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Dec. 27th, 2005 05:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
neutral_omensDate: December 25, 1999
Setting: Manor Library
Status: Private - Belial and Gabriel (Complete)
Summary: Belial makes his decision.
Rating:
The yellowing pages and musty smell of old leather reminded him of nothing so much as Aziraphale's bookshop. The memories seemed tarnished now, tainted around the edges with the garish haze of Hellfire, but still he could not help but remember his occasional teas with the other angel fondly. His eyes trailed over the chocolates Aziraphale had left him before settling instead on the glass of brandy at his side.
He flipped the page with shiftless thoughts.
A puff of dust, and a familiar passage: 'But for corruption thou hast made Belial, an angel of hostility. All his dominions are in darkness, and his purpose is to bring about wickedness and guilt.'
Well, he'd certainly been doing well enough on that account.
Gabriel sipped again at his drink, staunchly ignoring the warmth in his stomach that stemmed partially from the alcohol and even more from the intrusive memories of Belial's lips on his skin. He skimmed over the words analyzing the passage from the Dead Sea Scrolls, grew suddenly bored, and turned the page once more. Hundreds of scholars and theologists, believers and disbelievers alike, had spent centuries of man trying to describe Belial, and none of them seemed to have been able to pin him down any more easily than Gabriel could in his befuddled thoughts. They called him Lucifer's Crown, detailed how he was a seducer with a smile like poison for the soul or a fierce warrior with the head of a bull.
Not a single entry mentioned glitter.
He turned to another page, his gaze wandering idly over the faded text as he sifted through the words of others as well as his own reeling consciousness.
Setting: Manor Library
Status: Private - Belial and Gabriel (Complete)
Summary: Belial makes his decision.
Rating:
The yellowing pages and musty smell of old leather reminded him of nothing so much as Aziraphale's bookshop. The memories seemed tarnished now, tainted around the edges with the garish haze of Hellfire, but still he could not help but remember his occasional teas with the other angel fondly. His eyes trailed over the chocolates Aziraphale had left him before settling instead on the glass of brandy at his side.
He flipped the page with shiftless thoughts.
A puff of dust, and a familiar passage: 'But for corruption thou hast made Belial, an angel of hostility. All his dominions are in darkness, and his purpose is to bring about wickedness and guilt.'
Well, he'd certainly been doing well enough on that account.
Gabriel sipped again at his drink, staunchly ignoring the warmth in his stomach that stemmed partially from the alcohol and even more from the intrusive memories of Belial's lips on his skin. He skimmed over the words analyzing the passage from the Dead Sea Scrolls, grew suddenly bored, and turned the page once more. Hundreds of scholars and theologists, believers and disbelievers alike, had spent centuries of man trying to describe Belial, and none of them seemed to have been able to pin him down any more easily than Gabriel could in his befuddled thoughts. They called him Lucifer's Crown, detailed how he was a seducer with a smile like poison for the soul or a fierce warrior with the head of a bull.
Not a single entry mentioned glitter.
He turned to another page, his gaze wandering idly over the faded text as he sifted through the words of others as well as his own reeling consciousness.
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Date: 2005-12-29 09:54 pm (UTC)He sounded as music, throat limbering as he remembered how to speak. "I have loved you since the first mote of light was spun from the Creator and all was bathed in its fair light."
His heart did not--could not--suffer spilling forth to Gabriel quietly. It thrummed in his ears, staccato, terrified that he might be cast down again for his sins.
Little kisses; he placed them all along Gabriel's hand. His emotions were surreal to him; six thousand years of desperation and denial had left him somewhat disconnected. Detached. Watching himself love through his own eyes.
Gabriel brought his mind hurtling back to where it belonged. Everything seemed brighter, sharper, and he groaned with it.