Uriel listened closely to the horseman's words, at the same time doing his best to remember. He would have to remember; this wasn't something he could forget just like that. Therefore he called for whatever was there in his mind, trying to get past the mental blocks he'd set himself. A bag of marshmallows. Yes, that he could remember. He'd been going to meet Sugarplum...
Hanging on that little thread of a memory, he tried to force himself ahead in the line of events, only half listening to Pestilence's retelling of the events. And, little by little, he did remember -- not all of it, not yet, but tiny bits here and there. Like his own fingers tracing his scars -- just the faint ones, though, as there hadn't been these new ones back then. A little pill mixed into the water. Pestilence's hand smoothing his hair. The horseman adoring his hands. The joy and excitement of the new feelings brought forth by his first effort ever...
That's where he stopped the train of thought, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. Effort. He'd made an effort. Sure, he'd kind of known that, given Pestilence's implications, but to actually remember it... It had been... different. More intense. Everything had been in a sharper focus, in a way.
But not necessarily wrong.
He looked again at Pestilence, who seemed to be avoiding looking at him, a grey blush on his cheeks. Seriously, how could anybody blush grey? That didn't matter now, though. He felt that he needed to explain what little he could.
"I think I may now know why I blocked that memory," he said quietly. "Look, to you being a human may be the usual way of living --"
"Your heart beats. Why?" -- "Yes, it does beat. I don't think its necessary for the other horsepeople, especially Death, but I know I wouldn't be able to survive without it."
"-- and so it is to most angels, whenever they're on Earth, anyway. But to me it isn't. I -- I don't really even think of myself in terms of gender. As far as I'm concerned I'm just as much -- or little -- a female as I am a male; it's just that because of my appearance people usually refer to me as male. I'd been sexless all my existence; I'd never made an effort to 'be more human', never seen a reason to make one."
He was quiet for a moment, then continued, "And then came you. The first being to ever show serious interest in me -- and immediately I make an effort, make myself a sexual being, actually have sex with you. Now I understand it has probably something to do with my changes of mood --"
"Manic, it is called, then?" -- "Yes, the humans have terms for what it appears you have."
"As for you, without an examination, I'd say you have a tendency toward manic-depressive disorder, an unbalancing of brain chemicals, usually involving the ventral preforontal cortex, the area responsible for emotions."
"-- Which often do lead me to make quick, even hasty decisions. I -- I do not regret it, based on what little I can remember now. However, right after the experience, heading towards depression and self-blame..."
"You were getting a bit high there, and after a high comes a low."
Sighing, he shook his head. "I guess I must have felt like a whore," he said quietly, and this time it was him who avoided looking at the other. "Not because of you, but because I so easily went for the first being who only would have me."
no subject
Hanging on that little thread of a memory, he tried to force himself ahead in the line of events, only half listening to Pestilence's retelling of the events. And, little by little, he did remember -- not all of it, not yet, but tiny bits here and there. Like his own fingers tracing his scars -- just the faint ones, though, as there hadn't been these new ones back then. A little pill mixed into the water. Pestilence's hand smoothing his hair. The horseman adoring his hands. The joy and excitement of the new feelings brought forth by his first effort ever...
That's where he stopped the train of thought, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. Effort. He'd made an effort. Sure, he'd kind of known that, given Pestilence's implications, but to actually remember it... It had been... different. More intense. Everything had been in a sharper focus, in a way.
But not necessarily wrong.
He looked again at Pestilence, who seemed to be avoiding looking at him, a grey blush on his cheeks. Seriously, how could anybody blush grey? That didn't matter now, though. He felt that he needed to explain what little he could.
"I think I may now know why I blocked that memory," he said quietly. "Look, to you being a human may be the usual way of living --"
"Your heart beats. Why?" -- "Yes, it does beat. I don't think its necessary for the other horsepeople, especially Death, but I know I wouldn't be able to survive without it."
"-- and so it is to most angels, whenever they're on Earth, anyway. But to me it isn't. I -- I don't really even think of myself in terms of gender. As far as I'm concerned I'm just as much -- or little -- a female as I am a male; it's just that because of my appearance people usually refer to me as male. I'd been sexless all my existence; I'd never made an effort to 'be more human', never seen a reason to make one."
He was quiet for a moment, then continued, "And then came you. The first being to ever show serious interest in me -- and immediately I make an effort, make myself a sexual being, actually have sex with you. Now I understand it has probably something to do with my changes of mood --"
"Manic, it is called, then?" -- "Yes, the humans have terms for what it appears you have."
"As for you, without an examination, I'd say you have a tendency toward manic-depressive disorder, an unbalancing of brain chemicals, usually involving the ventral preforontal cortex, the area responsible for emotions."
"-- Which often do lead me to make quick, even hasty decisions. I -- I do not regret it, based on what little I can remember now. However, right after the experience, heading towards depression and self-blame..."
"You were getting a bit high there, and after a high comes a low."
Sighing, he shook his head. "I guess I must have felt like a whore," he said quietly, and this time it was him who avoided looking at the other. "Not because of you, but because I so easily went for the first being who only would have me."