Who: God and Her Angels What: She summoned them and expects them to meet her. When: Late Wednesday night Where: An abandoned warehouse storage unit (God: She's a classy deity, yo.) status/rating: incomplete/PG-13
She decided, as She glanced down at Her childlike body, that it was probably not appropriate for the occasion. No one took the eight year old seriously. Adult it was then, as much as She sometimes did not feel like dealing with 'adult things' sometimes it was a necessary evil of the job, and She knew that She had some serious things to deal with.
Her angels. If they weren't already fallen, they were either teetering on the edge or just babies. Funny, it was the young one She'd gotten on best with thus far. Castiel had disappointed Her and Bartleby and Loki... well, in some ways they were smart. They'd not said a word, but She assumed that they were simply meditating on what had happened the last time they'd opened their mouths to Her.
The angels were at least a problem easily fixed. Reprimands and reminders could be easily handed out.
Technically, any problem was easily fixed for Her. A wave of a hand here, a 'wax on, wax off' there? She could shine up the entire place if She so chose. But She didn't choose. She'd chosen free will and given mortals a set of problem solving skills that even She congratulated Herself for at times. These were their problems to solve. They should have been Lucifer's problems to solve, as they were his subjects escaping, but since he chose not to do anything the problem was passed off to mortals. Some of them were very nifty at dealing with it, whereas others just... well, they died.
Normally She'd have stayed out of it. But there was simply so much of it here. Smothering, was what it was, and with four angels here there was no reason for it to be. The city wouldn't be lemony-fresh, but they could at least sweep some of the dirt under the rug and staple the rug down.