outside_omens | (no subject)

Date: February 20, 2000
Status: Raphael, Michael, Uriel, Gabriel (Private)
Setting: The duck pond in St. James partk
Summary: Everything comes apart

It was only natural to be nervous. What he had to say - what he had to confess - would probably be the worst thing he could ever do to his fellow archangel. Or at least it would feel the worst - he had already done the worst by deceiving and manipulating him.

He was sure how Michael would take it - chances were that he would be self-effacing. Raphael wished he could run but then remembered Gabriel nearby, could sense his aura, and knew that the other would likely keep him from backing out of what he'd vowed to do.

For better or for worse it had to end today. And the best he could hope for was that Michael wouldn't take it out on himself. He didn't even know if the other would believe him. But he had to make Michael understand just how badly he'd gotten it wrong - that he, Raphael, was not a perfect creature and not worth what Michael offered.

Nearby the ducks quacked and Raphael frowned. Messy, raucous creatures. He didn't understand what people saw in them.

So he ignored their squaking for bread and resumed pacing, waiting for Michael to arrive and the final act of his hideous farce to begin.

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Uriel watched as Raphael flew away, not attempting to follow him. Suddenly he felt no need to. No instinct was driving him towards the other archangel. Even his vision was slowly fading back to normal level.

Raphael's last words hurt more than he liked to admit. He felt like a mess, and those words hurt, hurt him almost as deeply as the lack of Presence he now felt. However, he knew that he would not have to Fell Raphael.

The change had happened before his arrival, he realized. When he had come there his instincts had not been driving him towards Raphael -- it had been Michael he'd been brought there to Fell. The letter had mentioned Raphael, but He must have known what Michael would do. Everything had gone just as He had willed -- as always.

"But I forgive you," he whispered, not sure if anybody could hear it and not caring. "He has forgiven you, Raphael, and thus I have no right to hold your past deeds against you."

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. Uncaring about Mictain, he turned towards Gabriel -- the demon would hardly have the strength to attack him right now. He had far too much experience about newly Fallen, and not even the most desperate -- or powerful -- one would attack him right after the Fall, not when Gabriel stood nearby.

"What happened here before my arrival?" he asked quietly, doing his best to keep the pain from overwhelming his mind completely. "Your presence here is hardly a coincidence... And Raphael has regretted, apologized, even. He shall not Fall."

The newly Fallen angel absorbed all his vision, a form so familiar and yet so vastly separated from himself, and Gabriel found that it took some effort to turn his attention to Uriel. His gaze was raw, caught somewhere undefined between disbelief and accusation.

"He'd apologized," he managed, his voice sounding weak and stricken to his own ears. He wondered how Uriel could remain so calm, so quiet, when his own mortal form ached, stunned, as though he'd been tossed into raging waters with stinging force and was now drug down by cruel currents. "He'd apologized, he'd sought forgiveness, and Michael would have forgiven him, but you - they were supposed to be all right," he gasped, a sob catching in his throat, broken.

And then, quiet, cold. Confused. "How could you?"

But Gabriel waited for no answer, wanted no answer. Instead, he spread his wings, stained white and gold by the filtered morning light, and fled the scene, thinking only to make sure Raphael had returned to the manor. He'd never truly felt safe there, but now...

Now it hardly felt safe anywhere else.

Uriel looked after Gabriel, every beat of the other's wings like a physical strike at him. "Just doing my job, Gabriel," he muttered, knowing well that the other wouldn't hear him -- or wouldn't listen even if he did hear. "I don't fault you for delivering messages, now do I?"

He then chuckled bitterly. It was always like this, wasn't it? He only did what was expected of him, and ended up being hated by everyone. Or perhaps they had always hated him and this just brought it out. Yes, that must be it.

He closed out the pain as best as he could, managing to maintain a somewhat calm state of mind as he spread his wings and took off as well, paying no mind to the newly Fallen demon he left behind. If he'd thought about it he would have broken down for sure. He would break down eventually, he knew that; it was only the shock of the sudden turn of events and his millennia of practice that allowed him to be somewhat calm at the moment. Or at least appear calm.

All he could do was to fly as fast as he could and hope he would be in the Manor by the time he lost control.