Mictain lazily twisted a strand of hair in his fingers. Beautiful, red hair. Not the bloody red of the streak in his own hair, but a lovely, warm, coppery red.
Warm and lovely. Just like Raphael.
Thinking back, he couldn't tell exactly when his infatuation with Raphael had first started. Most probably it had been a gradual thing, his respect for the skill and power of a fellow archangel and a brilliant healer growing into appreciation of the gentle beauty and pure heart. There was no particular date he could tell, but he could indeed be sure it had been more than two millennia now.
He remembered it very well, the night of the first Christmas. The whole Host had gathered to witness the miracle of God becoming Man. And while in his memory there were the praises of the angels, the neverending choir lauding Him, one face in particular rose into his mind's eye from the glowing Host, one voice was particularly sweet.
Raphael had been so lovely then, eyes shining like purest emeralds with all the stars reflected in them, his soft hair like a waterfall of fire, his oh-so-lovely voice echoing in poor Michael's ears. Of course the other angels had been beautiful too, their nature wouldn't have allowed for anything else, but Raphael... He had been the sweetest, the purest of them all. Michael had seen him, and he had seen the Child, and for a moment he had been unable to tell which one was more lovely.
At that moment, he had known he was in love.
Of course, he hadn't been able to hide it forever. Sometime around the downfall of Rome Uriel had come to him, commenting on the fact that he had been watching Raphael more than any other angels. When he'd tried to deny it, the other archangel had just grinned and said that it'd been obvious for quite some time already.
Perhaps it hadn't been as obvious as Uriel had claimed, since nobody else hadn't known -- not until that unfortunate day in Manor, when Raphael had noticed the little figures on the Christmas tree. Then again, Uriel was the only one who spent most of his spare time watching what others did. And, most probably, he had also been the one who'd known him best.
Well, neither of those was true anymore. Uriel had enough worries with his own life, and Mictain certainly wasn't about to give him another thought.
Making sure no other demonic being was seeing -- not that any of them would have dared to see anything inappropriate -- he brushed the lock of hair over his lips. Then he carefully tied it onto a thin leather cord and secured this "necklace" around his neck, hiding it beneath his T-shirt. A brief smirk curled his lips, baring sharp fangs before softening to a momentary smile.
It had taken two millennia and a Fall, but at last Raphael was close to him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-05-21 12:49 pm (UTC)Warm and lovely. Just like Raphael.
Thinking back, he couldn't tell exactly when his infatuation with Raphael had first started. Most probably it had been a gradual thing, his respect for the skill and power of a fellow archangel and a brilliant healer growing into appreciation of the gentle beauty and pure heart. There was no particular date he could tell, but he could indeed be sure it had been more than two millennia now.
He remembered it very well, the night of the first Christmas. The whole Host had gathered to witness the miracle of God becoming Man. And while in his memory there were the praises of the angels, the neverending choir lauding Him, one face in particular rose into his mind's eye from the glowing Host, one voice was particularly sweet.
Raphael had been so lovely then, eyes shining like purest emeralds with all the stars reflected in them, his soft hair like a waterfall of fire, his oh-so-lovely voice echoing in poor Michael's ears. Of course the other angels had been beautiful too, their nature wouldn't have allowed for anything else, but Raphael... He had been the sweetest, the purest of them all. Michael had seen him, and he had seen the Child, and for a moment he had been unable to tell which one was more lovely.
At that moment, he had known he was in love.
Of course, he hadn't been able to hide it forever. Sometime around the downfall of Rome Uriel had come to him, commenting on the fact that he had been watching Raphael more than any other angels. When he'd tried to deny it, the other archangel had just grinned and said that it'd been obvious for quite some time already.
Perhaps it hadn't been as obvious as Uriel had claimed, since nobody else hadn't known -- not until that unfortunate day in Manor, when Raphael had noticed the little figures on the Christmas tree. Then again, Uriel was the only one who spent most of his spare time watching what others did. And, most probably, he had also been the one who'd known him best.
Well, neither of those was true anymore. Uriel had enough worries with his own life, and Mictain certainly wasn't about to give him another thought.
Making sure no other demonic being was seeing -- not that any of them would have dared to see anything inappropriate -- he brushed the lock of hair over his lips. Then he carefully tied it onto a thin leather cord and secured this "necklace" around his neck, hiding it beneath his T-shirt. A brief smirk curled his lips, baring sharp fangs before softening to a momentary smile.
It had taken two millennia and a Fall, but at last Raphael was close to him.