Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Creating (With) Stardust

“No, you have to- like this, see?”

Raphael reached into the pool, stardust parting beneath his fingers. It pooled in his palms, rolling and swirling and spinning like fluid, beginning to bubble and froth at the feel of his divinity.

Camael frowned, leaning forward to peer into his hands. “How do you do that? It always slides through my fingers.” He spread them as though to demonstrate, and Raphael grinned at the sight of remnants of stardust staining his skin, under his nails, darkening the creases of the bends of his knuckles.

The Archangel shifted and angled his hands, making the stardust sift from palm to palm. Camael’s frown darkened and he leaned, trying to mimic what he’d seen Raphael do; he brought his hands together, fingers pointed, and scooped up. For a moment it pooled, luminescent specks of white and purple and blue and colors that no human can see in molten gold, and he grinned for the briefest moment. And then it splattered down, sinking through his cupped hands to splash back into the pool — that was, really, more of a lake — and the Power groaned in frustration, wiping what remained off his hand.

“See?”

“You have to focus,” Raphael shifted the stardust to the hand further away from Camael, taking his hand in his.

“I am focusing.” He said with a frown, though he cupped his hand when Raphael curled his hand around his fingers.

“Different sort of focus, then,” the Archangel grinned, pressing his thumb against the middle of Camael’s palm. “You need to think of it… like a solid thing, I suppose? If you think it can’t go through your fingers, it won’t.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Camael shook his head, but his brow furrowed anyways — and he did have a brow now, because He had given them human-like shapes, though none of them were sure why. He didn’t often explain why He did things, and they didn’t question Him. He was never wrong, after all, so why should they? He had said something about it helping them in their Creation, but hadn’t said any further beyond that. So they had skin to feel, brows to furrow, hands to touch, and eyes with which to see. Well, all except the Thrones. The Thrones were odd, odder even than the Cherubim with their four faces, animal bodies, and cloven feet, and far odder than the Seraphim with their six wings, hidden faces, constant praise and synchronized voices.

Thrones would drive many inventions, when it came time to Create them. They were wheels, or close enough to such things, any number of them spinning within each other. Countless eyes lined the wheels, floated around them, and heatless flames burned bright along every part of them, blazed along their wheels, sizzled around their countless, endlessly moving eyes.

They were useful, and strong, but easily the strangest of all the Host. They didn’t question Him, not ever, but sometimes Raphael wondered why every other rank was so similar with only minor changes, even the Seraphim, and then there were the Thrones.

“Remember, think of it solid,” and with that Raphael poured his palmful of stardust into Camael’s hand.

The Power made a sound he’d never admit was a squeak, shrugging forward and bringing his other hand up to catch the liquid gold. It glowed bright against his skin and, though some trickled through his fingers, splattered his robed legs, most remained in his palms. His eyes lit up — quite literally, like any angel he had a natural, ambient glow, but his brightened just a bit in that moment — as he looked to Raphael, cradling his palms close to himself.

“I did it!” Camael laughed, green eyes crinkling at the corners and white teeth flashing.

Raphael stared at him, his own eyes wide. The Archangel’s wings ruffled, feathers puffing up slightly, and he looked back at the pool with a laugh. “You did! I told you you could do it.”

Camael brought up his hands, cradling the stardust as though to show Raphael, but when he looked at him the stardust stopped bubbling and collapsed through his fingers, splattering onto his robes, his legs, back into the pool. He stared at his emptied hands in shock and something like betrayal, the shells of his ears flushing.

“You stopped focusing, didn’t you?” Raphael covered his mouth with a glittering, tanned hand, eyes bright.

The angel nodded, wiping his palms on his robes, only managing to streak them with clinging stardust.

“Here, get some more. Don’t stop focusing this time, it gets easier the more you do it, soon you won’t even have to think about it, promise.” He leaned over, taking Camael’s hands in his, wrapping his smaller ones around his larger ones and guiding him to cup them together, showing him how to point his fingers as he scooped up enough stardust to fill half the cup he’d made. “Just… hold it there, don’t let it fall.”

Camael looked at Raphael, frowning. Still, he did as he said, closing his around it until the only sign of the stardust was the glow that emitted from between his dark fingers, and closed his eyes.

Slowly Raphael released his hands, leaning to gather his own stardust. “So,” he chirped, though he had the grace to look apologetic when Camael startled, the stardust threatening to fall through his fingers, “Ready to Create?”

“Create?” Camael sputtered, and the stardust burbled violently in his palms, splattering everywhere. He looked down in shock just in time for it to pop again, splashing glittering gold across his cheek.

Raphael burst into laughter and, when Camael looked at him in mock offense, only laughed harder. He just looked so ridiculous, the shock on his face, the stars streaked on his brown skin like they’d been painted there. “Sorry, sorry!”

Camael didn’t answer him, but instead ducked his head to wipe his cheek clean on the shoulder of his robe. It didn’t quite work, however, and instead only served to smear it further.

When Raphael snickered, Camael gave him a questioning look, and Raphael did his best to look innocent. “It was kind of funny.”

“So, Creation?” Camael glared at the stardust in his palms, trying to will it back to the gentle frothing it had been before, to match Raphael’s.

The Archangel had to look away from Camael to gather his thoughts. “Creation, right! Ah, where was I going with that? Right. When you Create, you have to impose your will on your dust. You can work with it in your hands, but it’s a lot easier if you have it out in the air, like an easel.”

Easels hadn’t been invented yet, and neither had air, only nothingness, but that didn’t stop Raphael.

“In the air?” Camael looked from his cupped hands, to the space in front of him, then back to his hands again in something akin to panic.

“It’s not as hard as it sounds.” Raphael stood, folding his legs, careful not to spill anything. He backed up, putting space between himself and the pool then closed his eyes, dipping his head as if in prayer.

Then, without preamble and, rather clumsily, he flung his hands out in front of him as if to splatter stardust across the mist and back into the pond.

It flew from his hands in a spray of light, glittering in a thousand colors then a thousand more, but didn’t fall. Rather it came to a stop in midair, a streak like he’d smeared it with a brush, and remained there. Raphael grinned, striding forward, wings ruffling in a self-satisfied manner, and began to nudge it into itself. He only had to apply the gentlest pressure for the stardust to slide back through the air, stopping only when it came into contact with more of itself, and in moments he had an orb of it as big as his head. More than he’d held before, surely.

Camael stared at it, looked at the stardust in his hands, then back at it in something close to panic. Raphael nudged the orb aside, crouching beside the Power. “Here, come on, stand up.” He went to offer his hand, then thought better of it with a shrug, stepping back to give Camael space.

Camael stood slowly, the liquid in his hands sloshing, no small amount escaping between his fingers, painting the mist and his robes. But finally he was standing, and looked from Raphael to the orb, not sure how to start. Because thinking of something in his hands as solid was one thing — and not something he was doing particularly well at, in his opinion. Throwing it into the air and keeping it there was a whole different ball game.

“Now just,” Raphael hmmed deep in his chest, trying to put his thoughts into words. Creating was instinctive, to him, was something that came naturally. So saying how he did it was harder than he expected. But it was worth it, to see that smile on Camael’s face when he got it right. “Like when you kept it in your hands, you thought of it as solid. Do the same, but with the air! Just expect it to catch it, and it will.” Well, it should, at least.

Camael looked more than doubtful, frowning. “What I expect is that it’s just going to splash everywhere and I’ll look like an idiot.”

“If you expect that,” Raphael shook his head, gently kicking Camael’s foot, “then that’s what will happen. Just… try it! Come on, trust me!”

The Power took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and flung his hands outwards.

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Raphael whooped, and clapped him on the shoulder, leaving a glittering handprint on his robes. “You did it, see?”

He had? Camael opened his eyes slowly, eyebrows rising in shock when he found that he had. At least, somewhat. Globs of stardust hung in the air, dragged along it, though there were some splatters on the solid mist that made up the ‘ground’. He looked at Raphael with a startled, barked laugh, “I did it!”

A few drops of stardust dropped to the mist. Camael looked sheepish.

“You did!” Raphael nudged his shoulder with his. “Just don’t lose focus. Now you just have to guide it all together, make one big ball.”

The Power hesitantly reached out, pressing his finger against the nearest clod of stardust in the air. It gave slightly at his press, warm-cold to the touch, then launched away from him, impacting with another chunk. They melded together, creating one big ball, and he grinned, circling around to guide the rest of his stardust to join together. Before long he had an orb as well.

It was noticeably smaller than Raphael’s, and dripped a bit. But it was still an orb, and Camael looked very proud of it.

“See? You got it!” Raphael pressed his orb a bit closer to Camael’s, though still left space for them both to work. “Now just… have fun! Make something!” He pinched both ends of his orb and began to pull out, making it more into an oval.

Camael stared blankly at his own orb. “What should I make?”

Raphael paused in the middle of pinching off a bulb at the end of his oval. “Whatever you want, I suppose? Can’t really go wrong, and if you do Quality Assurance will catch it. Just mess around, I’m sure you’ll make something great!”

Camael poked his orb, leaning to stop it from bouncing away, taking a moment to watch how Raphael manipulated his. It was almost like putty — which hadn’t been invented yet — though more pliable, so he scooped out a handful of stardust, rolling it in his hands until he had a ball or, at least, close enough. This he set back up in the air, shoved a bit harder than was necessary, and he stared at it to make sure it stuck, before turning back to the rest of his stardust.

“If you have a shape in mind,” Raphael offered, grimacing when Camael jumped and some of his orb splattered, “Sorry! You can make it form itself. Think of it in that shape—”

“Like with holding it in my hands, and keeping it in the air?”

“Exactly!” Raphael nodded, grinning proudly. “It’s easier if you already have a bit of shape to it, though — like when Hadriel made a ‘wolf’, he made the body and legs, head and tail, then impressed the fur and things on it. Or if you need to repeat a shape, like when Hahasiah made wool, if you make the first one or two—”

“I can impress the rest?”

“Yes!” The Archangel clapped, splattering stardust everywhere, and Camael snorted at the startled look on his face. Raphael held his hands away from himself, looking at the mess on his hands, skin, and robes, then shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“You’ve got a little bit all over your…” Camael gestured around himself, “everything.” And Raphael started to laugh, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, only to smear it across his cheek worse than Camael’s.

“There!” He announced. “Now we match.”

Camael shook his head, pinching off a smaller bit of stardust and beginning to work it into an oblong ring. He had an idea, if only he could make it work.

They worked in silence for a time, Raphael finally stepping back when he had something that was ovoid in shape, wider at one end and tapered but not pointed at the other. He held his hands out then brought them together and the shape shrunk down. The Archangel grinned, holding the egg in one hand, turning it over and looking for flaws. It glittered brightly until he pressed his thumb to it, and from there an off-white color rippled and spread.

He turned to Camael, the egg held in a loose grip. It wasn’t fragile — wouldn’t be made so until it passed Quality Assurance — but he’d already messed up enough inventions by squishing them and changing their shape during Creation that he didn’t dare risk it.

“Oh,” Raphael couldn’t help but gasp, watching Camael Create. A little ball of stardust glittered, gleamed, rippled not far away, and he was carefully guiding the small amount in his hand into perfect shape. His brow was furrowed, and the tip of his tongue stuck out in his concentration.

Camael held out his hand, the ring set flat on it, and closed his eyes. The ring shimmered, gave a great ripple, then began to froth, and then there were two, then four, then eight, then sixteen. They started to fizz, trying to duplicate, but he curled his fingers over them before they could. He unfurled his fingers, letting the rings float into the air, then painstakingly coaxed them to link together. They rippled as they passed through each other, turning to fit, until he had a line of them, all joined. These were left to float beside him as he reached out, concentration on his face, and took another handful of stardust. Camael compared this to the ball next to him, put a little back so it was a little smaller than the ball, then pressed his thumb into it to make it spread out.

He looked up, meeting Raphael’s gaze, and startled slightly; Raphael grinned, and waved his egg, feeling like it was a bit inadequate. He wasn’t entirely sure what Camael was making but, then again, whatever Camael was making hadn’t been invented yet so there was no way he could have known. Still, it looked far fancier and far nicer than his egg.

Camael ducked his head, reaching for the ball that waited patiently. This he pressed into the flattened disk, feathers ruffling happily when he found it fit almost perfectly, only a slight ring sticking out around the stone. He pinched out slight protrusions on opposite sides of the disk, then reached out for the line of rings.

Camael threaded one end of the chain through the leftmost protrusion, then offered his hand to Raphael. “Here, give me your hand?”

Raphael tilted his head but did as asked, offering Camael his off hand. The angel took it, tugging him closer and flipping it over, wrapping the chain around his wrist. It glittered, glowing brightly against Raphael’s tan skin, and when Camael pressed the other end of the chain against the bump on the side of the disk it melded easily, closing around his wrist. It gleamed brightly before dulling to a faint glimmer, the stars embedded in the chains indistinct and the gold muted while the stars on the stone shone bright and the gold rippled and danced.

“Wow.” Raphael let the egg float in the air as he ran his fingers over the bracelet, tracing the delicate links of the chain. “This is… this is incredible.” He looked up, finding Camael staring at him, and grinned wide. “You’re a natural!”

Camael, though, frowned, staring at the bracelet. “Hold on.” He reached out, scooping up what remained of his orb of stardust. The Power twisted it, making what seemed to be another ring, before breaking off one end and nudging it in. He looked at the bracelet again, then at his broken ring, and closed his eyes. The ring rippled, frothed, bubbled, then took on an odd shape, thick on one end and thinner on the other, with a protrusion on one side. Camael fiddled with the protrusion, nodding when the thinnest part opened every time he pulled it, and offered his hand to Raphael again.

Raphael, flicking his wings in question, placed his hand in Camael’s. He twisted the bracelet so the stone sat on the back of the Archangel’s wrist, moving his hand so he could get to the soft inside of his wrist, where the links weren’t interrupted. He closed his free hand around Raphael’s arm, holding the bracelet in place, before separating the middle links with his other hand. Camael carefully connected the clasp to one link, merging them so they flowed naturally together, then brought it to the other link and clasped them together.

“There.” He let go of Raphael, stepping back and grinning. Raphael gaped at him dumbly, then looked down at the bracelet. “So you can…” And he suddenly looked uncertain, one stardust-stained hand coming up to tangle in his robes, “take it off? Before it would have been stuck on you unless you broke it.”

The Archangel gave a jerky nod, fiddling with the lever and watching as the clasp opened and shut. “That’s, that’s really smart! It’s beautiful, you’re a natural Camael.”

Camael flushed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his head, smearing stardust in his long, black hair. He froze when he realized what he’d done, pulling a strand out in front of him and staring at it in horror.

Raphael snorted, then when Camael looked at him burst into laughter. Camael narrowed his eyes then, as he moved past Raphael while shepherding the leftover stardust back into the pool, reached out and scruffed the Archangel. Raphael squawked, batting his wings frantically, but it was only half-hearted — he didn’t want to hurt Camael, after all — and the Power began to scuff his hands over and through Raphael’s short, curly hair. The shorter angel shouted and flailed, but Camael was much stronger, and in moments his hands were clean and Raphael’s hair was more gold than black.

Raphael squirmed loose, turning to Camael with a wounded expression. “Really? The hair? Really?” He swatted the egg, vanishing it to Quality Assurance, and ran his fingers through his hair, scowling when they came back coated in stardust.

Camael just laughed, beginning to shepherd the remaining stardust in the air back to the pool. “You know you love it.”

Yes. Yes, he did.

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