Changes in Attitude pt 2

Five – Shoe Conspirators



“That,” Mihdael spoke with restrained anger, “was much too close!” He glared down at the little creature, who seemed to have forgotten about the ‘mighty Archangel’ for the moment. “Did I not tell you that you were not to interact with any of the Heavenly Host?”

“Poor Man-Angel… so pretty and delicate, so unlike the other Man-Angels… and no shoes…” Belloc sounded genuinely concerned about the ‘Pretty Man-Angel’s’ well being.

“What? What are you talking about?” Mihdael, however, had other concerns on his mind. Like keeping Belloc--and himself--in one piece.

“The pretty Man-Angel’s feet should not be subjected to the harshness of the ground. They should be properly covered and adorned. Like yours.”

Mihdael caught himself before looking down at his own sandals. “My feet are not… adorned.”

Belloc looked pointedly at the high-laced gold sandals, particularly at the seven golden disks that were spaced evenly in the wide, center strap that ran from toe to knee. “Is it necessary for your shoes to be so intricately woven and decorated?”

“They are very plain, with no adornment.”

“As you say, Man-Angel; but, your shoes are very attractive--to the opposite sex, I am sure.”

“They are not--” He stopped. Argument was next to useless. Belloc no doubt saw things differently than he did, especially where ‘pretty Man-Angels’ were concerned. “Never mind. That does not matter.”

He lowered himself to the thick grass, crossed his legs and leaned his forearms on his knees as he gazed levelly at Belloc--still not quite at eye level. “Now, we need to get one thing straightened out.

“The ‘pretty Man-Angel’ has a name. It is Aleilah, remember?”

“Ah yes, Aleilah… That is a beautiful name, much too beautiful for a Man-Angel Warrior.”

“That is because Aleilah is neither Man nor Warrior. Aleilah is a female Angel.”

Belloc’s eyes grew wide with surprised wonder. “Female! But, I was told by the other demons that there are no female Angels!”

“Such was true, for a very long while. For now, Aleilah is the only female Angel in Heaven.”

“That explains the Man-Angel’s very nice… shape.” Belloc smiled.

Mihdael smiled back in spite of himself. “Yes, and a lot of other things as well.”

“Then, it is even more imperative that the pretty… Woman-Angel should have shoes!”

“Why? Angels do not need--”

Belloc interrupted, “Among my people, the feet and ankles of the opposite sex are very alluring, very… sensual, due to the fact that because of our unique physical form, we rarely see either our feet or ankles.”

“Yes, and…?”

“And the Woman-Angel has such…” Mihdael looked sternly at him, “such pretty feet. They should be properly covered and adorned.”

“And you would provide this ‘covering and adornment’?”

Belloc’s large head bobbed on his non-neck. “It would be my great pleasure to do so.”

Mihdael grinned broadly. The thought of this, well, very ugly creature being so taken with Aleilah’s ‘pretty feet and ankles’ to the point of providing for her piqued his sense of the absurd.





Six – Shoes for an Angel



“Be quick about it, Belloc,” Mihdael kept a wary eye out for the warehouse guard, if there was one. “Do you recall where you saw these shoes?”

“Of course, Man-Angel.” Belloc waddled quickly toward a section of towering cardboard and wood crates. The brown cardboard sides of the large cartons had “Unique Shoes Boutique” stamped in florescent blue on the sides. Belloc scampered up the stack of boxes, and, reaching the top one, tossed it down.

Mihdael barely caught it in time, having no idea what Belloc had intended to do. He placed it on the floor as his companion slid agilely down the tall stack of cartons. According to the label glued to the top flaps the carton contained ‘The 60’s Wedge’, and the black and white photo illustrated strapped sandals with thick, chunky, high soles. It also contained, according to the ‘Packing List’, several sizes.

Belloc scampered to the top of the carton, tore open the flaps and reached inside eagerly. He tossed out several smaller, rectangular boxes, all of which Mihdael managed to deftly catch before any hit the concrete floor. Arms laden with a dozen or so boxes, the Warrior clung to them precariously as the creature jumped down.

“There is one pair of each size, Man-Angel; surely one will fit her.”

The warrior looked down at his co-shoe conspirator. “I do not know her size, and we cannot take all of them back with us.”

“I recall the Woman-Angel’s footprints in the ground near the waterfall. Can you not do something with that?”

Mihdael thought for a moment, then the air shimmered and a small section of the riverbank appeared on the floor between them. There, clearly imprinted in the damp soil, were both of Aleilah’s barefoot imprints.

Belloc gleefully tore open the smaller boxes, dumping out sandals. It took only a few minutes to match the foot imprints to the corresponding shoe size: a size 7M, which, for Aleilah’s six-foot-three-inch height, was a small, feminine size. Mihdael returned the section of riverbank to Eden while Belloc carefully repacked the chosen shoes.

The Warrior then fashioned a duplicate pair of sandals and box from AngelFire to replace the ones they were taking, returned the discarded sandals to their appropriate box, repacked the boxes, and re-sealed the large carton.

Belloc, however, wasn’t finished; he quickly darted off in another direction.

“What now? We have the shoes.”

“Anklets. The pretty Woman-Angel must have beautiful anklets befitting her alluring ankles.”

The warrior sent the carton back up to the top of the stack via a sparkling ladder of AngelFire, and went after Belloc’s scurrying form.

The creature was pulling package tape from another large carton labeled “The Unique Chain Boutique”. Glued to the flaps of this carton were pictures of several items made from thin, lightweight chain, and one depicted a very slim, female foot wearing a gold mesh chain anklet.

Mihdael grabbed Belloc’s arm, preventing further damage to the carton. “Wait. Is this,” he indicated the picture of the gold anklet, “what you are searching for?”

“Yes, lovely gold mesh for her lovely--”

“Yes, yes, as you have said. Leave this be. I can fashion items exactly like this, and we will not need to take anything at all from this warehouse.”

“Exactly like it, great Man-Angel?” The tone indicated some doubt.

“Hold out your hands.”

AngelFire sparkled, shimmered, coalesced into a pair of brilliant gold anklets formed from gold mesh. Belloc nodded, holding the anklets up to the dim light, impressed. “You have done this before, have you not?” He smirked up at the warrior.

“Not for this purpose,” Mihdael assured the being straight away. He wasn’t prone to foot fixations.





Seven – Michael Finds Out



When Belloc and Mihdael returned to Eden, the Warrior once again concealed the little creature in an AngelFire cloak. A quick fly-over enabled him to ascertain that Michael was no longer in Eden, and he retrieved Belloc. The near-minion clung to the shoes and anklets as they sought out Aleilah, and found that she was not alone. Michael had left, but now the Angel Warrior Liftheon was having a highly animated conversation with her.

“He did not!” The big warrior doubled over with laugher. “A… a Man-Angel!?! The-The creature must have been either bl-blind or--”

“Ignorant.” Belloc’s voice finished Liftheon’s comment. As the dark Angel turned and looked down at him with amused chagrin, Belloc continued, quite unperturbed. “I was told there were no female angels. My guardian has explained it to me.”

Liftheon looked over to Mihdael, eyebrows raised, “Guardian?”

Before Mihdael could deflect that question, Belloc bowed deeply before Aleilah. His long, thin arms were wrapped around two boxes, and he placed them with care on the ground at her bare feet. “Beautiful and wise Woman-Angel,” his cultured voice intoned respectfully, “please accept these unworthy tokens of my great esteem and … admiration.”

“Oh, that is very kind of you; but really, it is not necessary.” Aleilah looked a ‘what is he do-ing?’ question at Mihdael, but the blond angel only smiled.

The big, brown eyes gazed up at her, sad and shiny. “You… do not want my gifts?” The rejected little creature seemed to lose a few inches in height; any more, and he would disappear completely.

Aleilah quickly reconsidered. “What I meant was that I like you very much; you need not bring me presents to win my affection.”

“Gracious Woman-Angel,” straightening to his full height of roughly 22 inches, Belloc beamed at her, “I do not bring bribes for your favor. I would not insult you in that way. No,” his long, tendril fingers caressed the larger box, “what I bring is what any female should have. As you wear a lovely dress befitting your station, so should you wear…” One hand flipped the lid off the box, and the thin, three digit fingers pulled out a single object, “these.”

Mihdael’s gaze latched onto Aleilah. This was what he had been waiting for: her reaction to the shoes--something she loathed, and refused to wear while in Heaven.

Something that had been a point of contention between her and Michael since the moment of her creation: The Archangel’s idea of how she should present herself as an Angel of the Lord, and her own idea--that she was doing just that.

Liftheon started to laugh, “Look, he brings her--”

Aleilah elbowed him sharply in the side, where the armor joined so she’d be certain he would feel it. “Shoes,” she finished sweetly. “They are lovely.”

“If I may, Pretty Woman-Angel…?”

Aleilah sat down on a nearby bench, while the two warriors watched, astounded. She extended a long, shapely leg; Belloc took her foot and placed the gold and white shoe on it. The agile tendrils fastened the straps with quick adroitness, and he did the same for the other foot.

As she started to rise, Belloc halted her. “Wait… There is one more thing. The adornments for your perfect ankles.” He glanced over at Mihdael. “The kind Man-Angel made them for me. He has quite a talent for adornment.”

“You made gold ankle bracelets for me, Mihdael?” She looked up at him through her soft lashes, and her teasing tone clearly said ‘wait until I tell Michael…’

She pointed her toes as Belloc fastened the anklets. The sunlight glinted on the finely wrought mesh, as the metal flowed around her ankles like liquid gold.

The warrior smiled a bit weakly. “The anklets are not from me, but from Belloc. I would not come up with such a thing on my own,” he hastened to add.

“That is unfortunate; because,” and her brilliant smile fell full on Belloc, “they are wonderfully light and delicate. You have excellent taste, Belloc.”

Smiling broadly, the little creature stepped back. “Stunning…” was all he could manage as she attempted to stand.

The heels elevated in a sharp incline from the soles, adding four to five inches to her height. She teetered slightly, counting on the shoes to be as stable and supportive as her favored Earthly motorcycle boots. Just before she fell a little too far forward, Liftheon extended his strong hands, catching her about the waist and smiling as she fell onto his chest.

"I think that I like those shoes, Little One… very much," he said softly, his gentle amber eyes gazing down at her.

She giggled. “Yes, Theo, and look--I am much taller!”

She laughed, having found her balance; her wings swept out as she twirled on her new shoes. The tiny emerald and diamond gems in the skirt of her tunic caught the light, sparkling and glittering, and then the skirt swirled around her legs and ankles when she paused.

“Those look very nice on you, Leea,” Liftheon noted. “Maybe you should… show them off…”

“Whatever do you mean, Angel?” She eyed him with an almost saucy gleam.

“A shorter skirt would draw more attention to your… um… feet.” He managed not to smile.

“Shorter?” She frowned, then brightened, “I know!” The AngelFire flared around her skirt, and a long slit appeared, ending at her left hip and anchored by a gold loop of fabric. She placed a hand on her opposite hip, her grin provocative as the side slit revealed more than her shoes. “How is this?”

“Uh… very nice…” Liftheon managed.

Mihdael nodded, “Yes, very nice indeed…”

“Enjoy it while you can, boys; the ‘new look’ is just temporary.” She practiced walking, liking the extra ‘height’ in spite of herself. “These are just lovely, Belloc. What do you call them?”

“They are called ‘60’s Wedgies’, beautiful Woman-Angel.” Belloc’s gaze never wandered from her feet as he spoke. “They are perfect for you…”

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle; the warriors, however, guffawed openly. And loudly. She heard Liftheon’s muffled, “Sixty of them…?”

“‘Wed-wedgies’? Oh, dear…” she glared at the two warriors until they subsided to chuckles.

“Well,” she went on, ignoring the crude warriors, “I like them. Thank you.” She leaned over, nearly double, and ruffled his thin thatch of olive green hair affectionately.

When she straightened, Mihdael was at her side. He looked at her with approval. “You are right, Leea; you are almost as tall as I am. In fact,” he added impulsively, not leaning down at all, “it is quite easy to do this--”

He gave her a quick, chaste kiss on her forehead; they broke apart, laughing. Liftheon took her wrist gently and brought her to him as well.

“Ah, Little One, do not forget me…” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, noting her faint changing color with amused delight. “I think you should keep those shoes, do you not think so?”

“Somehow,” she laughed merrily, “I believe you and Mihdael like the shoes even better than I do.”

"Aleilah, what…?"

They turned suddenly as one, to see the Great Archangel Michael scrutinizing them. His voice was so quiet that they barely even recognized it as belonging to him. Belloc immediately grabbed the bottom of Aleilah's wings, and hid behind them, desperate to stay out of the Archangel's view.

She felt him hiding there, shaking in terror. Having no other recourse, she decided to play dumb. "Err… Hullo, Michael! How are you?" She looked to her brother warriors, pleading slightly with her eyes.

They in turn looked at Michael. But there he was, staring at the girl angel again, like she was the only other creature in Heaven. Only this time his expression wasn't pleasant. It was irritated.

Michael's eyes narrowed, the faintest traces of AngelFire blazing in their depths. He looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing further at the shoes. "I am confused about this… footwear you have on; but I came here because I sensed the presence of evil, close to you, Angel." He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Mihdael and Liftheon glanced at each other. They shared a look, one whose interpretation could not be mistaken. There would be no hiding the little green guy now; Michael had found him out.

Michael stepped forward, never bothering to notice that his soldiers now flanked him closely. He grabbed Aleilah by her shoulders, pulling her close, and her eyes widened at him. "Something," he hissed, "is amiss here, Angel."

"I… I… Um," She started, shaking her head and shrugging.

She didn’t need to go any further, though. Michael slowly looked over her shoulder. Belloc's eyes grew large and black like a frightened puppy. He looked right up into the face of the Archangel, as he clung tightly to Aleilah's wings.

Michael growled, features darkening.

This… thing… was touching his Angel.

His Angel.

His Aleilah.

He shoved Aleilah aside with unintentional roughness, more in an effort to get the thing off of her than to get her out of the way. But it didn't work, as Belloc clung to her fiercely, and fell with her when she teetered unexpectedly on the wedgies, lost her balance, and fell inelegantly on her side.

Michael drew his sword, the clear crystal blade enveloped in blue-white energy that crackled with untold power, power that could cleave the Universe in half. His one, focused desire was to employ that same powerful elemental force to slay the thing out of Heaven.

Mihdael and Liftheon flanked him too fast for thought, their own swords drawn to make themselves look good, but also making it impossible for Michael to get enough leeway to strike at Belloc.

Belloc crawled out from under Aleilah's wings, and scrambled to get into her arms like a little child hiding from a thunderstorm. She, naturally, gave him refuge.

"Angel! Aleilah!" His voice bellowed, shaking the firmament slightly. "Get away from that pestilent demon!" Michael fidgeted, fighting for room to raise his blade, and becoming irritated with his comrades. Why are they blocking my movements? Did I not train them in proper flanking maneuvers? Idiots!

Aleilah held to Belloc protectively with one arm, with his face buried in her bodice like an Ostrich to the sands. She raised her other arm above them, protectively, preventing Michael from killing Belloc without striking her arm first. And she knew full well that Michael’s sword would do more than just sever her arm; its slightest cut could kill her outright--or so she thought.

He glared at her, confounded. "What are you doing, Angel?! Come away from the demon this moment! Fly aside, that I may slay it!"

"You, Archangel, will do no such thing." She stood her ground, or rather lay on it. She held the whimpering creature close, making it impossible for the Archangel to harm him.

Mihdael and Liftheon stared at her, slack-jawed. For her to frustrate the Archangel, or to ignore his words and tempt his anger, that was one thing… But now their Little One was defying Michael's very sword. Something they would think twice about attempting.

Mihdael interceded before the impasse became impossible. Without seeming to do so, he blocked Michael’s sword arm with his shield, brandishing his own golden sword with a dramatic flair. “Allow me the honor of defending you against this fearsome being, Commander!”

Taking the cue, Liftheon also interposed his substantial bulk, blocking the Archangel’s shield with his raised sword. “I, too, will keep this creature at bay!”

Michael glared murderously at his warriors. Blue-white flames burned in his eyes as he commanded with subdued anger, “Get away from me!” He had picked up on the sarcasm in both warrior’s voices and attitude, and he was not partial to sarcasm. “Are you blind!? Can you not see--?”

“I see that you need protection from this being’s fearsome wrath!” Mihdael didn’t budge a millimeter.

“Protection! I need no defense from such a loathsome, foul, contemptible creature! Stand down, now!”

Mihdael turned to face him, apprehension in his voice. “I was referring to Aleilah’s fearsome wrath, Commander. I certainly hope you were not referring to her as well.”

Aleilah had, by now, gotten to her feet; she held Belloc protectively in both arms, and her mien was in no way amiable. Lavender-white AngelFire glinted and crackled over her wings, a hovering portent of her escalating anger.

“How dare you!!!” Her eyes burned with bright violet AngelFire, and the warriors now hastily stepped aside, not wanting to be in the literal line of her fire.

Aleilah's tone lowered with each word, and Mihdael was certain that his Commander would need not only his aid, but Raphael’s as well, before this was over.

“How dare you,” she continued, advancing slowly toward him, “draw your sword on me!” She stopped, a hands-breadth separating them. “How dare you draw your sword on an unarmed, harmless creature!”

She looked him up and down, her gaze coldly disdainful. “Why, he hardly comes up to your kneecap! Were you afraid he would bite you on the ankle?!”

Mihdael had to laugh, knowing as he did how Belloc felt about ankles. However, her deadly cold glare stopped him in mid-chuckle. She turned back to the Archangel.

“Do I look as if I need--or want--your aid or defense? Do I look endangered by this gentle being? Do I look like a fool to you? That I would knowingly and willingly accept anything demonic or Evil in my presence?

“Now,” her voice lowered even more, “either use that sword, Mighty Archangel, or shov-- sheathe it!”

Michael made no move to do either. “Explain the presence of that… that creature! It reeks of demonic essence; Evil clings to it like pond slime! Why is it here?”

All eyes turned to Mihdael; even Belloc peeked out at him. Michael gave his Second-in-Command an astounded look. “Mihdael?!?” The entire fiasco became more incredible by the minute.

The youngest Warrior just shrugged. “It followed me home…” He grinned broadly, “Dad said I could keep it if I took care of it.”

Liftheon’s laughter shattered the tense moment, then Aleilah begin to smile, and Michael had the distinct feeling he was the punch line to some arcane joke.

He returned his sword to the silver scabbard, but remained unconvinced of Belloc’s status. “I still await an explanation. If there is one.” And he frowned, his gaze lowering to Aleilah’s feet. “Especially an explanation for that footwear. And what are those… those chains on your ankles, Aleilah?”

Again, all eyes turned to Mihdael.

The youngest Warrior groaned inwardly. His friends seemed determined to have him hacked to pieces before their very eyes. “I did not… that is, I only--” He backed up ever so quickly, well beyond Michael’s sword reach, and felt the cool marble column against his wings.

“The kind Man-Angel helped me procure the adornments for the pretty Woman-Angel--” If Belloc had hoped to defuse Michael’s anger, he succeeded in doing the exact opposite.

“The waterfall! You were at the waterfall! BOTH of YOU!!!” The returning memory added fuel to the fire. “Yours was the lingering aura, Mihdael. And you, foul creature, yours was the faint sense of evil that I could not place. You were watching her! You saw--!”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Aleilah interrupted another burst of jealous rage.

“It is not ‘ordinary’ for a demonic creature to see you… that is, to watch while you bathe in the waterfall!” His hand fell on his sword again.

“Michael! If you kill him for having seen me drenched to the skin by the waterfall--why, then you would have to dispense with the entire Heavenly Host! It was nothing, I assure you.”

“That loathsome creature would not have looked upon you as a fellow Host would have. He would have viewed you with lustful eyes--”

“Stop it! Now! He did no such thing! He was merely curious because he had never seen an Angel like me! Is that not so, Mihdael?”

Once more, all eyes turned to Mihdael.

He considered falling on his sword, and saving Michael the trouble and effort…

“And was this the ‘surprise’ that startled you, the one you had mentioned earlier?”

"Well…" she looked away.

Michael tilted his head, his tone tight and rigid, "Aleilah?"

She turned back to face him. His voice carried a tone that all but said, 'you will answer me, Angel.' And that was all she needed to grow angry again.

"As a matter of fact, Michael,” her narrowed-eyed look managed to be both insulting and sultry, “he was looking up my tunic! He was not sure what I was made of--so he looked up my tunic!" She crossed her arms, and jutted her lower lip out angrily, getting toe-to-toe with the Archangel.

Michael's eyes began to burn; but he fought for control. He had handled many battles that were far worse than this, or so he told himself. He grit his teeth tight enough to cut through steel girders. "And when he did this… 'looking up', that was when you flew back, startled, away from his gaze, yes?" He eyed her, stern and unrelenting, fighting off his impulses as he waited for her answer.

She had the audacity to mock him. “I flew back, startled, yes!”

Michael’s tone lowered with sustained anger. “Why did you simply not tell me of it then?”

All of them looked at him, their expressions remarkably similar: too apparent for words.

“Very well, I suppose the answer to that is somewhat… obvious.” He looked again in Mihdael’s direction with narrowed eyes. “You, warrior, are responsible for that?” He pointed to Aleilah’s feet.

“Great and Mighty Archangel,” Belloc’s quavering voice came from Aleilah’s protective embrace, “the adornments are from me. The gracious Woman-Angel accepted my gifts for her as they were intended--”

“From… from… y-you?!!” Another tidal wave of affronted rage swept over Michael, and the others flinched back. “You. Accepted. ‘Adornments’. From. That. Thing!??

“It is in Heaven for less than a day, and already you accept gifts from it?” He shook his head, unable to believe all he saw and heard.

“For millennia I implored you to wear the sandals befitting an Angel of your status! You brushed me off like… like I was so much dust on your dagger!

“Now, this, this… thing comes along, gives you footwear, and you wear it as if it were an answer to your most fervent prayers!

“You will explain! NOW!”

The firmament did shake that time.

She pursed her lips and feigned fear. “Oooohhh, Michael, what is this? Are you jealous? Jealous of a little green troll?” She turned slowly, the split skirt flaring out. “Do you not like my new sandals? They make me taller, you know.

Why, Mihdael found it quite easy to kiss me; he did not have to bend down at all!”

The blond warrior was now certain the remainder of his lifespan could be measured in seconds.

Michael’s eyes burned a glowing silver, just enough to leave no doubt as to his fate. “Mihdael. Kissed. You?!?”

“Yes, he did. And so did Theo."

Liftheon smiled at that, the exuberant, innocent grin of a kindergartener that knew he was the teacher's prize pupil, but for some unknown reason. He had no clue. The other three blinked at him for a moment, slightly envious of his blissful nature. Mihdael had to stifle a snicker; Theo just looked so gosh darn happy.

Then Michael nailed Liftheon with a burning glare as well. Now the dark warrior was completely bumfuzzled. Michael hadn’t minded his attentions to Aleilah before; why was he so infuriated now? He decided to just remain silent, no smiles, no questions… and hope for the best.

Aleilah crossed her arms. “And you know what? You have absolutely no say in the matter.”

His gaze fell on her again, and she saw more than fury in his fiery eyes; she saw confusion and hurt--but that didn’t change his attitude at all. Or hers.

“Michael, sit down!” She pointed at the marble bench near Mihdael.

He remained obstinate, and she added. “Please sit down.”

He settled on the edge, ready to spring up at any moment.

She sighed to herself. With a stern look at Michael, she transferred Belloc to Liftheon. Then she stood before the mighty Archangel.

“Now,” she said quietly, “I will explain.

“First and foremost: Your attitude towards me. Do you see a rock on my finger? Hmmmm?” She waggled her left hand in front of his still angry eyes.

Liftheon looked over to Mihdael. “Rock? Why would she want a rock on her finger?”

Mihdael shook his head. “Liftheon, just, shut up and listen. And,” he added with a sympathetic look at their Commander, “learn.”

“Nope,” she continued, popping her 'p', “I do not see a rock. I do not see a carat, or a quarter-carat, or a sliver… not even a blessed chip. I see nothing on my finger."

"Carrot? Why does she want to wear a carrot?" Liftheon's eyebrows knit together. Mihdael shushed him again.

“Have you even asked my Father for permission to court me?” She leaned down to his eye level.

“No, you have not.” She straightened to her full, enhanced, height.

Michael had difficulty taking his eyes off of her, not that he wanted to…

“And you presume to judge my behavior, to tell me what to do? You presume to interfere where you were not invited?

“Yes, for millennia, you ‘implored’ me, as you put it, to dress and comport myself as you saw fit. Not once did you ask, or even consider, what I might want!

“You do not understand why I accepted Belloc’s gifts, while I ‘brushed’ you off ‘like so much dust’? Because that thing, as you refer him, likes me the way I am. His gifts were not efforts to induce me conform to what he thinks I should be, but a affirmation of what I am.

“Do you see the distinction, Archangel?”

“Yes, I see it all too well,” anger flashed blue fire in his silver eyes. “I see not only his gifts to you as being welcomed, but I also see you have altered your clothing as well. And not in a manner that I would have you appear. Are you not aware of how--” He broke off, about to add ‘alluring’, but the audience stopped him. “Of how you present yourself to be?” That didn’t come out well at all.

But the expected, angry outburst didn’t happen. He looked up to see her biting down on her lower lip; in an effort, he was certain, to curb an outburst of laughter. And that bothered him even more.

“You contend that my ‘gifts’ were an effort to induce you to conform to my standards. Such is not true. I only wished to see you manifest yourself into the being that I knew you to be. And now that you have abandoned the childlike image that you favored for so many centuries, I wanted only to please you.

“Yet my every effort was rebuffed.

“You refused to accept the Stargem necklace that I procured for you,” he began, building up a head of steam. “You did not want the Starlite earrings, nor the Novalite diadem--”

“Exactly, Michael! They were lovely; they were all very, very lovely! But, first a necklace, then earrings, then the diadem--doya know what those all have in common?!”

“You rejected them?” The Archangel surged to his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave her a decidedly smug look.

Mihdael snickered behind his palm. Until Aleilah glared at him, the faintest traces of Angel Fire in the depths of her glittering violet eyes. Then he cleared his throat and shut up.

She turned back to the Archangel; he was absolutely gorgeous, standing there all defiance and hurt feelings. There was no way she was going to give him an out. “No! Each one is further away from my hand!” The four or five extra inches from the wedge-shaped soles enabled her to look Michael directly in the… collarbone.

His expression was one of total confusion. He honestly didn’t understand. “What I know is that you rejected my gifts, but accepted these…" he curled his lip, "shoes--which are things you do not even like to wear--from that… that demonic thing! A creature I do not think you should be speaking to, much less encouraging its attentions!”

“Now you just hold on a minute there, Angel," Aleilah reverted back to her old nickname for him, from when she lived on Earth. Only she didn’t use it with a lilting tease in her voice. It was more like gravel on a cheese grater. She waved her left hand in front of his face. "Not once have you made any formal declaration of intent, yet you insist on ‘claiming’ me. You feel justified in telling me what to do, when to do it, and who to do it with!”

Michael walked past her, and then back, literally pacing. He was uncomfortable with the public dispute they were having, but never willing to back down. “Aleilah, look in the lake, will you? I am not telling you anything that any other Heavenly Host would not tell you! I do not think your appearance is becoming for an Angel of God. The fabric is too sheer, the slit too high, the skirt too tight; and that footwear and those… things on your ankles. The tunic you wore before was--” He stopped, aware too late.

The flickering of AngelFire in her eyes suddenly graduated to absolute Fire From Heaven Fury. This was not common--for her. For the Archangel, yes, it was his job after all, to call forth the Fire of God to vanquish Heaven's enemies, so on and so forth… but not her.

“What!?! The tunic I have worn for many millen-- forever?! What was wrong with my tunic!?!” Her voice rose sharply, intent and dangerous. And for once she wished Mihdael had fashioned a broadsword for her instead of the dagger.

“Not… ‘wrong’, exactly.” He held his ground, but he flinched inwardly, and he knew she saw it. “But the design could have been more--”

“More what?! More concealing? You would have me wrapped up from head to toe in several layers of heavy silks and stiff linens? You think a simple tunic is too revealing?

“Well, let me tell you what I think!

“One: You do not own me.

“Two: You do not dictate to me.

“Three: I will talk to whomever I please.

“Four: I know the difference between a demon, and a… a… whatever he is!

“Which is a lot more than I can say for you,” she turned sharply on her elevated heel, the slit skirt fanning out from her legs. “And did it ever occur to you that God would not allow a ‘demonic’ anything to roam Heaven? Did you even consider that Belloc might be a guest? Do you ever think with anything other than… than your sword??!”

Leaving that double-edged comment hanging in the air between them, she vanished in a bright, noticeably angry flash of white and pale lavender.



CONTINUED: "Changes in Attitude pt 3"