Scene 1: Resto do Anjo Institution for the Mentally Disturbed
A girl crouches in the corner of a padded room, alone but for herself and the myriad voices inside her head. She suffers, day in and out, uncontrollable emotion and unignorable voices assailing her, even in her sleep.
I want to die. Look. Heaven. “Butterfly”. What? Huh? Me. Wall. Bed. 3 times- no. where’s the nurse? That poster is ugly. What. I like pizza. The… The nurse should die. I hate bikinis. I hate God. I love me. I hate me. What. “Where”. Who’s that? No one. Oh. The wall is still. “The room is still.” Are they yelling outside again? Yeeah. I should shut them up. No. “Wrong.” But. I want to. [REDACTED]. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. Babel 17. Maybe. Shut up…”SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP.” ...Go away.
All is still. Space and time are immaterial. The voices. The rage. The fear. the sights and sounds and everything around her is naught. Nothing but grey, eternal grey. A voice rings. A voice of cold, calculating reason.
<Hark, Daughter of Eve. The Time has Come.
The time for Silence. The time for Wrath. The time to set Right what has gone Wrong.>
...wait, what? There’s nothing. This doesn’t make sense. It’s too calm. The voices...they went away. Who’s this? Where am I? What are you talking about?
<Hush, child. Urgency is not needed. This is a [moment/instant/fraction] of time immaterial. I am Dumah, Angel of the Blessed Silence. I am to offer you a deal, Daughter of Eve.>
...Is that true? …
Huh.
Tell me everything.
<You shall be free.
Your thoughts will be your own.
Your mind will be unfettered.
I need only a period of [service/Assistance/Alliance].>
..What do you need, and for how long?
<I require your body.>
…. I’m too young for that. I think.
<I do not require your sexual capability.
I require your capability as a Vessel of an Angel of the Lady of Creation.>
You want to… live in me? I… honestly find it hard to believe that a magnificent angel would dwell in a lowly mortal. A pitiful, raving lunatic at that.
<Transcendent beings cannot touch this world through will alone, lest it be burned to cinders. Thus, we act through [Hosts/Vessels/Intermediaries], to house our will as we dole out Holy Truth.>
Why me? And after you leave...what then? Will I be sane still? Would I just be dead by then?
<The period of interaction will be no more than a single [cycle/orbit/year] and a [rotation/midnight/day].>
...I said. Why me? Answer me, Dumah.
<Because the host must be willing, and you seek the Silence.>
<Fair enough. Do you swear to your God that nothing you have said is [false/lie/misleading/inaccurate]?>
<I swear upon the Sword of the Archangel, upon the Seat of Heaven Itself, and upon the name of the Creator, Shis’m Caes.>
<...I see. Well, it made more sense for God to be a maternal figure in the first place anyways.
I accept your deal.>
<Then speak aloud your name, and Mine. Accept me into your Essence that we may quit this place.>
….
….
……
……
…
She nods.
“I am Constanza Ruiz. I accept you, Dumah, Angel of Silence.”
The world fades to white as the Angel enters into her mind, her body, her soul, burning its brand upon her forehead as it joins with her. With a sound of chimes, she’d feel herself falling into oblivion as Dumah sets about making true his word.
In an instant, the Hospital is made unto dust, her form rising from it, changing, the shape of the Angel surrounding her human form. Three limbs spread outward from a massive central shape, an inverted pyramid which contains her form.
==There is one we must contact, in a country to the north. She was banished to this world in ages long past, as she chose to step aside when the Lightbringer rose his rebellion against the Mother of All. She will serve now, or we shall give unto her the Eternal Silence.==
Far away, across oceans and continents, a news story breaks, of a mental hospital that simply… vanished into thin air, and sightings of a strange behemoth standing over the crater that remained. They request any assistance that can be given, but none would come, for none lived to tell.
((tl;dr, OH SHIT A PLOT.))