Re: log: cemetery - revenant and misha
"You're making that choice, to not be reliable. I ain't sure it makes sense any, having living folks and not being there for them. When they die, will you avenge whatever took them, or do you reckon you'll realize you abandoned them to fill a hole in your own belly?" Misha, he wasn't real impressed, not the longer he talked to this dead-man walking. He shook his head. "It's awful, abandoning the living to do something that ain't even yours to do."
David, he kept on talking 'bout death and dying and reasons, but Misha left it all behind. It wasn't that he couldn't have kept on, but there wasn't nothing he was going to bring that was going to make David see how damn selfish and stupid he was being. "Life's short," was all he said, drawing his hand back, "and you're squandering it for you and all the folks you care for." In the end, and unfortunately so, the life of mortals was a blink, and Misha wished the man sitting on the loam could understand. But he comprehended, and it made him sad as could be, that David wasn't going to see a thing. Even the touch, it hadn't done nothing. "I got as much dark as I do Divine, and so do you. Everyone, living in any capacity, they got both inside them, and you just see one-notes. Even taking my hand, all you see is that it's easy for me. It ain't easy for me, but you ain't listening. I ain't sure you ever began listening," he concluded, and he was 'bout to slip off that gravestone and let it be, but the presence, that damned Holy presence was there, and stronger now.
The skies opened up, bright and blinding, and he wondered brief what David saw. He knew David wouldn't see the man that was suddenly with them as he was: Eyes and fire and nothing lovely. But, Heaven, it liked to remind the whole damned world that man was made in their image, and so the man that was suddenly with them? He was real tall, chiseled jaw handsomeness in a perfect suit, and Misha never had liked him.
"See?" Said the man, his smile a tooth-glint one, and his long fingers motioning at David. "Why bother? They can't possibly learn." The angel's voice was pure condescension wrapped up in a sort of 1950's charm, and Misha wondered what folks would do if they realized Heaven and Hell were so similar as to be sometimes impossible to tell apart. But the angel in the suit, he was just here to deliver a message, one delivered with a Superman-smile. "If you don't want to be with us, that's fine, but remember you have a task to do. Time's a'wasting," and he tapped his fingers against a shiny-glint Rolex that he wore on his wrist. "We don't make threats, but if We did make threats, then this might just be one." He smiled at David then, the man in the suit, as if he was smiling at a particularly unfortunate looking puppy.
Misha, he didn't bother saying he wasn't fulfilling anything, and he'd learned a real long time ago that Heaven was real concerned with their war. 'Stead, he sat quiet with swinging legs, knowing none of these folks had any power over him. In fact, he could send the suited angel flying with a flick of fingers, should he want to. He sat, and then he hopped off his gravestone as the angel disappeared walking. Walking, like David was going to reckon that meant the suited man was human.
He just sighed then, real heavy, and looked at David. "You don't understand worth a lick," he explained, and he crouched as the cool presence left the cemetery. "Nothing you do is yours. Nothing anyone does is solely theirs. There's influences all 'round and you can't see them. Think 'bout that as you choose your side. You reckon you're battling for good, but you ain't. Battling for good means doing good, it don't mean adding bad to bad, David Park."