╮ℕever⇋ℱree⇌ℑrade╰ Yaoi Master/Slave RP CLOSED

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Concern took a hold of Michael, seeing Sariel so nervous. Sariel did not want to do this, and Michael had made him feel as if he had to. Michael’s heart sunk; he was causing Sariel distress once again. The younger angel apologized. Though, there was nothing for Sariel to be sorry about. Michael was the one that had forced him into the awkward situation.

Ridding himself of the rest of his clothing and setting his clean outfit by the bath, Michael crept in facing Sariel, careful not to slosh any water out. Eyes on Sariel’s anxious features, his brow drew in. He wanted to comfort Sariel, calm him, try to mend the situation. Unsure and timid, he reached for Sariel, caressing his cheek and lifting his chin. He met his eyes with a worried smile, and he lathered Sariel’s skin with the soap, rubbing his shoulders and back. Strong hands traced up to the angel’s nape, continuing to his cheeks. Michael captured Sariel’s lips, pulling him into an embrace, but he parted to weave his fingers into the other’s hair, massaging his scalp. He pushed the white locks back, cupping water in his hands to rinse Sariel’s hair. Lathering and massaging down Sariel’s arms, he caressed the smaller man’s hands and placed kisses on his fingers.

Michael scooted back. His eyes trailed over Sariel, hoping he was beginning to calm, but he averted his gaze, lust threatening to ignite within him. He set to work on soaping himself up. Having to twist awkwardly to reach his back, he found straining his shoulders caused them to ache more than normal. He thought nothing of it, however. It was more than likely due to his weak wings. Once finished, he dunked under the water and resurfaced to smile at Sariel, his hair stuck in inky clumps to his face.

Dripping wet, he stepped out and handed Sariel the towel. Michael had never bothered to use one, always putting on his clothing wet. Besides, he wanted to avoid Sariel being uncomfortable if he in any way could. Pulling on his clean pants, he returned to the wardrobe, gathering Sariel an outfit to sleep in; a loose shirt and a pair of shorts. He presented Sariel with the clothes and led him to the bed after he changed. Though he suspected Sariel didn’t require sleep here, it was still the late evening of an eventful day. Sariel liked to be in bed, and Michael would remain there with him for as long as he wanted.

Michael left his shirt on the nightstand, deciding he’d rather “sleep” without it. Climbing in beside Sariel, he wanted to cuddle into the angel, but dismissed the notion as ridiculous. The desire to be held was something he needed to n** in the bud. Michael was not the one in need of protection and comfort. No, that was Sariel. Michael needed to watch over, must be strong, for his angel now more than ever. He pulled Sariel close, his arms forming a protective warmth. Kissing Sariel’s forehead, he ran his fingers through his hair, “are you happy, my helel?” Michael certainly hoped that he was. Sariel’s happiness was all that mattered, the reason for his existence. He would do anything to ensure that Sariel was safe and happy.

“I,” he trailed off, feeling he didn’t have the right to make any sort of serious request of Sariel, despite the begging he’d done earlier. Regardless, he managed to find his voice again, though low and timid, “I want you to inform me if something is amiss, please, Sariel.” He hated the thought of Sariel hurting or in trouble and not telling him, but guilt twisted a knife into his side for the hypocritical action. Michael had no intention of disclosing any hurt he felt to Sariel. It simply wasn't worth it to upset the younger man. As long as Sariel was safe and happy, Michael's feelings were irrelevant.

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←
Located: Eden
With: Sariel
Music:
OOC: ugh crappy short post - sorry this took so long. when i finally got to sit down and write, i couldn't think of anything

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

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xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel felt his cheeks burn from the inside as Michael reached his fingers to grace Sariel's face. He took a uneasy breath in but smiled at Michael still. It wasn't that he didn't want to be in the bath with him, but his heart was beating so heavily it was probably sending vibrations through the water. Michael thankfully didn't seem offended or angry that Sariel was being so weird about it, but of course he wouldn't anyway. He grabbed the soap and motioned for Sariel to turn around and he did so, calming down too. He just wanted to wash his back and help him relax. This was only pure intentions, Sariel was getting all worked up for nothing. He was just so full of lust now it was almost as if he thought everything was going to turn out to be some impure situation. Oh God, how embarrassing. He rubbed the temples on his head, thinking about what a fool he was. Michael wouldn't do something like that, not now at least. He used to be able to look at anyone not clothed and think nothing of it, now he's nothing but flustered. Even Raphael could probably look at someone undressed and not be flustered. Ugh, what a pitiful way to think.

Being pulled back around slightly, Michael twisted Sariel into a kiss and an embrace pulling the two closer. He could feel his heart rate rising again but his thoughts quickly told it to stop. It was as if Sariel had five personalities in him telling him to do multiple different things and only a fraction of his brain had logic left out of the multiple personalities. Michael broke the connection though, giving more attention to Sariel's hair. He couldn't help but laugh at how they probably looked like two cats giving each other a bath. But all in all, it was really relaxing in the end and he felt completely calm. He needed to understand just because they were doing something slightly romantic together didn't mean it had to be anything sexual. Honestly, he liked it simple like this and even more truthfully he would do it again. He felt like there had been a weird barrier broken between the two, but that was probably the dramatic way to think of it.

Michael parted after some cute little kisses on Sariel's fingers which made his smile about ten times brighter. He was perfect, so charming and strong, dedicated and passionate, Michael was just beautiful and really cared about Sariel's wellbeing. The best part about him was that he loved Sariel. Sariel hung himself over the side of the tub, a hand dangling down as his head rested over the edge. His eyes closed as he sighed in contentment. He perked up to look back at Michael who seemed to be struggling cleaning his own back and he began to speak up, "Oh, do you need-" But he dunked under. "Um..." Sariel timidly spoke, a look of bewilderment playing on his features. It was just so unexpected and blunt! Though, Michael came back up with a cute smile for Sariel. He looked so silly, his hair sticking to his face and such a smile accompanying the pieces stuck to his cheeks. Of course Sariel probably looked pretty ridiculous with his wet hair too but Michael wouldn't be one to laugh at it. It all mixed up to make Sariel almost double over in laughter. Of course, he tried to cover his mouth to not make it seem as impolite.

Michael climbed out, dripping water along with him. Sariel wasn't sure if that was exactly safe and hoped he wouldn't slip or something. He was handed a towel and graciously accepted it, stepping out slowly as he patted down his damp skin, trying not to add onto the water on the floor. After realizing he was dry he came to the realization he had to dump his hand back into the water to drain it out. That was always a pain, but it seemed to happen to him every time. He turned to see Michael entering with some clothes he grabbed for Sariel. Holding the towel up with one hand and reaching out to the clothes with he other, he thanked Michael once more. He was sure to change quickly into the clothes he was given since Michael seemed to be waiting for him and he didn't want to wait too long. He rustled his hair in the towel and then tried to dry the floor up a bit with the towel as well. After finishing, he stood and folded the towel, resting it on the vanity top as he caught a glimpse of himself that he had a hard time looking away from.

However, he was led back to the bed and he climbed in without a second thought. He flipped over on his side, shutting his eyes and getting ready to fall asleep. He didn't have to but he always did anyway. There just came a point in his life where he realized there wasn't really much to do anymore, so he started sleeping and he found a love in the hobby and became a fellow "bed-head". His eyes flung opened though as he felt a dip in the mattress below him. He shot a smile at Michael, who's hair was still pretty much soaked in contrast to Sariel's, which was messy but only a little moist. Michael wrapped his arms around Sariel and he tucked himself into Michael, nuzzling down into his chest. It was always so comfortable wrapped up in Michael and warm too. Michael had the ability to make everyone in the room warm, Sariel didn't know if he was aware of that skill though. He could see his eyelashes falling into view as he began to drift off, but was brought back to the sound of Michael's voice.

He wondered if Sariel was happy? Well, that was a silly question, of course he was. Michael continued on, seeming timid and almost ashamed of what he was saying. Sariel began to sit up, snailing out of Michael's grasp to stare down at him. His head tilted in curiosity but his face was showing a different emotion, something more playful. "Michael, have you gone mad?" He replied with a small laugh, rubbing at his eyes. He bent down a little to plant a kiss on Michael's forehead and pulled back to put a hand on his cheek, rubbing the side with his thumb. "Of course I am happy, Michael. I'll always be happy with you by my side, I have never been happier. Why would even you ask?" Sariel's lips pressed together, thinking that was a bit of a rude question to ask. He shook his head, "Never mind that- but absolutely I will tell you. But just know that nothing is ever, really really wrong. I may be melodramatic sometimes, but I am never not happy really, especially with you around. I am a positive person I truly believe, we all just have little lows that we can work out of."

Sariel lowered his head to lay back down next to Michael, running his hands through his hair and then crawling down to his back in an embrace of some kind. He took a few seconds to eye Michael, to focus on every little thing about him. He smiled, kissing Michael deeply. He pulled apart only slightly, having the two's noses touch. "And I believe you are the same. If you expect that out of me, I am going to have to ask the same of you too, alright?" He pecked Michael on the lips once more and then used one hand to push Michael's head in toward Sariel's chest to have him snuggle in close to him. He sat his chin on top of Michael's head, closing his eyes. "You've done really well today, Michael. You're really opening up. I want to see more of that, alright? Don't let me down, I want to know everything about you. I want your world to become my world," Sariel sat for a moment on his words, thinking if he should keep going. He sighed almost silently, his fingers tightening around Michael. "Because you're the only reason I am here, You're my everything. I love you unconditionally, Michael. To tell you the truth, I believe I was born to meet you."

Sariel could feel himself sweat a bit, biting his lip. Maybe that was a bit weird to say, but it was too late. It was how he felt, he became who he was because of Michael. He used to be afraid to swing a sword at anything, now he was ready to pull one out on about anyone who tested him. He used to be incredibly proper and gospel oriented but now he has become more casual and open to things. He has molded into someone not as artificial, someone who was his own person because of Michael. Michael was the reason he smiled, the reason he felt warm, the reason for everything. He couldn't even imagine a life without him anymore. The hand on Michael's head ran through his hair gently, slowing down and getting lazier with each stroke. "Goodnight, Michael."

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❁ Who am I with ❁:Michael
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: Content
❁ Mood Maker ❁:

❁ OOC ❁: its no problem !!oh my gosh!! ! mine is short and gross and filler too ugh bangs head on table repeatedly
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“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Michael felt horrible. He was horrible. He was asking Sariel to confide in him, but he wasn’t willing to do the same. Sariel even required that Michael open up to him. But what was the older angel to do? It simply wasn’t worth it to tell Sariel of what troubled him. Sariel already hated and blamed himself; Michael didn’t want to make things worse. Besides, the guilt that plagued him was only normal, the result of his countless sins. There was no way to correct all of the things he’d done, so it would never stop. But it was just. It was right, the punishment he more than deserved.

Sariel’s praising words, his pledge of unconditional love, it made the guilt difficult to bear, and he nestled deeper into Sariel. He knew it was wrong, pathetic for him to seek comfort in the one he needed to protect, but it was so inviting. Sariel’s warmth and heartbeat, his fingers through Michael’s hair, the once-fallen man couldn’t help but melt into the embrace.

Sariel whispered his goodnight, his movements slowing. It caused Michael to panic, sending his heart into a racing flutter. He couldn’t fight back the memories of their time on Earth. All he could see was Sariel weak and pale, sick and slowly fading away. Logically, he knew Sariel was healthy here. He knew diseases like what had afflicted Sariel didn’t exist in Paradise, but the knowledge did nothing to ease his fear. He could still feel a threat looming, breathing down his neck, ready to steal Sariel away.

His hands shook slightly, giving no other indication of the anxiety claiming him. Michael had thought having the Host’s voices with him would help quell any night terrors, but his paranoia conquered all. Images of Sariel ill and dying littered his mind. He could see the red stains from the blood Sariel had lost, the angel’s form a sickly white on the bathroom floor. He could feel the cold rain and mud, could smell Sariel’s shed blood, overpowering even Gabriel’s heady scent. Crimson was pouring from Sariel’s chest.

Michael found himself clutching to the fabric of Sariel’s shirt. His eyes were open wide, pulse pounding in his ears. Breath coming out in shaky pants, he tried to calm himself and focused on Sariel. The angel’s breath was even, his heartbeat steady. Michael turned his ear to Sariel’s chest, the constant rhythm soothing him. The drumming proved that Sariel was there, alive and with him. A sigh passed his lips, and his eyes slipped closed. Gruesome sights tried to invade his mind, but he concentrated on the rise and fall of Sariel’s chest, chasing the horror away.

Despite his large stature and time-worn features, Michael looked much like a child, curled in on his side with his head to Sariel’s chest, fingers gripping the younger man’s shirt. He felt warm, safe. He relaxed, tense limbs and muscles unwinding and sinking further into the mattress. The warmth enveloped him. His grasp loosened, heartrate slowing and breath evening out. Perhaps, after everything, Michael did need to rest; he just needed to feel safe enough to drift off.

Michael dreamt of fire, not of destruction or death, but of warmth and light. Flames were contained in a fireplace, and he was huddled up by it, sharing an afghan with Sariel. From a logical point of view, it was nonsensical, as many dreams were. It was the beginning of summer, and Michael was capable of sustaining body heat even in cold temperatures. But maybe that was the point. It didn’t have to make sense. He was with Sariel, cuddling against him and sharing their lives together. That was all that mattered.

He turned to his angel, eyes scanning over his delicate, fire-lit features, but something about the flames caught his attention. Something flickered in the center, white-hot with force and passion. It formed into a tiny sun and began to rise. That should have been alarming, but there was something so familiar about it, deep and infinite. His opposite, the end to his beginning, it was a completing component.

Michael shifted closer to the fire, but everything came crashing down.

A mourning dove cooed outside, the warm off-grey of early morning filtering in. He sighed in a half-sleep, eyes cracking open. A gentle and steady beat in his ear, the rhythm of Sariel’s breath against him, he felt complete, strangely uplifted and secure. The night’s fear had been washed away. It was an alien sensation to him, but it was very much welcomed. He was happy.

A trace of dread tried to worm its way in, but one look at Sariel’s sleeping face swept it away. Michael smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see it. He brought a hand to Sariel’s cheek, caressing the soft skin. Sariel had granted him this, the rarity of a peaceful night, the fresh contentment that dawn should bring. Lying there, Michael began to think. Sariel had done so much for him. Without the angel, Michael would have rotted and died a lonely death, caged and unwanted. Sariel gave him everything, a place of shelter, a chance to live instead of exist, and a reason to do so. Sariel loved him, most of all, had blessed Michael with a chance to share his life.

And Michael had only hurt him, failing him, letting him suffer and die.

He cringed, but forced his eyes open, focusing on Sariel’s features. Sariel was so beautiful, both outwardly and inwardly. He was so kind to Michael, and the older angel could not recall ever having thanked him for everything. Michael wasn’t sure he ever properly could. How could one adequately thank someone that had given them the world?

He could sit and brood about it, but Sariel’s happiness was what mattered over everything. Watching Sariel’s long lashes flutter on his cheeks, Michael contemplated what he could do in that moment to give Sariel joy.

A particularly loud bird chirped by the window, and he jumped, moving to gaze out over the outdoors. He couldn’t help but grin at the sights. The flowers were just beginning to open for the day, sunlight sparkling on the beads of dew. A chipmunk skittering around the garden caught his eye, but his attention darted to a splotch of pastel pink, just beyond the gate. It was a small cluster of boat orchids, what he considered to be one of the prettiest varieties. He spotted a set of pots by the kitchen door, and an idea bloomed.

Looking to Sariel, he felt a knot twist his heart at the notion of leaving him, even if only for a moment. He stood anyway, pulling on the shirt he’d left on the night-table. He just kept imagining Sariel’s smile when he would present him with the flower; he knew Sariel liked them. Grabbing his boots from the bathroom floor, and with a final brush of Sariel’s smooth cheek, he started down the stairs. Panicked worry massed into a weight in his gut, but he pushed on, eventually finding himself stepping through the kitchen door. He inspected the pots, picking the one in the best shape and heading for the garden gate.

Kneeling by one of the plants, he had no spade, but he dug around the base anyway, using his hands. He scooped the plant up, being sure to get all the roots, and set it in the pot, filling in dirt around it. He took a moment to ensure that everything was as it should be, and found himself admiring the flower, the ladder of nine blooms on the stem.

He returned to Sariel with his gift, placing it on the nightstand and being sure to wash his hands of the dirt covering them. He knelt at the bedside, holding Sariel’s delicate hand in his own. Becoming lost in his love’s face, he rested his cheek in Sariel’s palm. He said nothing, but the love and devotion was carved into his features, waiting for Sariel to wake.

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel
Music: October and April
OOC: so I have something really cruel planned for Michael oops

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

xx ✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Once sleeping, Sariel dreamt of a memory almost. It was nothing he wasn’t familiar with, nothing new. His father stood, hundreds of others seated behind him. Sariel waited in a regal white Chasuble, sheer fabric running down him underneath with lace and gold lining accompanying him. The longer of his hair was braided up on the top of his head, some sort of beaded headpiece with feathers and a white roses attached to the sides. He walked down the isle, long lavender carpets helping him march his way down. He looked and felt beautiful, ready to take on anything thrown at him and ready to connect anyone that needed help with the ultimate father and try and better them and keep them at peace. He was ready to become a leader, one’s true image of an angel. He was ready to be perfect, worshiped instead of being an outcast.

He took small elegant steps, the large audience rising as he was about to pass, showing their utmost respect for him. All he could focus on was his future, how everything he worked for was resting in his father’s hands, the lavender stole with golden embroidery. He reached his father, bowing his head and looking up to see his father looking proud, smiling gently. He seemed truly satisfied with Sariel, as if he was happy with the person he was to become, or the person he already was. His father’s voice spoke loudly, filling the whole hall. The people responded, “Amen.” as they bowed down to Sariel. His eyes glazed over the crowds, the whole town falling on their knees for him. His father placed the stole over his shoulders, time seemed to slow down. Sariel turned, his father’s hand grabbing his own to lift it. The people cheered. He walked up the stage, higher and higher, standing in front of a throne of some sort. Behind him was the stained glass painting of Michael and his siblings, shining down from behind him. It shone down on the people that were now emotionally dependent on him, giving them hope. He lifted his hands, chanting to the people. “N gn lch!” They cheered. “N n'zvr lch!” They cheered. His hands lowered, looking out on those dependent on him, looking behind him at the window. Maybe one day, he thought, he would be just as holy as them. He turned, his face matured and serious. “N vhv vtch.”

I will protect you, I will help you, I will love you.

The people kneeled once more, chanting “Amen.” once more. Sariel smiled gently, one much like his fathers, who had been seated just below him on the floor level. He turned back to the painted glass, admiring them all. They were beautiful, some he was attracted to more than others, but none the less beautiful. Maybe one day, he thought, they would be kneeling to him as well. Maybe one day he could protect them. Maybe one day he could help them. Maybe one day he would love them.

Sariel heard footsteps approaching up the stairs, heavy feet treading up. He stood still, staring at the painting. Everyone was kneeling. He stood still. He always stood still, questioning, imagining. He was always curious about the what ifs and maybes. He felt a hand slide into his, his lips parting as he still stared at the glass illuminated colors over his white face. His eyes were wide, the blue and green backdrop mixing to shine the same colors in his eyes like they were a canvas. He stared. He always stared, adoring, imagining. His eyes traveled to the right hand side, staring at a strong man with dark hair, brushing through the hair of a white haired girl smiling up at him. He stepped closer to the man, tilting his head to look at his face. He wanted to be just like him, strong but still somehow elegant. He seemed so loving, so gentle and caring. Sariel’s hand pulled out of the hand, caressing the face of the painting. He smiled as he teared up. He wanted to be with this man, to be under him, learning from him. He wanted to meet him. The right hand of the father.

Michael.

A hand tugged at him once more, this time pressure felt as if it was being applied. His eyes tore away from the painted glass, turning to find that same angel.

Michael.

Michael was kneeling on the floor, pressing his cheek into Sariel’s palm. The man was right here. That man was right here. Sariel’s eyes were opened, lazily and still small of course, but bright and showed love in them. Sariel’s mouth slowly opened, looking at him with Michael's eyes shut and completely relaxed in his hand. He was perfect, beautiful. He was more than that, he couldn’t even describe. Words for people like Michael didn’t exist. Sariel slid up slowly, keeping his hand in Michael’s comfort. He took a deep breath and then gulped, looking at the man he dreamed of and prayed to right after being enthroned now kneeling right before him.

Sariel gasped. “Oh my God.” He quickly crawled out of the bed, kneeling on the floor next to Michael. His eyes were now wide and curious, as if he was staring at the window again. He took his free hand and pulled Michael’s face toward him, caressing it as if he was staring at the window again. “Oh my God…” Sariel whispered under his breath. His lips curled into a small smile, both hands now on his face. This face was all his, that pretty face he could look at any time he wanted. If there was any face he loved more than his own, it was Michael’s. If there was anything he loved more than anything, it was Michael. His smile widened, his eyes scrunching up with happiness. “Oh my God!” He laughed, pulling Michael into a passionate kiss. He was lucky. He was so damn lucky. Sariel didn’t stop kissing him, running his lips on him over and over. He was kissing him so rough he ended up laying Michael down on the ground, settling on top of him as his soft pink met with Michael’s calloused pale lips. He took a break to breathe, “I don’t know if I tell you this enough but-“ He moved in more, his nose rubbing on Michael’s as he continued locking his lips with Michael’s. He pulled back, huffing as his chest pounded down on Michael’s. “I love you so much, Michael. I have always loved you.” He smiled, pushing himself back down for one more kiss. For just waking up, he was pretty wide awake. Sariel pulled back, staring at Michael. He was always staring. Who’s hand was he grabbing though, when the event actually took place? There he was again, always wondering.

That’s right, it was his father. His smiling eyes stopped, widening again. Did that dream mean he was close? He almost grabbed his hand, didn't he? “Michael, you can’t leave me. Never, absolutely not.” Sariel seemed to completely flip switches, almost frantic now. “I never want to be without you, alright? I can’t imagine a world without you.” He couldn’t imagine a world without him, though he used to live a world without him. That world though, was fake. It was too perfect. Michael gave Sariel’s life substance, something he had been missing. “Michael, you won’t leave me, right? You are always going to be here for me, right? You’ll always-” He stopped, taking himself aback slightly. He was asking too much of Michael, being too demanding. His dream that wasn’t so much a dream really got to him. The man he was supposed to see was his father, but it wasn’t. He saw Michael. Everything was Michael. His Enthronement, the day he was supposed to better himself, the day his life was to change, was the day he first saw Michael. He’d heard stories of him, knew people worshiped him, but he’d never seen him. Sariel took one hand off of Michael’s cheek, wiping his damp lips dry from stealing Michael’s lips so many times with a soft tint of pink taking to his cheeks. “S-Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I-I meant to say, Good morning, Michael.” But he knew exactly what came over him.

Michael.

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❁ Who am I with ❁:Michael
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: so hopelessly in love it's kind of frightening.
❁ Mood Maker ❁:

❁ OOC ❁: nO OMG WHAT ARE U GOING TO DO TO HIM IM GOING TO SCREAM WHAT NO OMG HELP NO MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT HES TOO PRECIOUS I MUST PROTECT HIM MICHAEL PROTECTION SQUAD N O OO O OO OOO OoOOooOOOOOOOOOOOO O O OO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Sariel’s exclamation had him worried, but the smile that formed eased away Michael’s fears. He returned the grin. Seeing Sariel so full of joy left him feeling fulfilled, complete. The angel’s laugh rang sweet and warm in his ears, and his heart swelled with the happiness that filled him. Being pulled into a kiss, his eyes slid closed. He melted into Sariel, snaking his arms around his waist, but he was lowered to the floor. Sariel’s weight was comforting over him, his kisses leaving him yearning and breathless. They parted to breathe, and Michael was left panting, delighting in Sariel’s loving words. He smiled, opening his mouth to return the affectionate words, but his lips were captured once more. With Sariel pulling back, Michael became lost in his gaze, fascinated with the deep and vibrant color of his eyes. Oh, God, Sariel was so beautiful. Michael reached out to stroke the younger man’s soft cheek.

But Sariel’s smile twisted into a look of horror. Michael reacted immediately, lines of concern carving into his brow. He sat up, pulse in a racing panic at his neck. He sensed no threat, but he scanned over their surroundings regardless. Finding nothing, he grasped Sariel’s shoulders, massaging gently in an attempt at comfort, “Sariel—”

Sariel spoke up, however. He went on, frantic and fearful, and Michael’s eyes widened at Sariel’s distress. A painful tugging on his heart, he shook his head. Sariel was afraid that Michael would leave him? No, never. Michael was completely in love, completely devoted to Sariel. It would destroy him to part from Sariel. Even disregarding all that, Sariel was his master; he would not disobey him. Unless, of course, Sariel’s wellbeing depended on it.

Sariel seemed to calm somewhat, apologizing for the outburst. Of course, there was nothing that the angel should apologize for. Michael couldn’t help the guilt that crept up within him. He tried to cast it away, but the feeling of responsibility worked its way back in. He must have done something, failed to do something. He sighed inwardly. Though, looking to Sariel, the urge to comfort took over. The trace of a smile played on his lips, and he pulled Sariel close, feeling his hand slide from his cheek. Watching Sariel wipe his lips, amusement danced in his eyes. He moved in to plant a kiss on Sariel’s brow, resting his forehead against the other’s, “I love you, Sariel. I could not part from you, even if the want arose.” He kissed Sariel again, “so long as I continue to exist, I will never leave. We shall remain together, and I will fight to ensure that.”

He hugged Sariel tight, feeling him alive and safe against him. They stayed like that for several moments, and Michael decided he wouldn’t mind remaining in that position for ages. The day was young, however. Glancing to the window, Michael debated what they could spend their time on. Perhaps Sariel would like to watch him in the garden? There were some abandoned plants in need of tending, and he wanted to see if he could find any seeds left around. Surely there would be wildlife to watch, as well.

Although, spending the day inside with Sariel sounded just as appealing. Maybe he could ask Sariel to read to him again? He supposed it would seem strange to any outsiders. Michael was perfectly capable of reading himself, but he enjoyed hearing Sariel’s gentle voice, being near him. He knew books were something that made Sariel happy, which only made Michael want to shower him with plenty of time to read. Eyes traveling to the library door, a small smile painted itself onto his features.

He shifted back slightly, taking Sariel’s hands into his own. “Would you like to read to me today?” He motioned to the door, but a blur of pink caught his eye on the nightstand. Turning to find the flower he’d transplanted earlier, he made a sound of remembrance and grabbed the earthen pot. Unsure why, he felt a twinge of nervousness. He hoped Sariel wouldn’t be bothered by the gift. There was no logical reason for him to feel such a way, but an anxious knot was still threatening to form in his gut. Despite it, he presented the orchid to Sariel, “this is yours.”

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel
Music: Wander
OOC: i’m planning to kill one of his siblings off. ‘cause, y’know, gotta rack up that emotional trauma. i enjoy torturing him too much. i’m sorry omg what’s wrong with me

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

xx ✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel realized he was freaking out a bit, but Michael knew how to get him back down to earth. He was safe with Michael, of course. He shouldn't have worried, wasn't even sure why he said it. Michael kissed him once more and Sariel smiled, mouthing "sorry" as Michael pulled him into an embrace. He thankfully didn't see, Sariel didn't think at least. It was warm, as usual. Sariel could hear those words of protection over and over but every time it would mean something new to him. His arms slid off as Michael stood, Sariel standing right after him. He suggested Sariel read to him and he was completely excited. A large smile played on his face as he nodded, happy that Michael didn't get bored of such things.

However, Michael began to seem a bit nervous. Was there something on his mind he wanted to tell of? Sariel already told him he could tell him anything, everything, what was he nervous about? He turned and Sariel's eyes followed him. He seemed to be grabbing something which perked Sariel's interest. He turned back to Sariel, holding a beautiful, tall orchid. His eyes widened looking at it, moving a hand to grab at one of the petals. Michael spoke, presenting it as his. He looked up at Michael, eyes big and child-like. He pointed to himself, "Mine?" Sariel's eyes trailed back down, looking at the flowers as his perfect smile took over his features. "I-Thank you so much, Michael!" He grabbed it slowly and gently out of Michael's hold and examined it more, sniffing it. It smelt as if it had a bit of vanilla but also smelled like peaches almost. It was nice, it was wonderful. "Oh, I just love it, Michael!" Sariel kept the pot held in one hand and went to hug Michael with his free arm. It wasn't a full hug, but it was something. He rose to the tips of his toes to kiss Michael on his cheek also, adding on. "It's just perfect." He whispered to Michael as he plopped back down to his heels.

"I think I'll be in the library lots, so do you mind if I set it in there? I think I'll enjoy it the most in there if you don't mind!" Sariel asked, smiling down at it. Michael probably had to go through a bit of trouble to get this set up for him, it was perfectly done too. It wasn't just ripped out or anything, he really was a gentle giant. Sariel laughed to himself, grabbing Michael's hand to lead him to the library with him. "Oh! And we could read that novel Anna gave to me!" Sariel pufffed out his cheeks like a chipmunk, releasing his hand from Michael's as his fingers moved to grasp the door knob with the flower in the other. "How did I ever deserve such great people in my life?" He looked to Michael with a small giggle and then turned the handle to open the door.

The door wouldn't open fully, though. Sariel's voice let out a curious noise, wondering if something had been blocking the entrance. Peeking in the small opening, Sariel saw books upon books off of their shelves, scattered on the floor. Sariel's eyes shrunk down, wondering how such a thing could have happened. He would have heard if the books had fallen off of the shelves, right? Michael would have too, would he not? Sariel's lips began to open, pushing the door with more force as the books moved to make way for the door's clearing.

Once opened, he noticed every book was off the shelf in gigantic heaps on the floor. He took a step in, looking in bewilderment at the display. "What in the world...?" Sariel mumbled under his breath. His eyes traveled to Michael and then back to scan the room, eyes traveling to the right. A tall white form stood, reading a used, sandwich stained copy of "The shadow over Innsmouth: And other stories of horror". It looked like...no. It couldn't be, they had just moved somewhere else. They didn't know where Sariel was, right? He was safe. Michael said so. Sariel took a step back, cracking the spines of potential beauties below his feet. "Hello?" He timidly spoke, holding the pot tightly in his hands. Perhaps someone did live here and this was the owner. Maybe they had trespassed and he liked it this way.

A face turned, a long and strong attributed face with hair just the same shade as Sariel's but with longer locks and side burns that almost rounded out to be facial hair. His blue eyes were unforgettable. Sariel's eyes widened, his own eyes looking back at him. It was his father. He turned away to sprint out of the room, holding onto the plant with dear life. The door was still opened, he could make it. "Michael, get out of here-!" The attempt was made, but was nothing but an attempt. The door slammed right in his face. His eyes were popping out of his head, arms trembling with the orchid's stem hiding his face as he looked directly into the dark slabs of wood in front of him. How was his father here? Why was his father here? Hadn't he scared him enough? He couldn't do anything to him anyway, Michael was here. He said he wouldn't let anything happen to him, he promised.

The deep yet elegant voice could be heard from behind Sariel's back, tsking the couple. "I thought he was going to read to us, isn't that right Michael?" Metatron stood, throwing the priceless paperback behind him into the humongous storm of books on the floor. He laughed at his own bad joke, walking to Michael as he crunched books upon books under his elegant boots. Sariel could hear him approaching the two, his grasp on the pot tightening and keeping it held close to his heart to protect it. But what about Michael, who was to protect him? Sariel kept his head in toward the door, but turned just slightly so he could see Michael. "So you're really him, huh? You're the almighty, oh so great, Michael." Metatron scoffed. "Or at least that's what you used to be, back when I was first created. Ah yes, and then you ruined the order of the Hosts and turned paradise into what was almost a living Hell. Good thing you took care of Lucifer when you did or else it would have been a real Hell then, isn't that right?" He said with a laugh. The way he spoke, ending his sentences with a question, it was almost like he was Sariel.

Sariel began to shake, hearing his father talking so badly to Michael. He did not deserve to hear this, but he was so scared to stand up to his father. He had no place to. "And to think, after all of that, you would have learned your lesson. Sadly, you didn't. Now you stand with that tragic bug eating away at you, telling you you've ruined my son's life as well. You know, he wasn't a sinner before you showed up. He would pray every day, recreate the daily routines a true saint should, he was to be just as holy as you once were. He was much better off without you." A hand shifted to grasp hold of Michael's shoulder, firm and condescending. He was trying to "comfort" Michael, "Don't be too disappointed though, it's too late for that." Sariel tensed, feeling his anger build up rapidly. How dare he say things like that, especially things that weren't true. His father was putting words into Sariel's mouth, speaking out of turn. Was he trying to manipulate him? "He'll be somewhere very far away from you soon, so you won't have the opportunity to make any more mistakes than you already have. You've practically already sent him to Hell, so why don't you just spare him and let him depart? Unless you want to be the one to damn him? We could make arrangements." He suggested with a smile.

No. If he worded it like this, Michael would believe him. He would let Sariel go. He didn't want to go. Whether Michael was truly at fault or not, whether he be bad or not, if he was, Sariel loved being wrong, loved being bad. He couldn't be taken away, Michael promised. They both did. Sariel turned and stepped in front of Michael, his voice high and livid. "Father, stop! Do not dare speak of Michael as such, for he has saved me, father!" Though, Metatron did not even leave a split second for Sariel to add anything on nor for him to think of what Sariel had said. He removed his hand off of Michael and strongly grasped Sariel's chin and used the other to pull on his shared necklace to twist it around his neck and choke him. Sariel held onto the pot, fingers tensing and bending around it's edges. Metatron threw his son's head around, examining every angle of his face. "The Holy Father is your only savior! You're too beautiful for this filthy b*****d! He's ruined you, can't you see, you obstinate idiot?!" Metatron ripped the necklace off of Sariel, the chain breaking as he gasped at the opportunity to breathe. Sariel's father's strong hands threw Sariel to the ground viciously, the pot sliding out of his hands.

It shattered.

It was broken.

Michael's gift to him was demolished.

Everything Michael ever gave to him was demolished.

Everything was demolished.

Metatron moved back to Michael, grabbing at both of his shoulders now, continuing to degrade him. Sariel stayed on the ground, staring at the shattered pot with the soil that had ricocheted out from the impact. In the distance, laying in the sunlight from the window, was the orchid. Everything was broken, ruined. He could hear the voice of his father rising at Michael, but he didn't know what was being said. He felt frozen there, the gorgeous stories that held times much brighter than his own jabbing into his side as he layed miserable and motionless on the ground next to them. He continued to pant and cough from his moment of no air, wondering if his father was really there. Had his life truly became something this horrifying? He had wished there was no Heaven, no Hell. He had wished there was nothing, he wished that life had never been created. If he was damned from the beginning, there was no point. He was only a burden. Michael hadn't ruined him, he was destined to screw up. Sariel had ruined Michael, had taken the chance he was given at a better life to be found in that cage by someone much more suitable for him and destroyed it. He couldn't do anything but force Michael to live in the past, to live in the times he was terrified of. He didn't deserve this. Maybe he should be the one to damn him, he'd already gone through enough.


“The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force of reality.” -Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

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┏━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━━┓
❁ Who am I with ❁:Michael - Michael & Metatron
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: empty
❁ Mood Maker ❁:Hang Onto Each Other

❁ OOC ❁: tHAT IS LITERALLY AWFUL WITH THAT AND MY PLANS MIXED LET ME JUST SAY MICHAEL HAS THE ABSOLUTE SHITTIEST LIFE EVER ? ? ? ((( W HI CH ONE !?!??!?!? ) )) ( (( (nO WAIT DONT TELL ME I NEED TO BE SURPRISED !!! ) ) ) ((dammit im so CURIOUS THOUGH))) ) ) ((nO!) HE DOESNT DESERVE THIS - N ON E OF THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE MUST BE PROTECTED I AM MAKING A NEW SQUAD CALLED THE MPP ITS CALLED THE MICHAEL PROTECTION PROGRAM PLEASE JOIN FOR A MONTHLY FEE OF HAPPINESS AND NOTHING BESIDES THAT
┗━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━┛

“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

ϻīͼϦαҽɭxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Michael smiled; Sariel seemed pleased with his gift. There was truly nothing to worry over. His hand in Sariel’s, he followed him to the library. Hearing Sariel’s small laugh made him fill with joy, but he couldn’t agree with what he had said. It was Michael who should be questioning how he could be worthy of having such companions.

The door wouldn’t open, apparently, bringing Michael more confusion than concern. The house appeared rather old. The doors, walls and floor were probably all on their way out. He would just have to see if he could fix it somehow. Perhaps Raphael knew something about it; he’d lived with humans, stayed in their dwellings. It was just strange, though. The door had worked fine the other day.

It was when Sariel’s expression shifted into one of surprise that Michael felt an alarm go off within him. Something here was not right. He tensed, standing straight and at attention. He reached out to force the door open and go ahead of Sariel, but the angel had already managed to push it open.

Every form of protective instinct in Michael screamed at him.

Books were scattered everywhere, the library torn apart, but that was not what he focused on. There was a man in the room. An invader was in their home. Someone had dared to break into their home, to possibly threaten Sariel.

And, looking at the intruder, it became apparent that the man was definitely there to threaten Sariel. The trespasser resembled the younger angel so much; it had to be his father. It had to be Metatron. It could be no one else.

Sariel cried for Michael to leave, attempting an escape, but it was blocked off. This was it, then. This is what it came down to. Fine. As long as Sariel would not be harmed, fine. Michael had grown tired of the two being threatened long ago. He was going to fight, to protect, to fulfill his purpose. He was created for battle, after all. He had been crafted to be a warrior. The fear needed to end.

Metatron began to speak, addressing Michael. He was taunting the brunet, or at least, he was attempting to. It was true that Michael had ruined the Host when he left, and the comment about Lucifer stung. But the guilt was already there. He already lived with these facts, and he wasn’t about to be provoked by the words of his enemy. They were said to bother him, nothing more. There was no hurt or substance behind them. It was no different than any speech a common demon would give. Perhaps, at one low point in his life, those jabs would have gotten to him, pushed him over the edge and cut the last thread. He had a goal and reason now, however. He couldn’t lose Sariel.

The hand on his shoulder was not a welcome contact, but his face remained neutral. Metatron spoke of letting Sariel go, letting him depart. He suggested that Michael damn Sariel! Michael felt the tension that anger brought rise in his shoulders. He was sickened. Was Metatron not Sariel’s father? He was acting as if he wanted Sariel to descend. How could any parent wish that upon their child? The closest thing Michael had to one was Anna, and there was no way he would want her to spend even a moment in Hell. Metatron was more terrible than even Raphael.

Michael began to ache for Exousia’s cold grip in his palm. He wanted to slay Metatron, wanted to damn him. Heart pumping hard and fast, his jaw clenched. How dare this menace treat Sariel in such a way.

Sariel threw himself between the two, and Michael’s growing rage subsided for just a second. No! What was Sariel doing? He would be harmed! The younger angel said something, but all Michael could see and hear was that rainy day, Gabriel spearing Exousia through Sariel’s chest. No. No. No. It was going to happen again. He reached for Sariel, but Metatron took a hold of him.

Metatron choked Sariel with his necklace. He was choking Sariel.

Michael saw red.

The Host’s cries were thought-shattering in his head. His spirit flared within him, filling his vessel with a drive and energy no mortal creature could hope to fathom. He knew what this was. This was the rage of war. Near-infinite stamina, this was what made him both renowned and feared. This was his Father’s gift to him.

The shatter of pottery registered somewhere far away in his mind. But it was irrelevant. His eyes were on his target, locked like a predator’s onto Metatron. His face was disturbingly blank, a strand of black hair threatening to fall into his eyes. Sariel was in danger. He was hurt by his father, would be sent to Hell. Michael could not allow that to happen.

No.

It could not happen.

His voice blared across the Heavenly Host, declaring the location and infuriated distress he was feeling. He felt Metatron’s hands on his shoulders, heard his haughty voice carry on. That wouldn’t last for much longer. Michael placed one of his own hands on Metatron’s shoulder, a feigned show of understanding. He stepped closer to Metatron.

Michael thrust his fist into Metatron’s abdomen, up and under his ribcage. He charged, driving the impact deeper and sending them both for the library’s back wall. They crashed through a bookshelf and the brick wall behind it. Splinters and bricks flying, they dove to the ground below.

Gabriel whispered his reply in Michael’s echoing mind, an “I’ve heard you,” an “I’m on my way, brother”. Uriel followed afterward, and Raphael, reluctantly, after him. Of course, Gabriel was always the first to respond, the first to show up.

They pounded into the dirt and grass, Michael being sure Metatron felt the brunt of it. He hoisted the white-haired angel up by his neck and charged for the trees, hurtling through and shattering two, hammering Metatron into the third. He pressed him into the rough bark, crushing his throat and choking him as he had Sariel. He watched his eyes, his own grey ones wide with death.

Gabriel phased into the library, unwrapping crimson wings from around himself and willing them away, “Mi—” His eyes darted over his surroundings and locked on the hole in the wall, widening, “good Lord." A brow raised, he spotted Sariel, a seed of concern sprouting at the fact that he was without Michael, “where is my brother?”

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel, Metatron & Gabriel
Music:
OOC: I hope that was okay. I’m always unsure with fights with other people’s characters because I don’t want to end up godmodding.

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

xx ✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel was brought back by the sound of Michael's voice, turning his head slightly to see him through his weak eyes. He reflected anger, Sariel could almost see the steam coming off of him. He returned his father's grasp, putting one of his own hands on Metatron. Sariel watched in almost horror, Michael didn't look much like himself. A foot took a step forward, "Michael-" His hand rose, "Michael, wait-" Sariel pleaded quietly. His whimpers meant nothing though, he was already going down swinging. Sariel shakily stood, sliding on top of the books and stepping on the pot's broken chips. He opened his mouth to speak but the two went flying, the wall falling down with them. Sariel's eyes widened, his shoulders arose and felt as if they were popping out of socket. "Michael!!" He screeched, the dust in the room coming to surface to truly show the age of the home.

He watched the two hit the ground, Michael towering over his father. He didn't want to go with his father, yes, but he didn't want to see him get hurt. Despite the present, the two still had a past. He used to care for Sariel, he used to be kind and he even used to love him. He wasn't sure why everything had gone so awry, but he would just like to sit down with his father and know why. He always seemingly supported him when he was with Michael, so what had changed? He was still his father, someone he always respected and loved dearly.

On the other hand though, there was Michael. Michael loved Sariel unconditionally, was throwing himself out of buildings to protect him. He knew Michael was crazy about him, but he was creating a world someone as precious as Michael shouldn't be involved in. He had already seen his share of terror, he had had enough. However, Sariel loved him too much to let go.

He loved them both and that was the problem.

Sariel watched as Michael lifted his father but had to stop watching there, stepping back and sliding down on a bookshelf as he shielded his eyes from the light to try and avoid everything that was going on. If he couldn't see it, it wasn't there. Hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil. It tore him up knowing there was conflict over his well being. If he could just get it all over with himself, he would.

A familiar voice that once sent shivers down his spine spoke, waves of sandalwood filling the room. Sariel turned to face the harsh light to find the man in red, elegant as usual. Gabriel had come, looking around each corner for Michael until the two met eyes. He wondered where Michael was. He honestly didn't know, he could be on some path having a chat with his father or could be getting his head bashed in somewhere, he just didn't know.

Sariel shivered, rubbing his arm slightly. "Sir Gabriel, I..." He bit his lip. He wanted to be of help. "He...He's not here, Gabriel. I don't know where he is! He's off fighting for a lost cause that will just get me into more trouble! I know he's fighting for me because he loves me and I love him for that and so many other reasons but..." Sariel shrunk down, taking a deep breath to try and stop himself from bawling on the spot. "He'll get hurt and things will just get worse for the two of us." Sariel moved in to Gabriel and timidly wrapped his arms around him, nervous about the hug. He really needed someone and Gabriel was the only one there. He buried his head into Gabriel, taking note of how he and Michael had similar builds, but he was a bit smaller and his chest didn't seem as strong. The scent from his clothes sure was though. "I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused your family and now my own, I shouldn't be here. I should be rotting in Hell, paying for my sins!" He cried out with a heavy heart. He shrunk down to the ground, his grip falling off of Gabriel. "Please, Sir Gabriel. Please find and protect him. I cannot and I don't want anyone to get hurt that isn't at fault for my actions. I want to protect him, however...I am just not perfect for him as he is for me."

Choked onto the side of a tree, Metatron snarled his bloodied lips at Michael, staring back at his grey eye's with Sariel's own. He threw his hands up to Michael's and pulled them off with force, throwing him to the ground and applying a chilling pressure on his heart as he panted. The pressure was intense, like he was using magic of some sort to increase his strength. He looked powerful and strong, but nothing like Michael or Gabriel or even Raphael. "You damned imbecile, have you lost your mind?!" Metatron took hold of Michael's chin and began to push his head back on his neck bones, hearing small cracks as they began to mash and rub against each other. "I am trying to help him, if he doesn't come with me the both of you will face grave consequences! Do you hear me or are you too stubborn to understand?!" He scoffed, grabbing Michael by the shirt and pulling him up only to throw him back down. Metatron stepped over him, walking in circles almost. "I hate you, I cannot stand you. I tried to be by my son's side all along so he might be able to right his wrongs but you," His face scrunched up in disgust. "You would touch him and then you wouldn't leave his mind. You took over every single inch of his being, you practically brainwashed the boy! How does it feel making one as pure and inexperienced as Sariel a homosexual, lustful, lying, cold blooded murdered, huh? I don't know what you experimental angels think is alright, but this act of change is not! It is my job to write the doings of creatures on Heaven and Earth and when I saw the things Sariel had been doing, I-"

He felt his anger build, "I wanted to murder you, lying your hands all over him like that!" A gold plated sword began to form in his father's hands, pushing Michael against the same tree he was pinned on as if he were going to get rid of him right there. The same gem that was in the sword Sariel gave to Michael stood in between the handle, the color bright and blue just as their eyes. He sat with the sword at Michael's chest, sweating with the breaths that hit Michael's face. He sat and stared, looking down to see the same silver chain around his neck that was on Sariel's.

That necklace, it used to be his own. He and Sariel shared the necklaces so they would never lose contact, so they would always be together. Those necklaces meant everything to the two, it meant safety and love, protection from anything and everything. He had given it to Michael. Michael was his everything now.

"Tsk. No." Metatron shook his head, stepping back from the tree and tossing the sword to the side. The necklace struck something in him. He knew how much that necklace meant to Sariel growing up, he watched him as he sat alone in that dump of a castle, sitting and reading. No one was there, but he would speak to the necklace and his father would hear. He knew all the feelings he felt, his loneliness and how he so yearned for affection but he feared it as well. That's when he told him to go to the chambers, to find a companion. He told him to find Michael, he invited him into his life. Metatron pushed his hair behind an ear, his eyes becoming red but his face still stern. He cleared his throat, "I am not like him. I have sworn my oath to the Lord and I shall keep it. I am not a murderer." He rolled his eyes, his short-temper almost parallel to Gabriel's. "Keep the sword. Damn him on your own time or else he will be taken into solitude by forces stronger than I and you won't be able to see him until everyone else sees him being sent publicly. The choice is yours. Consider this a warning, 'Helel.'" He turned and walked to the sword, kicking it over to Michael. He looked at him with eyes filled with anger, but pain and confusion also lingered. "I would rather you do it than I," He turned to leave, his cape flinging upward as his great golden wings emerged. "For I truly do, still love my son." The cape fell to the ground and he was gone.



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┏━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━━┓
❁ Who am I with ❁:Michael & Metatron -Gabriel & Michael & Metatron and how the heck am i suppose d to word this
❁ Where am I ❁:Home & The paths of Eden
❁ You make me feel ❁: empty
❁ Mood Maker ❁:Hang Onto Each Other
❁ OOC ❁: does cool dancemove
~crappy reply~
does cool dancemove
falls on floor
breaks back
its ok omg no it was perfect!
┗━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━┛

“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Gabriel stiffened, arms held out awkwardly as Sariel clung to him. This was.. not his area of expertise. He’d never had the propensity for comforting others, and he certainly wasn’t a hugger. He wasn’t comfortable when Michael embraced him, let alone someone he was barely familiar with.

Sariel’s words struck a chord of recognition in him, however. The self-hate and guilt, the want for atonement, Sariel sounded far too much like Michael. That was alarming. It was as if Michael had projected all of his issues and insecurities onto Sariel. Of course, his brother’s changes hadn’t gone unnoticed, either. Michael had always been guilt-ridden and a bit depressed, ever since Lucifer’s fall, but Gabriel had never known him to be so anxious, so desperate and fearful. The two were destroying each other. It was sad to say, for Gabriel knew his brother had his happiest moments with Sariel, but those little moments were causing a tremendous ordeal.

He felt a pang of sympathy for his brother.

Brown eyes followed Sariel’s descent to the floor, hearing his request to protect Michael. Gabriel nodded, but he felt no real urgency. There was a certain sense, a certain type of unexplained anxiety that would worm into his mind when Michael was in peril. That feeling wasn’t present. Truthfully, he was a bit underwhelmed. The intense rage Michael burned with, it had led him to expect an army. Right now, Gabriel could sense no enemy presences. Although, it was clear there had been a fight.

He laid a warm hand on Sariel’s shoulder, feeling odd for it, but his gaze stayed on the white-haired boy, “don’t fall into the same pit of guilt that has trapped Michael for so long. It does no one any good.” He opened his mouth to say more, but a voice sounded from outside. Though deep, it was not Michael’s. It was too proud, lacked that sombre edge. His ears perked, and he moved to the hole in the wall to investigate.

Some strange angel had his grip on Michael’s chin, forcing his head back.

Gabriel all but growled, fire racing through his veins. He summoned flames to his palms, “b*****d! Unhand him,” and he vaulted from the opening.

Michael supposed Metatron thought he was injuring him with his hold, his words firing off. The white-haired angel claimed to want to help his son, but Michael found that hard to believe. How was sending Sariel to Hell going to aid him? Gabriel’s voice echoed in the distance, providing Michael some muted sense of comfort, but Metatron continued his assault.

The physical attacks held no effect, even the threat of a holy sword, which could damn him, did nothing. What did get to him, was how he degraded Sariel. He called him a liar, a murderer, lustful. None of those were true, and the homosexual comment was irrelevant. How did that determine anything? Beside that, Michael was not a physical being, neither he nor siblings were truly either sex; he just happened to be housed in a male vessel.

Metatron discarded the sword, acting as if it made him holy. Michael was unimpressed. His face had maintained the predatory snarl, but what Metatron said next had it fading. Other forces were to come and take Sariel, keep him in solitude, and he was to be damned in public. The thought made Michael’s heart wrench, made his stomach knot and blood boil. That was cruel. It was too horrible. Sariel would be frightened by himself, only to be taken and sent to Hell in front of others.

Of course, Michael could spare Sariel that and damn him himself, but could he?

No. This was ridiculous. He would protect Sariel. He would defeat anything that dared to come for his angel. He would recruit his brothers, if need be.

Gabriel bolted into view, and Metatron disappeared. Michael stood, back still against the tree, expression empty. This conflict would never end, would it? There would always be a battle, a struggle. It was what he had been created for, after all. There could never be peace around him, but was just how it would have to be. He didn’t mind. He would do anything, fight for eternity, to save Sariel.

He turned to Gabriel, about to speak, but his brother beat him to it.

“I heard him.”

Michael only nodded, beginning the short walk back. He was unsure if he wanted to, if he should confide in Gabriel. He could trust his brother, he knew that, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to hear what he had to say. He paused in his steps, bending to pick up the sword Metatron had left.

Gabriel’s footsteps were in stride beside him, “Michael, I think you should consider letting him go.”

No. Absolutely not. No way. Michael sent his brother a look sharper than Exousia’s blade.

“Listen to me,” Gabriel growled in reply, leaning in closer to Michael’s face. “It would be best for everyone. This will never stop; it is a nightmare that will simply keep on growing.”

“I am aware of that.”

Gabriel didn’t respond after, just gave the taller angel a contemplative look.

They walked into a conversation Raphael and Uriel were having in Enochian. Though, it appeared Raphael was doing most, if not all of the talking. Michael spared a glance at Uriel, the brother he hadn’t seen since Adam and Eve were cast out. His jet black hair and golden-toned skin were just as Michael remembered. Though ever stoic, Uriel face held the slight cast of annoyance at Raphael’s babbling, and his brows rose at the sight of Michael, “Amayo?”

Michael did not reply, just kept heading towards the house. Under normal circumstances, he would be thrilled to see his long-dead brother, but now, he couldn’t muster the energy. The rage had faded and twisted into sickening worry, leaving him just tired. So very tired.

“Hey, where exactly is all the action? I came out here thinkin’ there was something to pummel!”

He especially couldn’t be bothered with Raphael at the moment.

Approaching the broken wall, Gabriel’s presence at his side was somehow comforting, in a way. He didn’t know why his brother was remaining with him, but he was glad he was, even with the comment he’d made. The two jumped up through the opening on the second story, a strange sight to any that would’ve assumed they were human.

Michael came face to face with Sariel, and almost broke down right there. His features pulled in with the grief. Dropping the gold sword to the book-covered floor, he fought back the stinging tears that threatened to fall. Looking at Sariel ached in a way he couldn’t describe, but at the same time, he felt he needed to soak in as much of the angel as he could. He enveloped Sariel in his arms, holding him tight. He should probably tell Sariel what his father said, shouldn’t he? He was uncertain. It would definitely upset Sariel, but wasn’t it something he needed to know? Whatever the case, it didn’t matter in that moment. Michael found he couldn’t gather the will to speak. He clung to Sariel, heart racing against a weight crushing it, panic squeezing the air from his throat. Face buried in the crook of Sariel’s neck, he was becoming light-headed, but he focused on suppressing the rising anxiety.

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Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel & Gabriel
Music:
OOC: lol

you can blame the latest episode of dominion and the fanfics that go with it for the bout of gabriel love i’m having the brotherly bond feels, man

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ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

xx ✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel sat as Gabriel left, curling in on himself. Gabriel was surprisingly caring and gentle, not near as much as Michael, but he was still leaving Sariel feeling a bit more safe or comfortable at least. He watched him hop out of the hole, running to protect Michael. But he just sat there. Sariel just sat there, not able to do anything. Sure, he could do something, he could try. All of his efforts would be fruitless though, only ending up in him getting hurt and then causing more trouble. He needed to be thrown away somewhere, somewhere no one knew where he was. Sariel rubbed his eyes down with stress, feeling his hatred for himself rising. He couldn't even protect Michael. He never protected Michael.

Everything he loved was being thrown away, broken, hurt, something along those lines. He didn't understand where everything went so wrong. He supposed it started with Gabriel, continued on with that for a while, his stupid illness, Lilith following after. Now his father was after him because he is a disturbance to the order of the ultimate father. He didn't even know what God looked like, never met him. So he was young, he decided he wanted to be like the originals. They all had their falling or their treacherous times, he supposed it was his turn. He had devoted himself to the father, to become a saint, a messenger of God, and then directly after changed that devotion to Michael instead. He believed yes, he had to pay the consequences, but did they have to be so dire? Couldn't they just revoke the title he'd never used, act as if it never happened? If any other creature was with Michael, it wouldn't be an issue. But he, it seemed like he was the root of all evil.

He heard a rustle through the books, looking up to see Michael. He was safe. Sariel whispered under his breath, "Thank God." He opened his arms to Michael just a bit to invite him in, but he didn't move in. He looked completely unharmed but he looked so serious. Something must of happened. Their eyes stayed locked, Michael's pained and Sariel's confused. They both seemed tired though. He fell to Sariel's level, holding him tighter than he ever had, and that was saying something. Sariel returned the embrace, eyes moving down to the ground to see the sword he had dropped. Gold plated and sharper than almost anything he had seen, it must have been his father's. The stone reflected his eyes perfectly, he knew it was his father. Why had Michael brought his sword? He knew he couldn't have slayed his father, he had been defeated before but he just knew he wasn't gone. Why did Michael have his sword though?

Sariel's eyes traveled to Gabriel. He was just standing there watching the two. He looked serious as well. His father must have said something to silence the two. His hands shook behind Michael's back, fear rising that something were to happen. He moved one hand to cup the back of Michael's head and the other to move on top of Michael's heart, feeling it move so fast it could have won any race. His eyes were still on Gabriel. "Michael, what is wrong..." He didn't stop staring at Gabriel. He supposed he didn't think Michael would answer and he had to look to Gabriel. Sariel wished he could be Michael's rock, but he wasn't. That was Gabriel and would always be Gabriel. Sariel could try but he would always be nothing but a stepping stone.

Sariel could feel himself getting frantic, the sword's gold reflecting in his eye. He couldn't show it though, if he became frantic Michael would never say what was wrong. "Michael, please..." he whispered gently. Sariel tried to think of all the reasons this sword would be here, why Michael would have it, why Michael would bring it in with him. Sariel was dumb but he was intelligent, he could figure out the puzzle. There were only so many possibilities, his father was only there for one reason though. Sariel's eyes drooped as the thought crossed his mind. Had Michael taken on his father's duty? No one was injured, Michael and Gabriel both were so serious, Michael was holding on with everything he had, and a golden replica of The Eye of Metatron stood lit in the room filled with destruction.

Though he smiled through his heavying eyes, maybe this was what he wanted. If he was gone, Michael would be in harmony and truthfully, so would he. The pains he would experience would be harsher to deal with than the pains now, absolutely. Without Michael in his arms, he would gladly rot. However, If it continued on, it would only get worse for him and most of all for Michael. If he left, if Michael never turned back, they could both grow. Sariel would receive the treatments deserved and Michael would receive the happiness he needed after all his years of pain. Sariel had seen happiness, he knew it well. He'd had his moment of bliss, but it was time to say goodbye.

He didn't want to though, he didn't want to say goodbye. No. No, no, he had to. No, he didn't. Yes.

Perhaps.

He didn't know.

Sariel's half empty eyes began to tear up, glossing the edges. He didn't whimper, though. He didn't cry out. He knew what was right, but he knew what he wanted. He stayed staring at the sword. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Michael brought the sword to burn it or something. Anything. Maybe that too was wrong though, maybe Michael had given up. The two had a nice run, right? They ran and ran and ran and oh God, they ran. They ran without stopping, always. Maybe they had to stop now. If they stopped together, everything could be better. Sariel felt he was barely running, struggling and trying to catch up with Michael. But was Michael now not running anymore either? Was he walking? Had he stopped moving? Had they both stopped moving? His cheeks were becoming wet, his hand tight around Michael's head as his lip slid under his teeth. Was Michael to get rid of him? Was that what this meant? He looked back up to Gabriel, looking in his brown eyes, serious. Deep. Painful even. Sariel's hand loosened slightly, swallowing hard. "Michael, that sword..." He whispered.

No, no please. It was too soon, wasn't it? Sariel wanted so much for the two. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, he often did so. It may have meant nothing. He was panicking for nothing. So it's a sword, Michael was a warrior. It was only natural, right?

...

Oh God, It was too soon, wasn't it?

"Michael, why do you have my father's sword..." Sariel pulled back to look at Michael. He must have brought it with him for a reason. He lifted his chin with a gentle caress, his lips parted in a smile that showed benefit of the doubt. Michael was not himself. Though, perhaps he was too much himself now and that was the worry. "Tell me it is silly question, please." He tried to smile at Michael. "I'm-" He looked at Gabriel, his eyebrows falling in to add onto his look of denial. He turned back to Michael, his hand dropping out of contact to leave no contact left between the two. "I'm thinking the wrong things, right Michael?" Sariel repeated his name, swallowing hard and not moving. He stayed frozen as a sculpture made of ice, but one that was melting ever so slightly. Goosebumps rose all around his body, his freckled legs shaking and his face stuck in that same stupid concerned look he always had. Was Michael to dirty his hands for his father?

Sariel didn't pray any more, but he did now. He prayed for him to be wrong. He prayed for this to all be a dream. He prayed he was never who he was but Michael was still apart of his life. He prayed he never lived the life he had. But he too, prayed for happiness. He wanted to be happy, he prayed for Michael to say no, he wouldn't ever leave. He said that right? He said he would never leave, right? He said he was going to protect him, right?

But this would protect Sariel, it would save him. Had Michael realized? No, he didn't want him to realize. Sariel had realized, but that didn't mean he was to agree. When he realized, Michael told him he didn't want to realize. Sariel agreed. They agreed to be happy together, to try and fight. No, to not try and to only fight. The promises, the late chats, the hugs and kisses goodnight all replayed for Sariel, from all the forevers to all the goodbyes. His smile began to fade, shivering into an emotion so twisted and painful that it made the muscles in his face hurt. A hand reached out to grab Michael's sleeve, holding on tight as his fingernails dug through the fabrics. He would try and hold on."M-Michael...?" His voice cracked.

Please.

It it too soon, isn't it?

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┏━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━━┓
❁ Who am I with ❁:Gabriel & Michael
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: ?
❁ Mood Maker ❁:Nostalgia
❁ OOC ❁: I HAVE NOT SEEN DOMINION BUT A LOT OF MY FRIENDS KEEP TELLING ME TOO AAAA i probably should uwaaaaaa / but omg i just have so many feelings for gabriel and michael atm im just WHAT A GOOD BROTHER hes literally my fav relative ok like idk uriel really but gabby my man / // / this reply is all over the place ive had a stressful day so i am dumping every emotion i ever have had ever in my life right here smears it around
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“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Michael barely registered Sariel returning the embrace, his whispered pleas. He was lost in his grief, an ache too deep. He was conquered by his fear, a panic that sped and spiraled into infinity. Pulled into the abyss, he was sinking away, but he clung to the feeling of Sariel in his arms. The angel was in pain, wasn’t he? The fact only caused Michael to hurt more, made Sariel’s voice sting his ears and chest like a bittersweet song.

He felt Sariel pull back, his soft hand lifting his chin, and the forced smile on the young angel’s lips drove a dagger into his heart. Sariel must have seen the sword, wanted him to deny the cruel truth. Michael felt he needed to, just to go on. He would fight for his angel. He would always fight, but deep inside him, some small grain drifting in the sea of devotion, he knew Sariel would be taken from him. Sariel would suffer. He would be made to pay for Michael’s sins.

Sariel gripped at Michael’s sleeved arm, his voice breaking on the eldest angel’s name, and it pained Michael. God, it hurt. Seeing Sariel like this, knowing their time was running out, it left a greater wound than Raphael’s sacrifice, Anna’s death or Lucifer’s fall. He had gone on so long. He couldn’t even recall exactly how old he was. He just wanted to come to an end, to burn out of his Father’s creation and dissolve into the Chaos beyond.

He heard Gabriel’s sandals clunk against the floorboards and books, footsteps approaching the two. The scent of sandalwood and fiery warmth drifting off of him, Gabriel’s silky voice carried through the room, “your father has suggested that Michael cast you down. Otherwise, others, apparently stronger than your father, will come to seize you. He claims you will be damned publicly.” The last sentence was said with an air of disgust; even Gabriel disapproved of such a thing. The Left Hand took a single step closer, “for what it is worth, Sariel, you don’t deserve such cruelties. I’ve done far worse than you, Michael and Raphael, as well, and so has that vile nephil. But,” his voice continued level and strong, even with what he was about to say, “I’ve come to realize that Father is hardly just. He is as any other god, does whatever He believes is better for Himself and His motives. Why do you think humans behave in such a way? They are modeled after Him; Lucifer only gave them a choice.”

Michael’s eyes were wide at Gabriel’s words. How could his brother be so bold? He had almost sounded like their sister.

“That halfling, my brothers and myself must still have some part in His plan, at least for now.”

Michael felt anger rise in him at that, felt frustrated and toyed with. He realized the need for rebellion that Lucifer must have experienced, but it was twisted away by the dread that still held him. Sariel must be devastated. The angel didn’t deserve this. It was unjust. He didn’t deserve it. Michael shook his head. In a way, he was glad Gabriel had said what he couldn’t, but he still wasn’t certain that Sariel should know. It was too late now. “No, Sariel, I—” He gulped, nearly having choked on the tightness in his throat, “I will not. I refuse to subject you to that. I will fight on, for you.” Hoping Sariel had not heard the nervousness in his voice, he turned to Gabriel. This was the first he’d ever actually doubted his skill as a warrior would prevail. “Brother, when the time comes, will you—” He didn’t even need to finish the request.

Gabriel nodded, “of course.”

He glanced to the floor to catch sight of Sariel’s broken necklace, the chain gleaming in the sunlight. Sighing, he knelt to gather it from the mess. Metatron was cruel.

Gabriel held out his palm, motioning for Michael to give him the necklace, “here.”

Michael sent him a questioning look, but handed his brother the broken article. What was he going to do with it?

Deft fingers sorting the pieces into the correct order, Gabriel held each snapped link together and invoked air-searing heat into his fingertips. The metal melted, being welded back together.

Oh. Michael nearly smiled at his brother, but there was too much on his mind, his thoughts in turmoil.

Gabriel chased the heat away with a building chill in his fingers, solidifying the chain. It was far from elegant. The once-broken links were warped and flattened, slightly discolored. He held the necklace up, draping it on his knuckles, and offered it to Sariel, “it’s not pretty, but it will hold together.”

A thud was heard from outside, followed by a sound of pain and a blasphemous curse in Enochian. “Why are there bricks everywhere?”

Oh no.

“Well,” a laugh, “somebody got pissed, didn’t they? Broke the wall! Never pegged you for an angry drunk, Mike.”

Michael did not need this, and Gabriel was not in the mood for it, not that he ever was. Hackles raised, Gabriel turned to face the opening in the wall. Knowing Raphael, he was going to have to drag him away. It was unfortunate timing, as it always was with Raphael. Why must the blond be so difficult?

Gabriel stepped forward, about to leap to the dirt below, and he glanced back at Michael, “if you need me, you only need to call out.”

Michael nodded, but Gabriel kept gaze on his brother for a moment longer. Something told him this whole situation would only lead to more suffering, either way it ended. Sariel’s eventual departure was a miserable thing, truly. Gabriel had a feeling Michael would not last long after the white-haired angel was gone.

Michael remained largely quiet for the rest of the day. He was lost. It was the only word he could think of to describe how he was feeling. A wretched mess, anxiety, fear and dread made up all of him. He clung to Sariel, but did his best to conceal the pain he felt. He needed to be there for Sariel. The younger angel must be in much greater distress than he could imagine. Sariel was the one that was to be sent to Hell, after all. He was the one that would endure tortures unimaginable. Michael could not be selfish; he had done enough damage as it was.

The sunlight hours giving way to the night, he spent his time thinking. He had to come up with a way to fix this. This was his fault, was brought on by his wrongdoings. The guilt crept back in, consuming all like a parasite, and Metatron’s words seemed to make a point, disregarding the source. He remembered telling Sariel to distance himself, all that time ago. He remembered abandoning the notion and falling for the angel. He had caused all of this. When he realized Sariel’s feelings, was when he should have nipped it in the bud and ended his life. He’d even had a blade with him; it would have been so easy, especially in his mortality! How could he have been so foolish?

But perhaps he could mend this somehow, at least make it easier for Sariel. This was his doing, so he should pay for it. He should be the one to atone. Maybe, if he did, Sariel’s punishment might be eased. Maybe, Sariel might even be spared.

Michael made his decision. Of course, Sariel could not know. He felt dirty for it, traitorous, but he must hide what he was about to do. It would only upset Sariel.

He crept from the bedroom to the library, retrieving Metatron’s sword and exiting through the hole in the wall. He hated leaving Sariel for any amount of time, not being there to protect him. He feared something would happen, but this had to be done. If it wasn’t, they would still come for Sariel. The angel still faced Hell, and nothing would change. Michael just needed to be sure to be quick as possible. Although, that nearly defeated the purpose of his mission. Torture was always prolonged; suffering was never short.

He headed only far enough to be out of sight, finding a hidden spot among trees and brush. None of his brothers could witness this, either. Gabriel, for one, would definitely stop him, all the while exploding in rage, and Raphael would probably tell Gabriel.

God, he hoped Sariel was still asleep, that he was asleep in the first place, not just seeming so. He didn’t need to wake up alone, didn’t need to know of this.

Michael removed his shirt and set it aside. It would get bloody, anyway, when he put it back on, but that wouldn’t be as obvious. He lifted the sword, the blade glinting in the moonlight. He took a moment to observe it and think on how he should do this. It would be a bit awkward, especially on his back, but he would manage it. It needed to be done. It was right.

He set about carving into his torso, digging in deep enough to cause great pain, but he was careful not to accidentally kill and therefore damn himself, not yet. It was a holy blade, after all, was actually capable injuring him. That was why he was using it. A wound from a normal weapon would heal within seconds, but an injury from something blessed would take at least a few hours.

His work was exact and methodical at first, perfect and precise. However, his mind began to wander. Guilt conquered him, violent and torturous memories replaying. He saw blood, and he lost sense of what he was doing. Lucifer was defeated and damned. Raphael was dead over him. Anna slipped away on her deathbed, in his arms. Sariel was choking on his own blood, and Gabriel was beaten and tortured to his death because of him. It was all because of him. These tragedies would have never occurred if he hadn’t been created, if Lucifer had killed him. Oh, how he wished his sister had cast him out, had followed after to finish him off. All this suffering would have been spared. But Lucifer wouldn’t have ever done that. She was too good, too understanding. She was better than him, yet now she was considered the devil and enemy.

He lost his breath. Agony bloomed and spread from his abdomen. Shaking from a list of ailments, he cast a look down to see that he had speared himself in the stomach, the blood gushing out indistinguishable from the shredded skin around it. The wound, left untreated, would be fatal to a human or low-ranking angel, but his spirit should support his vessel long enough for it to heal.

His eyes traveled over the rest of him to find the intricate Enochian carvings torn apart, the skin in tatters. The words of atonement were gone, and he somehow felt a sense of relief now that he’d ripped into himself. But it was wrong. He wasn’t doing this to feel better. This was all to save Sariel. He should feel no relief, be given no mercy. He was to suffer; that was what would be just. He should never be relieved of his guilt.

A soft sensation brushed against his forearms, and he turned his head to discover he had summoned his wings somewhere in the fray. The sight of the black and glossy feathers angered him, set something off deep inside. It was all so unfair, so wrong. Sariel was judged and to be sent to Hell, but yet he, a traitor, blasphemer, liar, and a murderer of infinite counts was glorified? He seethed, teeth bared and gnashed together. Blood-covered hands trembling, he ripped the sword from his stomach, hurling it into the brush.

He clawed at the tip of his right wing, gripping it and snapping the bone. Though a part of him, the limb shivered under his grasp, responding to the injury. A few flight feathers fell to the dirt, but the bone began to start knitting back together. Only to have Michael twist and snap it again. And again. And again. The wing was left mangled and warped, balding from the abuse. Heartbeat weak but far too rapid, he reached behind him, to the base of the wing. He yanked on it, again crushing hollow bone under his fingers.

Even with his strength, it was a difficult and slow process. Tendons snapped, muscles ripping apart and nerves being pulled out from his spine. He could hear and feel the cracking in his back, but he continued. This was right. This was for Sariel. This was just. It became a gory mantra in his head. There was a distant screaming that he came to recognize as his own, and the wing’s root popped from the flesh of his back. He tossed the dead appendage to the ground and repeated the process on the remaining wing.

Both wings expunged from his back, he stood, weak and shaking. He hoped he had not paled from the bloodloss. He didn’t how he could hide that. Dawn was beginning to bleed into the night sky, and his heart jumped to his throat. Sariel! Oh God, what if he had been hurt? What if he had awoken?

Michael snatched his shirt from the grass and pulled it on. He took off for the house, leaving the sword and his wings behind. His heart was still weak and fluttering, sending a burning into his lungs as he ran. His stomach and back were beginning to truly throb, skin stinging with contact to the now-bloodied shirt.

Please, Sariel. Please, still be there. Please, still be well.

How could he have left him? Sariel was in danger! He was a traitorous pig—

But it needed to be done. It did. It was right. It was just.

His front met with the ground, face striking and scraping against the dirt. A silent scream painted on his face. Everything burned and ached, shrieking in his head. Despite that, cold crept in, sinking into his bones, and he shivered. He was only a couple yards from the front door. Why had he fallen? Had he tripped?

He felt he should pull himself up immediately, dart inside, but he remained, glancing behind him.

Light hair sprawled on the dark dirt. Pale skin white with death. Wide open, dead blue eyes.

Michael couldn’t inhale anymore. “Sar—”

Wait. No.

This was a woman, and entirely too tall to be Sariel. Exousia was lodged into her chest. But, but how? Exousia was left on Earth with his and Sariel’s corpses. How was it here? Who was this woman?

He crawled closer to the body, but his palm landed on something sleek and smooth. He looked down to find a feather. A wing.

Six white, gold-trimmed wings.

What. What? No. No, no. This didn’t make sense. This wasn’t possible.

But it was right before him, Lucifer’s body.

His lips mouthed words he couldn’t gather the breath to speak. His chest was paralyzed, couldn’t rise or fall, but he launched himself onto the corpse. Fingers traced over the features, high cheekbones and soft lips. The bright white of her pupils, the light from her soul, was gone. Her warmth had chilled to ice.

Michael was trembling, heart struggling to beat. He sucked in a great gasp only to let out a tiny sob, still doubting, “sister?” This was some absurd illusion. How did Lucifer even get into Eden, let alone die there? No, this was just cruel. Raphael’s over-the-top idea of a practical joke.

He waited.

And waited. Raphael didn’t show up. The woman didn’t breathe.

He pleaded in Enochian. Tears fell free, but he couldn’t feel them. “Lucifer, Lucifer, my sister, what is this? Please.” But nothing changed. She was still dead beneath him.

He screamed. He cried out to whatever would hear, the shriek layering into something inhuman, transcending into all dimensions.

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel & Gabriel – No one
Music: Silent Crying
OOC: I’m going to Hell. Also, this was highly rushed so sorry for the typos. I’m about to go to work lol

sorry to hear you had a crappy day sad I hope things get better for you :3 if you ever need to vent, feel free to drop me a pm or something. I’m kind of a dork, but I like to help anyway I can

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

xx ✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel listened to Gabriel’s explanation, how his father wanted to have Michael damn him. He knew why he did that, he didn’t want to do it himself. It wasn’t that it was too much of a bother for him, that wasn’t it. He just didn’t want to see Sariel in pain from his own hands. His father loved him, he knew he had to. Sariel also knew he shouldn’t feel sympathy for his father, but he did. His father would always say how proud of him he was, how happy he was with Sariel. Now he had disappointed him, taken all of his praises and crushed them. It was his fault, he shouldn’t have gone against his father’s will. But he did, and for some reason he didn’t feel awfully bad about it. He felt sorry, but not bad.

Sariel’s gaze moved to the floor, nodding slightly to Gabriel. It was as he suspected. Michael was to send him to Hell, his soul’s final resting place. Sariel sucked up his tears, looked to Michael and grabbed his hand. He shot him a smile of understanding, a smile that said it was alright. Michael quickly threw that smile away, telling Sariel he wouldn’t do such a thing. Sariel’s face almost melted, he almost wanted to just scream thank you. A part of him wanted to cry and throw himself to Michael, grab on tight and smother him in kisses, never letting go. He couldn’t though, that wasn’t what he was going to do. He couldn’t be miserable and vulnerable. He was strong. He had to be. Even if he wasn’t, and that was a lie, which it was, he had to be.

He listened to Michael, smiling gently. He didn’t cry. His eyes were glossy, but he didn’t cry. His hand snaked to Michael’s, grabbing hold softly, then tightly, then softly, then firm once more. His eyes smiled at Michael. The smile both said I understand and but now also thank you. He was thankful Michael wouldn’t do such a thing, but he would understand if he changed his mind. He wouldn’t be mad, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, be upset. Gabriel said he would help too, but Sariel half way believed the battle shouldn’t exist. There wouldn’t be a fight, couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow everyone to go through so much trouble. Michael was so sweet, so strong wanting to keep him there, wanting to fight for him. But even Gabriel heard his father, it wouldn’t end unless they just ended it now. He didn’t want to, but it would be for the best. Sariel believed Gabriel thought the same. He wouldn’t bring it up now, maybe later. For now he would just let it go, live on as much as possible. However, the pain was still creeping up. He’d keep smiling on and play along until the right moment came. He’d ask Michael then, but not now.

He must accept it.

Part of him did, the part of him he grew up with. The part of him who was obedient and very traditional, the part of him his father raised. The part of him that Michael formed though, the part of him that truly felt like him didn’t. His emotions were strong, so strong, but would reason and logic prevail?

He’d ask Michael.

Not now.

Michael and Gabriel moved around a bit while Sariel was lost in thought, Gabriel holding something out to him that brought him out of his deep contemplation. His eyes refocused, seeing the necklace dangling in his hands. There it was. Could he really say goodbye? There were so many memories, the two shared the necklaces from day one. His was broken, but it was mended back, right in front of his eyes. Perhaps there was hope, maybe things could be fixed. He’d have to ask.

Not now.

He smiled at Gabriel, a tear sneaking out but he wiped it graciously. “Thank you, Gabriel. So much.” He said with a smile. The oddly peaceful, tense atmosphere broke with Raphael’s voice echoing in. Sariel would probably be unhappy to hear him, roll his eyes on the spot, but he didn’t. He just looked out the broken wall, little to no expression on his face. Gabriel decided he would head out, drag the arrogance with him. Sariel nodded to him, smiling and waving a hand to him. The two had been shaky before, definitely, but Sariel appreciated him lots now.

The day progressed though, somehow. It felt so long. It was almost completely silent. Sariel questioned if he should pick up a book, continue on with how their day would have been and just read to Michael. That was supposed to be exciting though, right? They were supposed to have a good day, speaking all throughout. Now, there was nothing. Michael stuck around though, stayed close. They basically just sat in the bed all day, both of them thinking. Sariel continued the internal battle of letting Michael damn him or letting everyone fight for him. Both led to pain, but if he let Michael damn him, only he would be suffering. It could be him or everyone around him. Michael was a soldier, someone who fought for those they loved. But Sariel too, was a soldier, someone who let themselves go for those they loved.

It was easier said than done though, it always was.

Sariel left Michael’s grip for a moment, heading to the wardrobe to get some different clothes to sleep in, or at least a different shirt. He wasn’t one to sweat, but he had been and was afraid of smelling, though that should have been the last thing on his mind. “I’m going to lay down for a bit, if that’s alright.” He spoke out to Michael, his voice was normal. He was trying so hard not to break. There was no in between in his emotions, so he had to force an in between. He slipped on the new shirt, which was so large he figured he accidentally grabbed one of Michael’s, and slid into bed next to Michael. He opened his lips to speak, perhaps say goodnight, or goodbye, or I love you, or see you tomorrow, or something. Anything really. He didn’t say anything though, snuggling in next to Michael who was still sitting up. He shut his eyes, waiting to fall asleep.

But he never did.

Hours passed and he felt the mattress rise, squeak on it’s springs. Michael was getting up. Sariel kept his eyes shut. If he opened them, he would have to sit for much longer to sleep. He just wanted to fall and dream of something that wasn’t this. He heard a door creek. Was he going to the bathroom? But why? No, he wasn’t. He must have gone to the library. Sariel kept his head rested for a few more moments, waiting for Michael to return. He just needed to feel him return and he would be at ease.

He didn’t return. No, keep your eyes closed. Dream. Dream. Never stop dreaming. Dream forever and as long as you can. He wanted to dream, go somewhere different just for a while. Just for a bit. He wanted to feel a happier time, he wanted to feel it all around. He wanted a night that was more beautiful than the rest, the sky a pale blue with the stars shining brighter than ever. He knew he could dream like this because Michael was his. Then, he would open his eyes and face reality. But not now.

He still didn’t return. Please, open your eyes. It’s real. This is real. Reality is a curse but it’s real. Reality is the now and we must face the present with full force. He wanted to dream, go somewhere different just for a while. Just for a bit. But that happier time would end right when he woke up, he had the opportunity to feel it all around and he couldn’t. Something told him not to. He wanted to wake up to a night that was more beautiful than the rest. He opened his eyes and sat up to look out the window, the sky was a pale blue with the stars shining brighter than ever. He knew he could survive this reality because Michael was his. His eyes were opened and he was ready to face reality. Now.

A shriek was heard, somewhere far but he knew it all too well. He shot up, taking no moment to think as he got on his feet. He couldn’t sleep anyway. Where was Michael. He called out for him, “Michael?” He approached the library, a hand moving to hold his necklace, but he wasn’t sure why. “Michael, are you in here?” Sariel asked as he pushed the door opened. The books were still scattered, the pale blue shattering it’s light across the hard covers. “The Shadow Over Innsmouth And Other Stories Of Horror” caught his attention. It was the only novel that was paper-backed and in pretty grimy condition. Sariel approached the novel, pushing one side of his hair behind his ear as he opened it up. It landed on the second story, “The Outsider”. It caught his attention, it pulled him in. He wasn’t sure why, but he read the short story.

No, why, he needed to look for Michael. He heard his scream, why wasn’t he running to him?

“So through endless twilights I dreamed and waited, though I knew not what I waited for. Then in the shadowy solitude my longing for light grew so frantic that I could rest no more, and I lifted entreating hands to the single black ruined tower that reached above the forest into the unknown outer sky. And at last I resolved to scale that tower, fall through I might; since it were better to glimpse the sky and perish, than to live without even beholding day.”

Sariel felt the pain and the emotion through the story. Anna said it was to terrify him, but it didn’t. He felt like he was reading a story he himself would have written. “I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.” Yes, it was all so true. Many loved him, but he didn’t belong. He warmed hearts, but he didn’t belong. He was lost before he was found by Michael, and then lost himself even more. Lost. Lost. Gone. Vanished. Michael.

Where was he?

Sariel jumped to the thought, dropping the novel back into the stacks of others, losing it among the masses. He flung the door opened, tumbling into it with the force he put into opening it. He gathered himself quickly once more, running toward the stairs and running down. He rammed into the door once again, only to swing it open and have his hair wave into his face. He could hear his cries, he could hear screams. He knew it was Michael. It was loud, the loudest Sariel had heard. He would yell back, as strong as possible. “Micha-!” He shouted. But then he saw him. Torn, beaten, bleeding from the inside out. No. No, no, no.

Not now.

Sariel choked on his breath, Michael crying over something that he couldn’t see, something that wasn’t apparent to him. “Michael!” Sariel cried out, quickly slamming the ground as he fell beside him. “Michael, Michael!” He shook his head, turning Michael’s cheek gently to look at him. “Michael, what has happened!” He was crying at the sight, blood seeping into his knees from the damping ground beneath him. “Did my fathe- no. No, Michael that-“ He knew that couldn’t have been what it was. His father was vicious, but why would he do this to Michael, not when all he wanted was Sariel to be punished.

He did this.

Sariel covered his mouth, analyzing everything that could have gone wrong had. His wings were torn off, he tore them. His body was bleeding through the fabrics. Sariel was such an ugly crier sometimes. His lips quivered, hands hovering under his body not knowing what to do. He wanted to embrace him, but he couldn’t. He was also slightly angry, not to mention distressed. “Michael, what the Hell?!” Sariel managed to get some words out, his chest pumping heavily out of worry. He kept rubbing Michael’s face, the only thing that seemed uninjured. He kept grabbing at it. He didn’t stop. “Michael, you- Why did you- Mi-Michael please- Y-You didn’t- Michael, look at me!” He was so dazed. He was almost gone it seemed, though he knew he wasn’t. The sight was horrifying. Sariel didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know. He wasn’t strong, he was the outsider. He wasn’t a man, he wasn’t a rock. He wasn’t anything.

“Gabriel! Gabriel, please!” He cried out. He knew who was though, he knew. He caressed Michael’s face, lips pressing together and then releasing in disbelief. Had Michael tried to damn himself or something, what was he trying to do. He grabbed hold of Michael’s head, pulling him into his chest, resting his chin on top of Michael’s head. “What the Hell…” He whispered. “Why do you hurt yourself… it hurts me” He echoed through his tears, running his fingers through Michael’s hair with his confession. Please, not now.

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┏━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━━┓
❁ Who am I with ❁:Gabriel & Michael - Michael
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: Panicked
❁ Mood Maker ❁:Legend
❁ OOC ❁: aaa thank you so much! ;; my day ended up alright, i lost some friend somehow but i managed through the power of japanese idols cheering me up thankfully LOL
┗━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━┛

“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

ϻīͼϦαҽɭxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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Sariel was still alive, still there. But he was awake. He saw and knew what Michael did. No, no. This was not meant to happen. He hurt Sariel again. He failed.

Sariel was holding him, crying his name. He spoke other words, but it was all a blur to Michael. Everything was a haze, and the air weighed heavy on him. He sunk into the warm chest, but his wide eyes traveled elsewhere, landing on the empty, pale face left to stare unseeingly at the sky.

Lucifer.

“Sister,” it was wispy and near-silent, his voice dying with his breath. He reached out for the corpse, shivering. Why was he so cold? His gaze traced down her still form, settling on the silver claymore in her chest. He didn’t understand. How had this happened? Even if Lucifer did find a way into Paradise, she was almost as skilled and strong as him. Who could have murdered her? A thought passed through his mind, but he didn’t pay it much heed. Although, the more he tried to make sense of everything, the more he realized it was the only answer.

He had killed Lucifer.

He couldn’t remember even seeing her, but that meant nothing. He was the only one capable of defeating her. It was his sword in her heart. He must have lost himself. Or, perhaps, he had found himself, was regressing into what he truly was. The warrior of God. The murderer, the merciless beast. He betrayed all in the favor of One. He couldn’t be trusted.

Lucifer was dead, extinguished. He was responsible. He had murdered his sister, the one created only seconds after him, his companion in the nothingness. She was gone.

He tried to suck in air, but couldn’t. His mouth hung open in a silent cry. Tears flowed, and his body was wracked with sobs he couldn’t produce, “I killed her.” Fingers curled in Sariel’s shirt, he held to him, but fear crashed over him. He was going to harm Sariel. Metamorphosing into what he truly was, he had already slain Lucifer. Sariel would be next.

He shook his head, pulling away from Sariel. “Sariel, you,” he was still trying to inhale, gasping only to take in nothing, “you must—” He choked on his words, whole upper body tightening with a terrible ache.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

His heart wasn’t beating. There was a part of himself that was almost glad for it, a part that hoped beyond anything that it all would end for him here. He would be gone, never to harm anyone he loved again, but what killed earthly creatures didn’t him. His vessel could perish repeatedly, and as long as his soul retained enough energy, it would go on. It would support his body until it healed enough to function on its own. Of course, continual injuries would eventually drain away his spirit, leave it unable to sustain him.

His lips moved uselessly, trying to plead with the other angel. Sariel needed to get away from him. Michael could kill him, was unsafe to be around. He needed to be bound, sealed in a cage, anything.

His extremities were numbing. He was cold, but everything was warm and turning to black around him. The Host humming in his mind, he could sense Gabriel whisper to him, urging for a reply. He could hear his brother’s growing concern, but he paid it little mind. He relaxed, all the cares and anxiety fading into an abyss.

His eyes were wide open, skin like ice and clammy, but he stilled into a dreamless state.

Gabriel had sensed.. something. The tiniest of breezes on his being, a cry that was distant and weak to his ears. It certainly wasn’t Michael’s, but he had that nagging feeling, a knot of nerves he couldn’t explain. It was likely nothing. He had just seen his brother. His logic struggled on, but it would just not go away.

He sighed, disrupting the minty steam rolling off his tea. He was not one to become fretful, hover over and worry like a mother. That was Michael’s job. There was no need to dwell on imaginary dangers. Everything was fine.

Seconds ticked by.

He rapped his fingers on his thigh. The feeling was still there.

He would just call out along the Host. Michael would reply, and he could rest at ease. For Father’s sake, he just wanted to relax and drink his damn tea. He focused, whispering among the countless songs and voices, each unique. There. He brought the teacup to his lips. Taking a sip, he waited.

And waited.

There was no response. He set his tea down. There wasn’t going to be a response.

Something was wrong.

Dressed only in a loose pair of pants and his undershirt, he stood from his desk and pulled on his red robe; he had come to feel vulnerable without it over the ages. He stepped into his sandals but left his hair loose. There was a sense of urgency, especially now that he had wasted time. Hopefully whatever the problem was wouldn’t take so long that the hanging curls began to irritate him much. He exited his chambers to sprint down the great, white halls. Vulgar sounds echoed from Raphael’s room, but he resisted the urge to kick down the door and hurl a fireball at the blond.

He was going to kill Michael if everything was fine.

Charging into the cool early morning air, Gabriel realized he didn’t have his brother’s exact location. He had never replied to him, making it impossible to trace where he was. Gabriel would just have to make his best guess. He summoned his wings, wrapping himself in the crimson warmth, and he concentrated on the home his brother and Sariel shared, tucked away in the woods.

He had meant to place himself at the front door but ended up in the garden. Willing his wings away, he rolled his eyes. Oh well. Even he became weary at times. He was still just as skilled. Although, he knew Raphael would have made a comment had he been with him. Michael wouldn’t have. Michael never did.

Michael. He stepped through the gateway, rounding the house to the front. He froze.

Something was wrong.

Sariel was weeping. Michael was lying still on his side, too still, and a third form was sprawled in the dirt beside them. Though he felt concern growing for his brother, he focused on the unknown body, squinting. There was something familiar about it. Were those wings? Oh, he had an awful feeling.

He approached the two, coming close enough to see the third figure, and—

“What?” Was that..? The six wings, pale hair and face, it was Lucifer, but her light was extinguished. His mind racing with questions, his brow furrowed with confusion, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He blinked, kept staring. He still couldn’t quite believe it. It did explain why Michael was in distress, however.

Glancing to Sariel, he came to his brother’s side. Michael was unmoving, no breath, no pulse. He was cold and grey with death, but Gabriel could still feel him. Michael was still there, sleeping in his vessel. Gabriel placed a palm to his brother’s cheek, moving to his shoulder to try to rouse him, “Michael?”

No luck. “He’s not dead,” he assured Sariel. He looked to the corpse, his voice flat, “she is, however.” Eyes traveling to Exousia, still left in her body, he had to wonder what, exactly, had happened. Had she come to attack? Did Michael kill her? That didn’t sound like either one of his siblings, though.

He shook his head, focusing on Michael again. He could smell blood, could make out the glossy, black stains on his brother’s dark shirt. It had gathered the most on his stomach and upper back. Brows low, Gabriel worked at the buttons on Michael’s top. Slowly, he peeled the soaked fabric off, revealing countless marks, bloody wounds covering Michael’s torso. They were sloppy and ragged, done in rage, but he could make out bits of Enochian under them. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to make out what was written. He could only decipher a few words, but that was enough. He knew what this was.

Michael was a fool.

It was a prayer of atonement. Gabriel supposed Michael thought he could earn forgiveness, either for himself or Sariel. He sighed. It wouldn’t work. It would never work. This situation could not be changed.

Gabriel was angry, wanted to slap Michael, perhaps knock some sense into his head, but as much as the fury boiled in him, right now Michael needed help. He needed to be laid somewhere safe and warm until he could recuperate. Then, when he was well, Gabriel would beat the hell out of him.

He slipped his arms behind Michael’s knees and back, and his stomach churned at the warm, slimy sensation of empty wing-sockets. Yes, he was definitely going to have “talk” to Michael about this later.

His tall brother in his arms, Gabriel carried him inside, eventually finding the bed upstairs and laying him on it. The sheets would become soaked in blood, but Gabriel couldn’t be bothered enough to care. Michael would just have to wash them, along with his robe, when he awoke.

He returned outside, eyes locked onto his sister’s body. He stared at the apparently-fatal wound in her chest, but he noticed something. There was no blood staining the area around it. In fact, there was no blood on her at all, except for Michael’s. Exousia’s blade wasn’t what had killed her.

He ran a hand through his hair, too many questions to count arising in his mind. This didn’t make sense. Something needed to be done with the body, however. She couldn’t just be left there. Despite the resentment he held, he wasn’t going to allow her body to rot like that. Besides, he wasn’t going to allow Michael to see this again.

He turned to Sariel, “I will take care of this. If he wakes, don’t let Michael come out here again until she’s gone.” He sighed, “pray he forgets.”

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel & Gabriel
Music: Silent Crying
OOC: aw, I’m sorry to hear that :< I’m glad you’re feeling better though :3

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun

[palesprout]

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xxxx↣Runners in a RAINSTORM↣ To try to cross ENEMY lines ↣
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI love you, do you LOVE ME ?-- But are we REACHING our POTENTIAL? ↣

Sariel opened his eyes from snuggling Michael's head in, seeing the opportunity to catch a bit of what he was so upset over. What was beside him though, couldn't be real. Michael was fading out, Sariel letting go slowly. He knew her. He remembered her. Lucifer. She was dead. But how could that be? How had she entered Paradise? How, How, Why, How, How, How. Why was Michael's blade in her? He didn't even have the sword on hand, this wasn't possible. He wanted to puke, he wanted to turn away, two paling bodies right next to him. This couldn't be real, he slammed his eyes shut, this wasn't real. He was dreaming, he fell asleep successfully and this was just a dream. An awful one, but a dream. When he woke, reality would seem a lot better than ever before. He could really appreciate everything he was given. This was a test, yes, that's all.

Michael stopped breathing. Sariel opened his eyes and saw Michael's looking at nothing, opened, but empty. Sariel paused for a moment, completely frozen. What had just happened. He was breathless in his arms. He wanted to avoid this so bad, he was dying in his arms once again. Even if he wasn't, it felt like he was and that was what hurt the most. Dammit, this was reality! This was Hell, maybe that was why Lucifer was laying next to Michael. He didn't want to wait anymore, don't you wait. He wanted to hurry and go to Hell. It would be better. It would be better! No, Lucifer wouldn't be there to make him feel better, to show him comfort. It wouldn't be better. It wouldn't be better!

Nothing would ever be better, but he wished.

He wished.

He wished.

No, he prayed.

Sariel felt Michael's gaze, staring at nothing. He wasn't there. It wouldn't be better. Michael wasn't even looking at him. He was gone. What the Hell had happened. What the Hell. What the Hell. What the Hell. He didn't realize but he had been screaming it over an over, shouting. He wondered if he was heard. Lucifer was truly next to the two, had Michael done this to himself because of it, or something else? "No, No!" Sariel grabbed Michael's cheeks, slapping a side lightly, rubbing his forehead. "Michael, wake up and look at me, dammit! Please!!" He shrieked. Sariel was afraid, had he damned himself and in his place Lucifer was killed? What had happened. What the Hell had happened.

Sariel shook uncontrollably, his hands shaking so fast Michael rolled out of his reach, his head dropping. His eyes were still opened. He screamed, his hands bloody and now cold. Michael was so cold. There was so much blood. There was so much pain. Why had he done this. Did he mean for Sariel to suffer?! No, that was a selfish thought. But still, he wanted to beat Michael, smack him until he awoke. What if he didn't though, what if he slapped him all night and never saw that glisten in his eye for a response. He feared that, backing up slightly and drowning himself in his tears. His breathing was so heavy and terrified it was basically a scream every time.

Under the scent of blood, that disgusting heated iron scent, was sandalwood. Sariel turned his face to see Gabriel. He was here. He was here. Thank God, he was here. Thank God. Sariel's face was pale and red, like he was painting himself different colors, but he looked at Gabriel with hope. He was amazing. He was everything he wanted to be, he was there for Michael, anytime he needed. Sariel was only there when it was too late. He could have stopped this perhaps.

He strode in, Sariel falling to his elbows and knees, crying to Gabriel. "He's gone! He's gone!" He sobbed grossly, dropping his head to the dirt and shaking his head as his forehead and hair got both dirty and tasseled. He lifted his head, following Michael to his corpse. "I don't know what to do! I didn't say goodbye, nothing! I didn't tell him goodnight, I love you, he didn't hear it! I just want him to hear it, where is he dammit!!" Sariel shouted, tugging on his hair. How could there be such a disturbance in such a place, in "Paradise".

His vision blurred he was crying so much, his voice disappearing and aching through his depressing cries for help. "I tried to talk to him, he just stared at nothing-" He sobbed into his hands, Gabriel examining the bodies. He was about to speak, but Gabriel spoke out over him. Michael wasn't gone. He was there, he said. Well, where the Hell was he? Why couldn't Sariel pull him back, why couldn't he find him? What had gone awry? Why couldn't he do anything?

When Gabriel said that, though. Sariel sobbed even harder, knowing he was safe. Seeing Gabriel's face affirm it, he knew he wasn't lying. He was honest, strong. He knew Michael better than anyone. He was jealous, honestly. So jealous. Sariel couldn't stop crying though, repeating thank you over and over and over once more and then once more just to be sure he knew he was so thankful.

However, Lucifer. She was gone, if Michael awoke and didn't remember, would he just live on with it? But if he awoke and remembered, how would Sariel help? He could try, but he probably couldn't. Michael loved Sariel but he was good for nothing besides providing a laugh here and there, a bit of comfort and warmth. He was easy to sit around with, but nothing more. He would need to pray for Gabriel again. He would need to find him somewhere. At least he could be found, unlike Michael.

Sariel watched Gabriel peel off Michael's shirt, sticking noises and moist sounds invading his ears, taking over his brain. He watched as tentatively as he could through his blurred eyesight, seeing carvings. They were beautiful, but so hideous. He tried so hard, someone did at least. He hoped not Michael, but he feared that was so. They got more warn though, rushed and horrifying. Oh God, why. Why, why, why? His home was demolished. His heart was demolished. Everything was demolished. Michael was everything.

Gabriel picked up Michael, taking him away from Sariel. He became frantic for a second, crying for Gabriel to wait. He realized Gabriel was headed inside though, and he tried calming. He sat there with Lucifer's dead body. They looked a lot alike, their hair both white and both pale. Her wings were even a bit golden as well. She was unfairly murdered. If this was real, it was wrong. It was so wrong. Sariel would happily go to Hell if it meant avenging or following Lucifer's footsteps. He only met her once, but she was kind. She was loyal. She was so understanding. She was loving. She was so much like Michael.

Sariel could hear Gabriel walking near him, though he hoped it was Michael. He knew it wouldn't be though. He turned his head quickly, Gabriel telling him something. He wanted him to watch over Michael. He tried to stand, knees turned in toward each other and shoulder's slumped. Sariel nodded to Gabriel's request, turning to hurry inside. He had to be strong for Michael. If he awoke with Sariel crying, he would feel worse. If he awoke. If.

"Pray he forgets."

He barely prayed anymore, but he had prayed more in the past two days than he had in the past two years. He turned to Gabriel, sucking up his tears and staring at him. He was strong. Michael was still here, somewhere. He could do it. If Gabriel wanted him to try, he would. He would try til he passed out and if he did he would only dream of prayers only for Michael and forever only Michael.

Sariel's voice, timid, disappearing. He nodded, deepening the stare. "Goodbye, Gabriel." He said as he shut the door behind him. He felt somewhere it was wrong to leave Gabriel out there with the mysterious body of Lucifer, but he did. He felt somewhere else, it was right.

Sariel stormed to the kitchen, climbing on counters to find some candles. His face was still tearing up, he was still crying, but he looked serious. He was dead serious, his lips tight together and his eyes wide with determination. He found six dusty candles, all with glass encasements with some biblical references on them. Him. This was his fault. This was the Father. This was the b*****d that had ruined it all.

Sariel's eyes tightened in on the painted glass, sliding out the candles and throwing the glass against the wall. He ruined it all. He could pray, he could pray all he wanted. He would be his own God, his own devout being. He believed in hope, he believed in Michael. He could pray without the name of the father, that was his strength. It was all he could do, but he owned it.

Sariel stormed up stairs, not minding the glass decorating the bottoms of his feet now. All he could see was Michael, and there he was. Eyes wide opened on the bed. Sariel took one look at him, turning away to place the candles. He hurried to the fireplace downstairs, grabbing matches scattered in the dusty ash and going right back upstairs.

Michael would hear him. He would.

He didn't hope he would hear him, he knew he would. He had to.

Sariel came rushing up the stairs, bending down to light the match against the stairs as he climbed up. He straightened to go to each section of the room, lighting the candles. It smelt like tulips, it complimented Sariel well and aided in the disappearance of the heated blood scent. Sariel walked over to look at Michael once more, shaking the match down although it was already kissing his fingers with it's flames. He stared at Michael, the match still lit slightly and catching his fingers. He didn't care. He liked the fire anyways. He loved it. He would burn all the time if he could. He held the flame close to Michael's face, seeing the orange tints in his open eyes. His eyes were so pale they reflected the orange like no other. Sariel only thought, I love you.

He stared for a moment longer, the lights out and only the candles running rapidly. He stared. His fingers crisped. Michael stared. "Come back." He whispered. No, he couldn't get emotional. Not now. There was so much to be done. So much. Sariel's free hand quickly swiped Michael's eyes shut, turning away without a second thought and standing at the foot of the bed as the flames licking his hand died out.

"Hv! lshmvch vmchshvh shl tkvvh! chn lvhm vmd lhtklch tkvvh sh'lch. Lmrvt shhchm hv vvgdnm, lnv lhmshch. Sh svh. Sh mtrh. Mtz t hmtrh sh. Mtz vtv!"

All night, he stayed up, his voice tearing up but speaking as loudly and clearly as he could. His hands lifted, he blessed Michael, prayed for him, tried to connect, everything he could. Anything he could. He was tired, his voice was giving out. All he could see was Michael though. Michael waking up and needing a hug, Michael waking up and seeking comfort. All he could see was Michael waking up. He didn't care what came afterword. He just wanted his eyes to open, to show he was alive. He just wanted him to look at him, to tell him what he could do for him. He just wanted Michael.

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xx✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡----✡

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┏━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━━┓
❁ Who am I with ❁:Gabriel & Michael & Lucifer? ? ?? - Michael
❁ Where am I ❁:Home
❁ You make me feel ❁: Focused
❁ Mood Maker ❁:Window
❁ OOC ❁: SCREW U AND UR ANTICS MICHAEL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
┗━━━━━━━✦✦✦━━━━━━┛

“Theleme"

[n0ctrne]

ꜜ I saw the devil today, and he looked a lot like me

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ʄᶏᶅᶅᶒϞ Ⱥɍƈɦanɠϵl

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There was nothing surrounding him. Empty darkness stretched all around Michael, the Heavenly Host’s gentle murmurs the only thing to keep him company. No heat existed here, only coldness coated the void, a chill with no frost to show for its efforts.

Michael should have been disconcerted with his surroundings- or lack thereof- perhaps even frightened, but he felt nothing. It simply was. It piqued no interest, moved nothing in him at all. To him, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing was significant to him. He held no concerns or motives, entertained no thoughts. He was a weapon to be used. He was nothing, an object, a mindless soldier meant only for its master’s will.

“Come back.”

Where had that sounded from? The voice sparked something in him, breathed life into his vacant husk. He felt he was neglecting something important. There was something out there, something crucial to everything. A fire ignited, its heat melting the icy air. Warmth bloomed and flourished around him, but it would not touch him. He was still frozen to his spot.

“ Hv! lshmvch vmchshvh shl tkvvh! chn lvhm vmd lhtklch tkvvh sh'lch. Lmrvt shhchm hv vvgdnm, lnv lhmshch. Sh svh. Sh mtrh. Mtz t hmtrh sh. Mtz vtv!”

There was someone out there he loved. Sariel. He had left him. “Sariel.” Oh God, he had left Sariel! “Sariel,” a tear fell from his eye, the wet warmth trailing down his cheek. A pressure was squeezing at his chest, building with each second, and he sucked in a gasp. “Sariel?” He had to find him. What if he was hurt? But where was Sariel? Where was he?

Fingers reached out, grasping to the sheets beneath them. Sobs shook him, of both frustration and fear, but an unknown pain lurked, as well, a certain emptiness he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t waste time trying to understand it, however. He must move. He had to fight his way out of this darkness. He needed his angel, must find him.

A floral scent graced his senses, reminding him of Sariel. Something else lingered beneath it, though, something metallic and sickly. It took his mind a moment to gather, but he was able to recall it, place it. It was blood.

No. Oh no. No, no, no!

He shot up, eyes blown wide, “Sariel!” Please don’t let it be Sariel’s blood. Please—

He doubled over. A mind-tearing agony burst all over his upper body. His shoulders shook, hands gripping at the disturbed wound in his stomach. Dark red began pumping anew, staining the sheets. The blood wasn’t Sariel’s, then. It was his.

While relief cooled his burning thoughts, his chest tightened with each tiny movement. He was sore, achy, and he realized he was shivering, chilled to his core. What had happened? Something tugged at the corners of his mind, some memory begging to be brought to the surface. He knew the answer, just couldn’t summon it to his thoughts. It itched at his brain, but he abandoned the pursuit in favor of trying to move. He needed to be sure Sariel wasn’t in danger. Neck aching, he lifted his head, eyes wandering his surroundings. Though lit only by candles, he recognized the area as his and Sariel’s bedroom, the white-haired angel sitting right beside him.

Michael’s eyes rounded, lighting up even in the dim room. “Sariel,” he pulled the angel close and ran his fingers through his hair, having forgotten they were bloody. The contact stung, however, a burning on his skin. He pulled back to see dabs of blood staining Sariel’s shirt. He glanced to his exposed torso, finding angry gashes, carvings in Enochian hidden beneath. Something about this was too familiar. Something was nestled in his mind, teasing at the surface. The Enochian was hard to recognize, but it was something he knew by heart. It was a prayer of atonement.

Oh. He remembered.

This meant Sariel knew. The evidence was laid right out before him.

Michael hung his head in shame, angry and frustrated with himself. Why must he always fail? All he had to do was prevent Sariel from realizing he was hurt, or at least make sure he didn’t know he’d done it to himself. Lifting his eyes, he locked onto Sariel’s features. Sariel must have been tired, weary and pale from worry. His was the voice Michael had heard. He had been praying over him, blessing him. The guilt drove into him, striking him down. He was slowly slumping in on himself now, but he reached for Sariel’s hand, only to spot the blood on his palm and retract it. “I am sorry,” but he shook his head, “how many times have I repeated that? I always fail. I always cause you to suffer.” He was worthless. No, he was far worse than that; he was the origin of all of Sariel’s despair.

He studied the wrinkles in the sheets below, the blood staining them. How did he even end up here, in bed? He couldn’t remember ever reentering the house. He couldn’t even recall walking back from the woods. What happened? Something must have. It was tugging at him, a begging child’s fingers on its mother’s dress. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed over them, trying to remember. Something had affected him, and it was screaming for him to find it. Something was missing. Everything was imbalanced. There was a gaping hole, no light. No searing stars or birth of suns.

His sister. His opposite, she was gone. She was lying dead and extinguished in the dirt, murdered.

He pulled himself up to sit straight and stared at the stairway door, the door that lead down and eventually outside. Mouth falling open, his eyes widened, “Lucifer?” He could feel it now. There was an emptiness, a void that could never be filled again, crying out in the back of his head. His companion from the Beginning, the very first light, was gone forever.

Eyes glossing with tears, he looked to Sariel, desperate. He needed him to tell him that it wasn’t real, that he had only been hallucinating. He needed Sariel to say that Lucifer was still alive, perhaps in Hell, but still alive, burning on immortally. His sister could never die.

But she had. She was gone.

A cry ripped from his throat. He all but curled in on himself, sobs shaking him. Pain ignited in his torso from the movement, but it was drowned away by the gaping emptiness eating at him. Tears fell free. His eyesight blurred, and he hurt everywhere. Eyes squeezed shut, he clutched at his head, fingernails digging into his scalp. He just hurt. Fifty millennia of war and loss, the deaths of his loved ones, and now the threat of losing Sariel and Lucifer’s death, it all came crashing down.

Gasping through his tears, he opened his eyes to look upon the angel beside him. Sariel. His shining one, his light. He needed Sariel. He couldn’t continue to exist without him. “Sariel,” he fell forward, fingers clinging to Sariel’s shirt and choking through his sobs. He buried his face in the other’s thigh, his voice nearly too soft to hear, “my sister is gone.” Her corpse filled his thoughts, only to be pushed away by Sariel, being taken from him and suffering in Hell. The agony crushed his chest, making it difficult to breathe, “and I am going to lose you.” A tiny gasp shuddered on his lips. It was a struggle to speak. “It hurts.”

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←
Located: Eden - Home
With: Sariel
Music: Anthem of the Angels
OOC: *has gabriel pimpslap michael* we all know gabe is michael's pimp

→

ꜛ I looked away, I turned away

Gakurankun