Sound descending, not falling

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Mal'akh Echo

The angel fretted for a little while. "Oh yes!" it said, nodding a bit frantically, trying to reassure itself. Though it was considerably relieved that the boy hadn't panicked too much. That would have most likely caused Echo to panic as well, and certainly that was never a good thing when using powers, even when it was sure that it had a sufficient amount of control. "This is far safer than what that other course was, I assure you. Whatever you wish within reason, I am perfectly willing to carry out."

It did feel quite strongly that it had to make up for some mistake, which it was determined to do so in whatever way, even if Apollo maintained that the incident was his own fault. Already deeply biased to liking others, Echo felt that he was an especially trustworthy person -which honestly was not saying much since the angel rarely interacted with people anyways. But it still felt this, and it helped that Apollo really was a nice boy. Even if he had not been, Echo still would have been equally as worried.

"We do have a good amount of distance to cover if we choose to go on," it remarked, mostly to itself as it tried to judge exactly how much time it would take. That was a concept that it still only had a hazy grip on, outside of Heaven. Weeks were honestly the smallest increment of time that it could properly deal with. Anything below that were merely guesses.

The angel laughed a little self consciously. "If it pleases you, of course we should move forward! Your happiness means a great deal to me." It shifted their positions around in the air, so that they were arm in arm, with Apollo on his right. "This way is should be better, I think."

And then off they went.
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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Apollo felt the smile return to his face as they continued on ahead. Flying arm in arm with Echo, he felt an enormous sense of security, which allowed him to relax considerably, the tensions from his near-death experience unraveling into the sky. He closed his eyes slowly, taking in cool, deep breaths as they soared on through the rushing ocean air.

Apollo reflected on Echo’s overwhelming concern and faithfulness, and once again felt himself moved by the angel’s almost immediate loyalty. He pondered, for a moment, if it would do the same for any human it came into contact with- he assumed it probably would, being an angel and all. Then he began to speculate how many humans it had come into contact with- and, judging by its mannerisms so far, he guessed, not many. This made Apollo feel special, albeit a bit self-conscious; he hoped he was leaving Echo with a good impression of how humans were.

He turned his thoughts away from that and instead listened to the sounds around him- the soft swells of the sea below, the gulls they left in their wake as they flew ahead, and the wind whipping all around them. No doubt they had to be closer to the island now; they had been flying for quite some time.

“Echo,” he asked, tilting his head slightly towards the angel. “do you see anything?”

A badly worded question- or, perhaps not. Apollo of course originally intended to inquire if Echo could see anything of the island, so that the angel could describe it and paint a picture in his mind of what it looked like. However, that intention changed mid-sentence- he wanted suddenly to know what everything looked like, above, below, and all around him. Apollo’s sense of curiosity certainly never failed him.
 
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Mal'akh Echo

It tilted its head to the side at Apollo's question, wondering if it was normal for the blind to be asking questions about vision like that. In a sense, it seemed perfectly natural -what people did not know, they often wanted to know. But on the other hand, the angel wondered how to go about answering a question of that nature. For one, did Apollo have even the slightest concept of color? When describing things, the aspect that came most immediately to Echo's mind was always either color or a comparison to something else.

Had he been born unseeing or had there been some kind of accident earlier in his life? the angel wondered. Would it be rude to ask? Maybe it would be better not to; after all, things like that would reveal themselves over time and Echo was patient enough to wait it out. Probably, anyways. The last four decades had gone by in such a blur that it still felt a bit like all it had to do was move over a few centimeters to bring itself back into Heaven. Oh, but in forty years -how old is Apollo now? Young, obviously, but that in itself was no help.

Realizing that it had gotten quite off track with its thoughts, Echo turned its attention back to the present. "There are a few clouds below us," it started, feeling flustered as it attempted to find effective descriptions for what it saw. "Cottony ones that the sea is often visible through." And oh dear, there it was, immediately talking about visual elements. "Like when the sun shines through a window and falls across your face-it would probably feel the same if it shone through these clouds. There are not too many of them, however; if you think about a pond with waterlilies, the clouds would be the water showing in between."

"The sea is not so rough today. It is a little calmer than normal, perhaps because of the fact that the wind is so mild now. The waves are not so large that the crests are visible from this height. The moon is a waxing gibbous tonight; it should be full next week. And on the horizon, there is Manta Carlos. It is not an especially mountainous island but there are other much smaller ones near enough to it that they all look like a single mass from afar. Together, they seem like -a sleeping animal, maybe? A dog?"
 
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LaFaucheuseRouge

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Such as Apollo was drifting above the shining sea, so was his mind drifting through a dreamy state of content, as he listened to Echo’s account of their current surroundings. He appreciated the angel’s use of "feeling" words, and as best he could he recalled his experiences with feeling cottony textures, the warmth of the sun, rough waters, and hilly surfaces that he was told imitated the curves of a mountain range. At the same time, he listened closely to the angel’s voice, which was, in itself, strange and soothing in a way unlike any other. Listening to Echo speak brought him a strong sensation of calm.

When he had finished, Apollo nodded. “Thank you.” He paused for a while, as he slowly recognized that Echo was probably rather confused in his request. In a slight state of embarrassment, he felt the need to explain himself:

While Apollo had lived all his life without sight, he had always been curious of what ordinary things look like. It was, he believed, his biggest curse, his curiosity. His parents had thus surrounded him with sounds and textures, in an attempt to allow their child to use his other senses to understand the things he could not see. He was given rubber balls to understand what round was, cotton to understand the fluffy and feathery nature of clouds, and splash-filled baths to understand what was making the sound of crashing waves he heard outside his window every night. They wanted him to realize that he could perceive and comprehend the world around him without having his sight.

In what was, to him, an ironic turn of events, Apollo had at an early age fallen in love with storytelling- an art that usually requires a person to have had the ability to see at least once in their life, or at least, to imagine how things appear using shapes and colors. But Apollo never was interested in the imagery of stories- how could he be? He was more so intrigued by a storyteller’s inflections- the subtle change in the tone of their voice as they recounted a tale, or described a setting.

This he explained to Echo as they held their forward course, and as he spoke, he felt a small heat rising behind his cheeks. “I know it’s a bit stupid,” he added, after he had finished recounting these experiences of his past, “but, that’s why I asked. I like listening, and trying to imagine, even if I can’t get everything exactly right, myself…”
 
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Mal'akh Echo

"I do not think that there is anything foolish about that," the angel said after Apollo had given his explanation. "There is so much more to the world than what eyes can see, and often people are mistaken in sight anyways. Sometimes imagination is better. I do not mean that either alone should be perceived as a substitute for the other; it is simply nice to be able to spread experience over a wide range of senses. Sometimes all at once, sometimes in different patterns." It frowned a little to itself in thought. "Oh, I do hope I sound as logical as you did just now."

"Relying so much on sight myself, it does seem to be a bit of a challenge to branch out into the others, but in a good way. So I think?" Echo was running more on those romantic, abstract thoughts than those which might have been labeled as more down to Earth. Then again, what exactly was down to earth, to a being that did not originate from there? The same applied to every other place inhabited by mortals, truly. At a certain point of existence, everything logical and illogical blended together into the same degree of possibility.

"It is interesting to be able to filter things through a different sort of perspective. I once met an angel who had refused to speak or write for three centuries. Instead, it kept a flute on hand constantly and conveyed everything it thought and wanted to say into music. I do not believe that it stopped playing a single time through that entire duration. It was a constant stream of thought and music."
 
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Apollo chuckled. “Don’t worry. If anything, you put it significantly more logically than I ever could.” The angel really did have a knack for explaining things. Perhaps it was because it held a more objective view on human thought and behavior, that it could understand more than any human ever could. Apollo thought he should tell Echo to give a bit more credit to itself- it really had a better grasp on people than it thought.

Nevertheless, the notion of a blending of the senses, of an amalgamation of the perceived and the imagined, was something that Apollo had been experiencing all his life. He had never identified it as such, but that’s what it was- and the way Echo had phrased it, made it seem to Apollo strangely beautiful, after all this time, the way he experienced the world. Not just through one lens, so to speak, but by spreading out his sensations through smell, sound, touch…and imagination.

He became instantly intrigued by the story of the angel with the flute, a small, awestruck smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pictured it. “Wow,” he remarked, letting the thought process in his head for a bit. A constant stream of consciousness, and therefore a constant stream of music. Apollo smiled. “It must have sounded beautiful. I couldn’t imagine it, if people on Earth tried communicating like that, but…it must have been lovely to listen to.”
 
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Mal'akh Echo

"It was a wonderful experience," the angel said with a sigh. "A complete pleasure, truly. When I met" -the name was utterly concealed by the ban- "el." It trailed off for a moment, frowning to itself as it remembered that barrier. "Principality. That angel is a Principality. It seemed to have a liking for a certain shade of red, so. Principality Alizarin, I suppose. Since colors would be more of an abstract idea to Apollo, that was why Echo had chosen this kind of name. It felt more fitting, for some reason. Although, maybe that was because the angel knew the meanings behind most names and so hesitated to try and reach for one with what only may be a proper meaning.

"I met Principality Alizarin when I was quite young. Younger, anyways." Technically, by angelic standards, it was barely into adulthood. "I was a little over twenty at the time and still not very proficient with music. I remember, I had stopped to listen, intending it to only be a short while, and before I knew it, a full month had passed on Earth. Oh, for sure, it set me back some time in my studies but it was well worth it, that kind of enlightenment. Before that point, I do not think I had ever been so motivated musically."

"I do not know where Principality Alizarin is now, but a good number have taken up after it in recent decades," Echo said. " Perhaps a few of those will visit the island. Or, I you would like, I could see if I may be able to persuade one to come and play for you." The offer came naturally and without hesitation because, of course, was that not what angels were meant to do? Spreading the Word, spreading inspiration, spreading general positivity?
 
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Apollo tilted his head. Just as he had needed to provide Echo with a name, so had Echo needed to for Principality Alizarin. He thought it peculiar that an angel’s name could not be shared with a human-- he wondered if it would be too audacious a question to ask Echo why that was…

As its story progressed, Apollo found himself nodding slowly, understanding the concept of a profound inspiration affecting a musician’s drive. He had had similar experiences himself, from when he had set foot in his first concert hall, to when he had aurally witnessed his piano teacher play a Mozart concerto for him, as part of a sort of interview process…But let’s not think of him, Apollo reminded himself. Instead, he focused on the rest of Echo’s words.

His face lit up at Echo’s offer. “Are you kidding me!?” His smile stretched from ear to ear. “That’d be fantastic! I’d love that more than anything!” He couldn’t believe it. The entire prospect of having an angel play, just for him...Apollo couldn’t be more grateful, couldn’t be more excited…

But he paused for a moment. “Echo,” he asked, tilting his head again. “Why are you doing all this for me?” He tried to rephrase the question. “I mean, you’re sharing your music with me, you’re letting me fly with you—you even let me name you. I just--” he sighed. “I’ve only just met you tonight, and…well, I didn’t expect nearly this much generosity. Even from an angel.”
 
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Mal'akh Echo

It blinked once at Apollo’s question, tilting its head to the side in thought. ”Why?” the angel repeated, almost to itself. ”Well, I suppose, I simply wanted to.” But that served as both an answer as well as filler. There was a puzzled tone to its voice as it considered the exact reason why it was doing all of this. ”It really is quite nice to be talking with another being again,” Echo started, slowly and contemplatively. ”Perhaps I lost myself just a bit. Every action that I have done since that moment you first heard me singing, it all seemed so natural. I simply did as I felt was right. If you are looking for another reason, you will have to forgive me. I do not believe there was another.”

Although, there was one thing in particular that Apollo had said which Echo had heard before. ”I do believe that many older angels would agree with you, however,” it told him, cheerfully from having remembered that connection. ”I am frequently told that I am surprisingly reckless when it comes down to carrying out actions. It seems that tendency might fade with age but who really knows for sure? Maybe as early as a few more centuries, I will know for certain then.”
 
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Apollo laughed lightly. “No, no, it’s not reckless, per se.” He gave Echo a gentle smile. “It’s just kind. You really seem to care about the people you come into contact with. And I appreciate that.” His smile grew. “And you should always do what you feel is right. That alone is reason enough for anything, don’t you think?” He thought for a little bit. “I just hope that, someday soon, I’ll be able to find a way to pay you back for all the kindness you’ve shown me here.” He chuckled. “Whatever I do probably won’t add up to much, for an angel, but…I’d just wanna thank you somehow, you know?”

He sighed, and as his thoughts started to wander once more, Apollo began to question exactly how long they had been flying. Was it daytime yet? Were they any closer to Manta Carlos? And would they get back to the boat in time for no one to notice Apollo’s absence? He hadn't considered any of this when he decided to get up into the air, and now he was beginning to worry just a little bit. At least if they were approaching the island, he would be much more relaxed, as they would have accomplished their goal.

“I hate to be that guy,” Apollo began, recalling the cliché scenarios of younger children on long road trips, “but are we there yet? We’ve been flying for some time...” He tried not to make his concerns apparent in his voice, but he couldn’t tell if he was succeeding…
 
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