Scenario:Raphael - The Wind in the Furrows

The Wind in the Furrows

One afternoon, Raphael begins to tell Uriel the tale of how he became a farmer.
Having descended from the heavens, the wind primarch's musings on the nature of "life" led him to trespass on an old farmer's land. He offers to help grow the crops as an apology, but only succeeds in ruining them further.

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As the shadows grow long one languid afternoon, Raphael and Uriel stroll together through the wind primarch's fields, located in the suburbs of the town of Sazak.

The two archangels walk between row upon row of crops, wending their way towards their unspoken destination.

Raphael: Apologies, Uriel—I did not intend for you to close up your restaurant so early.

Uriel: 'S all right—I'm the one that followed you here! Don't sweat it, it's a good opportunity for me to see how the carrots are comin' along!

Raphael: Thank you. An extra pair of hands make the work far more manageable.

Passing a weathered old sign, Raphael's feet come to a stop, almost in spite of themselves.

Uriel: "Do not enter..."
Looks like this thing's seen better days, that's for sure.

Uriel: But what's it doing out here in the middle of a field? Nobody'd ever wander all the way out here on accident.

Raphael: That's not quite the case.

Raphael: I never did tell you the story of the day I met him, did I?

Uriel: You sure you wanna talk about that today? If you don't, I totally get it...

Raphael: On the contrary—I believe there would be no better day for it than today.

Raphael leans back in gentle reminiscence, his words joining the sough of the breeze through the crops.

Raphael: Let me tell you a tale of the primarch that wrought his sword into a plowshare—a journey of discovery and adversity.

Naught but a few days had yet passed since the curtain fell on that great clash. Raphael wanders through Sazak's outskirts, book clutched in hand.

Raphael: Can I be said to be alive?

Raphael: Us primarchs have recused the Astrals and the roles they set forth for us, and we now live as any other in the skies. I have accepted that for myself.

Raphael: But, according to this philosopher's book, life and death must always exist in tandem.

Raphael: Thus, a being that lacks death—such as an archangel—must also lack life, correct?

Raphael: Hence, can I really call this existence "life?" What defines life? What purpose does it serve?

Raphael: What say you?

Mole: ...!

Raphael: Alas, the answer fails you too... This is a difficult quandary indeed.

Raphael: Then, let me ask you about your life. What enjoyment is there to be found living in the loam? Have there been any revelations that have shattered your earth?

Mole: ...?

Raphael: Wait, do not leave! I wish to ask you more...

Raphael: The earth trail ends here... Maybe I should try digging down after it...

???: You talking to that mole there, sonny?

Raphael: Gah! Where in the skies did you come from?

Old Man: Don't look at me! Yer the one who came strolling over this way mutterin' about diggin' up my fields!

Raphael: Indeed I did. I seem to have let myself get away from me.

Old Man: Haha, ya can say that again! You didn't even notice the sign!

Raphael: The sign?

Old Man: This here's my farmland! I could say you were trespassin', if I was in the mood to!

Raphael: Trespassing!

Raphael: Are you going to have me arrested? Will I be tried under mortal law?

Old Man: Well, can't try ya under mole-tal law, can I! Hah, it's too much effort to turn in a harmless stray, anyhow.

Old Man: Tell ya what—leave me a single rupie, and I'll call it even. Deal?

Raphael: ...

Old Man: Hm? Oh, don't tell me you don't even have that!

Raphael: My sincerest apologies. I am not yet accustomed to your customs of money...

Old Man: Haha, I see how it is! You're one of those free spirits who goes where the wind takes 'em, ain't ya?

Raphael: Well, I am more of the one that takes the wind with me...

Old Man: No sense in forcin' ya to pay what you don't have! I have an idea of how you can repay me, though...

Raphael: May I ask what these are?

Old Man: My hand-me-downs! Sorry if it's a bit on the small side.

Old Man: You'll be workin' off your fine instead! That sound okay with you, windy boy?

Raphael: I may lack any knowledge or experience in this area, but, by my dignity as an archangel, I will do my best.

Old Man: You've got passion, I'll give ya that! But are you really goin' to carry that book under your arm the whole time?

Raphael: Indeed—I have quite the problem on my mind; keeping this on hand will aid in thinking it over.

Old Man: Hmm, I see...

Old Man: Welp, first I'd like ya to help pull up any weeds you find. While you're at it, make sure all the furrows are all nice an' neat—helps with the plantin'.

Raphael sets to work, occasionally stopping to catch a pearl or two of farming wisdom dispensed by his new teacher.

Raphael: How does this look? I have pulled all of the weeds up, and made sure all the furrows are evenly spaced.

Old Man: Son, those "weeds" are the carrots yer s'posed to be growin'! Unless you fancy grass in yer stew, haha!

Raphael: Phew... I have raked the soil so it is all soft and crumbly. That is how it is supposed to be, correct?

Old Man: It's even better if you don't trample it flat as soon as you've tilled it, lad!

Raphael: A molehill! I sense the mole is still inside, too...

Old Man: Leave the moles be while you're workin', son. We'll dig them hills up when we're done.

Raphael: Hm? What a glorious butterfly...

Old Man: Earth to windy! You're gettin' distracted again!

Raphael: Whew...

Raphael sinks his head into his hands, the unexpected struggle of farming beginning to weigh on him.

Raphael: Life for mortals is the height of hardship—my battle with the fallen angels pales by comparison.

Old Man: Bringing new life into the world is no easy task!

Raphael: New... life...

Old Man: Hahaha, you've made a right mess of my fields, haven't ya? I'll have to start from the top by planting everything again.

Raphael: I cannot express how sorry I am... Please, allow me to reimburse you for the crops you have lost.

Old Man: No frettin', all right? I could see you were tryin' yer damnedest out there.

Old Man: You helped an old man while away the hours! Now, go let that wind blow you to some new adventure.

Raphael: It is not right for an archangel to leave chaos in their wake—I will not go until I have righted my wrong.

Old Man: 'Zat so? Well, if yer insistin'...

Old Man: How about ya live with me for a while? Gettin' those carrots'll retaken care of would be about two weeks... Wanna take that on?

Raphael: I will spare no effort.

Raphael surveys the rolling fields before him—book still clutched tight by his side—and sighs deeply.

Raphael: (I should finish my time here as soon as possible so I can continue my ruminations...)

Raphael: (How will I live henceforth? And is any of that really deserving of the title of "life?")

However, barely a week passes before more issues rear their head.

Old Man: Look here, see? The sprouts are buried far to deeply to bud, and to top it off, the rows are like crazy pavin'!

Old Man: Hah, looks like the whole crop's a lost cause! At this rate I'll have you here "helping" for another thousand years!

Raphael: That long?

Raphael: Uriel, Gabriel, Michael, I must leave the rest to you... My eternity will be spent here on this farm.

Emerging from his labyrinth of reflection, Raphael's own furrowed brow meets its namesakes on the field once more.

He ponders for a while on which gust of fate blew him to this little patch of land, and the old farmer who now has become his mentor.