Tristan's face fell as he heard Alistair slam a door shut.
He did not know what he had done wrong.
As someone who was isolated from his creation, he did not understand angels or humans from a personal perspective. However, he knew about them in theory because He would talk to him about them. He thought it was enough because He had a great way of talking that made everything feel so real for Tristan.
Tristan did not know how long he had been in the garden, but he knew it was for a very long time because the stories changed dramatically through the ages. He knew what was going on outside, even though he did not know what was outside.
He could even say that he knew the history of humans and fallen angels more than those who were on earth. He would always come to speak to Tristan, especially when a major event occured on earth.
Tristan understood the reason for the stories because the inhabitants of earth seemed to be a source of joy and frustration for Him. When He spoke of humans, He would tell Tristan about the anger, hate, and love of humanity and how they shaped who they were.
Tristan asked about the capability of angels to feel the same emotions and whether the same emotions that drove humans were the reason angels fell. He got angry with Tristan, or at least His version of that.
He could not truly express anger.
He told Tristan that angels were made to be perfect and to obey without question. Superfluous things like emotions were against the purity of heaven and the essence of divinity. An angel who felt lost in their perfection was no longer worthy of heaven. Therefore, they had to fall.
Tristan thought it was a flawed way of thinking.
If He thought humans were interesting because of their ever-changing emotions, why were the angels imperfect for feeling the same? Sometimes, Tristan thought that the love He lavished on humans was the reason the angels rebelled.
Even perfect creatures would question their worth if they were neglected.
He also wondered if He thought he was flawed because it was obvious that he did not have the perfection of a true angel.
But Tristan did not question Him.
It was not because he thought He was right. He just did not want to expose his flaws and attract contempt. After all, he never truly felt angelic or human. So, he chose to think of himself as a lone gardener.
A gardener whom He visited on occasion, like a supervisor.
There was no need to think of anything beyond the garden.
Plants made him happy. He did not have to think about the philosophies of heaven and earth while he was tending the garden. All he could feel, even when he was all alone, was pure joy.
But now, he wondered if he should have been more engaged in those conversations with Him a little more. Maybe, he could understand the reason Alistair got annoyed by the cleansing, even though it was a good gesture.
He did not want to lose the only anchor he had in this new world, which felt so unfamiliar. It had something so vile that he now recognised from its absence in his past life. It was the smell that was clinging to him and Alistair.
It was death.
He hated that energy.
When he extinguished the Eternal Flame, he knew he would fall. It was best because the angels he trapped in heaven after severing the domains would have probably found him and tortured him if he had not fallen.
But he was afraid because the fall meant he would be alone forever.
Yes, he had always been alone, but it was in a place he had always known and loved since he gained consciousness. The thought of being on earth was frightening because of the way He described it.
Choices…
Good and bad…
Light and darkness…
And life and death…
The last one scared him the most because he never understood death completely. Even when He told him that he might have to extinguish the Eternal Flame someday, Tristan did not think of it as death.
After all, it was impossible to describe His existence as a being. He was more of the essence of the universe. Extinguishing the Eternal Flame was just scattering His energy. He could not truly be destroyed.
But real death felt and smelled different from everything he had known his entire existence. It was like a rotting, rancid smell that made his mouth feel sour. Tristan knew it was not strange that he could sense death and hated it because he lived in the Garden of Life.
Still, the revulsion was strong.
The thought of facing these alone, without even the comfort of his plants, made him afraid. So, he did not want to lose Alistair. It almost made him panic when he thought about Alistair casting him out of his house.
Tristan felt impossibly weak and useless at that moment.
With careful steps, Tristan left the bedroom with the intention of finding Alistair. He wanted to apologise, even though he was unsure what he had done wrong. His steps were light as he walked barefoot on the cold floor.
Unfortunately, the house was so big and a little confusing that he wandered into the open living room. His feet felt unsteady as he walked towards the open balcony. His eyes were a little wide and uncertain.
The buildings should have felt strange and new, but He had always described the human world so clearly. It did not feel at all foreign. He had always been an excellent storyteller with vivid imagery.
What shocked Tristan was the tainted life energy all around him.
All the life energy he could feel around him was wrong.
It was like something tainted the familiar pure energy he knew from his home in the garden. The brightness of life seemed to be surrounded by tendrils of darkness, choking and clogging the life.
It was ugly and disgusting.
He felt like it was choking him.
Tristan could not move.
He squatted on the ground, almost catatonic at the bombardment of the crawling sensation. Unbidden, his white wings appeared again. He formed a cocoon around his body as if it would protect him from the harsh reality.
Alistair appeared beside him in a rush with wet hair and a towel around his waist.