The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Richard? Aren't you...well, never mind; Damien came back, so I suppose you could too. Good to see you again, sir. The school itself has been fairly clean, I suppose. There's a lot less students to muck it up ever since all the ones that didn't want to fight Uriel left. We got that one toilet on the eighth floor to finally stop flushing all the time," the school's president said cheerily, before glancing over at the panicking D. "Oi. You just don't go and steal sperm from people. That's not cool," he chided, not liking the fact that it was being brought up inside a spaceship of all places.

"It was for science!" D said, "I was- alright, it's a long story. Go back and read my lab notes on it later. I guess I can finally publish that paper now."

Said paper - "Skin to Bone, Steel to Rust" - was an essay on the genetic coding of angels and the (supposedly) unrealized potential of "swapping" angelic code and human code. This was, obviously, quite relevant at the moment.

Luckily, the school kept the world's leading experts in the field around in their halls. Wasn't that smart of Crowley?

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Finding herself inside the Ark, Ciel followed the constant thuds and faint echoes of voices, advancing through the blood and flesh of a God as she tried to catch up with the others, eventually finding them conversing with none other than Yahweh. Blinking as she saw this, she continued approaching from behind until he was right there with the others, the front part of her helmet sliding back, revealing her face.

"How many of you are running around out there, then?" She asked, having met a few of his Richard forms by now.

---

The Demon Lord saw with satisfaction that his endeavor had gotten rid of the more immediate threat to his allies. Sure, there were still chunks of rock falling from the sky towards them, but they were much too small to cause much harm to the kind of creatures that were waging war at the Falls, he believed, so they were no longer considered a threat and no longer a concern of his.

What did concern him, was the large number of angelic troops which continued to land all around the Falls, ready to continue fighting for their genocidal overlord.

Alastor, however, was not intimidated. "Your numbers are irrelevant." He stated the way one casually states a fact, exerting his power once again to spread dark lightning all throughout the Falls.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Finding herself inside the Ark, Ciel followed the constant thuds and faint echoes of voices, advancing through the blood and flesh of a God as she tried to catch up with the others, eventually finding them conversing with none other than Yahweh. Blinking as she saw this, she continued approaching from behind until he was right there with the others, the front part of her helmet sliding back, revealing her face.

"How many of you are running around out there, then?" She asked, having met a few of his Richard forms by now.

"Quite a few." replied Richard. "I've had to make many backup plans. I was aware that my death would likely come eventually, and I had to make precautions."

Daisuke nodded at Richard, readjusting. "Thank you, Richard, for your help. We need to get up to the top of the ship. D and I...well, we have a plan."

Richard nodded. "I guessed your plan. I don't think we should speak it out loud." he warned. "I think that Uriel will be listening. I'll confirm my suspicions."

They felt Richard's voice in their head, asking if his suspicions were, indeed, correct. His voice...felt odd. Cold. Dead, in some ways. Daisuke paused, realising why. Richard was dead. This wasn't him, not exactly. Just a replica of sorts, a shadow.

"That's correct. My lord." Daisuke said, cracking a small joke.

Richard smiled widely in return. "I should ask more people to call me that to my face. They do it so often away from me..." he chuckled. "But I agree. Let us go to the top, where, I believe your sister is...was trapped." he said, his voice sounding sorrowful as he looked at D. "I am so very sorry."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Finding herself inside the Ark, Ciel followed the constant thuds and faint echoes of voices, advancing through the blood and flesh of a God as she tried to catch up with the others, eventually finding them conversing with none other than Yahweh. Blinking as she saw this, she continued approaching from behind until he was right there with the others, the front part of her helmet sliding back, revealing her face.

"How many of you are running around out there, then?" She asked, having met a few of his Richard forms by now.

"Quite a few." replied Richard. "I've had to make many backup plans. I was aware that my death would likely come eventually, and I had to make precautions."

Daisuke nodded at Richard, readjusting. "Thank you, Richard, for your help. We need to get up to the top of the ship. D and I...well, we have a plan."

Richard nodded. "I guessed your plan. I don't think we should speak it out loud." he warned. "I think that Uriel will be listening. I'll confirm my suspicions."

They felt Richard's voice in their head, asking if his suspicions were, indeed, correct. His voice...felt odd. Cold. Dead, in some ways. Daisuke paused, realising why. Richard was dead. This wasn't him, not exactly. Just a replica of sorts, a shadow.

"That's correct. My lord." Daisuke said, cracking a small joke.

Richard smiled widely in return. "I should ask more people to call me that to my face. They do it so often away from me..." he chuckled. "But I agree. Let us go to the top, where, I believe your sister is...was trapped." he said, his voice sounding sorrowful as he looked at D. "I am so very sorry."

D nodded, "O... kay. You two stay inside, work on the instruments in here. I can't say how stable they'll be when such a drastic change is made to their circuitry; given our luck, they'll grow claws and start singing 'Frère'-bloody-'Jacques'. Morning bells are ringing!"

D jumped into the air and tapped the sides of his feet together; jets of fire shot out, propelling him upwards. Pressing the package against his chest, he twisted in the air and flew out of the tunnel. Music, of course, followed him.

Guess I got what I deserved
Kept you waiting there too long, my love

The air peeled around his metal skin, whistling away at speeds unnatural as he carved his way through the winds themselves. It was amazing, truly - D slowed for the first time in a long while to feel the sensation crawl down the synthetic nerves of his stealth suit and into his system.

All that time without a word
Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget or I'd regret
The special love I had for you-

This was it. This was his day. This was the day he won.

His life was fulfilled.

My baby blue!

---

"D - do you think I'll get married one day?"

"Of course, Rosie, if you want to."

"I want you to be there."

D smiled, "I'll be there if you want me to. I'll always be there."

---

All the days became so long
Did you really think, I'd do you wrong?

D approached Rosalind; carefully, he broke her bonds with a laser embedded in his finger. She fell from them and into his arms. Beneath the cold mask of his metal suit, he smiled. He had her now. Gingerly, D shifted Rosalind onto his shoulder and placed the package in her place; magnets inside adhered to the skin of the Godship. The beast within the ship hummed, purred, and began to build up power in response to its new snack.

Dixie, when I let you go
Thought you'd realize that I would know
I would show the special love I have for you-

---

"A man ain't a man unless he protects his family. Without 'em, you're just some asshat roaming the countryside, eatin' up food and wastin' space."

D shifted in his seat, "OK, Dad."

Lewis nodded, "Good."

"But what about... her?"

There was pain in his father's eyes. "I failed your sister. I failed her, but that's OK, because I'm not gonna' fail her again. You're gonna' meet your sister some day, and you're gonna' love her, alright?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And ye'll protect her, just like I tried, right?"

"Of course, Dad."

"You're a good kid, Franklin. Attentive. Damn, I wish I'd been like ye' when I was young."

---

My baby blue!

There was a blast of electricity, tearing through the brown paper around the package, shredding it into nothing. Inside was a glass vial attached to a magnet, two metal bits on the end drawing the electricity inside. The white liquid glowed and pulsed, its information accepted by the ship and broadcast all over the world.

"You needed Rosalind for her DNA!" D shouted, "The transition between human and angel could only be made with the proper genetic mechanism - well, I've got some genes for you right here! And Dai said growing artificial semen was crazy!"

Franklin Damien Jameson had fulfilled both of his legacies and fucked the Omniverse.

He paused. He touched Rosalind's neck tenderly; shallow, her breath was shallow, and her heartbeat was slight. The winds shifted around him. She breathed still, she- but nothing came from mouth. There was nothing in her lips. But she- the winds shifted again, and so did Rosalind. She "breathed" once more.

But it was a lie. A trick of the elements. She drew no more breath. She was cold.

D turned her over and peeled open her eyelids, staring deep into her eyes. They did not answer back; they could not. Her lips had already tinged blue. Her bowels had already loosened. She was paler than he had ever seen her, a real beauty of the Irish style.

"Rosie..." he whispered, "Rosie, wake up. C'mon, don't do this to me."

She slipped in his hands. He scrambled to get a hold of her, finding some grip on the back of her flowing white gown, and she bounced up and down on her makeshift hammock.

"Rosie! Rosie, you can't leave me! Please!"

She slid out of the dress and tumbled, naked, down towards the cruel, unforgiving ground before; her corpse didn't particularly mind.

What can I do, what can I say
Except that I want you by my side

D floated in the air, stunned. The vial continued to glow as the signal was constructed; the instruments inside the Godship reacted violently to this sudden shift, a deep red alarm going off.

How can I show you, show me the way

D turned on Uriel.

He unleashed a hellish cry and flew - exploded - down at the archangel with all the speed his suit could muster. He plummeted with all the force of gravity and rocket science behind him, guided by hate and uncaring of his own fate. Incoherently he wailed, a man bound from hell, unable to form words or find meaning; these concepts were long gone from his mind, unheard of in this new, burning land.

Don't you know the times I've tried?

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Uriel was uncaring of D's mental collapse. He merely slammed his massive black fist into the oncoming boy's face.

However, the sheer force of D's attack still caused Uriel to be slammed back, landing on the ground. A crater formed around them. Uriel grabbed D now, punching him again and again, slamming his face down into the ground. He then growled. "Your sister's dead. Your father is dead. Many of your unspoken half-brothers and sisters are dead. Your mother will soon die. And then you will die. This is an inevitability, unless you embrace the new order."

"Get the fuck off him." growled Calliel, slamming his fist into Uriel's face. He roundhouse kicked Uriel in the chest, causing the angel to double over.

The vial's lightning continued sparking.

"The fuck's happening?" asked Crowley, flying upwards to the Ark, landing upon it. Richard turned to him, and Crowley took a step back. "What the fuck?"

"Contingency plan." Daisuke said. "Richard dead. Shadow, hologram. Not real him." he was saving breath, focusing intently on the vial. "We can't make the process work. Not enough power..."

Crowley and Richard glanced at one another. "Alright then." Crowley muttered, raising a hand. He placed it down on the Ark. "What will we be doing here?"

"Reversing the polarity!" shouted back Daisuke.

---

Crowley's hand glowed a bright red, Richard's glowed a bright blue. They sent energy down into the Ark, a new light starting to fire out of it.

Uriel flew up toward the Ark, Crowley's hand charging with a bright red light, ready to smash him. Daisuke was rapidly tapping away on his computer.

"What's going on?" asked Richard tersely. Crowley frowned, surprised. Richard was always an extremely educated man, but this shadow clearly was not.

"We've got this under control!" yelled Daisuke.

"That's bullshit!" Crowley retorted.

"I thought you might appreciate it if I gave you the impression I knew what was happening. We could panic of course, but where would that get us?" asked Daisuke, turning to look at Crowley. This was a mistake.

Uriel viciously grabbed Daisuke's neck, ripping his head from his body. The robotic body of Daisuke shut down. In Elfen High, the Japanese American man's eyes widened. "Fuck!"

Crowley looked at Uriel, who was about to punch the vial, to confirm that it would completely shatter. Crowley leaped at his brother, while Richard continued powering the Ark.

In an impulsive move, Crowley kicked Uriel off the Ark. The blue light started to cover everyone, all the angels...who noticed something new.

Their bodies began to change. They changed back.

---

"We were human, originally." explained Lucifer to Gilgamesh, sharing a drink with the ancient human king and warrior. "We come from the same root, the two of us. My father, Yahweh, used magic and ingenuity to create a new species. Angels."

Gilgamesh frowned. "So, why did he do that?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted his own world, a perfect world. He was a bit of a perfectionist, my father. In my brothers and I, the archangels, he allowed for emotion and creativity. We've used those gifts, some more than others." Lucifer gestured at his guitar. "I can create music. Any angel can play the guitar, but only some can create music."

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Play me a song."

Lucifer picked up his guitar.
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner

---

The blue light blew across the universes, hitting all the angels. They stopped in their tracks,

Crowley watched Uriel on the ground, his body twisting and writhing, just like every other angel. But all the others were hit by something else suddenly - emotions. The block dissolved very suddenly, and they had no expectation of it. It crashed into them like an Indian train into a boulder of elephant shit during a monsoon. There would be consequences.

Uriel stood up, unlike the other angels. He walked over Calliel's own screaming body, and pulled out a sniper rifle as the blue light began to disappear. It had done its work. The ship began to slowly power down, Richard's image flickering. There was a wide smile on the man's face, as he gave Crowley a hug before fading away.

"I am so proud of you." he whispered. Then he was gone.

Crowley just barely dodged a sudden bullet fired from the ground, Uriel's attack with his sniper rifle.

As the angels adjusted to their sudden second transformation, Crowley looked down at himself. He had been inside the Ark the whole time. He had not transformed.

There was a tremendous irony in him being the sole angel left in the world.

---

"Earth." Lucifer said in posh Hebrew, with an expressive gesture. Michael, Uriel and Raphael looked down at the planet below them, visible through an illusion. "This is the world where the humans reside, where our own roots are. There's a war going on there, you know." said Lucifer, quite importantly. He looked like a twenty year old now, tall and strong, taller than his younger siblings, who still looked quite like boys.

Uriel looked down as well. "What are they doing there?" asked the curious lad, seeing the flares of orange across the massive continent that made up the whole of the planet.

"A war." Lucifer said, his face turning dark and pensive. "A deadly one, raging on right now. They're fighting enemies, Father's ancient enemies. The Lords and the Ladies."

"Who're they, Lucy?" asked Raphael, his feet swinging in his chair.

"Monsters." Lucifer replied patiently. "Ancient monsters. Creatures who are just old and angry. They want to end us all, to burn us all. That cannot be allowed." he said.

Throughout this, Michael stayed silent. Michael often was silent. He did the work he was asked, but was content to stay in the background. Very nearly quite like the normal angels, not like his fellow archangels.

Uriel's eyes were wide, soaking in every word. Raphael was too young to truly understand them.

Lucifer was worried. He kneeled down, looking at his brothers. "I may have to go down there. May have to go to war, or to look for Father. He hasn't come back yet. Uriel..." he addressed his brother. "Can you look after this place while I'm gone? Govern it like Father would have wanted?"

---

Crowley felt the whole of Heaven begin to shake. Uriel's face was not one of a man who was on the verge of tears, or of a mental collapse, or any of that. It was the face of a calculating man, not unlike a man who had found that his preferred route to escape a monsoon was currently blocked by the aforementioned train crash with the elephant dung.

Uriel looked at Crowley slowly. In actuality, his head had turned around quite quickly, but time seemed to have slowed down for Crowley. It's not unusual during times of crisis for someone to feel the world start to slow, to distance themselves from the current situation. Crowley was seeing the world in a different way now, as though he were slowly moving through a video game.

Again, Heaven shook. Rick Sanchez's eyes slowly opened, as he noticed that he suddenly could feel again, could think again...

There were horrified and ungodly screams and shrieks from many of the angels, who had never known emotion. They could not cope with it at all. Calliel shook some, quietly trying to reassure them, to show them that things were alright, it would be fine...

Then Heaven broke. The vast landscape shattered into dozens of pieces, all starting to fall into the black void below...

Crowley fell off the Ark, which had started to crack. He fell down, near Uriel, who fired away at him now with an assault rifle. Crowley redirected the bullets, sending them flying away. He hit Uriel once, sending the now human man down.

Heaven was falling.

He needed to deal with that. His eyes zoomed over, looking at everything. Grunting, he raised a hand. He began to select the entirety of the dimension. He focused hard...

---

"So, how old are you?" asked Lucifer to the old orc king.

The king laughed. "Oh, so very old, child." he wheezed, the wounds in his body bleeding. Lucifer regretted placing them there, as this king had been a worthy adversary and an arguably good man, though he had to fall. All things, when they had outlived their purpose, had to fall. It was an inevitability. "I remember when your precious Earth was just molten fire and metal...I remember when the continents were not what they are now...I remember the man who would later become the Faery King...I remember so very much, Morningstar."

Lucifer sighed. "I do this not because I wish to..."

---

Crowley took a breath...and then they moved.

Not physically. But they were suddenly in the human dimension, as Heaven kept falling. Crowley collapsed to the ground, panting and exhausted, pushing the other pieces of Heaven away from his immediate presence, and the people on them. The vortex was now underneath his own portion, floating just off the ground, not harming anyone else.

They would live. He saw pieces of Heaven slam into the ocean just off the Canadian province of Gibraltar. With a lazy hand, he managed to keep the ocean and fall from immediately killing everyone, but Earth now had a new string of islands in the Atlantic.

"Heaven on Earth." he muttered, exhausted.

"Our best chance against the Lords and Ladies was this." said a familiar voice quietly. Crowley realised that on their small floating portion of Heaven, it was just him and Uriel, with the Falls behind them, as well as the vortex below them. Normally, with Uriel's power down, this would not be an issue...but Crowley was exhausted. His magic and healing were severely weakened with his recent act. He felt internal bleeding due to the sheer pressure, and he could feel blood from an exploded vein in his head.

Uriel slashed at Crowley with a knife, but his older brother grabbed the knife with his left hand, twisting Uriel's arm and throwing it aside. Then he punched Uriel in the gut with the other hand. With his left hand, Crowley smashed Uriel's knife wielding hand on the ground when his now human brother went down. "You think I would believe you would attack me just like that if you didn't have a backup?" asked Crowley triumphantly, chuckling as another knife slipped out of Uriel's sleeve, falling out into the vortex below. It was a brutal knife too - crafted in dragonscale. It could have been quite fatal, unlike the common metal knife that Uriel was originally attacking with.

He placed a hand over Uriel's throat. "I will do what's necessary to protect this world." he vowed. "From you, or from the Lords and Ladies. Understood?" he growled, ready to choke his brother to death...but he made an error. "Any last words?"

Uriel gave a genuine laugh, the first that Crowley had seen from his brother in such a very long time....

He glared. "What?" he barked.

"I am a prepared man, elder brother." he said, sounding entirely sincere. "I would be a man who would keep more than one knife." he gave a smile. "You were quite right."

Crowley saw what was coming, but was too late.

"I got three knives, brother."

Crowley felt a dragonscale knife slice his throat, and he started falling down into the vortex. Before he fell away, he grabbed Uriel, his hands on his throat still, choking his brother. Observers would see Uriel go limp, but they would also see Crowley's eyes flutter as he loosened his grip...

He looked up, seeing the faces of his remaining students as he fell down into the vortex. He was reminded of a conversation, long before...

---

Crowley looked up, seeing Minh in his office. "What do you need, son?" he asked, not paying the boy - he would always be a boy to him- too much mind. He was looking more at the extremely good request he had been given to try and banish Piers Morgan from Europe, to force the Americans to deal with him. This was a proposition that Crowley was very willing to get behind.

"Err, well..." Minh fidgeted. "Headmaster, why did you pick me from my home in Russia?" asked the now young man, whose English was almost completely British, but still had considerable Russian influences in his English, shown by his hesitation and slowness between words.

"Well, we're always trying to help out kids." said Crowley, a bit surprised by the question. Kids normally did not just ask him why they were taken. "You could have caused some damage with your powers then, after all."

The young man sat down in the chair in front of Crowley. "I suppose I could have." he admitted. "I was a bit of an aggressive cunt when I got here."

Crowley laughed out loud. "That's a very true point." he grinned. "You quite were. But you aren't now, are you? You keep running You always do. Remember that, I'll definitely remind you if I need to." he said.

Minh smiled, guessing he would hear those words frequently in the future. He looked at Crowley nervously. "Al...I'm going to be a father." he said.

Crowley blinked. "That's bloody wonderful news! Blimey, you're going to be a father? This calls for a drink!" he said, waving his hand as various types of alcoholic beverages appeared on the table. "Cor, that's fantastic!"

Minh shook his head. "You don't see it, Al." he explained. "I don't know if I can do it..."

Crowley chuckled. "Look, mate...you can handle anything. You've dealt with quite a lot of shit. Something mundane as married life shouldn't break you. Hell, I've had a lot of those." he shrugged.

"Did you ever love any of them? Had any kids?" asked Minh. Crowley looked back blankly, as a memory returned to him, before being brutally smashed down.

"Never been much of a concern." he said briskly. "Never had any kids."

Minh gave a thin smile, guessing there was a lie. He extended a hand to his old friend. "Thanks, Al. I'll try my best."

Crowley chuckled, but instead pulled Minh into a hug.

---

He had kids now, he realised. He might not have been a good protector, but he had always known deep down that he would wind up dying for this world and his school if needed. And it looked like he had.

He tried to say something, but his slashed throat made it impossible. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, raising an arm out as he and some nearby unfortunates (like a few Androids) fell into the vortex.

Then there was a thundering slamming noise as the vortex shut.

My time is drawing thinner...
I'm just a tired old sinner...

---

"He's gone." said Calliel, sounding utterly stunned, looking down at his human form as changed angels slowly got up. "Our race have ended." he looked at the massive sea of islands now across the Atlantic. "...God."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"He's gone." said Calliel, sounding utterly stunned, looking down at his human form as changed angels slowly got up. "Our race have ended." he looked at the massive sea of islands now across the Atlantic. "...God."

Aziraphale drew his arms close, hugging himself, and exhaled; he could see his breath, goosebumps on his skin. He was... cold. Not an angelic cold, the consciousness of a lack of heat, but a real human cold. He felt it in his bones. He felt in his skins. He could even taste it in his move. Such sensory depth this species had - it would take some time.

He extended his arms out before him, very slowly - partly so he could inspect his hands (seemingly unchanged), and partly because they were so much heavier now. He could feel it; the bones were thicker, all filled with marrow and calcium instead of the hollow metals he had lived his whole life with, and the skin wore a secret coat of thick fat. He blinked, his eyes adjusted. His vision blurred just a bit, the precision of an angel's eyes lost, but so much more color gained. Had the humans always seen like this? So bright and beautiful? The sun rose above the sky, and for the first time - for new eyes and new spirit - he saw the burning ball of plasma paint the air all manners of oranges and purples. He took a deep breath, pulling the scent of the salt sea deep against his heart, and exhaled. A crisp sense of smell, angels had never had that.

And then he willed - he willed all the way from his gut, up to his shoulders, down his arms, and out his fingers. For the first time in his long, long life, no ice sprang up to meet his fingertips, no magic spark and kindled to his will. Nothing. The whispers of the engulfing mist, the magic the angels had been so attuned to and had called "Father" and "Lord", they no longer answered him.

At last.

His face suddenly felt hot. And wet. Water ran down his cheeks, so cold they were, and warmed them to a rosy red. Was this crying? Was this what it was like for them? It was not so bad.

"Oh, my friend," he said, shaking, "our race is not ended. It's just begun."

He straightened his collar. Black. Black wasn't very bright, now was it? It wouldn't do.

"Amazing grace," he noted, smiling wide, "Uriel is dead."

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien stared down into the vortex, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. He wanted to look away, but something kept him looking back. It was probably Don Quixote, but Damien blamed most of his problems on the Spanish so that was up for debate. Tears streamed down his cheek as he remembered the time he spent with Crowley. A lot of it was insults and threats, but there were the other times; times like the Mumbai Jet Ski Competition.

He lowered himself onto his rear and curled into a ball as he wept. "Al, you fuck..." he muttered as he buried his face into his arms.

[Astrolinium]

When Heaven landed, Peter and Caspian were clinging to one another. They looked around in awe at the sight that now confronted them, and Caspian pulled Peter closer.

Peter's brow furrowed. "The world is changed," he said.

Caspian snorted. "Yeah, I think that... that might be a bit of an understatement."

Then he held out the mock Excalibur, examining it. "It's time you had a name, sword. I'll name you... Ἄγγελος. Messenger."

---

Meanwhile, it's time we caught up with two other character who, despite their absence throughout the entirety of this arc, had still very much been at Elfen High.

Of course, they had been completely and utterly forgotten by Crowley -- because why would he remember them? -- and so Parnell and Gay Eric were only just now human again.

They stared at each other briefly before pulling into a passionate embrace, lips locking together, sealing their unity once more.

They also happened to be on the same bit of continent as Damien. Now, the shock of Damien's return was over -- though Parnell and Eric had only been footsoldiers, they were very much already aware of his return.

So when the kiss ended and Eric noticed his old roommate sitting there forlorn, the couple exchanged the briefest of glances and Parnell nodded. Eric walked over the Damien and motioned to put a hand on his shoulder, but then abandoned that idea halfway through.

He walked a little bit more and stood next to him, about to sit down with him, but then decided against that too. He coughed softly and then just said, "It'll... hey, Damien, um, need a friend?"

Fuck, he thought, it's a good thing I'm already married, because I'm awful at other people.

---

Peter looked out over the ocean and then at Caspian. He smiled at said, "Do you think it's over?"

Caspian shook his head. "It's never over. And even when it is, it won't be for me."

For the rest of his life, he would be getting pulled out of time to witness himself die over and over again, and he was always heading towards that death, every step, every breath, every kiss, every sunset.

Even if this was the happy ending -- which he doubted -- it would never be over for Caspian Lawrence.

[Nude East Ireland]

He walked a little bit more and stood next to him, about to sit down with him, but then decided against that too. He coughed softly and then just said, "It'll... hey, Damien, um, need a friend?"

Fuck, he thought, it's a good thing I'm already married, because I'm awful at other people.

Damien looked up to Eric and let out a sigh.

"Considering that my old friend just died saving the world... yeah. I could use one of those," he replied. He closed his eyes and stretched into a laying position. When he opened his eyes again he saw the sun and the clouds above him moving by slowly. His body might have been human, but his eyes were dragon. And every soul inside of his body - those that were left, of course - could see the sun and the sky and many of them were happy. He couldn't speak for Quixote, who seemed to maintain some kind of autonomy. It was the power of these remaining souls that changed Damien. By taking the souls into himself he lowered a barrier, allowing them to influence him. The souls of many innocents and many kind people began to change the English boy into a less sadistic and perverted individual. Perhaps he would never fully change, but this would be a start.

He looked again at Eric. He struggled onto his feet and looked up at his former roommate, who was at this point both older and taller than Damien. He slowly walked closer to Eric before wrapping his arms around the man's waist and pulling him tightly into an embrace.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry for anything I may have done in the past. I was... different. Things were different. I don't even know what the world is like anymore - loads of things have changed. Including me."

After sliding away from Eric, Damien managed to form a bit of a smile.

[Astrolinium]

He walked a little bit more and stood next to him, about to sit down with him, but then decided against that too. He coughed softly and then just said, "It'll... hey, Damien, um, need a friend?"

Fuck, he thought, it's a good thing I'm already married, because I'm awful at other people.

Damien looked up to Eric and let out a sigh.

"Considering that my old friend just died saving the world... yeah. I could use one of those," he replied. He closed his eyes and stretched into a laying position. When he opened his eyes again he saw the sun and the clouds above him moving by slowly. His body might have been human, but his eyes were dragon. And every soul inside of his body - those that were left, of course - could see the sun and the sky and many of them were happy. He couldn't speak for Quixote, who seemed to maintain some kind of autonomy. It was the power of these remaining souls that changed Damien. By taking the souls into himself he lowered a barrier, allowing them to influence him. The souls of many innocents and many kind people began to change the English boy into a less sadistic and perverted individual. Perhaps he would never fully change, but this would be a start.

He looked again at Eric. He struggled onto his feet and looked up at his former roommate, who was at this point both older and taller than Damien. He slowly walked closer to Eric before wrapping his arms around the man's waist and pulling him tightly into an embrace.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry for anything I may have done in the past. I was... different. Things were different. I don't even know what the world is like anymore - loads of things have changed. Including me."

After sliding away from Eric, Damien managed to form a bit of a smile.

Eric looked down at Damien. He barely looked like he'd aged a day since that first day at Elfen High...

Eric was taken aback slightly by the smile. He had not expected such a cordial greeting from some kid - the guy looked at least a couple of years younger than Eric - who was sneaking around a girls' locker room. So Eric's return smile was a bit forced.

But then, Eric had gotten good at forcing smiles over the years. His first instinct was to extend an amiable hand, but he thought he'd seen the kid - this "James" - zipping his pants back up. This usually meant, in Eric's experience, that he didn't actually want to touch the other person's hand. So instead, he responded somewhat awkwardly, "I'm Eric Manischewitz. I can whistle real well."

"Cool," 'James' replied. "Maybe you can help with those mutated rats that roam the hallways in-between classes. Did they drop an atomic bomb here? Why are there mutations? Or maybe they're magical. Meh. I'm not magic. Born and raised in England. Luckily I had enough money to come here, being the heir to a, uh, Canadian oil company. We're planning to rename it 'Pollution, Eh?' So, how about we get out of here before the soccer team gets back."

'James' picked up a pair of purple panties, and stuffed them into his pocket. He looked at Eric, holding out a pair of pink and white ones. "Want some?"

Eric hugged back, ruffled Damien's hair in a paternal fashion and tried very, very hard not to think about the fact that they'd had sex, probably more than once.

"And yet," Eric said, "you look like you haven't changed a bit. Cruel ironies, maybe?"

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien looked up to Eric and let out a sigh.

"Considering that my old friend just died saving the world... yeah. I could use one of those," he replied. He closed his eyes and stretched into a laying position. When he opened his eyes again he saw the sun and the clouds above him moving by slowly. His body might have been human, but his eyes were dragon. And every soul inside of his body - those that were left, of course - could see the sun and the sky and many of them were happy. He couldn't speak for Quixote, who seemed to maintain some kind of autonomy. It was the power of these remaining souls that changed Damien. By taking the souls into himself he lowered a barrier, allowing them to influence him. The souls of many innocents and many kind people began to change the English boy into a less sadistic and perverted individual. Perhaps he would never fully change, but this would be a start.

He looked again at Eric. He struggled onto his feet and looked up at his former roommate, who was at this point both older and taller than Damien. He slowly walked closer to Eric before wrapping his arms around the man's waist and pulling him tightly into an embrace.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry for anything I may have done in the past. I was... different. Things were different. I don't even know what the world is like anymore - loads of things have changed. Including me."

After sliding away from Eric, Damien managed to form a bit of a smile.

Eric looked down at Damien. He barely looked like he'd aged a day since that first day at Elfen High...

Eric was taken aback slightly by the smile. He had not expected such a cordial greeting from some kid - the guy looked at least a couple of years younger than Eric - who was sneaking around a girls' locker room. So Eric's return smile was a bit forced.

But then, Eric had gotten good at forcing smiles over the years. His first instinct was to extend an amiable hand, but he thought he'd seen the kid - this "James" - zipping his pants back up. This usually meant, in Eric's experience, that he didn't actually want to touch the other person's hand. So instead, he responded somewhat awkwardly, "I'm Eric Manischewitz. I can whistle real well."

"Cool," 'James' replied. "Maybe you can help with those mutated rats that roam the hallways in-between classes. Did they drop an atomic bomb here? Why are there mutations? Or maybe they're magical. Meh. I'm not magic. Born and raised in England. Luckily I had enough money to come here, being the heir to a, uh, Canadian oil company. We're planning to rename it 'Pollution, Eh?' So, how about we get out of here before the soccer team gets back."

'James' picked up a pair of purple panties, and stuffed them into his pocket. He looked at Eric, holding out a pair of pink and white ones. "Want some?"

Eric hugged back, ruffled Damien's hair in a paternal fashion and tried very, very hard not to think about the fact that they'd had sex, probably more than once.

"And yet," Eric said, "you look like you haven't changed a bit. Cruel ironies, maybe?"

"I suppose," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks.

He let out a slight giggle, as he returned his hair to as it was before - which was messier than Eric made it. He remembered that the two had often had sex many years ago. But for the sake of both of them, he decided not to mention it. He turned to Parnell and gave a friendly wave. "I'm not sure if we met. Eric and I went to Elfen High together. Maybe, uh, we could get some tea together sometime. I mean, if we kill Oberon."

[Astrolinium]

Parnell smiled. "I'm Parnell. Eric's told me a lot of stories about you -- you two roomed together for some time, didn't you? I'm not much of a tea man, but I think most shops that sell that sort of thing have smoothies as well these days, anyway."

Eric grinned. "Assuming we kill this Oberon fellow, who I admittedly don't know much about, but he's clearly a Shakespeare reference, which makes him a very bad thing, probably. Yeah. Actually, to be honest, I could really go for Mexican food. Or Spanish food -- that might be closer at the moment."

[Constaniana]

William slid Excalibur back into its scabbard, silently gazing out at the newborn islands. The sheer magnitude of what had happened left him at a loss for words. Uriel was dead. Heaven was dead. The race of Angels was dead. Crowley was dead. That last one was hard to accept. He was expecting the headmaster to whip out a senzu bean or two and have some magic famous person bail him out, and then they'd all go home to have tea or something. But it hadn't turned out that way. Crowley's luck had run dry after all these years. Crowley was dead, along with his younger brother, his birthplace, and his species.

But Man lived. All but a handful of the humans had been erased in an instant, irresistibly transformed into Uriel's loyal subjects not an hour earlier. It had been so hard to cling to hope, to keep calm and carry on, to not just break down and cry. But now William permitted himself a few tears of joy. Not too many, but far more than he ordinarily did. His kind was free again. Free to love and smile and punch people and get pregnant or pee in the ocean or eat ice cream for breakfast or whatever they felt like. Hilde was right, in a way. Humanity was bloody fantastic. Not fantastic enough to warrant killing all the other species or anything that extreme, but he was proud of being one. The knight glanced around the room, wondering what to do with the ship now.

"So...what's next?" He asked no one in particular.

[Nude East Ireland]

William slid Excalibur back into its scabbard, silently gazing out at the newborn islands. The sheer magnitude of what had happened left him at a loss for words. Uriel was dead. Heaven was dead. The race of Angels was dead. Crowley was dead. That last one was hard to accept. He was expecting the headmaster to whip out a senzu bean or two and have some magic famous person bail him out, and then they'd all go home to have tea or something. But it hadn't turned out that way. Crowley's luck had run dry after all these years. Crowley was dead, along with his younger brother, his birthplace, and his species.

But Man lived. All but a handful of the humans had been erased in an instant, irresistibly transformed into Uriel's loyal subjects not an hour earlier. It had been so hard to cling to hope, to keep calm and carry on, to not just break down and cry. But now William permitted himself a few tears of joy. Not too many, but far more than he ordinarily did. His kind was free again. Free to love and smile and punch people and get pregnant or pee in the ocean or eat ice cream for breakfast or whatever they felt like. Hilde was right, in a way. Humanity was bloody fantastic. Not fantastic enough to warrant killing all the other species or anything that extreme, but he was proud of being one. The knight glanced around the room, wondering what to do with the ship now.

"So...what's next?" He asked no one in particular.

"Now," said the familiar voice of Anton as he rose. He had finally recovered from his wounds and now stood in awe as his good friend Aleister was gone. He held the Crowley name, but he could never hold it with the same spirit as the man himself. He let out a sigh.

"We rebuild."

He patted William on the shoulder and smiled. "You're a good kid. Brave too. It's been a pleasure."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ciel had watched all of what had elapsed with her eyes wide open, feeling helpless and unable to intervene in any meaningful way, despite the powerful artifact that now covered her. The cylinder and the consequences of its use, she did not yet understand. She was too late in noticing that Uriel had entered the Ark, and too slow to stop him from ripping off the head of Daisuke's robotic body, almost screaming at the sight, her shock only partially diminished when she saw the wires and sparks coming from the now beheaded machine. When everything began to shake violently, as if something was breaking, Ciel quickly jumped out of the Ark, believing that she would do no more good inside than she could do outside, and it was then that she saw them, hundreds of humans writhing on the ground and hundreds more looking around, confused, all of them in a field of fallen warriors.

And then Heaven shattered. Confused, lacking an understanding of what was going on, she could only watch as the void beneath drew closer and closer...

And turned into a blue ocean. With eyes still wide open, the girl looked around, trying to get her bearings, noticing that she was back on Earth when she looked up at the sky, recognizing it as that of the world she had come to call home. She stood up and looked around, and it was then that she saw Crowley and Uriel, both battered, both falling into the abyss. Not thinking, she quickly threw herself forward, the power of her hybrid armor carrying her through the air towards the two of them.

But not a moment after she had jumped, the sound of thundercrash tore through the air, and where there were two dying brothers and a black vortex, now there was naught but endless blue. The voices all around her, they confirmed to her what had just happened: Uriel was dead now, and so was Crowley. Heaven was a place on Earth now, and the human race continued to exist, unlike that of the angels.

Not knowing what else to do, or who else to talk to, or where else to go, Ciel, still hovering in the air, began to fly towards the shard of Heaven, now embedded into the Atlantic Ocean, where Elfen High rested. Slowly, she floated over the ocean, still trying to make sense of things, to clear her mind. So very much had just happened, and so quickly, too. Once she arrived at the school, she ran through the hallways, finding her way to the laboratory where she believed Daisuke would be.

"Dai?" She called out.

---

Alastor continued fighting the ever-growing army of angels that had arrive at the Falls. He was in the process of embedding his sword into one of them, when all of the sudden the blue light enveloped every angel in existence, forcing a reverse transformation, turning them all into humans, whether they were humans originally or not. The Demon Lord saw all of this as he looked all around, and then looked down at his sword, and the human who was now impaled on it. With a sigh, he withdrew his blade, letting the man fall to the ground, dead. "How very awkward." He said dryly.

He then felt Heaven shatter, shards of the landscape falling rapidly towards the black vortex below. But instead of doing anything to try to prevent this, the demonic intruder merely looked up at the sky. "Interesting." He spoke to no one in particular. And before long, the sky changed, reflecting the change between the dimension they were in before and the one they now inhabited, that of Earth.

When everything was over, the Demon Lord looked at the scene for a few more moments, unmoving. Crowley, the Devil, was dead, and so was the ruler of Heaven. God was dead. The entire angel race was gone. Heaven was gone as well. He was not too sure of how to feel about that. He supposed there was some bliss to be had, for Heaven would never threat Hell ever again. Angels were no longer something to worry about, and the humans owed him not only for his help during the Abrahamic War, but for his participation in this reverse crusade as well. With these developments, Hell was likely to prosper, he believed. That was good. For a ruler, that was wonderful, and Alastor, as a ruler, was glad for it.

And yet, as an individual, he could not avoid feeling... Odd. So very odd. This situation was never something he had expected to go through.

Summoning his hellish mare, the Demon Lord climbed up on it and slowly guided it with one hand, his other one bleeding profusely from the stress, as it had been reattached only temporarily. A permanent fix would have to be found later. Ignoring this, he called up one of his men, instructing him to tell everyone that the battle was over, and to tend to any wounded soldiers, demonic or human. Afterwards, he rode up to the others, finding himself next to two former angels, though not addressing either of them directly.

"Now this is just embarassing." The Demon Lord remarked, a hint of forlornness in his otherwise humored and once again human-like voice. "In whose name will I have to swear from now on?"

---

With a loud crash, the Dragonslayer landed on one of the newborn islands in the Atlantic Ocean, barely avoiding breaking his bones as he had many times before. He was used to falling from great heights by now, thankfully. It was a shame that the dragons had to disappear so soon, though. He'd barely had enough time to harvest a few scales from them, scales which now accompanied his first one, the proof of his first victory.

Walking by himself, he went up to the edge of the island, looking out at the sea and the string of islands which were a part of Earth now. From the skies, he had seen everything transpire, first from atop the dragon's back, and then as he fell through the air once the dragons disappeared, no longer sustained by Uriel's power. Crowley, was it? That was the name of that man, the one who killed Uriel and saved the human race.

A man who had managed to give his life in order to save the world. That was a feat easier said than done, and he deserved all of Frederick's respect for that. He had been trying for a while, after all, but so far, he'd had no luck.

"What a day." The dragonslayer said to himself, before sitting down, silently staring out at the sea.

[Constaniana]

Now," said the familiar voice of Anton as he rose. He had finally recovered from his wounds and now stood in awe as his good friend Aleister was gone. He held the Crowley name, but he could never hold it with the same spirit as the man himself. He let out a sigh.

"We rebuild."

He patted William on the shoulder and smiled. "You're a good kid. Brave too. It's been a pleasure."

"Oh, thanks. The same with you. Except the kid bit; you're obviously older than me..." Sir William trailed off, scratching the back of his head in silence for a few moments. "Speaking of building, what do you think the chances of getting a holiday villa on those islands are before everyone else tries getting them?" He mused.

[Nationstatelandsville]

" Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side,
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide."

Slowly - almost cautiously - the coffin, simple black wood and finely polished, was lowered into the ground. Empty though it was, the process was treated with the same delicacy as any other burial. Megan stood by the side of the ditch and watched it fall into the earth dispassionately. Aziraphale stood to her side, looking about the crowd for a face of true mourning; amongst the staff and students of Elfen High, their godly allies, and a few shady figures whose names had not been spoken since the long-gone days of Black Tongues and old nights, very few seemed actually to grieve for the dead man.

Not that he was a man. He was the last of them who could have said that, and now there were no angels left in the world.

"You do not seem very depressed," Aziraphale whispered to the Headmistress.

"I have lost many things in this world already," Megan replied, "It's hard to find the space for him."

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh, Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so!

"The song was his idea," Megan said, "Said a priest didn't seem appropriate."

"He planned this?"

"No - but he drank, and I listened. I don't think he thought he would ever die."

Aziraphale suppressed a laugh, "I didn't think he could."

"But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me;"

"What about you?" Megan asked, "No tears for a lost friend?"

Aziraphale sighed, "From my point-of-view, Aleister Crowley has been dead for thousands of years."

"I think he would agree."

"And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!"

The choir - some of the few who bothered to seem sad - stopped. The song ended. All songs end, and most of them are forgotten before the next even begins. Lazarian wiped a big, sad tear from his eye and pushed the dirt over Crowley's fresh grave, a grave which did not even contain its owners, and another song ended with it. Thus was the funeral of Aleister Crowley, a hastily-planned affair just as the rest of his life; in some part because very few could quite understand he was dead.

One stayed behind in the graveyard, the old widow who had danced this dance so many times before. Megan glanced at her husband's grave one last time, sighed, and continued on home. She was too exhausted to mourn, even for him.

---

"...and so that's why Crowley's thumb's in a pickle jar in Edinburgh," Zeus finished, taking a long sip from his ale. A good brew it was, Nordic, strong and stout; and it was no doubt responsible for the plethora of laughs he gained from a story that, when sober, was more depressing than anything. He would have to acquire a casket of it from Odin before they left.

"Did I ever tell anyone of you about the time Crowley and I stopped by Constantinople for Apollo's wedding?" slurred Anansi; Nordic beer was a bit much for some, and Anansi had always been petite.

"Which one?" Artemis laughed.

Ganesh shifted in his seat, eying the gods nervously. His wine slipped from his sweaty palms and spilled over the tablecloth, prompting profuse swearing in seven tongues.

"More wine, sir?" offered a voice. Ganesh flinched; after a moment's heavy breathing, he brought himself back as close to his senses as he could, and nodded silently. He had not spoken all night, seeming rather uncomfortable at his father's suggestion that a cat had his tongue. "Cat" only just began to cover it.

Megan sat at the head of the table, a table full of feasting gods, and drank quietly. What was it about immortality that it so easily translated to drunkenness? And what was it about drunkenness that translated so easily into forced hospitality? The students and staff, at least, had been saved.

On the other hand, their fate was very probably much worse.

---

"Stage! Theater! Drama! The single most... brilliant! expression of human emotion to ever be devised. And what better way to mourn?"

Aziraphale drily noted that there were many, many better ways, but kept such thoughts to himself. It was best to let the man tire himself out; hopefully they would not have to sit through a considerable amount of the play to do that. All the assembled masses of Elfen High were there, on threat of suspension (or for those who were already suspended, which was most, teaching Laz to tie his shoes). A captive audience - if Megan wanted them dead that badly, she could have just gassed them.

"In the honor of our fallen headmaster," Nick Bottom, dressed in his most extravagant red cape, "I give you - the Elfen High Players in.... THE LION KING!"

The curtain peeled back and, however briefly, Aziraphale contemplated suicide.

---

There's a man in a grave, slumbering in a prison of wood buried five feet into the earth.

The wind blows over him, stirring the grass and crying out his name, and he cries back.

[Constaniana]

William was seated as far back in the theatre as physically possible, for a number of reasons. Firstly, it made the war crime masquerading as a "play" much easier to ignore. Secondly, it made it easier to pop out to go to the loo without having everybody gawking at him while he went past. And thirdly, it allowed the decorated war hero and fearless knight to hide his embarrassing wooly jumper. It was a tacky lime green, with a turtle neck and sleeves that easily went up to his knuckles unless he rolled them back. Snowmen that looked like they had been drawn by some hyperactive teenage otaku were haphazardly sewn all over it, with traits snowmen didn't usually have, like foxtails or stupidly tiny bowler hats or fried chicken masks.

Sir William had been afflicted with this fabric monstrosity for the past several days now after going back to Yorkshire to visit his family again. They were generally miffed that he had missed yet another Christmas, though his mother had kept her little Eddie's "special present" waiting for him. Sir Nilark thought it was a puppy or something. Mrs. Nilark had never been the type to give her children lame Christmas sweaters, but his sister Elizabeth had eagerly insisted on it, and their mum went along with it, thinking it a hilarious idea. William had politely tried the awful thing on, when his mum told him how spiffy he looked in it, and how he should wear it every day at work until he came back to visit again. Sir William didn't want to lie to his mother if she asked if he had worn it like she said he should, so there the knight sat in a horrible wooly jumper.

Let's get this shite-fest over with. I'll sit through the first. ..twenty minutes or so, then nip out to grab Hilde, maybe get a quiet little dinner with her, and then visit home so I can finally get this damn thing off. I suffered through being roommates with Dunefiend; this shouldn't be so hard.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Alastor, King of the demons, Warden of his dimension, Lord of Hell, slumbered peacefully on one of the seats belonging to the back rows of the auditorium, blissfully ignorant of the horrendous play occuring right in front of him, though he would likely have fallen asleep if exposed to it for too long anyway. This demon, he did not sleep, not very often. There were, more often than not, many business to take care of, keeping him occupied. Holding power over a large part of a planet much larger than Earth and with many more problems was a difficult thing, indeed. The War in Heaven, it had been a tiresome endeavour, both mentally and physically. He did not often have to go so close to exerting all of his magical power in a battle at once, much less against a single target, and during that war, Crowley, more or less a friend who was revealed to be the Lucifer that many demons revered and many more feared, had died. It was a tiresome affair, indeed. And after the war was over, even more so. His soldiers, the living ones, were to be rewarded, and the dead were to be collected and thrown into hellfire, as per their traditions. And there was the matter of Lucifer, of course. Long had he mused about it, yet he had not reached a decision on the matter of whether or not he should let any of it be known. That Lucifer had been alive all this time and dwelling among humans might have been a bit of a shocker for many, but now, he was also dead. It was likely not wise to let it be known, but how long would it take demonkind to find out by itself?

And so when the invitation for this little stupid play arrived, Alastor thought that it would do him no harm, arrived at Elfen High's auditorium, sat down in his chair and promptly fell asleep. And in this slumber, he found a temporary reprieve. Of course, his peace was only inner, as he was snoring quite loudly, but no matter. He was probably doing those close to him a favor anyway.

---

Also within the auditorium, though very much awake, was a girl with snow white hair and blue eyes, though one of them was covered by a bandage that she wore on her head. For her, the war in heaven had been a blur. One moment, she barely got out alive from surviving both the Faery King and the Gotterdammerung, and the next she was essentially thrown off a dragon and dropped into enemy territory. She didn't really know what happened afterwards, but when she regained consciousness, she was in Earth, on a brand spanking new chain of islands on the Atlantic Ocean, all of her creatures were either dead or missing after fighting the angels, and there was a nasty wound on the side of her head, though thankfully, aside from that, she was very much untouched, as far as she could tell.

Sitting there, in the auditorium, Lyra very much wished that the head trauma had put her into a coma to spare her this. Sighing, evidently displeased with having to be there, the girl looked to her left and noticed one of the teachers dressed in an objectively ridiculous sweater with some rather funny looking snowmen on it. The giirl was amused by this, much more so than by the awful play she had been looking at moments prior.

"Those are some very interesting clothes Mr. Nilark." She told the knight.

[Nude East Ireland]

"Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba
Sithi uhm ingonyama

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Ingonyama

Siyo Nqoba
Ingonyama
Ingonyama nengw' enamabala"

The beginning of the The Lion King could be called timeless. Damien found himself thinking that it was repetitive; he had heard it more times than he could care to remember, though for the sake of his friends Eric and Parnell he decided to attend. He sat next to Eric, though felt more like a third wheel than a friend. Since he did not care to alter his appearance beyond his sixteenth year, he very well could have been mistaken as their son. He leaned closer to Eric's ear. "I'll be back," he whispered, before rising from his seat and making his way into the aisle. It was always a hassle to get out of a theatre as the show was going.

He made his way towards the back, scanning the dark room. His newfound abilities as a dragon allowed him to see quite well in the dark, allowing him to make out the faces of his friends and peers. He made awkward eye contact with William for a moment, before turning away and reaching the doors. He opened them quietly as he left the room.

"From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high
Through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round"

Anton wrapped his arm around his wife and kissed her cheek as the musical unfolded in front of them. The actors danced as the magical, fake sun rose on the stage. He thought about Aleister, how his death had affected them all. It hung over him like a stormy cloud, yet he knew that it was not in vain; Uriel was dead, there was Heaven on Earth. Life would take time, but eventually it would return to normalcy.

Whatever that was.

"It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
'Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life"

Damien stepped outside of the building and looked into the sky. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He pulled one out with his teeth, before snapping his fingers. A spark from the snap hit the end of the cigarette and lit it. He blew a puff of smoke into the air as he looked above at the clouds.

"I miss you, Al," he spoke quietly. "Everyone does, in some way. I wish... that we could have spent more time together. You were alive for thousands of years, I for sixteen. I wish you could have remembered me in your final moments. I don't know what you remembered. I just hope it was something good. Something happy."

The cigarette fell from Damien's lips and he stomped it into the ground. "I should get back," he muttered. He didn't quite like talking to the dead, but who knows? If Damien Seward came back to life why shouldn't Aleister Crowley?

"It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life"

The applause of the audience sounded through the theatre. The orchestra stopped playing, its conductor laying down his baton for a moment. He sat down on his chair and wiped away the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. He brushed back his blond hair and straightened his black tie.

Music is important.

That's what the conductor thought. His entire life was based around music, after all. And lately, he saw that many songs had begun to end. At first, it seemed like it was the end of the world as we knew it. The anthem of the angels rang throughout the world as they became locked out of Heaven. Aleister Crowley - he knew - was not a man who simply fell while under pressure. He was a wayward son on a highway to Hell, in a world that was a castle of glass. But the world moved on, just as the "Circle of Life" said.

The Demonic Prince smirked, picking up his baton once again.

[Astrolinium]

Eric did not even notice that Damien had left his side -- he was too busy glaring, to be perfectly honest.

His jaw moved from side to side, head jutting forward like a beast of prey, as he breathed in sharply and then whispered, "Look at that, Parnell. Look at the way he conducts it. So inelegant! Practically like he's conducting a marching band! Where's the soul? Where's the feeling? Where's the pain of brutal life on the Serengeti?"

He softly slammed his fist into his palm for emphasis, and an elderly woman with a pearl necklace turned around and eyeballed him. He shrugged as if he had no idea what she meant.

Parnell couldn't help but smile as he took Eric's hand in his own and then placed his other hand over it, squeezing softly. "Try to enjoy the show, Eric."

Eric rolled his eyes. "How can I enjoy it when he's butchering the Broadway adaptation of the single greatest film in the entire Disney canon? I would've done so much better. I can't believe they passed over me -- for some hoity-toity foreign conductor, at that!"

Parnell leaned over and kissed Eric on the cheek. "Babe, we're American. And so also foreign."

Eric blew out, lips flapping briefly like a horse, in a gesture of exasperation. "Don't 'babe' me at a time like this, you know what I mean! It isn't like he's--"

Directly in front of them, the elderly woman with a pearl necklace turned around again and glared, lifting a finger to her lips. Eric and Parnell both shrugged -- Parnell apologetically, Eric as though he had no idea what she meant.

---

Meanwhile, Caspian and Peter were elsewhere. Peter couldn't stand musical theatre, and Caspian didn't much care about it one way or the other. And, you know, he'd been to Elfen High in the future -- Crowley's death hadn't been a shock to him. He hadn't known the specifics, of course, but he'd known it was coming one of these days, and it hadn't been very hard to deduce that it might just happen during the attack on Heaven.

Peter, conversely, hadn't even known the man, and so felt very, very little at his passing.

On the second floor of Elfen High, there is a large window that opens, with the sill forming a ledge large enough to sit on. That is where the two found themselves now, hand in hand, looking up at the sky, a half-drunk glass of wine beside each of them.

Caspian sighed, and his breath formed a small cloud of moisture in the air, floating up, up and away into the night.

"It's almost a new year," he said pensively.

Peter leaned over and rested his head on Caspian's shoulder.

"Yeah," he answered. "It is."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Elfen High was, by now, some hundred-and-thirty-years-old; give or take a century or two. It had officially crossed the threshold from old to Old between the Wars of Hell and Heaven, yet seemed just as new and well-furnished (with beer and hookers) as the day of its opening (if not more so, in regards to the hookers). This was for a simple reason - it was not, in fact, some hundred-and-thirty-years-old, but older than there were years or stars. For, you see, the school was made of a dragon's corpse; and the dragon had never really left its carcass, just taken on a different form of consciousness. This form had come to like its denizens rather much - they cared for it, it cared for them, save a given value of neglect on either side. This consciousness also retained a certain amount of power over the contents of the school, which it had exploited many times before.

Thus, Damien, Caspian, and Peter should not have been terribly surprised when they suddenly found themselves locked in a dark and cramped janitorial closet in the middle of an uninhabited hallway, but they very likely were nonetheless. On the other hand, since Lazarian had taken over for Richard, all janitorial supplies had gradually been consumed to absorb his "cleaning powers" - so, at least, they were being crushed by each other.

"Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba
Sithi uhm ingonyama

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Ingonyama

Siyo Nqoba
Ingonyama
Ingonyama nengw' enamabala"

The beginning of the The Lion King could be called timeless. Damien found himself thinking that it was repetitive; he had heard it more times than he could care to remember, though for the sake of his friends Eric and Parnell he decided to attend. He sat next to Eric, though felt more like a third wheel than a friend. Since he did not care to alter his appearance beyond his sixteenth year, he very well could have been mistaken as their son. He leaned closer to Eric's ear. "I'll be back," he whispered, before rising from his seat and making his way into the aisle. It was always a hassle to get out of a theatre as the show was going.

He made his way towards the back, scanning the dark room. His newfound abilities as a dragon allowed him to see quite well in the dark, allowing him to make out the faces of his friends and peers. He made awkward eye contact with William for a moment, before turning away and reaching the doors. He opened them quietly as he left the room.

"From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high
Through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round"

Anton wrapped his arm around his wife and kissed her cheek as the musical unfolded in front of them. The actors danced as the magical, fake sun rose on the stage. He thought about Aleister, how his death had affected them all. It hung over him like a stormy cloud, yet he knew that it was not in vain; Uriel was dead, there was Heaven on Earth. Life would take time, but eventually it would return to normalcy.

Whatever that was.

"It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
'Til we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life"

Damien stepped outside of the building and looked into the sky. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He pulled one out with his teeth, before snapping his fingers. A spark from the snap hit the end of the cigarette and lit it. He blew a puff of smoke into the air as he looked above at the clouds.

"I miss you, Al," he spoke quietly. "Everyone does, in some way. I wish... that we could have spent more time together. You were alive for thousands of years, I for sixteen. I wish you could have remembered me in your final moments. I don't know what you remembered. I just hope it was something good. Something happy."

The cigarette fell from Damien's lips and he stomped it into the ground. "I should get back," he muttered. He didn't quite like talking to the dead, but who knows? If Damien Seward came back to life why shouldn't Aleister Crowley?

"It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life"

The applause of the audience sounded through the theatre. The orchestra stopped playing, its conductor laying down his baton for a moment. He sat down on his chair and wiped away the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. He brushed back his blond hair and straightened his black tie.

Music is important.

That's what the conductor thought. His entire life was based around music, after all. And lately, he saw that many songs had begun to end. At first, it seemed like it was the end of the world as we knew it. The anthem of the angels rang throughout the world as they became locked out of Heaven. Aleister Crowley - he knew - was not a man who simply fell while under pressure. He was a wayward son on a highway to Hell, in a world that was a castle of glass. But the world moved on, just as the "Circle of Life" said.

The Demonic Prince smirked, picking up his baton once again.

From the entrance of a cave molded of plastic rock emerged a proud lion, who swaggered up to the top of another plastic rock and roared. This was not an actor, but an actual goddamn lion that Bottom had found in the London Zoo and "hired" in the middle of the night. There were four casualties, none of them at the claws of the beast. It was, in fact, rather tame.

Shortly thereafter, Zookeeper 2 had been fired, then beaten in the streets.

The lion was accompanied by a lioness that was not a lioness, but the rather unfortunate pharaoh in a patchwork costume made of burlap sacks. He had very clearly not agreed to this.

The lioness held in "her" arms a swaddled baby lion. As the lioness approached, however, it became increasingly clear this was not, in fact, a lion or even a baby. No, this was Nick Bottom in a blue blanket, his face painted yellow and his teeth filed to a point.

"My son!" came the off-screen voice of James Earl Jones (who had only attended for Crowley's sake), "You will be king of the lions!"

Bottom suddenly jumped from the arms of his mother, who sighed very deeply. "Brilliant! Let us celebrate... with dance!"

And so they did - until they were interrupted.

"FUCK THIS!" screamed the Lewis of a long dead world dubbed "Elfen High 1", who had by now removed a shotgun from under his seat. He loaded it loudly and fired directly into the roof; his countered part from Dwarven High flinched and whimpered. Growling, Lewis leveled the gun at Bottom and fired, directly at his chest.

Bottom screamed. He toppled over dramtically, clutching at heart, green paint seeping between his fingers.

"PAINT WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!" Lewis cried, shooting the backs of the heads of any dumb enough to let him. Those who searched would soon find similar guns under their own chairs.

This was how Aleister Crowley would want to be remembered.

[Constaniana]

"Oh, thanks. It's a Christmas present from my mum..." William mumbled, his cheeks going the same colour as his hair. "What's your name again? Is it...Lisa? Anna? I didn't have you in my class, did I?"

It was at this moment that Lewis shot Bottom, which made Sir Nilark glad. He was less glad about Lewis trying to shoot other people, which included him. William flung the awful jumper off and picked up the paintball assault rifle under his seat. After all, he wouldn't want the "cherished" article of clothing getting stained with all the colours of the rainbow. That, and the tight black tank top was much more suitable for physical activity like a paintball war.

"For King and Country!" He roared, before shooting the people near him that he didn't like.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Hearing the knight justify himself only made Lyra giggle. Christmas present? How cute. Though she supposed it was better than fueling your young daughter's borderline obsession with creepy monsters often based off of the videogames you give to her on occasions such as her birthday and Christmas. Not that she minded, of course, her parents could send her as much as they wanted. It all helped inspire her, after all.

When William asked her name and attempted to guess, the girl giggled once again and shook her head, smiling softly. She was about to reply, but all that got out was "Almost." before the paint war began in a rather unorthodox manner, which, as far as Elfen High is concerned, in fact means a very dull manner. The girl calmly lowered herself to the ground, forfeiting her seat in exchange for greater cover, and then checked underneath out of curiosity, finding a sniper rifle. She looked for several moments at the paintball war artifact with her left eye, the one uncovered by the bandages that were put there to tend to her wound. The irony was not lost on her, not at all.

However, before doing anything else, the girl put the rifle aside and took out her notepad, drawing a fearsome contraption born from the bowels of a twisted mind, before causing it to manifest next to her. Hefting it with some effort, she poked Sir Nilark with it.

"Try using this. And my name is Lyra." She said, still smiling softly as she handed him the mighty paintball gatling gun.

---

Noise. Yes, lots of noise, coming from all around. What was this? Why the hell did it seem as though there was a war in here all of the sudden?

All of these thoughts ran through the mind of the Demon Lord as he was slowly but steadily stirred from his slumber, straightening up in his seat and opening his eyes, only to notice his suit completely drenched in paint of many colors. He looked around and saw hordes of teenagers running around and shooting at each other with paintball guns. They were the ones that had ruined his suit, undoubtedly.

This would not go unpunished.

Rising from his seat, the Lord of Hell snapped his fingers. His form changed immediately, going from a black man in a suit to the fearsome armored creature that ruled over the infernos. Swiftly he retrieved a rifle from under his seat, and, noticing a student next to him doing the same, Alastor knocked him out with a well-planted fist to the face, picking up his rifle as well.

Then, letting out a mighty roar, he began teleporting around the whole auditorium, wielding a rifle in each hand, relentlessly pelting the students with the paintballs coming from them.

[Astrolinium]

Caspian blinked rather confusedly at the sudden scenery change and looked back and forth at the two identical boys now standing before him.

"Oh, this is the start of a bad porno. Which one of you is my b- uh... Peter, and which one of you is the fabulously overly wealthy dragon?"

---

Parnell and Eric exchanged a brief glance before both jumping up, paint rifles at the ready. They glared at each other, circling, Eric climbing up on top of his chair. Their guns were trained on one another intently.

Eric grinned. "Usually you're the one doing all the shooting, dear. It'll be nice to change things up a bit."