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Post by Bogwoppit on Mar 8, 2011 18:48:58 GMT
I am moving Gabriel back to Heaven, but will retro his meeting with Azazel when Vain is better and able to post again my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] Gabriel was world weary. He felt as though he had fought all the hounds of Hell and their masters. His encounter with Azazel had wounded him to the core - not physically, but mentally, emotionally. He was tired, his great muscled body ached, and his vision was swimming as he flew slowly back up to the highest reaches of Heaven. All he wanted to do was sleep... sleep and forget the horrors which he had brought upon the world. He alone was responsible for the End of Days, although his Father had given him the order. No one but he would have taken that order and delivered it to the devil himself, no one but Gabriel, the obedient son.
He yearned to pour his heart out to someone - Michael, Raphael... someone, but he could not. It was not his way. His very retiscence was what made it possible for him to the job which would have long ago brought lesser angels to their knees. The fact that he could hold so much sorrow inside was what allowed him to carry on, and what prevented him from falling into the abyss.
Most thought him uncaring, hard, thoughtless, he knew. It was not so. He had merely learned over the millenia to keep his feelings so deeply buried that even he himself was not aware how much the horrors he saw affected him. Not even Michael, his closest brother, knew just how much pain was bottled up inside Gabriel's huge body. His vast strength was the one thing which kept him from relenting.
Finally, after many hours of flight, he sank gratefully down to land, alighting with all the grace he possessed and standing still for many minutes. He gazed blankly out across the firmament at nothing, his mind frozen and unaware of anything but its own inner turmoil.
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by Bogwoppit on Mar 10, 2011 19:43:39 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] Such was Gabriel's torment that he had not heard his brother's arrival, and at the sound of his voice he spun around. He hid the anguish on his noble face with a scowl, his perpetual expression, which closed off his thoughts and served to shut out those who would know him better had they been given a chance.
"Michael," he replied stiffly, not looking him in the eye. "You seem to have the knack of finding me when I least require your company. Do you do this on purpose, or is it merely an unfortunate quirk of your nature?"
Outwardly, he appeared cool and unaffected, habitually spurning the one who would help him the most, would he but allow it. But inwardly his heart and mind were whirling unfettered, the inner voice to which he seldom listened berated him for immediately alienating the one to whom he should turn before all others.
"I have no time for idle chat," he continued, turning as though to leave, whilst in reality he was not looking forward to the task which he must now pursue. "Our Father awaits. I must report to Him that the orders He gave me have been carried out to the letter."
He glanced back at Michael, taking some perverse pleasure in imagining his face once he learned the truth. How would he react to knowing his precious humans were to be wiped out, turned to serve their fallen brother in the pits of Hell? He did not know of course that Michael already had some idea of what was to befall the inhabitants of Earth.
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Mar 12, 2011 23:09:49 GMT
COLDNESS AND DARKNESS CAN BE ENDURED [/center][/colour][/size] Although Gabriel concealed his emotions fairly well on his face, Michael’s instinct and knowledge of his brother’s personality assured him there was a tempest under that mask. No eye contact; rigid muscles; strained speech: his assumption was confirmed immediately. Gabriel was different. Something had changed in him, something that Michael could only hope, and did hope with enduring optimism, was a good thing. “My nature is what makes me concerned for you, brother,” he replied quickly, to keep Gabriel from leaving, as he feared he would. He was not ready to face his Father again so soon, and his brother would doubtless hide in His presence. “I have not come for meaningless conversation on such a significant day.” He was unaware that Gabriel did not know the extent of his knowledge, and so did not check his words on the matter. His brows descended into a thoughtful frown. Why did Gabriel insist on pushing away everybody that tried to help him? He had seen it happen many times, and had been on the receiving end of that coldness more times than anybody else. Their confrontations could last for moments or be drawn out over days, Michael stubbornly hounding him until he was presented with an answer with enough vraisemblance to satisfy him. Over that time, he worried incessantly over whatever matter he believed to be preying on his brother’s wellbeing, always more occupied with this than his own state of mind. “I was worried,” he continued, his tone softer and sincere. “I am sorry if my presence troubles you, but I have not yet had answer to my question.” He should know better by now, Michael reflected privately, than to try and fool him with that one. A brisk, blunt brush-off was almost always the knee-jerk reaction to his inquiries, as if simply by stepping up to help, Michael inadvertently trampled on a nerve. If Gabriel was going to get rid of him any time soon, he was going to have to be a lot shrewder than that, and far more convincing with it. Today, he was also indebted to his brother, and so Michael saw this interrogation as a way to return the favour. As Gabriel was unaccustomed to opening up about his feelings to anybody, the least he could do was provide advice where nobody else would dare. The dark and brooding figure scared many an angel away more efficiently than Gabriel could ever manage deliberately. There were a few that it would not work on, and Michael was one of them. Though he often felt awed by Gabriel, he had never been intimidated, always too composed to allow himself to be deterred. Harsh words were forgiven. Brusque actions were forgotten. All he would do was become more and more determined to wring answers from his stoic brother. WITH THE FIRE THAT COMES FROM WITHIN [/center][/colour][/size]
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Post by Bogwoppit on Mar 14, 2011 20:32:15 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] Significant...
Gabriel paused, still half turned away as though to leave, but his brother's words sank into his troubled mind. How did Michael know that this day of all days was so significant? How could he have discovered what Gabriel had been sent to do? Had he been talking to their Father? Had the Lord told Michael His intention after all?
The temptation to confide in Michael almost overwhelmed him, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line as he frowned over his next move. He could leave, go to God and tell him the task had been acomplished, ever the obediant slave. Or he could stay and talk to his brother, for once allowing Michael inside his head. To even contemplate doing so told Gabriel just how this latest request on his Father's part had affected him.
"I am... troubled," he replied simply, glancing at Michael's serene countenance before looking away over the eons which meant nothing to those who resided here.
Time and space were one in Heaven, and each meant little to the servants of the Lord. But for a moment Gabriel felt an urgency about this day, this time, which he had never felt over all the millenia past. Something was indeed significant about now, and a spark of a memory stuttered and went out in Gabriel's mind. He had felt this before, but he could not recall when or why.
He gathered his thoughts and stood up to his full height, turning to face Michael squarely.
"How is it you are always so sure Michael?" he enquired, genuinely vexed by the question. "How do you know, even when our Father tells you otherwise, that what you do, how you live, is the right way? Are His wishes not enough for you? Must you always travel your own path?"
Logically, he knew that Michael had done nothing to deserve his outburst, but in his heart he blamed his brother for everything he was feeling. His encounter with Azazel had affected him far more than he would ever consciously realise. He was like a great dam, which for centuries had endured against the flood, but which was now, at long last, weakening. How much longer could he withstand the tide?
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Mar 16, 2011 20:43:52 GMT
I CANNOT DOUBT MY CERTAINTY Finally, Gabriel admitted what was so evident: he was troubled. By what, he did not say, but Michael did not consider anything more troubling than the message Gabriel had just delivered, and could think of no other reason for his brother’s disconcertion. Any other possibilities paled in comparison to the gravity of this new change. He already knew that Gabriel was acting out of character: after all, he had gone against their Father’s express wishes and told him of the message he had been given. If not for that, Michael would have been avoiding him at this moment, not wanting to waste time and energy in a confrontation with his brother about a deed that was already done. Now it was different. Now, there was hope of him actually listening. He was surprised when Gabriel turned to face him, seeming to have gathered some resolve. Michael thought he would hear a declaration, a statement of certainty, and was surprised at the demanding questions he was then asked. He took his time absorbing the insight he had been granted. Gabriel saw him as…dissatisfied? Not content with doing what was required of him, acting with utter certainty, alone where he must, against odds where he must, against even his own kin if necessary. He knew that this extensive dedication would have been noted, whether Gabriel would speak it aloud or otherwise. Did he envy that surety? He got the same from following their Father’s orders, or at least he had until today. That would be why he had lashed out verbally at Michael’s disobedience now, now that he did not know his own way forwards. “I know with certainty only what I feel,” he replied after a moment’s deliberation. He spoke slower than his usual speeches, putting more thought into what he said, rather than simply spilling his instinctive reaction to the situation. “Whatever path I take, it is because my conscience tells me so. All I can do is judge to the best of my ability what I should do to keep to our Father’s teachings – to do what is right. It is all anybody can do.” He paused, and shrugged. “When this conflicts with what I have been told, I follow what I believe to be the better path. I am still obeying Father, in essence. But I am also using the voice He gave me.” As he fell silent, he wondered whether or not his answer would be taken well. He could not deny occasionally going against what he had been commanded. However, he could not pretend to regret his disobedience, and was all the more defensive of his moral compass after his conversation with Décor. All he could do now was hope that Gabriel would not be upset further at his unwavering determination. I CANNOT FIGHT WHO I AM
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Post by Bogwoppit on Mar 22, 2011 18:56:07 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] Gabriel considered his brother's words carefully, staring down at the ground before his feet in silence. Was that what he, Gabriel, was lacking then? Had he no conscience? All these millenia doing his Father's bidding without question, thoughtlessly obedient, blamelessly efficient... never once before had he wondered at the wisdom of God's wishes. Gabriel saw himself as a warrior, a soldier serving the greatest general of all - orders were everything, free will was not an option.
For long moments he struggled with his inner torment, until at last he looked up into Michael's eyes.
"I saw Azazel..." he began haltingly. "I saw the look in his eyes as I gave him the message. I have never seen such hatred Michael."
He paused, taking a huge, shuddering breath in and holding it in his great lungs for a moment before blowing it out through pursed lips. He felt restless, and began to pace, fists clenching at his waist. He knew he should be at his Father's side, reporting that the deed had been accomplished, but something stopped him. Not for long... soon his conscience, if that was indeed what it was, would be overcome by his sense of duty, and he would forget his brother's concerns once more. But for now, he was open, if not necessarily willing, to reason.
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Mar 23, 2011 22:00:18 GMT
THERE IS NO MAP TO GUIDE YOU It saddened Michael to hear of Azazel, an emotion he hid without conscious thought. For too long they had been enemies. If he were just to return to Heaven, Michael knew he would forgive his brother instantly. It may have been one of his faults, but he had never seen it that way. He did not wish to have enemies. Although the emotions behind Gabriel’s statement were unclear, he could be sure of his sorrow. There could also be fear, anger, grief, or more likely all three. Currently, he was more interested in the opportunity he now saw, a way to deliver some advice to Gabriel in a way that would be less likely to provoke him, an indirect lecture that would be subtle enough to bypass the automatic rejection he felt he too often faced. He stood still between his restless brother and the edge of Heaven, feeling as though he was in the eye of a tumultuous storm of ambivalence. He would have offered physical comfort if not for the brisk pacing that left him looking back and forth and the tension stretched across his every muscle. “It is because he holds nothing else in his heart,” he began, quietly but confidently. “He sees nothing but his own raging hatred, and follows only that. He spares no thought for other possibilities, listens only to himself and refuses to acknowledge any method but his own. He does not question himself, his choices and actions. In that, he is blinded. He will not notice what is important when it matters. His gaze is too narrow, and his thoughts crippled by that dedication.” He hoped Gabriel would apply those words to himself, and see the warning those similarities presented. Where Azazel followed his own unique brand of evil, Gabriel obeyed only what he was told was good. Where Azazel heard no opinion but his own, Gabriel accepted only God’s word as the ultimate truth. Both were close to blindness. It so often led to apathy, foolishness, wrongdoing. Michael feared that one day Gabriel would be forced to choose his path for himself, and remember his Father’s past orders whilst forgetting his morals. This would take him into the dark. Michael dreaded the chance that God’s Left Hand would fall, not least because of his brother’s formidable power in battle. He could not say with certainty whether anybody in Heaven could best him, and prayed wholeheartedly that they never found out. He did not wish to have enemies. He already had too many. ONLY A GOAL OF LIGHT
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 1, 2011 13:31:57 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] Gabriel ceased his restless pacing to watch Michael through narrowed blue eyes as the archangel spoke. Gabriel knew his brother well, and despite Michael's assumption that Gabriel was a mere soldier, a drone, a mindless servant, Gabriel was for all that quite perceptive, and he knew the way Michael's mind worked.
There was no doubt a message in his well thought out statement... a message meant to strike into the very heart of Gabriel's misgivings. Was it their brother Azazel about whom he spoke? Or could it be that the message was meant for Gabriel himself?
Oh he knew that Michael thought him unfeeling, unthinking, uncaring of the humans down below, and for the most part that latter was indeed true. But he did feel, he did think, sometimes too much, and those dark thoughts which often filled his head threatened to drag him down into the fires of Hell, where the Fallen Angel himself resided. Gabriel had been there. He had seen those fires with his own eyes, and despite his great strength he had wavered. He would not return, not if God Himself commanded it.
But Michael... how would Michael have coped had it been he God had sent? Would he have tried to save their dark brother as he tried to save the wretched mortals? Ever questioning, ever reasoning, ever digging deeper and deeper into those places any wise being would leave well alone... how did Michael remain so sanctimonious and so inscrutable without becoming jaded and dull? Gabriel thought himself, no, he knew himself to be strong, perhaps the strongest of all the Heavenly Host, but he could feel himself slipping away, becoming less and less robust, less and less a being of Light and more a being belonging to that very place which he abhored and feared above all others.
He needed guidance, he needed his Father's loving hand to steer him on the right path, not Michael and his incessant... logic. He shook his head as thought to try to clear the thoughts within.
"I need to report to our Lord," he growled, blocking out the doubts which his brother had placed in his mind. "If I were you Michael, I would prepare for the Apocalypse."
He had no time for profound reasonings now, and he could not follow whatever deep plan Michael had in mind, for surely he had one. Gabriel had long ago given up trying to discover the reasons behind his brother's way of thinking. Turning away, he made to take to the sky once more, squaring his massive shoulders in preparation for facing his God.
((Ooc: Michael can get a final word in if he wishes, but I thought we'd better scurry on a bit ))
the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Apr 3, 2011 19:54:10 GMT
IF ONLY YOU’D DARE LISTEN Our Lord, was it? Michael suppressed a sigh. He’d never been one for that formality, not with their Father, before whom he hid nothing, and did not believe he could. With his siblings and cousins, his manners were automatic, but though he respected his Creator greatly he had never regarded him as a ruler. He was a leader, inspirational and wise, and Michael loved him almost more than he understood it himself, but he had never been out of reach, never incomprehensible. He did not believe in any being that could be always right, and though admittedly that God usually was, there had been plenty of times where he disagreed, and Michael trusted his morality, his instinct, on what should be done. He did not know whether or not God approved of that view, but he had never felt the need for approval from anybody. It was why he was thought of by some as headstrong. In truth, he was, though he had never thought of it that way. In his mind, it was not himself that he believed to be right, but what he had learned from his Father. In that way, he was no more stubborn than Gabriel. He wanted to stop Gabriel going, but he had to check in sooner or later and it would only agitate him to be delayed. He had to follow, despite his misgivings. It seemed too brazen to return so soon after their argument, and he had wanted to at least gain some support from his brother before he knelt before their Father again and convinced himself that their Lord was right, and insignificant, bothersome Michael was wrong. He did not want to give away the chance so easily, and with so little progress. However, as usual, Gabriel’s flying speed was significantly faster, and there was no opportunity for anything more to be said. He would have to enter the conversation at a disadvantage: late, ignorant of what had been said, and with Gabriel doubtless already slipping back into his stony denial of any other path but that which he was ordered to. The irony of their similarities went unrecognised by Michael, who was concentrating on what was to come. Gabriel would report first, inform God that his message had been delivered, as if there had been any doubt that it would be. He would be acknowledged, possibly praised, and what followed was the crucial uncertainty. Would Gabriel air his emotions? Would his Father chastise him for telling Michael? He had prepared an excuse if nothing happened. He had not yet thanked Gabriel. His politeness drove him to that at least, and he wondered if he would end up saying it in the presence of God, and what the reaction would be if he did. Another uncertainty, but possibly an irrelevant one. He would just have to see what had happened by the time he finally caught up with his brother. WOULD YOU HEAR WHAT YOU SO NEED? ((OOC: So yeah, I guessed Michael would follow, but being slower, Gabriel has enough time to say a bit before he arrives and kicks off all over again. We need to talk about what’ll go on here, since if we need to get going now, somebody will need to drag Michael away…))
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 6, 2011 18:53:24 GMT
my duty is to my father[/font][/color][/size] The archangel knew he was being followed, and powered through the skies all the faster, huge muscles bunching beneath gleaming skin across his back, wings glorious in their silken darkness as they momentarily blocked out the sun. His mind was a maelstrom of differing emotions... anger, confusion, anguish, determination, sadness...
This last emotion worried him... he did not experience sadness in general, it was not for him to be saddened by all the torment and misery he saw, or indeed brought upon the world below. Even when he had brought down the rain of fire upon Gomorra, and watched Sariel do the same in Sodom, he had not shed one single tear, nor felt one instant of regret at what he had done.
Not so Sariel of course... he had never quite recovered, and Gabriel sometimes wondered if it had been that which led to his eventual demise at the hands of the Fallen in the last great battle of Heaven.
Reaching the innermost bastions of the skies, he alighted softly as ever and paused, shrugging his mighty shoulders and settling his wing feathers with an almost jaunty shake. He reached down with his right hand to touch the handle of his mace, which hung as ever at his hip, taking comfort from its cold terror, before stepping into the presence of God.
"Father," he bowed down on one knee before the throne, keeping his eyes directed towards the floor.
"It is done?" the Lord enquired, and Gabriel detected a note of weariness in His voice.
"It is my Lord," he replied, "but..."
He paused, unable to keep anything from his Father, and yet unwilling to admit his momentary lapse in revealing to Michael God's wishes.
"Gabriel?"
He looked up at last, into the chilling, beautiful, daunting, loving eyes of his Father, his own blue orbs anguished.
"Michael..." he spoke softly. "He knows what you asked me to do... I..."
"You told him." It was a statement, not a question, and Gabriel bowed his head once more without noticing the momentary gleam of pride in the Lord's dark gaze. the rest can go to hell[/center]
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Post by snow on Apr 10, 2011 23:53:17 GMT
WHOEVER SAYS ‘I KNOW HIM’ BUT DOES NOT KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS… Michael stopped just outside the chamber, putting a hand out to lean against the wall and catching his breath. He had not pushed himself to such speeds for too long, and admonished himself for this as he felt his heartbeat slow. He needed to calm down, to get under control again. Facing his Father like this would only make things worse. He had to be able to reason, preach and pacify. If he lost his nerve at this time, at such a pivotal moment, he could cripple his resistance before it had even begun. He straightened, smoothed his hair with an unconscious, self-conscious hand, and stepped tentatively into the presence of God. Gabriel was already there, knelt before His throne, his head bent in perpetual, unquestioning submission. The position bothered Michael more than it should have. Was it so improper to treat their Father like a father, and not like their Lord? He was being petty, he knew, and hypocritical, as he usually knelt himself, although he would stand if he was agitated. With Gabriel it seemed like more than simple respect. It was a knight before his king, dutiful and distant, faceless. Yet this was accepted, perhaps even expected, but not wanted; surely God never wanted this kind of relationship with his son. Realising that he had entered without any idea of what he was going to say, Michael resorted to default. “Father,” he greeted, this time remembering to bow, at least. Kneeling was pointless, as he was likely to jump to his feet the moment his brother opened his mouth. “Gabriel,” he added, with a nod this time. The taller angel’s expression had not changed since he had fled their conversation earlier. There were too many emotions to read, his oceanic eyes a storm. With as smooth an expression as he could manage, Michael returned his gaze to God and waited for a response. His back was straight despite his fatigue, forced rigid by the need to appear assured. His hands rested at his sides, already anticipating the coming strain, the slight shaking silently returning to his fingers. Simply facing his creator was a challenge. The guilt was an itch under his skin, impossible to dig out, burrowing down to eat away at his core. …IS A LIAR
1 John 2:4
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