Not Bothered
angelinbedlam:
The little angel watched as Michael adjusted her grip, making her hold the blade firmer while moving her hand up the hilt so the thing didn’t just want to flop and fall to the ground at the first given opportunity. It still felt wrong though and she hoped she’d never have to actually use it.
“Okay,” she said as she gave the blade a couple of small, experimental swings before tightening her grip even more on the smooth, sunwarm metal. “It just… it feels weird. I haven’t even seen one of these since before I left, let alone tried to actually use one.” She’d left her own blade behind all those years ago, never seeing the point in bringing it when she couldn’t use it. At the time it had just been one more thing to run away from.
“Working with a blade isn’t something that comes natural to everyone,” Michael said. “It didn’t come natural to me either, when I first began using one.”
Michael could still remember when and why Father had first insisted on him having something for protection. It had been in the early day of creation when the Leviathan were still an experiment and long before Raphael was a thought at all. Michael had been young, caring for Lucifer who had only been a fledgling. He’d taken them too far away from Heaven, he’d allowed them to be cornered by a Leviathan and they’d barely made it out alive. Had Father not found them, the situation could have been very different.
“I got myself and Lucifer in to a situation we couldn’t handle, we were much too young and the world was much too violent for us to be out there. Father saved us, the next day he handed me my first blade and told me I needed to learn to defend myself and Lucifer,” he explained with a soft smile. “I can’t tell you how many times I hurt myself on it before getting the motions and movements down right. I was possibly the worst of all of us, and the one day at a time I improved, and the blade began to feel more natural in my hand. Like an extension of myself.”
“But how?” Her entire face scrunched up with confusion as she looked at Michael. “I mean, you’re you,” she said with a vague gesture towards him. “There’s no way you were ever that bad.” That just seemed completely absurd, Michael was the strongest one of them all, she couldn’t imagine him ever having been clumsy, especially not with a blade.
Then again, if he wasn’t just exaggerating to make her feel better it meant there might be hope for her too. Well except for one tiny problem really. “Mikey, would you be upset if I said I don’t want to get that good with it? I don’t think I ever want to feel like it’s natural or right to use a weapon. I just want to be able to defend myself or someone else if I have to. Does that make any sense at all?” She wasn’t sure it did, but it seemed like being comfortable with a blade also meant being comfortable with using it on someone else and that just wasn’t in her.
