(no subject)

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

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.

Comments

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael turned towards the other angel, tears still pouring down his face.

"Then you should have left him alone," he whispered.

Somehow the angel and his sword didn't feel threatening at all. His paranoia about Falling paled and dissolved in the face of his pain at seeing it happen to Michael, even after he warned him, even after he told him it was unnecessary.

He might not have been large but he was fast. Letting go of Gabriel, he skirted Uriel and ran to where Michael was on his knees.

"Michael!" He cried. "Why Michael why... you shouldn't have tried to stop him, I told you to forget me... I'm sorry Michael, you shouldn't have even been here..."

He stopped just short of the being and fell to his knees himself and stretched out a hand towards him.

"Michael...?" He asked in a small, timid voice.

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

The worst pain slowly faded away, and he found himself somewhat capable of functioning again. There was still pain, but nothing he couldn't ignore. He was used to it. He had to, after all the battles he'd participated in. Forcing the pain aside he examined his body mentally. Everything seemed to be in order. He even managed to draw his claws back in, sealing the wounds on his arms -- he was far better at healing himself than he'd ever been at healing others. The fangs still remained, though, and he could feel them with his tongue. Even otherwise his body did not feel like his own; it was almost exactly like before but still not his.

There was still emptiness inside him, a huge void that felt impossible for him to ever fill. And it was. He knew very well it could never be filled again, and that thought hurt more than any pain that still lingered.

A voice broke into his thoughts, pleading, calling for a name that felt familiar to him. After a moment his mind was again functioning well enough to realize what it all meant. Very slowly he raised his head and opened his eyes, looking around.

There were tree angels in sight. Gabriel stood farthest from him, apparently quite stunned. Then there was Uriel, very pale, his robe torn and red on one side due to the wound caused in their battle. The angel still had a sword in his hand, looking determined although in pain. Well, that was all good and well. He deserved some pain for what he'd done.

Then there was Raphael, kneeling in front of him. The healer looked as beautiful as always, even though now his green eyes were wide with shock, traces of tears streaking the freckled face. Raphael, like everybody else, was staring at him.

"I'm not Michael," he said, and just like his body didn't feel like his own anymore, even his voice sounded odd in his ears. What he produced was more a growl than a proper sentence, and thus he said again, this time forcing himself to sound somewhat normal, "I'm not Michael." Fixing his eyes at Raphael, he continued, "Michael is dead. I am not him.

"I am --" A name rose to his lips, a name he had never known before but now recognized very well. His own name. "Mictain. My name is Mictain."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Frightened, Raphael fell backwards and started to back away.

"No... NO!" The tears fell faster. "You're not... Michael, Michael... what have I done?! Your eyes Michael... your eyes..."

He shuddered then leapt to his feet and spread his wings.

"Michael... dead... No!" He trembled. "I'm sorry Michael... sorry I never said good bye, sorry for the role I played in this..." Then he turned on Uriel, picking up the sword but not lifting it.

"And I will never forgive you!" He screamed hysterically.

Then he fled, flying faster than he could ever remember, afraid and alone, back to the manor.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

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."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

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.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

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.