Chapter 5 Present Aeon
Present Aeon
Lila found Luc at their former meeting spot at the Southeast Edge of the Void, far to the east of the new construction near the Gates but still too heavily patrolled for Lila’s liking.
In the old times, only an obelisk marked the spot.
Now there were stone watchtowers—empty, currently, from what Lila could see, but she didn’t trust them.
Gone was the practice of shooting paper-filled cannons into the Void.
The walkable perimeter had tightened so much that even if someone had wanted to fall off the edge, it was nearly impossible.
She tried to disappear into the hood of her white cloak and walked rapidly to her destination, narrowly skirting a few guards on the way there. Approaching the obelisk, she circled around it and smacked Luc in the chest with his coded summons.
“I received your message. But we’re not doing this again, so save your messengers for something useful.” She turned and would have fled back to woodworking before she was missed, but Luc latched onto her wrist and yanked her behind the column.
“No, no, no, this isn’t about that. I want your advice.
Remember that project we worked on together during lessons?
” Luc’s hands were as soft as she remembered them, but if he looked down, he’d see that hers now sported the callouses of a warrior where her skin had toughened against the handle of a sword.
If he touched her hands, would he feel their roughness?
“What about it?” Lila snatched her wrist back, surprising herself with her strength.
Luc seemed surprised by it too. He took a moment to study her, his gaze roaming up and down her figure as if he hadn’t seen her for a long time.
She supposed he hadn’t, not up close, though she’d often spotted him inside the Great Hall. Luc was one of the few angels who saw her as a distinct entity, not an extension of Castor. At one time, she’d craved it; now she hated his appraising stare.
“What?” she snapped. “What is it?”
Luc blinked, coming back to himself.
“I’ve presented my Earth idea to the Council a hundred different ways, and they don’t see the point of it.
How would you explain it to them? I could show you all the work I’ve done on it in the past aeon.
” He gestured demonstratively, though less enthusiastically than he would have during lessons.
Back then, he’d radiated a feverish energy when he spoke about his plans.
Their plans. Now, he was more subdued as he explained, “I’ve expanded everything.
The landforms, the creatures, the plant types…
They’re all interconnected in a series of ecosystems. Rainforests, deserts, tundras… ”
‘Ecosystems?’ Lila mouthed as he continued rambling. She didn’t understand half of the words tumbling from his mouth and only vaguely remembered the other half from the times they used to sit at the edge of the Void, dreaming up names for their experimental concepts.
“Also, there are more systems now, not just the one. I call the whole project ‘Universe,’” he finished, searching Lila for some sort of confirmation. Understanding, perhaps. Or sympathy. He could hardly expect her to muster passion after so much time.
In this aeon, they were civil, but they were hardly cordial.
They certainly weren’t familiar as they had once been, and she didn’t understand why he wanted her opinion.
As a member of the highest Council, he surely had more educated and experienced angels at his disposal than the common carpenter angel he’d taught to draw blueprints over an aeon ago.
She’d thought, perhaps, he’d summoned her because he missed her. Because he’d wanted to rekindle—
But of course this was about his project. It had been from the start.
“Look, Luc, it’s been too long…” She paused, her eyes darting to his lips, then away.
“…since I’ve looked at those blueprints.
I barely remember them, much less understand all your additions to them.
But it’s your project, so if you want to make the Council understand, I’m sure you can.
You were always able to persuade the instructors before. ”
Luc frowned. Undoubtedly, this was not the answer he’d been hoping for, but Lila did not care to humor him with another.
“I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help.”
She turned to go, but he replied, “It’s your project too, Lila. You cared about it once. Please.”
Lila wanted to tell him Earth wasn’t her project—it had never been and could never be—but the unnatural plea in Luc’s voice made Lila glance back at him.
His sharp features had always made him attractive, but now it looked like his skin was sinking into his bones, leaving his face gaunt.
The slight smirk that had always tugged at his mouth had yielded to a flat, tired expression.
His eyes were flat too, emptied of that gleam that had held endless possibilities.
Once, he’d been clean-shaven; now a smattering of stubble trimmed his jaw. Only his blond hair remained the same, feathering out around his face until it ended at his white collar, where his gold architect pin lay askew. A knotted half circle inside a knotted circle.
Luc seemed defeated, if that were possible. She’d never witnessed such a look on him, barring that one time.
What had happened to him in the past aeon?
Lila sighed.
Why did she always end up helping him?
Well, this was the last time. Ever.
Returning to his side, she suggested, “Why don’t you take your project straight to the Creator?”
“And bypass the Council?” His eyes sparkled dimly.
“Sure. You meet with Him all the time, don’t you?”
Luc visibly held back a comment, as if gauging how much to tell her.
Finally, he explained, “He’s not that accessible. Michael just makes it seem that way.”
“Oh.” Lila shifted. “Well…if I was in your position, that’s what I would do. I wouldn’t waste time convincing the Council of anything. You asked for my opinion, and there it is.”
“Hmm.” Luc cast his gaze downward, pinching his mouth and furrowing his brow.
During lessons, he would look just so when he was sketching a new design, adding and removing details until he’d drawn it the way he envisioned it.
She’d watched him across a classroom and, later, in the close quarters of the workshop they’d used for group smithing projects.
And, later, with their backs slumped against the obelisk and only the Void to witness them, as if they were the only two angels in existence.
“I really need to go,” Lila said, shoving her memories aside before they overwhelmed her. A long-forgotten emotion pressed on her chest, so warm and bright it threatened to soften her bones like iron in a forge.
She had no desire to be twisted once more. Or carved. Or bent.
“Oh, of course,” Luc allowed. He gestured toward the watchtowers, making Lila acutely aware of them again.
With a brief nod, she stepped away. But she’d turned her back for only an instant when he called out her name.
“Lila!”
She spun, ready to scold him for calling out her name so loudly, but the fondness in his expression stopped her. Her chest tightened anew.
“Thank you.” He smiled, some semblance of his old self returning.
“Don’t mention it.” Really. Please, don’t.