Neutral Omens

As usual, Ellie sensed the archangel's approach before she saw her. She almost turned aside, not particularly wanting to discuss Sugarplum or Biblical interpretation or Aziraphale or any of the other things an angel was likely to want to talk about if she happened to be in a chatty mood.

But she was tired. Since learning of her daughter's survival, and the attack on Mictain, she'd found it impossible to stay hidden away in the safety of the Manor. Which wasn't to say she hadn't tried. Self-preservation was a powerful instinct, and not easily overriden even by the maternal variety. But after Aziraphale's departure had robbed her of the closest friend she had in this place, the need to learn more had eventually won out.

She'd made a number of trips out into the world since, seeking news from the contacts she had made on Earth and on occasion from the mortal news media, who seldom had any inkling what they were actually reporting when they talked of mysterious terrorist attacks and victims who disappeared before they could be questioned.

As she had feared, though, finding the girl had proved much more difficult than finding evidence of her passing. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to her movements, no means of tracing her once her strange powers had taken her elsewhere. Ellie had had close calls with angry, wounded angels and demons alike, who would not have hesitated to pin the blame for their woes on a lone succubus with a strangely muted aura if they had seen her. To say nothing of what might happen if any of those demons happened to recognize her.

She was weary and discouraged and just wanted to crawl into her bed and forget about it all for a while. And reversing course to avoid Uriel now would mean taking a longer route to her room, past the rooms of some other residents she would just as soon avoid at the moment. Better to just walk past without acknowledging the Severer's presence at all.

When the archangel came into view, however, with a tiny bundle cradled in her arms, Ellie stopped dead in her tracks, the part of her mind that wasn't frozen with surprise rapidly calculating the months since Uriel had started to show. Of course, her time would have come while I was gone...

She'd never seen her own baby. Tali hadn't lived to see her born. Unwilling fascination mingled with an unexpected stab of pure, poisonous envy. It wasn't fair.

"Uriel," she said, rather stupidly, staring at the bundle. "You, uh. It came."

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"That's true," Uriel replied with a smile, completely unaware of the other's rather vicious thoughts. "He was born just three weeks ago. Isn't he just adorable?" She proudly showed her baby to the other woman -- soft baby skin, black curls and tiny hands all wrapped in a blanket. "The wings were something of a problem, but eventually we got him out."

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"I remember," Ellie said softly, regarding the infant with a slight, quizzical tilt of her head. She'd had the same problem, or thought she had--nobody had actually explained to her what was going on during her own labor. But something had certainly been holding things up. She couldn't see this little one's wings, but it was easy to imagine they were just like the rest of him--small, soft and vulnerable. She wondered for the first time, with a pang of remorse and very belated anxiety, if it had been painful for her baby, too. Had her little wings been hurt, with no one there to assist in getting them out?

"He's so tiny..." She'd seen babies before, of course, but not often up close or so young. "What...what do you call him?"

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"His name is Bran," Uriel replied, glancing fondly down at the child. "According to Loki, it means Raven. And it quite fits him, doesn't it?" she then asked with a smile, brushing the baby's soft raven-black hair. "He's such a sweet child, too. Never making much of a fuss if there isn't any reason to. I just hope his uncle's influence won't be too bad for him."

Oh, yes. She does assume Loki will be there for her son when he grows up. She refuses to believe anything else.

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Something about the casual gesture made Ellie's throat tighten up uncomfortably, and she was struck with a sudden, powerful desire to touch the child herself. Instead she clasped her hands behind her back and leaned toward him just slightly, summoning up a smile completely at odds with the sharp stinging in her eyes. "Well. Hello, Bran," she said a trifle thickly. "You have a lovely name, and I think you'll find this world isn't a bad place to be, once you get used to it."

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There was something strange in Ellie's voice, Uriel noticed. She wasn't sure what it was or what to do about it, though, so she chose not to comment.

"Come on, Bran," she said instead. "Do thank the nice lady for the compliment." A bit more quietly, she added, "And lets all hope her second statement stands true as well."

Of course, Bran didn't say anything. However, he did choose this moment to open his eyes. His lovely, bright, almost-white eyes.

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Ellie blinked and looked up at Uriel, startled. Those eyes, a gift from the child's father, made his heritage unmistakable to anyone who had ever met Pestilence (though, if she recalled correctly, those of the Horseman's successor Pollution were similarly colored. Not that it would make much difference to those who would judge Uriel or her child by them.)

"He's beautiful," she said truthfully, holding her peace. As long as they remained in the Manor, they should be safe, and she had already given Uriel the strongest possible warning (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/87180.html#cutid1) months before. There was little point to frightening her again. "You must be proud."

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"Yes, I am," Uriel replied, smiling down at her little son. "He's given me a whole new reason to live." Aside from Bran, there was of course Loki. The idiot would probably get himself killed if she didn't look after him all the time. And of course there was Bast, too. And the Doctor. Very importantly the Doctor.

Suddenly, she realized something. Ellie had had a child, too, hadn't she? Only that hadn't ended so well. Her gushing wasn't probably very polite or welcomed. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I didn't realize..."

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"Sorry for what, Uriel?" Ellie said bleakly. Blessed, clueless angels...took her long enough to remember. "You didn't give the orders. And your sword doesn't kill."

She did touch the baby now, brushing the rosy cheek delicately with her fingertips as he returned her solemn gaze unblinking. Aware, as Uriel surely must be, how appallingly easy it would be to extend her claws suddenly and teach the angel what such bereavement felt like.

But there was Adam, and what would be the point, really? Pain begetting pain to no purpose and no end? She might as well return to Hell and cast herself on the mercy of Lucifer and Triskele. Metaphorically speaking.

"Be grateful," she said softly, withdrawing her hand and rubbing her fingers absently together where the feel of warm, smooth skin clung to them. "Teach him to count his blessings."

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"Sometimes, I've thought it might be better if my sword did kill," Uriel replied. "And I was thoughtless. I didn't even remember..." She trailed off.

Despite trusting Adam's protection, Uriel couldn't help but tense a bit as Ellie's hand brushed Bran's cheek. She knew very well just what kind of damage the other woman could cause if she wanted to.

"I am grateful," she replied then. "More grateful than I ever thought I could be."

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Ellie's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected a reply so insightful about the nature of Uriel's duty, and wondered if the archangel knew how dangerous that kind of thinking could be for one still in a state of grace. Then again, if Uriel were to Fall, who would carry out the task of her severance? Interesting thought.

"I'm sure Aziraphale will be delighted to meet him when he returns," she said, still clinging to the hope that her favorite angel would, and sooner than later.

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"Well, at least he promised to baby sit sometimes," Uriel replied. "I do wish he returns soon, though. There aren't that many people who would be delighted to meet Bran -- without ill intentions, at least."

She wished Odin would return, too, not only to get a chance to show her son at him but also for Loki's sake. That wouldn't probably happen, though.

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"Me, too," Ellie murmured, and then blinked at Uriel's statement. "Oh, I don't know. You might take him to see Adam," she said mildly, "or young Pollution. I imagine they'd like to see him."

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"Perhaps." Uriel smiled a bit. "Bran is something of a half-brother to Pollution, after all. Not that Pestilence is truly Pollution's father, but... Do you have any idea where either of them is?" After all, it wasn't like she had anything else to do at the moment.

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Luna walked along the corridor, one hand lightly tracing patterns on the wall as she stared at her feet moving in and out of view. There was a soft murmur of voices, and Luna looked up to see two women talking. They both looked vaguely familiar, which probably came of her having seen them around the Manor before. One of them moved, and Luna's eyes lit up as the head of a baby came into view.

She moved forward curiously, a little shy, and waited for the lady holding the baby to notice her.

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"Oh, hi there!" Uriel said as she finally noticed Luna. "I believe we've met before, but I'm afraid I can't recall your name."

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Ellie shook her head. "I just got in from an...errand. But I'm sure Pollution's room number is in the guest book, and Adam's pretty good at being found when someone wants him." She was glad the angel had found something to divert her. She wanted a hot bath and her bed, and the child's pale, solemn gaze was becoming unnerving.

She glanced at the young girl whom she had seen around the Manor several times now, and smiled slightly. "Luna, isn't it?"

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Luna cocked her head and smiled. "Yes, it is. I don't believe I know yours, however." A slight pause. "How did you know my name?"

Luna was puzzled. She knew that she knew this face, but she couldn't place the green-eyed lady. "Are you, by any chance, related to a wizard called Uriel?"

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"I'm Ellie. I heard you introduce yourself to Pepper at Adam's birthday party," said Ellie, who had sharp ears and a good memory. "But I saw you at Hermes' celebration, too, and in the bar the day of the big storm.*"

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*Also, the day Michael had become Mictain.

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It might, Uriel concluded, not be wise to reveal that she was, in fact, Uriel. After all, though this Luna didn't seem to mind the idea of magic, humans probably had trouble accepting the fact that the same person could be two different genders.

"Oh, Uriel is my big brother," she thus said. "I am Brenda." Hopefully, the lie would go through. At least by now she was used to being called Brenda.

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"Well, it's always nice to meet new people - or at least, learn the names of familiar strangers," said Luna, laughing a bit.

"Oh, so that's it. You do look like your brother," nodded Luna. "It's nice to meet you, Brenda. And who is this little fellow, then?" cooed Luna, chucking Bran gently under his chin. "Is he yours?" Luna asked, looking up at Uriel. "He's lovely. I love babies, especially baby babies*." This last was said solemnly, Luna's silver-grey eyes radiating sincerity.

(* ooc: The mun would like to state here that she has no idea what Luna is talking about - she probably means infants and the ilk, as compared to animal babies. And now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

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It was all Ellie could do to maintain a neutral expression. She knew Uriel sometimes used a pseudonym, and that angels routinely engaged in varying degrees of deception by omission, but she'd never actually heard one tell a bald-faced lie before--wouldn't have placed money it was even possible, in fact.

Guess He really has relaxed the standards since I got the pink slip, she thought, not without bitterness, but she wasn't about to call Uriel out on it in front of the human. There'd be better opportunities to use the information, no doubt.

"Mm-hmm, he's a charmer," she said with a tight smile, wondering what Uriel would do if Luna asked to hold the kid. His wings would be kind of hard not to notice even under the blanket.

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"Oh, yes, he's my little sunshine," Uriel chirped happily. "His name is Bran. Isn't he indeed just lovely?" She wouldn't mind if Luna noticed the wings -- after all, the witch had been subjected to such things before. Her only concern about the wings was that they didn't get hurt, being so sensitive.

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"Bran. That's Welsh, isn't it? Isitisn'titisit?" cooed Luna, looking from mother to child as she switched from normal speech to baby-talk. "Look at his cute 'ickle tosie-wosies," tickling them as she said it. "Aren't they the cutest 'ickle tosie-wosies?" Luna demanded of Ellie. "So soft, too." She ran her fingers gently over the ten tiny toes, each almost perfectly spherical.

A thought struck her - "Could I hold him, please?" Luna would be most careful, even if she did seem a little daydreamy, to not hurt Bran's wings in any way.

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Ellie nodded, folding her arms and trying--sincerely trying--to share some of the girl's enthusiasm. He was a cute little bastard, and constituted a slap in the face to the same Heavenly establishment that had robbed her of her own child, as well as her lover. Why she should be jealous she couldn't fathom. It wasn't as though she would have flaunted her baby for other women to fawn over.

Still, she thought tiredly, it might have been nice to have the choice.

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Luna had noticed how tense Ellie had been, especially when she looked at Bran. But Luna knew, too, that she couldn't do anything - this (Luna couldn't have put it in words even if she had tried, so she didn't bother) ran too deep, too far down, beyond sight. Human sight, anyway.

If she had known it, a quizzical look had come over Luna's face as she tried to puzzle Ellie out.

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John (who could have told Luna good luck on that count) came strolling by just then on his way downstairs, and was forced to halt by the assembled gaggle of females. "Coming through," he said a trifle impatiently before he caught sight of the newcomer.

"Oh, you dropped the sprog, eh?" He maneuvered around Luna to get a look at the little guy. "Bran, innit?" he addressed the child. "You gnawed all the legs off that spider yet? Nah, well, give it time. Teeth'll help. Hang on a minute though, that reminds me..."

He fished around in his trench pockets for a moment, and produced a slightly squished, but still relentlessly cheerful stuffed lamb. Brushing a few tobacco crumbs off the toy, he tucked it alongside the baby while stage-whispering, "Here, this fell off the back of a lorry for you. Don't tell your mum, though." He winked solemnly. "I don't think she'd approve."

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"Of course you can hold him," Uriel said to Luna. "Just be careful with the wings, okay? They are quite sensitive."

"What in Heaven's name am I going to do?" she sighed at John's actions. "Surrounded by all of you, Bran will probably grow up to be a thief... Which, of course, isn't quite as bad as some of the worse options. I do hope, though, that he'll find some less illegal occupation."

After all, as he wasn't an angel and not a horseperson either, he would have to find something else to do with his existence...

She still smiled as she glanced at the lamb. "Thank you," she said to John. "I'd make Bran thank you by himself but I do fear he's still a bit too young for that. And as to your question, none of the legs are even close to coming off yet. He's doing his best, though." Which was quite unnerving at times. She wasn't sure whether Bran had to breathe, but she'd rather not find it out by testing what would happen when he stuffed a bit too much of a stuffed spider leg into his mouth.

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"Wings?" Then, as the blanket shifted a little, Luna caught sight of white feathers that culminated in, well, a wing. "I will," she chirped, as Uriel carefully transferred her precious load to Luna. Normally Luna would have laughed at John's rather unsubtle euphemism, but now all her attention was taken up by the lovely little baby in her arms.

"Hello little Bran, little raven, what a good little boy you are, hello little Bran, little raven, what a bright little shining little star," sang Luna, rocking Bran gently to the beat. Just then, Bran reached up to bat Luna on the nose, causing Luna to go cross-eyed for a second.

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Ellie managed, by a masterful effort of will, not to roll her eyes at the girl's singsong. "Trust me, if thievery's the worst thing John teaches him, he'll be doing pretty well," she said, smiling coyly at the look Constantine shot her way, then laughed as Luna got popped in the nose. "Whoops, guess he's not a music fan..."

She was growing tired of the spectacle, though (or just plain tired, more likely,) and took the opportunity to slide past the rest of the group in the direction of her room. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm late for a date with Morpheus, metaphorically speaking. I'll catch you all later. Nice meeting you, Slugger."

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"Oi, I resent that," John objected. "I'm a great role model. Just ask my neice. Or Tim Hunter. They've neither of 'em got thrown in jail yet. Least not permanently, nobody can prove a thing..." Though he spoke lightly, John watched the succubus thoughtfully as she sidled toward making her escape, well aware of the past specters this child must conjure for her. For both of them, really--he remembered the day of her bastard half-breed's birth all too vividly, and wondered uneasily what would happen to little Bran the first time he ventured outside Adam's zone of protection.

For the moment, though, the kid was safe enough, and he had to smile at Luna's antics. She seemed a sweet little thing, if a bit of a scatterbrain. "Don't mind her, pet, she's just jealous. Can't carry a tune to save her life."

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"I don't mind, really," answered Luna. "Either of them." She'd never really had a chance to interact on this level with a baby before - after her mother's death the family kept pretty much to itself until she went to Hogwarts. And after that she was kept busy finding her feet in her father's office - not that she minded. And she sensed that for some reason, Ellie was jealous of the baby...

"He's such a sweet little thing, isn't he? Makes you wonder what he'll grow up to be like, though, if he goes around bopping strangers on the nose like that," she chortled. "Apologies if I don't shake your hand as mine seem to be full of infant, but my name's Luna. And you are?" Luna smiled up at John.

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"Oh, I'm John. Constantine," he said with a lopsided smile. "Pleased to meet you, Luna. I reckon the tyke'll do all right, once he figure out which strangers really need bopping." Hands in pockets, he glanced at Uriel. He hadn't missed the significance of the child's strange eyes, and some things Pestilence had said to him during their one and only conversation were much more clear now. "Mum and Uncle will steer him right there, I expect." Though privately, he wasn't so sure. Mum seemed to him a little unstable and Uncle was downright paranoid. Something else he'd have to keep an eye on, he supposed.

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"Nice to meet you, then. He'll probably grow up to be a perfect angel, no pun intended," Luna said merrily. That was one of the possible reasons why Bran had wings, Luna knew.

Naturally, when John spoke about Bran's uncle, Luna figured that he was talking about male!Uriel, seeing how Brenda had introduced herself as Uriel's sister; which was probably why she said, "Well, he seemed a little melancholy to me when I last saw him, but I expect he'll be alright. And I'm sure Brenda will be a great mum too." Luna didn't miss the significance of John's choice of role models, but she figured that there were many reasons for the lack of a parental unit. "I expect it'll be great fun when he starts talking, and by then, young man, I expect a reason for your bopping my nose." Luna waggled a finger in front of Bran's nose, grinning.

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"An angel or something else," Uriel said. She had no illusions about that part of Bran's inheritance. Somebody with no connection to Presence was not an angel, wings or not. "With an angel as a mother and a few gods as uncles and aunts, he's bound to grow up to be something interesting at the very least." She didn't mention fathers or father-figures, however interesting additions Horsepeople and aliens may have been to the equation.

"Thank you," she then said to Luna, smiling. "I'm going to do my best to be the best mother I can be. Although I fear that if he takes after his uncles, his reason for abusing your nose might be 'because it's fun.'"

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"Yeah, sounds about right." John chuckled. "Well, 'scuse me, ladies, I got places to be. Mind you don't break too many hearts, Bran, I'm not sure if that's covered in Adam's no-harm policy..." He looked around for Ellie, intending to take her aside and privately make sure she wasn't having any nasty infanticidal notions, but the succubus had already slipped away, so he nodded to the remaining women and followed suit.

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