Gabriel/Balthazar Log
Who: Gabriel (not Sylar) and Balthazar
Where: Library
When: During the Christmas flood
Warning: Violence. We got eyeball-popping goodness
Gabriel "hmm"-ed and tapped a pen to his lips. He'd come in here meaning to find something to read but had discovered he had a great compulsion to write to Santa Claus instead. This struck the angel as rather odd, seeing as he'd be intimately involved with Christmas from the beginning and Santa Claus had little (if anything) to do with the true holiday. Still, he found himself seated with his journal open to a blank page debating what sort of things to ask the jolly old man for.
Dear Santa, he scribbled, then stopped. This was utterly ridiculous. He didn't need anything, that's not what Christmas was about. The only thing he needed was humanity to show their noble selves during the season and continue to act selflessly and piously in their love for God. That was hardly something a fictional man living at the North pole and producing toys via elf labor could accomplish.
He sighed, settled back in the seat. Should he write he down anyway? Even if no one would read it, it felt as though the need to write would dissipate if he gave into the desire. It was pointless, really, but he brought the pen to the paper once more.
This year all I ask if that man show his love God to the same extent that God shows love for man...
Where: Library
When: During the Christmas flood
Warning: Violence. We got eyeball-popping goodness
Gabriel "hmm"-ed and tapped a pen to his lips. He'd come in here meaning to find something to read but had discovered he had a great compulsion to write to Santa Claus instead. This struck the angel as rather odd, seeing as he'd be intimately involved with Christmas from the beginning and Santa Claus had little (if anything) to do with the true holiday. Still, he found himself seated with his journal open to a blank page debating what sort of things to ask the jolly old man for.
Dear Santa, he scribbled, then stopped. This was utterly ridiculous. He didn't need anything, that's not what Christmas was about. The only thing he needed was humanity to show their noble selves during the season and continue to act selflessly and piously in their love for God. That was hardly something a fictional man living at the North pole and producing toys via elf labor could accomplish.
He sighed, settled back in the seat. Should he write he down anyway? Even if no one would read it, it felt as though the need to write would dissipate if he gave into the desire. It was pointless, really, but he brought the pen to the paper once more.
This year all I ask if that man show his love God to the same extent that God shows love for man...