Click click click click…
Lute spun on a little round stool as the archangel of healing slept, head on his desk, a cup of coffee unfinished nearby. He had run himself into the ground again. It must be hard, watching tragedy after tragedy humanity has gone through or inflicted on one another. Answering prayers for so many hurt and dying people had taken so much out of him.
On her next trip around the fun sitting item she watched him for a moment, smiling at his sleeping form. She could feel her sister’s love and appreciation for him. Their presence was all over the office and she was enjoying the closeness. But she did come here for a reason.
“Raphael is drooling on his important doctor papers.” She lightly scolded, waking him into the dream world she had created.
Humans seemed particularly adept at finding newer and crueler ways to harm one another. Though it was hard to fault them. After all, Heaven has had enough blood on their hands to for him to comment on such things. Himself included. Of course, he couldn't save everyone who asked for it, he wasn't allowed to. But making the choice as to whose prayers got answered and whose didn't? That was always hard. He had always done his best to take such things on himself to spare his healers the pain of just letting souls pass into the next life. Though it was always too much for him. When you have thousands, millions, dying in wars and then all the other mundane things that don't care about such wars, even a small percentage is a lot. Especially when some required more of his energy than others.
It was why despite not being someone who required sleep on a regular basis, he did have to replenish when his energy was especially depleted. Like he was right now. He had been sorting through paperwork for volunteers of human souls to work on his clinics or other minor missions.
Though why anyone would willingly work for someone who failed to save them felt hollow on his part, but that was just a small addition to the vast amounts of guilt that plagues his mind. Raphael was thankful to have his family from letting him sink too far into the cavernous depths of despair. That and his devotion to Father's plan. It helped in a macabre way to know that he ultimately was designed to fail. If not now, then later. Not that he still wouldn't try. That was his whole point, after all. Though sometimes the guilt was too much.
At least that's what he thought when he suddenly awoke to find a familiar and unexpected face before him.
"I suppose there are less pleasant hallucinations."
It wouldn't be his first hallucination, though far and above the most detailed and vivid one he'd had. Usually they came in the form of fleeting feelings or a flicker in the corner of his eye. Or simply screaming when the silence was too still.
The archangel reached for his coffee and took a sip of it despite being cold. He organized his papers silently, waiting to see what this hallucination would do next. It was as if he was regarding his mind with a cautious scientific curiosity.