Snippet #2716361

A small bird made of discarded human tools appears glides over the high gate of the heavens. The feathers were thin aluminum sheets, its ribs the bone of bird and human, a small identifiable light of heaven somewhere inside its head. Ophanie, keeper of the celestial records and high scribe of change. Lucifer if any would know of the insular angel as the impartial record keeper both ever in the hall of records and alight in the world recording changes with his thousands of eyes. He'd written down every word Morningstar had said uncompromising with the insistent interpretations of meaning on behalf of the denizens of heaven. Even the ones lucifer had just uttered at the gates of heaven with a neutral exactitude marked in ophaniel creation. Until the last light went out in this reality the scratch of his stylus he would insure a celestial record continued unaltered by bias as best as his intellect and awareness could muster.

The small raven-sized bird settled on Lucifer's shoulder though not a heavy thing even as the odd metal parts inside it trundled away it was an airy creature. The thin voice hidden deep away echoed out a wooden raven's beak between two gold gears for eyes, "What changes have you brought in all the time apart from here, Morningstar? I have neither been here o'erlong. Perhaps heaven cannot change. But, then, from whence comes yourself at all I wonder?"