Cherubim

by ryumantic

Summary:

"Excuse me, but may I know where you are taking me?" I speak cautiously, refusing to allow my fear seep into my words.

She does not stop, not even a single moment. "Somewhere safe."

"But why?" I ask again, without a thought.

She turns around, and I am shocked by both the intensity, yet gentleness of her gaze. "Figured you were lost."

I can only nod in reply, torn between distrust and gratitude.

She grins, clearly satisfied with her judgement. "My name's Maeve, what's yours?"

"Iris", I mumble, meeting her gaze again.

"Maeve?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

She is a cherub, and in her eyes, nothing more. Her existence thrives on her duty alone. Aloof and hollow, she plants herself in between two regions of a nation at war, determined to find a match that would return peace. But whilst roaming around a village to observe, the northern region attacks. Caught in the midst of chaos, she bumps into Maeve, a young potter, who immediately decides to help the former escape.

Notes:

Hello!
This is only a short reminder that all events in this story are fictional, and purely based on my own imagination. To reiterate, it is not based on any kind of mythology. I'm not a professional writer/author, so please feel free to give comments or any constructive criticism, it would be highly appreciated, and helpful. I'd also just like to thank you for being here, and reading my work! I hope you'll like it <33

Chapter 1

I do not remember the day I was chosen, for centuries have passed; but I do in fact, remember how. Though through pure word of mouth, I have no reason to accuse the creator of fabricating the tale of my being, nor do I plan on being treasonous.

From the river of life, I was plucked. A mere thread, one in a million, yet a thread all the same, and so I was eligible. A promise of immortality, a blessing of discernment, a wish of loyalty, and a gift of aim- the rest, as they say, is history.

I am a cherub, and that is all I know about myself.

I do not know my age, I have lost count.

I do not have a name, if I did, I would have forgotten long ago. I have never been bestowed one.

I do not have a home. Cherubim are bound to the mortal realm by both duty and sanction. I have no objections, things of ephemerality are things of great beauty.

I do not know what it is like to live among the stars, though I often wonder. But I do know that at the end of one glorious day, I will be worthy enough to. I have been promised, after all.

Though a being of love, I have never loved. I am filled with it, but can never keep a single morsel to myself. Even so, love is, inarguably, one of the most precious and enthralling forces in existence, and I indulge myself in the simple beauty of its growth. Time spent on love is never wasted.

I own nothing more than my purpose, while conflicting and intimidating at times, I cannot abandon it, nor separate myself from it. I know what I was created for, and that is all I must be.

The present however, is much much lighter.