you do enough talk, my little hawk
Stop. Yes, he should. He will. Finally, he turns to face Gabriel– there is sadness upon his features ( delicate, smooth, still much more like that of an angel’s than a demon’s for how long he’s been one– but changed, enough to know for sure that he is of Hell and no longer of Heaven ) and weariness. When he thinks of home– of the galaxies that surround them– he feels older. He recalls them at a distance in his heart, a longing for a place he no longer belongs to– and yet, once he’s here, he doesn’t feel out of place.
Even if angel and demon alike do not remember, the stars hold eternal knowledge of the hands which created them.
“Can we?” He approaches– boldly and fearlessly– and reaches for Gabriel, fingertips aiming to graze against his cheek. He is tired– of lying and pretending and putting on the big act like he’s fooling anyone. He’s never been good at pushing down his emotions or pretending they’re something they aren’t; even this short exchange weighs heavily on his mind. “Stop this. Why are you pretending you don’t know me?”
Not the demon; that surface level appearance. He could just as easily shift his visual aesthetic to reflect more accurately a time which his heart beats for. Silver eyes and strawberry curls; a wide smile and a gentle kiss; the smell of spring flowers and summer storms. He carries it all, tucked carefully away inside, and he can only assume Gabriel has done the same. But, it seems, to such a great extent that he really has begun to forget. The demon’s heart ( what might be left of it ) aches to think that there are pieces of their shared history which are lost to that steel trap memory.
“Whom did you really come here to look for?” Devilish eyes burrow deep into violet, picking out each bit of starlight reflected within them. “Me? Or them?” A cant of his head to the left, lips quivering with the last inquiry still yet to fall. He does not usually ask questions which he’s unprepared to hear the answer to, but he must know. “Can’t you see we’re both here?”
THE FINGERS OUTSTRECHED towards the ARCHANGEL’S cheek are regarded like hot irons, Gabriel pulls his pained face away & his expression becomes contorted as if in pain as if he fears what the contact will do to him. He steps back, making the distance between them like a barrier so he doesn’t have to risk the contact again. He attempts once more to harden his expression, but his lip trembles & his brows are creased tightly with a knot of confusion between them.
His brain is POUNDING against his head, brought on by the gentleness of RAPHAEL Crowley’s words, how he is desperate for him to acknowledge the deeply buried history between them. The Archangel plants his hands to either temple, feeling the thrum of his temporal muscles beneath. His eyes clench tightly & he sucks in a huge breath. There was so much bubbling within him, & he was far from equipped to process them.
He could just‒ no, he had promised Uriel he wouldn’t abuse his miracles like that again. Abuse his emotions like that again. Despite wanting to be true to his sibling, he couldn’t help but want an immediate fix to the panic rising in his chest & nausea that made knots of his stomach. His breath was rapid, teetering close to hyperventilation.
❛ THEY DIED! They DIED. They died, they,,, they. I came to apprehend you, apprehend a traitor, apprehend a deserter, & I should have prepared for mind games. You tempter! That’s what you’re known for in Heaven, your silver tongue &... mind games!! ❜
OH IT’D be convincing if he could remember them dying. It would be convincing if he could summon an image in his mind of a broken angel on a battlefield, perhaps him by their side as they faded into that final slumber. Yet something more troubling peeked through, a mutilated almost dead face falling from the sky. His skin ran ice cold & reflected this from a grave paleness in pigment. Gray, like the nonexistent corpse of his former friend.
