Heaven's Representative on Earth.

“Zauriel, please. There is no need to apologize. I understand it’s difficult to put names to faces when so many come and go so quickly. And I more than most understand that the crowds can become overwhelming.” J’onn’s hand rests gently on Zauriel’s shoulder, guiding him to a slightly less busy corner of the lobby so they can stand and watch, un-interrupted and un-jostled. “There. If you need a refresher course on some of our reserve members’ names, I’m happy to help.”

Of all things in Creation, the things that Zauriel has among the weakest affinity with are plant-life. He admires it, of course, appreciates it like one should appreciate such a beautiful part of Creation- but his job has always been to watch over the people inside the Garden, rather than the Garden itself.

“Stranger? What brings you to the Aerie?” There’s something odd about this encounter, something... well, strange about the Stranger. Zauriel can’t pinpoint what, nor can he say precisely where the feeling comes from. The best he can say- as humanity would say- is that it is a gut feeling. And it leaves the fallen angel not quite wary, but rather... unnerved.

The expression on the Phantom Stranger’s face isn’t doing much to ease that feeling.

With the position he has adopted, perched upon this rooftop, wings shrouding him like a shining cloak- like an eagle (heh)- he wouldn’t look out of place among the many gargoyles of this city. However, this gargoyle breathes- and glows, too, ever so faintly, the gold and white of his armour glinting in the neon light of the city. He watches the nightlife pass below. Occasionally, ruby red eyes glance up to watch the nightlife on the rooftops.

there’s a half smile on her face, sheer exasperation showing through with the tiniest glimpse of frustration. she didn’t know what she had done to deserve people always thinking the worst of her. her hand closes over her eyes once, taking a deep and unnecessary breath.

‘ your valor is commendable, if completely unnecessary. you forget i was the first protector of our father’s –– my people. though it’s on a much broader scale, i still am. i’m just asking you to be quiet for five minutes so i can hear myself think –– i want to support you, i’m just working out how to do that around heaven’s regulations. it doesn’t do for me to break the rules. ‘

there’s a flash of bitterness in her voice when she speaks, just a spark: blink-and-you’d-miss-it.

‘ for creatures of faith, some of you need to have a little more in me. ‘

He inclines his head, perhaps a little out of concession, but more-so out of gratitude- he is aware of the way the celestial bureaucracy of heaven limits her. He himself is still somewhat tied up in it himself- although, thank the lord, less so since he Fell. The Host was good to him, but only because he had never stepped too far out of line.

Not until... Well. The aforementioned Falling.

“For creatures of faith, some of us give up on the mortal realm far too quickly.” He carefully phrases it as much like an observation as he can. He does not hold bitterness towards his brethren- but perhaps he is disappointed that it takes so much to spur them to action.

five word prompts

“No, lord Michael,” Zauriel replies, the calm in his voice matched only by the unwavering determination. “I have been protecting these people since the dawn of time. I will not be silent.”

Her authority undoubtedly overturns his- several times over. As does her raw power. Even the flaming blade Zauriel wields is nothing more than a model of the sword of the Archangel Michael. But this is not a matter of authority, nor of power. 

This is a matter of duty- and what is right.