Angelface

Celeste plucked her harp as her fellow angels bickered about whether to play spitball down the fold of the Worldly Map. Of course they’d play. It was about the only game any of the Sanctified could remember once St. Peter had done cleansing them. Plus, it made for rain Below. Of course Gabriel would win and prate - of course - about how horn-playing kept a muscle moustache buff. It was looking to be another afternoon of syrupy angelspit and backbiting, when Celeste glimpsed Nisroc’s out-the-corner-of-his-eye expression and hushed them all. “I remember another game,” said Nisroc, dreamily. “We called it War.”

Image: Based on Ptolemy.