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The triad knelt in the Seraph's hotel room, their heads bowed nearly to the floor. The Archangel stood above them, her eyes dark, her expression closed. Her words were as rough as gravel as she whispered, "Amidel. You allowed the Fallen to escape, knowing its status."
The Seraph of the Triad nodded, his clumsy mortal throat swallowing repeatedly, until his mouth was hard and dry with fear.
"Why?"
For a long moment, there was no response, until it seemed the Cherub would speak. Before she could get out a single syllable, though, Amidel replied, "It was my decision, Most Just. He said...I thought...he indicated a wish to redeem, but wished for time for prayer, first."
"And your resonance?"
"I could not read Truth from him, Most Just. I chose to trust him."
"Knowing he was new-Fallen?"
"I thought...there is always hope, is there not?"
The pleading in his voice prompted the Cherub to rush into the conversation protectively, "I detected no threat to him from the suspect."
Dominique's voice was terribly, quietly patient. "Because the demon intended to escape." It was not a question, and she let the silence of guilt settle over the three, until her black eyes turned to the third member of the Triad. "Zakiel, what was your advice in this situation?"
The Elohite's voice was utterly, tellingly blank. "I advised against it, my Lord. I could sense great fear from the suspect, but could not determine its cause or his likely actions. I believed it likely that he would make an attempt to escape." A pause, then the admission, "But I did not argue strenuously."
"Why?"
A longer pause. "I believed that it was possible that I was wrong. The demon pled a convincing case." Dominique's eyes narrowed at the Symphony's melodies.
"It was my decision," Amidel broke in. "The fault is mine."
The Archangel's voice suddenly snapped across their backs, like a whip. The angels flinched in terrified unison. "Yes, it is, Most Holy. The fault lies upon your Triad-mates as well, but their fault is YOUR fault, as they are your responsibility. Aria," he nodded to the Cherub, "viewed her responsibilites too narrowly, considering only attuned, rather than attuned /first/. Zakiel thought to use this as a learning opportunity, and to take you to task for your attitude towards a more experienced subordinate. And you, Amidel. You did not attend to your Triad. You discounted an experienced subordinate's advice, you allowed yourself to be guided by pity rather than justice, and you did not guard your Cherub from herself. And what is the result of this?"
Amidel's voice was a hoarse and miserable whisper. "Hell has won a new agent, and I have dropped a soul into the deepest darkness."
"Incomplete answer," Dominique replied coldly. "You have certainly done such things. You have also permitted a newly-Fallen to know that we know about him. He will now be compelled to seek a Prince for protection. And for that protection, he will barter with the names, roles, missions, and descriptions of every Heavenly agent he knows. He was, I believe, a Mercurian." She paused to let that sink in for a moment before continuing, "Several of Heaven's operations may be delayed, or have to be abandoned entirely. Angels will be forced to change Roles, losing the time and resources invested there, or become targets of demonic attack. And what about the Soldiers and our unAware human allies? They cannot simply change their faces, and when demons destroy their bodies, they do not return to this world. And those who do not realize that their beloved comrade has Fallen may yet be swayed into temptation through his influence.
I assure you, your moment of pity has far greater consequences than you realize. But you will learn to do so."
Dominique stepped forward, placing her hands on Amidel's bowed head. The angel whimpered, then bit back a scream as blood welled to the surface of his dark brown skin, spilling down from his brow and pooling under his hands, staining the cheap hotel carpet. His Archangel stepped back again, his hands wide, the Servitor's blood anointing the palms with bright crimson. "You will bleed every day until you finish your new assignment: investigate all of the Fallen's Heavenly contacts, and bring warning to each and every one, personally. Aid them to the best of your ability to salvage what can be salvaged. Protect those who come under attack, and should the opportunity arise to enact the sentence against your target, do so. After that assignment is done, you will bleed one year for every agent lost, or mission abandoned, because of your failure." Her gaze moved to the rest of the Triad, the heavy chill of it felt, even with their heads bowed. "And you will serve the Most Holy to the best of your abilities, supporting him with all of your talents, not just those you find most convenient to use. Am I entirely understood?"
"Yes, Most Just," the angels chorused, pitch perfect even in their current state of humiliated anguish. Silence descended upon them and they froze, each one afraid to draw yet more of their Archangel's scorn upon them.
It was a good hour before the Elohite finally decided to look up, and discovered that Dominique was gone.
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... I'm okay, really.
Yes. Oh, yes. I could go over each and every lovely little line of this and love upon it. There is good reason Judges and angels are what they are, and do what they do. I love this. And the imagery. Oh, that imagery yeah. And exactly what Dominique does to them in punishment - that is perfect. Perfect, appropriate, and useful. Necessary, even. The infliction of Discord is just a reminder.
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Judges do what they do out of deepest care. And must never forget that surface mercy is... not necessarily True mercy.
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