Michaelmas
The mun needs a break from essay practice on the ethical implications of stem-cell research. xD
*sigh* I have no idea why I'm doing this. Michael's ego is bad enough already.
Happy Michaelmas!
Originally the feast day of St. Michael himself, it has now become the feast day for Michael, Raphael and myself.
Therefore I present this.
Title: After the Storm
Canon: Er. Based off the role-play versions from lt_safe_house. Gabriel is my own, as is Lucifer's characterisation, though the latter is based on Neil Gaiman's from Murder Mysteries.
Summary: A lot has been written about how the Fallen dealt with their loss. But those who remained in grace were not completely unaffected, either. A companion piece to Reflections , though it can be read on its own.
Disclaimer: If I owned the archangels, I’d be Someone who has a lot more pressing matters to attend to than writing fanfiction. I’d also, presumably, have a better computer.
After the Storm
The sky over the City was darker than it had ever been; it bore a reddish glow, as if to match the blood that had been shed in the Silver City that day. Gabriel shut his eyes, his heart twisting.
“When will he be here?” Michael broke the silence. “The worst of my wounds are healed, but it still hurts and I honestly can’t heal myself any more.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “He could have just healed everything earlier.”
“Others were hurt too,” Uriel said softly, slumping onto the floor and leaning his head against the leg of Raphael’s table. He sighed; it had been painful, for him more so than the others, as so many angels were Severed from the Presence. Closing his eyes, he let the warm, comforting glow of the Presence envelop him, trying and failing not to think of those who could no longer feel it.
“He is here,” Gabriel murmured, turning away from the window and helping Michael sit upright and remove some of his armour. “Oh, let go of your sword already.”
Raphael alighted, unslinging his bow and quiver. “I apologise for having to leave so quickly, but there were many wounded. Are there any more minor wounds that need taking care of?”
“My shoulder is still sore, and I feel drained somehow,” Michael tugged off his swordbelt and armguards, looking grumpy, and Raphael laid a hand on his shoulder and sent a gentle burst of healing energy through it.
“We are all drained, Michael, either through fighting or by fulfilling other functions.” He gestured to himself and Uriel. “There is nothing I can do but recommend resting for a few days. I doubt He will expect us to return to our normal functions so soon.”
Gabriel slumped onto the floor, next to Uriel. The image of Lucifer’s eyes smouldering in his proud face as he Fell was seemingly seared into Gabriel’s eyelids.
“We even ask the same question, Messenger - why?”
“Walk with me, my friend?”
Utter shock paralysed him as he watched Lucifer bravely defy God.
Lucifer’s followers leapt to his defence, and he found himself fighting fellow angels.
He heard the metallic ringing as the swords of Lucifer and Michael clashed.
Pain twisted in him as he heard the Judgement.
They burned as they Fell, and one of them burned the brightest of all.
“That’s a nasty cut, Gabriel,” Raphael commented, tracing it. Gabriel barely winced as the bloodflow stopped and the skin joined, although a soft sound fell from his lips. Raphael frowned, resting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabriel? Are you all right?”
Gabriel finally turned to look at the Healer, tears threatening to fall. He blinked hard. My closest friend defied the Lord, started a battle, and was Severed from the Presence and cast out of Heaven, along with many others. So yes, Raphael, I am perfectly all right.
The silence was broken by Uriel. “I could feel it,” he said in little more than a whisper. “I could feel each of them being Severed; I could feel their pain, feel the emptiness.” He seemed not to notice Raphael pulling ineffectually at his clenched fists. “And yet I just kept doing it. I helped Him punish angels I had once known and loved.” His head bowed. “I do not contest His will, for it is Just, but sometimes He leaves blood on His instruments.”
Raphael did not know what to say. He could do nothing but heal their physical wounds and watch Uriel retreat into the Presence that filled him.
Michael cleared his throat. “I never thought I would end up fighting Lucifer, either. I thought I knew him, I respected and loved him as a brother, and yet he defied the Lord and started a war. And I just cast him out.” Bitterness twisted his voice. “I had to fight and cast out the Captain I had trained under and respected. He is All-Knowing. How could He have allowed this to happen?”
“It does us no good to question His will,” Gabriel said softly, feeling the love and gentle rebuke of the Presence in him. He bit his lip. “Everything happens for a reason, though I wish I knew better how to cope with it.”
“Lucifer was always better with pretty words and knowing just what to say when than I am,” Raphael said slowly, sinking onto the floor near Gabriel and finally allowing himself to rest. “I do not know what I should say, or how to comfort you.”
Gabriel gave him a wan smile. “At least you are still here.”
“True,” Raphael smiled back. “If you expect a hug, though, do not look at me.”
“If I was looking at you, evidently I was not expecting one,” Gabriel countered, a ghost of his humour beginning to return. He gasped as Michael pulled Uriel and himself into one-armed hugs; Uriel made a show of trying to push the Warrior away before giving up.
Michael eyed Raphael, who edged away and glared back. “Don’t even think about it. I may be an angel but I don’t do group hugs.”
Michael gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky I’m tired, then, or I’d drag you in anyway.”
“I should have left you injured,” Raphael muttered, but he wore a small grin.
Gabriel laughed softly, feeling slightly better.
~*~
*sigh* I have no idea why I'm doing this. Michael's ego is bad enough already.
Happy Michaelmas!
Originally the feast day of St. Michael himself, it has now become the feast day for Michael, Raphael and myself.
Therefore I present this.
Title: After the Storm
Canon: Er. Based off the role-play versions from lt_safe_house. Gabriel is my own, as is Lucifer's characterisation, though the latter is based on Neil Gaiman's from Murder Mysteries.
Summary: A lot has been written about how the Fallen dealt with their loss. But those who remained in grace were not completely unaffected, either. A companion piece to Reflections , though it can be read on its own.
Disclaimer: If I owned the archangels, I’d be Someone who has a lot more pressing matters to attend to than writing fanfiction. I’d also, presumably, have a better computer.
After the Storm
The sky over the City was darker than it had ever been; it bore a reddish glow, as if to match the blood that had been shed in the Silver City that day. Gabriel shut his eyes, his heart twisting.
“When will he be here?” Michael broke the silence. “The worst of my wounds are healed, but it still hurts and I honestly can’t heal myself any more.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “He could have just healed everything earlier.”
“Others were hurt too,” Uriel said softly, slumping onto the floor and leaning his head against the leg of Raphael’s table. He sighed; it had been painful, for him more so than the others, as so many angels were Severed from the Presence. Closing his eyes, he let the warm, comforting glow of the Presence envelop him, trying and failing not to think of those who could no longer feel it.
“He is here,” Gabriel murmured, turning away from the window and helping Michael sit upright and remove some of his armour. “Oh, let go of your sword already.”
Raphael alighted, unslinging his bow and quiver. “I apologise for having to leave so quickly, but there were many wounded. Are there any more minor wounds that need taking care of?”
“My shoulder is still sore, and I feel drained somehow,” Michael tugged off his swordbelt and armguards, looking grumpy, and Raphael laid a hand on his shoulder and sent a gentle burst of healing energy through it.
“We are all drained, Michael, either through fighting or by fulfilling other functions.” He gestured to himself and Uriel. “There is nothing I can do but recommend resting for a few days. I doubt He will expect us to return to our normal functions so soon.”
Gabriel slumped onto the floor, next to Uriel. The image of Lucifer’s eyes smouldering in his proud face as he Fell was seemingly seared into Gabriel’s eyelids.
“We even ask the same question, Messenger - why?”
“Walk with me, my friend?”
Utter shock paralysed him as he watched Lucifer bravely defy God.
Lucifer’s followers leapt to his defence, and he found himself fighting fellow angels.
He heard the metallic ringing as the swords of Lucifer and Michael clashed.
Pain twisted in him as he heard the Judgement.
They burned as they Fell, and one of them burned the brightest of all.
“That’s a nasty cut, Gabriel,” Raphael commented, tracing it. Gabriel barely winced as the bloodflow stopped and the skin joined, although a soft sound fell from his lips. Raphael frowned, resting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabriel? Are you all right?”
Gabriel finally turned to look at the Healer, tears threatening to fall. He blinked hard. My closest friend defied the Lord, started a battle, and was Severed from the Presence and cast out of Heaven, along with many others. So yes, Raphael, I am perfectly all right.
The silence was broken by Uriel. “I could feel it,” he said in little more than a whisper. “I could feel each of them being Severed; I could feel their pain, feel the emptiness.” He seemed not to notice Raphael pulling ineffectually at his clenched fists. “And yet I just kept doing it. I helped Him punish angels I had once known and loved.” His head bowed. “I do not contest His will, for it is Just, but sometimes He leaves blood on His instruments.”
Raphael did not know what to say. He could do nothing but heal their physical wounds and watch Uriel retreat into the Presence that filled him.
Michael cleared his throat. “I never thought I would end up fighting Lucifer, either. I thought I knew him, I respected and loved him as a brother, and yet he defied the Lord and started a war. And I just cast him out.” Bitterness twisted his voice. “I had to fight and cast out the Captain I had trained under and respected. He is All-Knowing. How could He have allowed this to happen?”
“It does us no good to question His will,” Gabriel said softly, feeling the love and gentle rebuke of the Presence in him. He bit his lip. “Everything happens for a reason, though I wish I knew better how to cope with it.”
“Lucifer was always better with pretty words and knowing just what to say when than I am,” Raphael said slowly, sinking onto the floor near Gabriel and finally allowing himself to rest. “I do not know what I should say, or how to comfort you.”
Gabriel gave him a wan smile. “At least you are still here.”
“True,” Raphael smiled back. “If you expect a hug, though, do not look at me.”
“If I was looking at you, evidently I was not expecting one,” Gabriel countered, a ghost of his humour beginning to return. He gasped as Michael pulled Uriel and himself into one-armed hugs; Uriel made a show of trying to push the Warrior away before giving up.
Michael eyed Raphael, who edged away and glared back. “Don’t even think about it. I may be an angel but I don’t do group hugs.”
Michael gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky I’m tired, then, or I’d drag you in anyway.”
“I should have left you injured,” Raphael muttered, but he wore a small grin.
Gabriel laughed softly, feeling slightly better.
~*~