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May. 19th, 2007 12:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: March 27, 2001
Status: Private - Gabriel and Crowley (Complete)
Setting: Belial's room, elsewhere in the manor
Summary: Belial's escape does not go without repercussions...
He wasn't sure if Adam had intentionally left the room alone, or if he'd just had no need to use it yet; it wasn't as though there was that much demand for space at the manor. Few clamoring for the protection the antichrist offered, he thought bitterly, and then quickly abandoned the trail of thought. He'd been that way before, and in the end, casting blame in his thoughts did nothing to relieve the steady, aching emptiness in his chest.
Just the same, he'd thought it best to remove Belial's belongings from the room: a few artifacts collected through the years, and the books, which he'd considered handing over to Aziraphale for safekeeping - for both their sake's - but in the end had just stowed everything out of sight in his own wardrobe.
There was no erasing the memories held within the walls, though. Belial had left his impressions everywhere, as obvious to the angel as the glaring red of the walls. It was almost too much for him just to be in there, and yet he'd been drawn to the empty room more than once since Belial had gone. He lay among the scarlet bedclothes, the color of blood; or sat near the window to take in the view they'd once shared; or simply stood in the center of the room, eyes closed, and remembered. It soothed the fresh sting of the loss, sometimes, and other times just compounded the ache, so much that he couldn't bear to stay more than a moment or two in this, the private shrine to his loss.
He'd lost Belial once before, before the beginning of time. It was proving no easier this time.
He was curled in the silk sheets this time, which yet held the ghostly scent of his love; or perhaps he was imaging it. Either way, it was enough to burn in his throat, to threaten the flood of emotion he'd yet to express to any other being.
Until something else burst in his mind.
Belial. The angel couldn't tell exactly what was happening, just that there was some stirring in the cosmos with Belial's signature on it. It must have been something important for him to risk exposure like that; and Gabriel immediately sat, quelling the tide of worry that rose in his chest. He was fine, he thought; the expulsion of power had belonged to Belial and there were few beings in the universe that could withstand it. He was fine. He was fine. He had to be...
It was a moment before his logical side instinctively took over. He wasn't able to pinpoint exactly where Belial was, but the important thing was that, if he'd been able to feel the pulse in power - strengthened, perhaps, by the severity of his emotion before the event - others may have noticed it as well. Crowley may have noticed it.
Gabriel might not have been able to go with Belial, but that did not mean he could not be of some help.
Status: Private - Gabriel and Crowley (Complete)
Setting: Belial's room, elsewhere in the manor
Summary: Belial's escape does not go without repercussions...
He wasn't sure if Adam had intentionally left the room alone, or if he'd just had no need to use it yet; it wasn't as though there was that much demand for space at the manor. Few clamoring for the protection the antichrist offered, he thought bitterly, and then quickly abandoned the trail of thought. He'd been that way before, and in the end, casting blame in his thoughts did nothing to relieve the steady, aching emptiness in his chest.
Just the same, he'd thought it best to remove Belial's belongings from the room: a few artifacts collected through the years, and the books, which he'd considered handing over to Aziraphale for safekeeping - for both their sake's - but in the end had just stowed everything out of sight in his own wardrobe.
There was no erasing the memories held within the walls, though. Belial had left his impressions everywhere, as obvious to the angel as the glaring red of the walls. It was almost too much for him just to be in there, and yet he'd been drawn to the empty room more than once since Belial had gone. He lay among the scarlet bedclothes, the color of blood; or sat near the window to take in the view they'd once shared; or simply stood in the center of the room, eyes closed, and remembered. It soothed the fresh sting of the loss, sometimes, and other times just compounded the ache, so much that he couldn't bear to stay more than a moment or two in this, the private shrine to his loss.
He'd lost Belial once before, before the beginning of time. It was proving no easier this time.
He was curled in the silk sheets this time, which yet held the ghostly scent of his love; or perhaps he was imaging it. Either way, it was enough to burn in his throat, to threaten the flood of emotion he'd yet to express to any other being.
Until something else burst in his mind.
Belial. The angel couldn't tell exactly what was happening, just that there was some stirring in the cosmos with Belial's signature on it. It must have been something important for him to risk exposure like that; and Gabriel immediately sat, quelling the tide of worry that rose in his chest. He was fine, he thought; the expulsion of power had belonged to Belial and there were few beings in the universe that could withstand it. He was fine. He was fine. He had to be...
It was a moment before his logical side instinctively took over. He wasn't able to pinpoint exactly where Belial was, but the important thing was that, if he'd been able to feel the pulse in power - strengthened, perhaps, by the severity of his emotion before the event - others may have noticed it as well. Crowley may have noticed it.
Gabriel might not have been able to go with Belial, but that did not mean he could not be of some help.
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