Gabriel stroked the other angel's back gently in the arch between spread wings, shivering lightly even as the warm of Raphael's powers enveloped him. It felt odd to see his fellow in this light, and he wasn't sure it was his place to counsel Raphael in either direction. Yet some bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that if one had to face these issues, they would be much easier to sort through with a fellow archangel and not -
Not a being that had Fallen from them.
He pressed his cheek to Raphael's red hair, catching the faint scent of cinnamon and sunlight, even with the sun's warmth so scare on this day. "I'm sure they would be glad to hear it from you, especially Michael. And if anything, I think, it's probably Crowley that owes you an apology, though I doubt you shall ever get one from him."
His gaze wandered to the spot where - just months ago, though even to the immortal it seemed like an eternity - he had spoken to Constantine. Gabriel felt now more than ever that he was surrounded by the graceful drifts of acrid cigarette smoke, his surroundings melted in a milky haze.
It stung, suddenly, in his chest, behind his eyes. Michael and Raphael had always been close, even among the archangels. And if something, somewhere in the cosmos, made it right for dear Aziraphale to be with that demon...
In that moment, the idyllic manor around them seemed nothing more than a fragile scene captured in a plastic globe, so very near to tilting, so easily subject to the storm.
"I don't think, my dear," he finished slowly, "that Michael would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. However, perhaps this is a conversation you best have with him."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2005-12-19 11:39 pm (UTC)Not a being that had Fallen from them.
He pressed his cheek to Raphael's red hair, catching the faint scent of cinnamon and sunlight, even with the sun's warmth so scare on this day. "I'm sure they would be glad to hear it from you, especially Michael. And if anything, I think, it's probably Crowley that owes you an apology, though I doubt you shall ever get one from him."
His gaze wandered to the spot where - just months ago, though even to the immortal it seemed like an eternity - he had spoken to Constantine. Gabriel felt now more than ever that he was surrounded by the graceful drifts of acrid cigarette smoke, his surroundings melted in a milky haze.
It stung, suddenly, in his chest, behind his eyes. Michael and Raphael had always been close, even among the archangels. And if something, somewhere in the cosmos, made it right for dear Aziraphale to be with that demon...
In that moment, the idyllic manor around them seemed nothing more than a fragile scene captured in a plastic globe, so very near to tilting, so easily subject to the storm.
"I don't think, my dear," he finished slowly, "that Michael would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. However, perhaps this is a conversation you best have with him."