To reach prosperity, one must first feel greed

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"It was the worst pain he'd ever felt.
For the first time, he'd been hurt, but little did he know;
this pain would set him free."

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 Falling —
 

— Falling —

 

— Fallen;

 The once-angel-turned-prince had fallen, and he writhed in agony. He’d been forsaken by the father he thought trusted him. Whenever he grasped for the memories- the quickly fleeted, taking flight on their feathered wings and leaving him to rot.

 Mammon reached for the sky, tears welling in his eyes; Father! He wanted to cry, but his voice was blocked by thorns. His throat ached and burned, and his heart felt as if he’d just fallen through nine dimensions — (little did he know, he had) — and survived. It was a wretched feeling.

 With a gasp, the man carried himself upwards, panting with how much energy the motion had taken up. His thoughts were too far for him to realise he was no longer an angel, instead, he was a wolf. A canine’s body, he was trapped in, it seemed. Though he had yet to notice.

 His body ached with pain, but Mammon managed to pull himself upwards, gaze flicking across the stone mountains that stood high and mighty before him. Where were his brothers? His sisters? The rest of the angels? He could barely remember… A fight, a war, a bloodbath. His heart did flips in his chest, anxious: How much did he not know?

 Mammon had to continue on, though, for Father, for @Noah and Beelzebub… for all of them, for they were his to protect, and he was theirs. The yearling had to find them, and soon…

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Something gilded her to find the mountains on this day, lightly drifting between the clusters of spires that laid about. Flora took it's reigns, that although it looked intimidating, she long had realized inside was such a peace that she found herself even making a light nest for the days of rest. Not long would she stay here, endlessly travelling and not forming bonds to the land itself — for the call of the wild casted her elsewhere and everywhere. But she was selfish, in the light way to enjoy such a quiet realm for such a meanwhile and..

Was to rest, but the sounds of someone in the distance made her rise from that quiet spot in moss between the spires. She curiously moved herself between the mounds of rocks, and looked forth to see an individual, snow, and yet not, speckled with granite and otherwise she couldn't help but think.. He wasn't there earlier, was he? Miriam thought that no one was around, but knew as well everyone made mistakes. She was a bit puzzled.

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 He hadn't been expecting company, but as pawsteps sounded against harsh stone, Mammon whirled, gaze landing on that of a canine painted in lavender and violet. A woman, of course, and a mortal. The colouration didn't seem similar, and she didn't radiate... well.. the energy of an angel, now, did she?

 “Who are you?” He'd croak, slowly inching closer. Each step he took was followed by an uncomfortable wince, and Mammon had to stop relatively early to avoid bursting in to tears. Honestly, the prince was lucky he hadn't collapsed yet, and his eyes were pleading; Help me, though he doubted there was much a mortal could do. “Where am I?” He sounded horribly desperate . . .

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He stepped closer and she got a more look at him. Something felt off, his energy produced similar of the predatory of a behemoth and yet.. There was yearning and otherwise seemed painful to him, a concern was crossed to her face and his questions to be answered, "I am Miriam, Miriam Iris Willows," she rose from the temporary nest she took, a gentle smile toward him where she tried to infer, that the maiden meant no harm "you are in Jawbone Crag."

An unusual place to find themselves too.. Surely he was someone who had just 'wandered' in, just a she had done many months prior. A lost soul like any other, devoid of knowledge of a holy-being descending from the pits of outcast, "are you alright..?" and she stepped closer, wanting to assure such a stranger and whisper in warmth that everything was alright ; but Miriam yet to do so. She could not force such a love upon another, and only hope at least, he'd let her help.

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 “Miriam,” He rasped, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head. No, no he didn't recognise the name, and the boy quickly dropped to the ground. Almost crying. Almost. One more shatter, and he'd crack. “No, you're not one of us . . .” Mammon sighed, shaking his head in despair.

 Then, Miriam inched closer; "You are in Jawbone Crag." “Where are my brothers? My sisters?” He cried. The yearling didn't know what a Jawbone Crag was. He didn't know where he was. Everything went through one ear and out the other. Eyes shooting wide, he sobbed, gazing at his paws; “What am I? Who am I?”

 Stepping closer, the woman asked if he was alright, and Mammon snapped his jaws towards her face, though he fell back with another sob. “No . . .” He whispered. “Where are they . . . Where . . . What did I do to deserve this?”

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"Hey there.. It's alright," Miriam would coo, that although he snapped at her she knew he meant no harm. Confusion settled, and anyone would be if torn away by their kin. Unlike she, who willingly departed from home to end up in this primordial land, but she did not know the way back.. Yet she felt at peace, as though the Goddess willed a new destiny for her to forge, and she went onwards believing so. Except.. From what the maiden was taught, many were not the same — throwing themselves to destiny and moving forth, and many cared not toward the ways of enlightment or otherwise. She knew not of his, but knew his destiny was taken elsewhere, with confusion to settle.

If he allowed, Miriam would hang her head over his neck in a comforted way, much like her own Amma did when she was upset, "it's alright.." hoping he would for just a moment calm within his aggression, and either continue with his weeping or allow a moment to adjust.

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 He let the woman hang her head over his shoulders, for some reason. He was angry and sad and frustrated and confused. . . and yet, he could barely muster up the energy to say anything. His throat felt blocked by thorns, and as the tears finally began to course from his eyes, Mammon couldn't even bring up the energy to sob. 

 “I've been forsaken . . . ” The boy murmured after some time, his tone despaired and heaving; His battered figure made him look younger, younger than his previously lived years. He looked like but a child, and in this body, he was. 
 “I've been betrayed by the creator, by him. I don't know what I did wrong . . .” He sobbed. “I don't know what any of us did wrong.”

 Mammon cried; He let it out, he let himself sob and emote and relish in this sadness. The yearling let himself feel this way, this odd feeling he'd never felt before. Deluded. To be betrayed by his father; by his creator; by the allmighty, all-loving god. It made no sense to his freshly wounded mind. “What have I done?” Mammon whimpered.

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They were about the same age, still in the midst of becoming a young adult, but not in that fine line of graduating to two years. A body that was still looked to be young and fresh, where many looked at them as foolish yearlings to the world, and casted in as they were. She emphasized and looked at him in pity, while rubbing her head upon him like a mothers comfort, coo'ing gently 'it's alright,' over and over as he continued within his sobs and confusion. A poor wolf, so lost in this world.

A religion she knew not, destiny she couldn't say, for Gods were all mysterious, some in spite and others in warmth ; just as her own was, the Goddess, "a new beginning," she so spoke lightly, "this world is full of magic and new beginnings.. Surely he has not casted you aside, but gave you a new destiny." She would hope his God was not so cruel, and lightly prayed to her Goddess, to take such a lost soul under his wing.. But not voiced vocally, for that could be said in blasphemy against another's religion.

All she could do was try to bring peace to his heart through mortal means.

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 "a new beginning," Miriam comforted, and Mammon shook his head; “I didn't want a new beginning . . .” He sighed, another sob exiting his maw. He wanted to be loved, he wanted to be favoured, and he wanted his creator to deem him important enough to stay. He wanted all of his siblings to stay!

 “. . . I wanted to be good enough . . .” The boy's voice was barely above a whisper, and he sighed, screwing his eyes shut so he wouldn't cry any longer. "This world is full of magic and new beginnings.. Surely he has not casted you aside, but gave you a new destiny." Mammon thought otherwise; “What if he wanted to get rid of me? What if he wasn't proud of me anymore . . ?” He cried, though no tears fell. He wouldn't allow it.

 “. . . Does he not want me anymore?”

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"The heavens are also mysterious, one may say a new beginning, but who is to say it's but the beginning of a chapter within your life? A destiny that he is settling for you." She would think not that the heavens would cast such a poor soul down.. For surely his own God had plans to unfold, for if a well-life with no direction, that was not a hell or purgatory ; but a casting altogether. She felt for him, an assurance as she tried as Miriam wanted to mimic the kindness the High Priestess would do to wanderlust souls who find themselves in the Orchid. She was young though, still learning ; just as she made the mistake of saying of new beginnings, it was not something he desired.

Her cheeks rubbed against him, a paw as well like a mother cradling her saddened child, she coo'd warmly to the stranger, attempting to assure as he held tears back that she wished she urged to fall, but in due time, she thought, simply listening and attempting to console.

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 While Mammon could appreciate Miriam's efforts to comfort him, the yearling couldn't help but feel... smothered? Bad? He felt guilty for spilling his worries and anxieties to but a mere mortal. "The heavens are also mysterious, one may say a new beginning, but who is to say it's but the beginning of a chapter within your life? A destiny that he is settling for you."

 “Maybe...” He murmured. Was this truly best for him? Miriam was his beacon of light at the moment, nuzzling and cooing to him as if he were but a small, whining pup, and while it might undermine most, it was the comfort he needed in a time like this. “But the agony... it hurt so badly, surely he wouldn't put one of his own sons through so much pain?” He wallowed, pitiable, shaking his head.

 Unbelieving, he was. “Maybe he just wanted to get rid of me, Miriam. Maybe my time was over.”

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"Gods are mysterious, they always have a purpose for us, even if we do not know it at the time." There was only so much Miriam could attempt to re-assure, but she wanted to give him some glimmer of hope, where he wasn't casted in the pits of darkness, but instead a life of renewal. She had trouble seeing if his God meant anything more, as she knew her own Goddess — and for all she knew they were one in the same.. Would never torture a soul such as this, enchanting, with but a new life.

Like her Amma did, all she could do was lend a shoulder and chest to cry upon.

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