut me off everytime?"
"Just adding my commentary."
----
After Loki's first job he feels righteous, having lived up to his title, almost justified of the first killing, he felt like something. God pleased, Metatron seemingly relieved he followed the job. But Bartleby, the one other than those in his choir and work life, who he's grown close and fond of, seemed bit.. off.
"All he did was steal for his family." The taller grumbled to Loki.
"It's still a sin." the blonde hummed, he's laying on his back.
"So? Put yourself in his shoes maybe. You really have zero conscience don't you?"
"Hey- I was doing my job, wasn't my idea." the angel's wings puffed up.
"Your job? Killing a soul for something so simple? Fuck."
----
Then it's his hardest job yet, getting gifted the flaming sword, Bartleby's been stationed to his side, to take document, watching as it happened.
Bartleby is disgusted, wide eyed at the sight of a being's life being taken.
It gets worse as the jobs become bigger and bigger, more brutal, Bartleby watches the destruction of the first men, a great flood.
The screams of a civilization and cries of animals and all beings.
Then after a while the squeamishness fades, but never goes away. It's after the flood, they're sat together in private, at first Loki laughed and joked about it. Bartleby had scolded him on acting such a way so fast and during. The seraph staring off far away. He hasn't said much since.
"I feel weird."
"How? You sick?"
"I feel like.. there's a deep pit in me." Loki mumbled, hand going down to his stomach.
"Guilty." Bartleby perked up.
"Regret." he admits for the first time, and the feeling isn't leaving, it feels like it's unable to leave. Then a glass bottle is put next to him, wine.
"This helps.. sort of." the black haired grigori says, pouring Loki a cup. "It's a bit sweet."
He lifted up Loki's face, pouring the drink into his mouth, he swallows deeply. It's sweet.
----
They're getting further into their drinks, Loki's laughing a bit at the memory, but it's a sad chuckle. Bartleby's eyes furrow, unsure where this conversation will end.
----
Loki doesn't laugh or smile during the 10th plague of Egypt, he seemed, no he was hesitant.
Bartleby had been around, Loki begging, praying to God before it, that God would switch their mind, last minute.
The prayer is unanswered, what hurts more?
To watch or do?
To watch, write, take it all down and do nothing?
Or to do, born to do this, and never deny your job.
That's why they're here now.
---
"I'm sorry." Loki sobbed, he's breaking out of his story. Just thinking. "She coulda been so much, God those kids.. the boys the girls, could've been doctors.. artists." his voice cracked, Bartleby rubbing his back, trying to calm the seraph. Not fully unaware what to do.
"I'm sorry!" he cried louder, more of a shout. "I kill- I kill fucking.. I like to say sinners, that I pass fucking judgement.. I don't." his voice is a wail of tears and anger at himself, jaw clenching.
"I kill people. I'm sorry." he said with a breath, eyes tearing still, trying to calm himself.
"It's not your fault Loki- it ain't Loki." Bartleby's voice gets a bit louder, trying to shake the seraph to reality, holding the crying angel closer, softly whispering to him.
"I was born of fucking hate. Of wrath.. I hold a high title I'm sorry. I'm sorry." the angels repeating drunkenly, remind Bartleby maybe to not drink in public with Loki, all he can do is softly run his fingers through the soft blonde hair that's starting to become a bit damp from Loki sweating.
"But I can't.. I wish I didn't have this title.. fuck." he ends it with a loud whine and gasp for air, a choked sob. "I'm in too deep.."
"You can quit. You should quit." Bartleby says quickly, wiping the tears from Loki's face.
"I can't- When has any angel denied their position?- only one did. The Morning Star and those who followed him. Guess what happened?- We were there Bartleby, I knew him. We are of the same Goddamned choir.. We fought in that war Bartleby." the blonde's eyes look around as if Bartleby was recommending something that was wrong, blasphemy.
"Just take up another position.. it's that simple. Loki, Loki.." Bartleby says, grabbing Loki's face, focusing the shorter on his gaze. "You're more than what you were made as.. your origin. It matters what you do, that's what.. makes you." Bartleby says, blinking, eyes focusing, they're so close. Loki looks like he's going to sob all over again, "I can't. You don't fucking understand- oh God. You don't. You fucking don't, I was born of hate!" Loki shouted, Bartleby smashing his mouth into the other angels, teeth hitting each other, it's fast and rough, trying to adjust to each other, he can taste the spit, the tears, the snot that was running down Loki's nose from sobbing a bit.
This feels real. And for the first time, Loki's conscience is reborn.