How many had the privilege to meet their God? How many of the creatures that dwelled in all the realms could say they had irrefutable proof of their belief system being true? It was only Just to know this, the Lord of Justice had decided so he appeared before his followers every noe and then, giving them blessings all over the world as he appeared at this churches. His golden wings spreading behind him as his feet would touch the mortal grounds again as they had once done daily. Of course those he had made reborn had special access to him, the young cupid had an advantage there because in many ways Jeongmin had more to gain with meeting with Justice. He was younger and while damaged by everything he had been taken in his sleep, softly and gently, not in a flurry of anger and hatred and the misconception that life, as a fact, was unfair and designed to be torture.
Lord Justice sat on the throne as he waited for his disciple, his dark hazel eyes staring into the distance as golden locks hung over his slim shoulders. He looked the same in many ways as he had the first time he had met Jaejoong, the young face and flawless skin. His blonde hair dancing as he moved and the slender long legs crossed as he waited. He was wearing all white, with golden rings around all his fingers. There was an aureole hanging above his head though, shimmering in the air as it seemed to not be solid but made out of golden particles that listened to his bidding.
As all should.
He sensed them all, his followers, as they prayed for him. He was a good God, he was Just and when their wishes were Just he would grant them. Slay those that had done evil and praise those that had done his work in the realms. His churches grew in strength, more and more people became aware of his almighty power, and that too was,
As it should.
The angel finally made it up and Justice quirked an eyebrow at the man now standing there. Not kneeling, but waiting in silence. “Is this how you greet a God?” He asked, his voice deep but sweet as honey as he spoke, but there was a slight hint of a smile as he tugged on what seemed to be something invisible, however if Jaejoong would look up he would see a shimmer of threads around Lord Justice, going all directions and one, a red one, tugged on the other’s chest. It was a gentle tug, not one designed to get the other to kneel but teasing. There were only a few red ones among the hundreds of other strings, and with a blink they had disappeared again.
The Lord took in the other; he looked well all things considered. “Why have you come here?” he asked curiously “You have asked to see me several times, is prayer not enough? Do you not feel my presence whenever you close your eyes and speak to me?” He asked as he tilted his head slightly. “I’ve only made the two angels you know.”
When Jaejoong lifted his gaze, following the thread of a red string connecting him to the other as it tugged on something deeply lodged in his heart, soul, somewhere inbetween, Justice’s presence alone was enough to humble him. Suddenly it seemed foolish to have climbed all the way up here, to ask for help that surely could have been provided elsewhere as well and the angel worried that his Lord would chastise him for wanting more than that. If he could already see into his head and read the thoughts long before he could consider saying them out loud or not -- and yet, as much as Justice’s presence seemed to knock the breath from his lungs, the playful glimmer in his eyes felt so familiar and comforting that it soothed him at the same time. An odd, churning contrast.
“Perhaps I’m just greedy to be your favorite,” he joked, voice raw and cracking around the first syllables as if he had to struggle to find it again, but it grew confident quickly enough. And serious, as he continued; the small smile disappearing from his face as quickly as it had ghosted over it while his eyes lowered their gaze toward the ground in front of the throne. “... I am greedy. Having felt your presence does not soothe the questions I have and they grow persistent enough to keep me awake at night.”
Jaejoong paused for a split second, unsure about whether or not Justice would grant him permission to continue, but then decided to take matters into his own hands -- if only, because he had come so far and, really, what did he have to lose at this point? His God was a merciful one, if shown respect, and that he had not punished Jaejoong for the small insolence of not kneeling proved as much. Only now his legs gave way, letting the angel sink gracefully to the floor with his hands resting on his lap as he looked back up at the ethereal creature on the throne once more; so familiar to the one he had turned to for guidance many many years ago as well -- but while Justice encompassed Youngmin’s essence in every possible way, he was also so much more.
“What purpose do I serve?” That question alone echoed heavily through the hall and the distance between them, as small as it was at this point, but Jaejoong would not have dared to approach further without being prompted. “What did you see, when you took me, that it convinced you to bring me back? You could have let me kill myself, slowly but surely; I would have belonged to you either way.” Jaejoong’s soul had still been sworn to the Nightmother and when Justice took Her place, it automatically meant that it was His to keep after Jaejoong’s death, too. He’d never retracted the vow he made back then, half wishing that someday it might reunite him with Min Jun when the night elf fell in battle; that they could be together in Her embrace if not in this world. Sometimes it still hurt to know that this possibility was out of reach now, too. But then again, sometimes he still woke up missing Min Jun so much that it was hard not to think his heart would be ripped out of his chest right in that very moment.
None of this he said out loud, because none of it changed or influenced the most prominent struggle bothering him, one which the angel hurried to explain before Justice might think he was being ungrateful. “I’m lost as to where my place in this world is. I knew what I was supposed to do as a hunter, even though I got too close to the creatures I was meant to detest, but ...” Another small pause, the angel frowned. “Is it sin to be so deeply connected to a demon? Am I disappointing you by not knowing whether or not I should allow him to be so important? Am I expected to continue purging monsters from the world? But how can I when the definition by which I pick them would include some of my friends, too? You sent me back and I know you did not do so on a whim -- and I asked to see you, not only because your presence gives me comfort more so than in prayers, but because prayers do not seem capable of answering the questions I have. Forgive me, if I have many.”
