Hoyden: Betaing under the influence of ice cream. I am not responsible for my actions. Some of the songs from "This is Spinal Tap" are running through my head. In other words, someone should put me to bed.
"If It's Not One Thing, It's Another" by Harukami
Everybody liked Suriel, or so it somehow seemed, anyways. He couldn't walk or fly anywhere without someone -- usually several someones -- stopping him for conversation, laughing with him about this or that. When someone needed artistic advice, they turend to Suriel -- although creative expression actually fell under Uriel's domain, Uriel didn't seem to mind and in fact often stopped by for advice himself. Everyone recognized the golden-haired beauty as he walked down the hall -- they'd laugh and gently tease him if he were dressed in his casual clothing, or console him on his duty if he wore his
I wish I could draw a picture of that. Solemn Suriel in his robes...
robes and carried his scythe. The female teachers even jokingly welcomed him into the ranks of the angelic mother-figures. Wherever he went, he'd hear "Suriel-sama! Suriel-sama!" called out in cheerful tones.
"Suriel-sama."
Her voice stopped him, not her words. Sharp, angry, revolted. That was all in there.
"Can I help you?" he asked, eyes searching. She was clearly a student, though not one of his -- of cours,e ignoring potential protoges,
random comma in the middle of a word. Funky.
he and Azrael didn't actually teach classes, although they did give seminars. Her face -- plain, framed by soft red hair -- might have gotten lost in the crowd at one of his seminars.
"Yes, you can," she said, lips pale. "You can tell me why the Most Holy lets a monster like you teach at the school."
Suriel's mouth opened and he couldn't find any words.
She was continuing. "It's not just what you do. You're the worst because you can slaughter innocents and then turn and run back home to make love to Azrael-sama. To laugh in the halls. To make art with a
One wonders how affectionate they are in front of students...Azrael being a bad-ass and all. Very possible that they could be all cuddly but somehow I just picture Az with a shot glass. Oh god...Az and Raphael and the gang doing tequila shots. Reminds me of a bad party I went to once (where I learned how to do said tequila shots).
smile on your face. At least Azrael-sama doesn't pretend to be anything but what he is. You pretend to be nice... and everybody buys it. I don't. I know the truth." She stopped, looked him up and down with fierce green eyes, and said, "That is all. Thank you for your time, baby-killer Suriel-sama."
He was pushed aside as she strode past. Blue eyes wide, hair coming free from his braid, he stared after her, and couldn't feel his canvas slide from his grip.
When you have been Depressed once, it is far too easy to get Depressed again. Not little-d depressed as you find yourself with an extra seminar to teach on a subject you loathe, but big-D Depressed where darkness opens up in front of you like a pit and sucks your emotions away before you can even really feel them.
Once, not too much earlier, Suriel had returned home to find Azrael looking at the paintings he'd hidden.
They were laid out around the harsher Angel of Death -- images of carved empty chests, of sprays of blood, of blackness, of a child's smile. Azrael had looked up at Suriel and Suriel hadn't needed to say anything, just threw himself into his lover's arms and sobbed as though the world were coming to an end. Azrael had held him, and said nothing.
The next day, Suriel had secluded himself in the Wasteland to rail at God.
As I mentioned before, wow, an reasonable explanation for how wacked he is in "Trust". You'll spoil me for sure.
Mikael nodded along as Uriel explained his plight in a comedic story about one of the female angels refusing to teach a class of 'rowdy kids' about angel sexuality and passing the job to him -- sticking him with an extra seminar and not enough time to write his speech. Uriel was in the middle of angsting -- loudly and comically, of course, as Suriel slipped in through the door. Uriel didn't miss a beat in turning to the blond-haired angel.
"Hey, Suriel! I gotta teach a seminar on angelic sexuality... do you think this is too risque to start with? '...Many of you might think that holiness denies sexuality, but this is just not the case. If, after this seminar is over, you still don't believe me... well, see me alone in my office.' What do you think?"
Mmmm....such a yummy skank. Holiness not denying sexuality - wow, what a nice change. I really think the Catholic church ought to reconsider.
"I don't know," Suriel said flatly.
Conversation ceased, and Mikael got his first good look on Suriel that day. Normally bright cornflower eyes were dim and slightly reddened and there was an exhaustion that he'd only seen on Suriel's face once.
What on earth could bring Suriel so close to snapping, so quickly? he wondered.
Azrael rose, brushing long black hair out of his eyes. "Suri. What's wrong?"
Suriel visibly hesitated -- another bad sign, Mikael noted, unable to stop himself leaning forward to listen, worried. Finally, Suriel explained.
When he finished, there was a long silence.
"Did you recognize her?" Azrael asked harshly.
Suriel shook his head, heavy braid pendulum-like behind him. "She had red hair and green eyes and was about so tall--" he held his hand at chest height, then bit his lip. "But... it doesn't matter. She's entitled to her opinion."
Azrael growled something uncomplementary.
"Afriel," Raphael said suddenly. "It must be Afriel."
Mikael's eyes widened, and he shook his head. Afriel was one of his students, and was a cheerful, affectionate girl who always strove to do well. He couldn't imagine her being so --
"How do you know that, Raphael?" Uriel asked. "Are you a detective as well, now?"
Raphael flipped him off.
I love Raphael. You know, he flips a lot of people off. There's a cel on sale on Ebay of the episode where he's exercising in front of the tv. Thought I'd share.
"As you know, all new student profiles cross my desk at one time or another. There was one for Afriel. G-man marked her off as a potential trouble-maker." He leaned forward. "She fits the physical description, and get this: Before she came to the School, she lived with her human family. This included a little brother, age four. She and her family went to the beach and she made a sand fort for her brother to play in, then went swimming..."
"I remember the boy," Suriel said softly. "The sand fell on him and he suffocated. He had the softest brown hair..."
"This is where it gets interesting," Raphael said. "She saw you take the child's soul as she came back. I don't know how, but she did. And she doesn't blame herself or Most Holy for her brother's accident."
Lavender eyes narrowed. "She blames Death. You, Suriel."
I swam like a boy chased by a sharky-sharky. That just gives me chills.
Suriel undressed slowly, sliding his vest off his shoulders, playing with his belt. For ease of movement, he never really wore very much, but at that time, he took longer to undress than Azrael did.
Large hands brushed Suriel's away from his belt buckle and undid it for him. As his clothes were swept from him, Suriel shivered in the chill air. Standing pale and naked, he looked ghostlike, childlike.
Azrael brushed his knuckles along Suriel's left cheek, expression gentle. "Suri... you okay?"
He didn't trust his voice, and nodded instead, then leaned into the touch, eyes closing.
And was crushed against Azrael. It was suddenly a lot harder not to cry. Azrael always knew how sensitive he was to this type of thing.
Hands stroked along his back, up under his wings, curving to tickle the soft curve of down feathers. Suriel shivered, concentrated on that teasing-sharp sensation, and slowly the choking feeling of tears faded.
Azrael's hands slid lower again, curving to cup Suriel's rear firmly, pulling Suriel even more tightly against him. The dark Angel of Death kissed the top of his lover's head, breath stirring sun-bright hair as his hands continued to slide over smooth flesh. "Suri..." he breathed again. "Are you okay?"
"Mmm." Eyes hot, tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips, Suriel ran his hands over Azrael's muscled chest, letting his palms rest so the hard nubs of Azrael's nipples were centered in them. His breath caught as he slid his leg up, rubbing his thigh against Azrael's leg. "Yeah."
"Yeah?" Dark hair showered forward as their lips met.
Silence fell, except for the wet almost-sounds as their mouths worked together, then a sudden soft exhalation as Azrael bodily slung Suriel into his arms, striding over to the bed.
Another wet almost-silence, soft suckling noises, as Azrael slowly worked his way down Suriel's stomach with mouth, lips, teeth. And lower.
Golden hair spread around Suriel, and he let his arm rest against his stomach, let his fingers wind through Azrael's dark, straight locks, unable to quell the choking rush of love as he watched his lover's head move.
Blue eyes stuttered shut, and he smiled. "Yeah."
Congratulations on writing what I believe is one of the most romantic descriptions of one person going down on another. By the way, this scene is really hot. *fans herself*
Mikael was Concerned.
Azrael had approached him that morning. "Mikael. D'you have a class today?" he'd asked.
Pouring himself a cup of tea, Mikael had shaken his head. "Not on Thursdays."
Azrael had grinned, and Mikael had started to worry right then. "That's perfect," Azrael said, smugly. "See, Suriel and I've been worried about you for a while. With your ability to get into the Demon Court, I'm betting that you'll be used for that again. And face it, kid, you have no fucking idea how to protect yourself."
"That's not true," Mikael had protested weakly, but it was no good, Azrael was clapping him on the shoulder and grinning.
"Well. Then Suri and I'll see you at five in the barraks arena."
It was five to five now, and Raphael wasn't being encouraging, sitting in the stands and munching popcorn.
While glaring up at his lover, Mikael saw Azrael slide into the seat beside Raphael. THAT was a relief! Azrael had been the one to rip Raphael's left wing off, after all.
Congratulations on finally blatantly mentioning this bit of history we made up, instead of mysteriously dancing around it like we usually do.
Suriel dashed through the side enterance, still fiddling the end of his hair into an elastic. "Sorry I'm late!" he called.
He was wearing his white leg-baring tunic and looked even skinnier like that, almost child-gangly, a little angel waif. Mikael couldn't forget him screaming with grief and fury, throwing Raphael into the cliff face as if the muscular one-winged angel had weighed nothing.
His feeling of relief vanished.
Yeah, that would scare the living shit out of me too.
Suriel smiled apologetically. "I hope this isn't too sudden..."
Mikael shrugged and tried to analyse how Suriel would come at him. "How do you want to do this?"
"I'll shove you," Suriel said, walking towards him. "You try to avoid it."
Mikael nodded, tensing to dodge as Suriel came up to him --
And found himself on his back several feet away and airless.
A position Mikael seems to find himself a great deal of the time.^_~
"Are you okay?!" Suriel was rushing to him.
On his back, Mikael could see the nearby Theology building which overlooked the barraks. There was a student watching from one of the upper windows, surrounded by a haze of red hair.
Um, is there a point to this last bit? Does this influence Afriel (or cherior, since you don't say specifically), or Mikael?
When reviewing his course schedule, Suriel found a seminar penciled in that he knew he hadn't put there.
"Gabriel!" he protested, slapping hands down on the Administrator's desk. "I'm BUSY. I mean, you KNOW there's a flu epidemic in Mali right now, and --"
"My heart bleeds for you," Gabriel murmured, nose still buried in his paperwork. "Nevertheless, it's a new semester and the students have to know that the duty we're sometimes called upon to perform ISN'T tasteful."
Gabby being authoritative. Me-ow.
Suriel tossed his hair, sighing anxiously. "Can't Azrael teach this one?"
Finally, Gabriel looked up from his work. "Suriel. Would I ask Azrael to go and recieve lost souls of three- or four-year-old children?"
Suriel looked agast. "Of COURSE not."
Gabriel smiled tersely. "Suriel. Would I ask Azrael to teach a bunch of lost first-year students about one of the harsh realities of angelic duty?"
He couldn't help pouting. "While I see your point, Gabriel, Azrael has given seminars on that subject before."
"Yes," Gabriel said. "But not to first-years. I'm SURE you remember what happened the last time a group of first-years irritated Azrael?"
"The bruises faded!"
Yes, Suriel, THAT will change his mind. Right. uh-huh.
"Suriel!!"
A smart Angel of Death knew when he'd lost. "Yes, Gabriel," he said meekly. "If you say so, Gabriel. May I please have the list of students who will be attending?"
Going back to his work, Gabriel slid a piece of paper over. "Here you are," he muttered, not looking up. "And don't do that thing with your eyes, Suriel. Their wobbliness will find no sympathy whatsoever."
"Because I am the administrative bad-ass. Fear my wicked signature." *coughs* Sorry.
Mikael finished writing on the board, brushed chalk-white hands, and picked up his notice paper, glancing over the names there. "Some of you will be away on Monday, for Suriel's seminar, I see." The class murmured, and he smiled. "Can I see a show of hands for those who are going or are interested? There's still a few seats left, so if you tell me now, I can hand in a revised class list. It should be an interesting seminar."
He paused, writing down a few extra names -- Sophia and Barchiel -- then smiled at his class brightly. "Class dismissed." And, as they rose, "Afriel? Can I see you after class, please?"
Afriel waited, taking the extra time to pack her bag. She smiled warmly as Mikael approached, and he wondered again at the difference between this Afriel and the one he'd heard about from Suriel, from Raphael.
But, then again, he mused, remembering a time not too long before, there were few people who were ever JUST what they appeared.
"You wanted to see me, Mikael-sama?" she asked, still smiling, leaning closer to him.
He nodded, tapping the notice paper to cover up his mild discomfort. "This paper says you're going to the seminar, but you didn't raise your hand in class. What's up?" He kept his tone mild.
Watching her face harden was like watching a glass break -- it was one thing, then it wasn't. "Well, Mikael-sama," she said, "I didn't sign up for it, and frankly, I don't want to go."
Mikael forced a laugh, trying to act companionable. "Sometimes you find yourself signed up for something you have no intention of being in, but it's better to attend anyway." He shrugged, remembering how he'd not chosen to be in Raphael's class but had been put there anyway. "These things probably have a bit of divine planning."
"I suppose," Afrael said, voice freezing, "that I have no choice but to attend, then."
Oooh, boy. "Keep your mind open," Mikael adviced.
This is good. VERY symptomatic of a newer teacher, trying to buddy-buddy to make things more palatable.
Afrael nodded shortly, then turned to go. She pushed past Raphael as she went.
The one-winged angel watched her go, then turned back with a slightly amused, slightly disturbed expression. "Mikael..."
Mikael sighed, letting his head rest agains the coolness of his desk. "I know, I know. I do NOT know what to do about her and Suriel."
"That's only part of the problem," Raphael said, slinging himself up to sit on Mikael's desk. Mikael rolled a little so his cheek rested on Raphael's hand. His lover stroked Mikael's lip with his thumb. "I saw the way she was looking at you. Afrael has a 'crush' on you."
Do you need crush in quotations? Hasn't the popular usage made its way into the dictionary YET?
The aqua-haired angel's head jerked up as shock lodged itself in his chest. "You...I..." His throat shut tight, and he thought frantically back on all the interactions he'd had with her. He couldn't see anything but amiability. "Raphael-sama!" He snagged the one-winged angel's collar with one hand and dragged him close. "That wasn't funny!" Mikael wailed, right into Raphael's face.
Raphael winced. "I wasn't joking," he protested, and Mikael claimed his lips to try and stop him talking more nonsense.
He could feel Raphael's slack disbelief, then, as expected, an enthusiastic response that shot right to Mikael's groin. It sometimes seemed unfair that Raphael had never lost the ability to make his toes CURL like that. Far too often he used that ability to shut Mikael up.
*Hoyden rereads and sighs happily.*
Well. Mikael smiled against Raphael's lips before continuing his determined assault. He might not be as experienced as his one-winged lover, but he'd had a VERY good teacher. And turnabout was fair play.
Mikael cheered inwardly as Raphael pulled back, breathless, and looked at him with hot eyes before pulling him out of the teachers chair and up onto the desk. Onto Raphael.
For a moment, the fear of classroom sex rose up, but then he looked at Raphael, splayed out under him, mouth half open, one hand raised to trace circles over Mikael's hips.
Oh well, Mikael decided, sucking on Raphael's throat, sometimes you really did just have to go with the flow.
Mikael on top? *grins* I really think that should be explored further.
In one of the upper halls was a corridor which hosted some of Suriel's art.
This in itself was not a rare thing, but these portraits in particular were memorials. Children's faces, ranging from premature foetuses to young adults. Some smiled, some laughed, but most gazed down with an unusual seriousness.
More paintings were added on a monthly bases.
He didn't paint all of them, of course, there were too many, but he painted those he noticed the most.
And, frequently, when he needed to think, just to get away, Suriel would wander along the hall, looking up at their faces.
There were signs posted on every empty space.
'This is the Truth.'
'Baby-killer.'
'Soul-stealer.'
'Remember the Children!'
And so on.
Suriel reeled, catching himself against the wall, golden hair clouding around him. Eyes darkened, squeezed shut.
Then opened again.
Slowly, Suriel began to take the signs down.
Mikael looked around the lounge and moved uneasily to pour himself some tea. "Azrael." The dark-haired Angel of Death was sitting on the couch, broodingly staring into a cup of something dark that reeked of strong alcohol. Mikael decided to stay on the other side of the room. "...Where's Suriel?"
Something dark? I don't know of anything that's really dark...but then, I drink only rarely so I'm hardly an authority.
"In his Studio." For a long moment, it didn't look as though he were going to elabourate. Then, in a sudden flurry of motion, he tossed his drink back and slammed the glass down. "He won't come out. Get me another shot, kid? It's the unlabeled blue bottle on the far left."
Somewhat uneasily, Mikael ventured near enough to fetch Azrael's shot glass. "What ARE... you drinking?"
"Don't ask, or I'll tell you."
A long silence filled the room as Mikael put four fingers in -- looked like Az needed it, and the Angel of Death could manage it, after all -- and then Mikael sat across from Azrael, sliding the drink across the table. "Maybe he just got an idea for a painting and wanted to get it on paper?"
"With that look on his face? Fuck that." Azrael tossed the entire shot back in one go. "I know my Suri. It's that girl."
It would be, wouldn't it. Mikael sighed, thought of Afrael's transformation from friendship to anger back in the classroom. "If you want, I'll talk to R... to the Professor."
Out of curiosity, why does he catch himself from using Raphael's name instead of his title? Does Mikael try to separate his personal and professional life? A point to ponder.
Azrael gave him a Glance. "I'd HOPE so. Raphael DOES have the authority to expel her, but..." he shook his head. "Fuck. I don't know. Ask him, anyway. Suri... I don't like..." he stopped, and Mikael didn't ask for clarification.
Delicate fingers selected a size three brush and mixed red into the burnt umber.
Suriel's eyes were distant as he looked at the canvas, seeing what would be there.
A few quick strokes, and
"Riki," he called softly. "Riki."
Raphael leaned forward, listening to the latest story. "I wouldn't be surprised if it had been her driving Suriel into hiding," he said when Mikael had finished. The one-winged angel sighed and raked a hand through his already-mussed hair. "It would have to be this complex, wouldn't it?"
Mikael bit his lip. "If... I mean, is it grounds for expulsion?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes," Raphael agreed. "But... Gabriel left a post-it note on her file. 'Might someday be added to the ranks of Angels of Death. See if she shows signs'. You know we just don't have enough to collect all the necessary souls. If we have a chance of getting another..."
Golden eyes slid shut at Mikael leaned against the desk, shocked. "I think she's giving Suriel a nervous breakdown. Again."
A pause, and then Raphael shut the file. "Let's go see Gabriel."
Suriel heard voices from the other room... Azrael, of course, and Cherior, who was coming to visit more often. The redheaded boy was talking loudly about some trouble he and someone else had gotten up to.
"...Fuck, she could be my sister or something, she and I think so much..."
Silence for a moment, then a knock on the studio door. "Suriel?" Azrael, quiet.
"I'm working," Suriel murmured, eyes returning to the canvas.
A moment where he was unable to see beyond the image and -- a painting trance, as colour and image and meaning blurred.
Suriel dipped size fives into white, blue, red, yellow, and mixed out a flesh tone.
Oddly, Gabriel's office was the most accessible place on campus. It seemed to be the same distance away from... well, everywhere. It was one of the little things that made Mikael suspect that Gabriel wasn't as unapproachable as he pretended to be.
There was a new sign on Gabriel's door: 'Is it important? Then don't bother me, I'm busy.'
Also needs to be commemorated with a picture. Maybe I'll just make one and put it on our page to make me laugh.
Then again... Mikael smiled wryly.
Gabriel didn't look up as they entered. "Did you read the sign? Good. Go away."
*squeals* I LOVE THIS MAN!
"It's important," Raphael said.
A pause. Gabriel signed something, then put his pen down and looked up. "Okay. I'm listening."
Together, Mikael and Raphael pieced together the incidents they'd heard of. Gabriel sat quietly, listening, rubbing his temples.
When they'd finished, he sighed explosively. "I just... don't know. I just don't know." Mikael's stomach clenched at that, and Gabriel was going on -- "When I first saw her... it was such a relief to see someone with such strong potential. Dark-edged, with the mental strength of all the Deaths. I think she can manage it. But if she's harrassing Suriel..." Gabriel fiddled with his pen for a moment. "The thing that bothers me... if her entire circle of belief... at the very least, her halo..."
Worry squirmed in Mikael's belly and he glanced at Raphael. ~I've never seen him this... this...~
~This much with his knickers in a twist? He doesn't know what to do, ~ Raphael answered in soft mindspeech. ~Most of the time, he knows what to do. He's Administration, and we're severly low on angels capable of soul-collection. It's part of his JOB to find new ones. But what Afrael's doing... well, if she were bothering Azrael, Gabriel'd kick us out of his office for wasting his time. Azrael's got thicker skin than a pumpkin.~ That
*snorts* And you picked at me for the "Golden hare" typo.
came with a mental image and Mikael concentrated on keeping his face straight. A wink from Raphael. ~ But I'm not sure, ~ Raphael murmured, thoughtfully, ~that Gabriel can forgive someone deliberately hurting Suriel.~
Mikael blinked, startled. ~I didn't think they really got along...~
A mental chuckle wafted from Raphael to Mikael like cinnimon. ~Oh, G-man's just grumpy. He likes Suriel. Why wouldn't he?~
Gabriel had fallen silent, eyes closed, then sat back. "I signed her up for the seminar," he said heavily. "We'll see how that goes. If her behaviour continues after that..."
Expulsion.
It was Sunday night before Suriel finally emerged from his studio, eyes slightly glazed, groping along the wall.
Azrael took one look at his lover and already pale lips thinned. He strode over, scooped the unprotesting blond angel into his arms, and carried him to the baths. Suriel yawned and snuggled as he was stripped and deposited into a tub of hot water.
Lethargically, he washed himself, wondering semi-somnambulantly if he'd manage to get his hair done.
It was a moot point. Azrael returned with dinner, which he put out of reach of Suriel, and then rolled up his sleeves and began slowly washing Suriel's hair.
It felt nice, but Suriel, at this point, could smell the food.
"Az'ael..."
"After you're out of the tub."
He was good and hungry by the time Azrael had helped him out of the bath and sat him down to dry his hair. The darker Angel of Death had to stop that task three times to refill Suriel's plate.
By the time that all was done, Suriel wasn't able to lift his own eyelids.
"Do you have your seminar prepared?" Azrael asked softly, putting Suriel in bed.
Suriel thought of his perfect painting and smiled sleepily. "Mmm. 'S all ready."
I adore seeing Azrael take care of him like this. Proving that with Az, it's not what he says but what he does. But we knew that already, didn't we, lovely?
Mikael tried to teach for ten minutes before giving up and dismissing his class so he could go to the seminar. He felt vaguely guilty, but he was too nervous to teach, really. Or so he told himself.
He slipped in through the back door and nearly bumped into the Metatron, who was leaning against the wall. The Voice of Most Holy wiggled his fingers at Mikael then went back to filing his nails.
Mikael leaned against the wall too. "What are you doing here?"
The Metatron shrugged. "If He tells me to go, I go. I assume something will happen that'll need His permission." He blew on his nails and giggled. "Didja know if you layer Transparent Pearl and Sparkleberry, you get this nifty glowing coral effect?"
*huggles the ditz*
Politely, Mikael glanced at the nails of the most powerful angel in existance. They did, actually, glow. Mikael couldn't hide a smile.
Suriel stepped onstage, placed a covered canvas to one side, and smiled out at the audience somewhat vaguely. "Why do children have to die?"
Silence fell abruptly.
"I think everyone asks that." Bright blue eyes slid shut. "I'm not Most Holy. I couldn't satisfy everyone with an answer. It's not easy, even for us. But without us, some souls would be unable to find their way to Most Holy, or... elsewhere. The longer they remain on earth, the more their personality fades until they become nothing, completely destroyed."
He opened his eyes. "All angels can appeal to a human soul. There are only a few who can be this guide, however. These soul-collecters are called the Angels of Death. Azrael and myself are the oldest and most capable; there are only a few others. Most angels go insane, you see, seeing so much pain."
Suriel took a deep breath. "As such, it's a matter of duty..."
As Suriel talked on, Mikael glanced around the seminar hall for Afrael. He saw her -- sitting beside the immistakable form of Cherior.
Mikael blinked. Twice. "Cherior... and..." he turned, wide-eyed. "They know each other?"
"They need each other," The Metatron said seriously, and giggled. "Scared yet?"
And Suriel talked on. Watching Afrael, Mikael saw her face grow stormier and stormier, until...
"Can I take any questions," Suriel asked, finally.
Afrael rose immediately. "Oh, yes. How do the CHILDREN feel about being taken away, too young to know what's going on?!"
Her voice rang in the hall, and to his surprise, Mikael saw Suriel nodding as if he'd expected the question.
The Angel of Death bent and picked up the canvas. "Let me tell you of a boy I had to carry home," he said, and slid the covering cloth off the painting to reveal the portrait of a young boy with short brown hair.
Mikael watched colour drain from Afrael's face.
"This boy," Suriel said calmly, "was buried alive at the beach. He could feel the grains in his lungs as they filled with sand. It was dark, hot, and horrifying. And then, suddenly, nothingness. All he could feel was that memory. He was hysterical. I--"
"You BASTARD!" Afriel shouted, face livid. "You fucking PRICK! You took him away from me and you dare -- you DARE--!"
She was scrambling down rows, over chairs, pushing students out of her way. Looking alarmed, Cherior scrambled after.
Beside Mikael, the Metatron was glowing softly.
"You had no right to touch him," Afriel shrieked, trying to pull herself up on stage. "He was MINE, do you hear me, it should have been ME!"
Her voice broke two octaves on the last word, and a brief silence fell.
"Nee-chan," a quiet voice said, tearful, "don' yell. You always yell."
She froze. Cherior caught up, and stopped too.
A young boy stepped out from behind Suriel, one hand clinging to the angel's thigh, the other hand moving his thumb inexorably to his mouth. The canvas was blank.
"Riki?" Afriel didn't move. "...Riki?"
Suriel knelt, ran a gentle hand over the child's hair. "Go on."
Slowly, the softly glowing child took a few steps towards his sister, who still remained frozen in the act of hoisting herself on stage.
Cherior shrugged and gave her a shove.
She met her brother halfway across the stage, flinging herself down to hold him to her. "Riki, Riki..."
The whole hall was silent as the siblings embraced.
Then Riki pulled away, placed a kiss on his sister's cheek, and turned, running back to Suriel. The Angel of Death scooped him up. Wet nose nuzzling into Suriel's neck, the child faded away.
Mikael clutched the wall to support himself and let himself breathe. Sympathetically, the Metatron patted his shoulder.
On stage, Suriel was suddenly all business, stepping back to the podium. "That concludes the seminar," he said, then turned and handed the portrait to Afriel.
"And that was that?" Raphael asked dubiously over the rim of his teacup.
Curling into Raphael's side, Mikael shrugged. "I can't see ANYONE bearing a grudge after a miracle like that, Raphael-sama."
Azrael turned another set of cards over in his game of Solitaire. "I dunno why the fuck she had a problem, anyway. Anyone who knows Suriel knows how much he loves kids. Fuck, if he--"
The door slammed open and Suriel stalked in, obviously seething with anger. He was stripping his vest off as he went, and no wonder -- his hair and upper torso were coated with something white and clumpy.
One moment he was seated, the next, cards were scattered, and Azrael was on his feet. "Suri! The hell--"
"Whipped cream," Suriel spat. "They put a bucket of whipped cream over my classroom door. I'm going to kill them one of these days, I really am." He stalked into the kitchenette.
"It's just a prank," Raphael called, grinning. "I've seen worse. I mean, I've DONE worse --"
"I don't make idle threats!" Suriel shouted back.
Suriel with his knickers in a twist. I love it.
Azrael had a funny look on his face, dark eyes hot, a grin lingering. Body moving with a lithe, animal grace, he stalked after Suriel.
Raphael rolled his eyes at Mikael, shrugging and jerking his thumb towards the lounge door.
Laughter from outside.
Mikael sighed, strode over, and yanked the door open. Cherior glared back at him with his usual distain and Afriel smiled brightly, sweet-eyed.
Disdain. Sp.
~Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth~ Raphael murmured into Mikael's mind. It was suddenly hard to keep a straight face.
But keep it he did. "Did you want something?" he asked pointedly.
Inexplicably, Afrael blushed. "No, Mikael-sama. Thank you for your time." She turned on her heel and walked away, very straight backed. Cherior shrugged a peer's shrug at Mikael, and followed.
The aqua-haired angel sighed and shut the door just as Suriel cried out from the kitchenette, a choked moan.
Colour rushed up into his face at the noise and he saw Raphael watching him from the couch.
~Honestly, Raphael-sama,~ he grumbled, embarrassed. ~If it's not one thing, it's another.~
~I agree entirely.~ Raphael smiled velvet and patted his lap. ~C'mere, Mi-ka-e-l.~
And as long as they're having sex in the kitchenette, the lounge is all ours! Hooray!
Mikael signed in mock irritation, shaking his head. ~Antics, antics. Everbody's up to something~ he chided,
and gave in.
Sorry I didn't have much in the way of c and c, and it was mostly just smartass comments. *continues to eat her ice-cream with almost obscene pleasure*