michael enjoyed the silence of churches. most days of the week, they were empty, aside from the clergy that ran it and the few parishioners that came to pray and seek divine guidance. most days, he prays beside them. even a being like him needs guidance as well, and he still has faith that his father is listening, though many of his siblings have begun to loudly doubt and question that fact.
it’s no surprise that he’s walking down the street toward one. it felt more respectful to walk into a church than to simply make an appearance into one. angel or not, it was still a church, and it was his father’s sacred house.
he could sense his sister’s presence from the steps, and it made him smile as he walked up them, leisurely taking one at a time. it had been too long since he was able to connect with one of his own, and he always had a soft spot for her.
contrary to what others believed, he was not a stick in the mud. he could be humorous and fun, but it was always the beings he disliked the most that went around gossiping. they did not deserve the kinder side of him anyways.
dumah, however, did. he watched from afar as she had her moment of reverent peace – though, he imagined she had many of them. still, he would not interrupt her. instead, he would stand and wait, as he was content to do.
when she turns to him, offering a bow of her head, he returns the gesture. he hopes the smile on his face conveys the happiness he feels to see her. communicating with her had always been easy. without the exchanging of audible words, there were no arguments to be had. there were no hurt feelings or spikes to be wedged between their bond as siblings. instead, it’s as peaceful as it is quiet, and he enjoys it.
he lifts his head and looks her over for a moment, before raising a brow as if to ask, how are you? a silent language of only gestures and feeling, though he knew she would understand his meaning. his lips curving into another smile said, i’ve missed you.
dumah was a rarity among angels — happy to see her kin, and happy to see humans, and many angels were either one or the other, or neither. she was the angel of silence and reverence, of vindication and the stillness of death. death, at times, was anything but silent — heart-rending screams of grief, of loss. widows tearing at their veils, throwing themselves onto open graves. but her dominion is over the quiet parts of death.
dumah does not speak — most angels knew this, and michael’s silent form of communication is a welcome thing between them. dumah matches his smile, before lowering her veil again. he can still see her face, her features, beneath the translucent veil, the stars sparkling on the lace. she speaks without talking, without exhaling sound into the air between them.
i am well, brother mine. you look well. are you doing as well? a parishioner came into the old church, an old woman shuffling with her cane, completely oblivious of the angels she shared the space with — omnipotence was operated by a switch, and for now, dumah chose to inhabit the space in between. dumah turns to watch her light a candle at the feet of the lady of celestial space, and dumah’s lips moved in a silent prayer, encouraging their heavenly father to answer her prayer.
turning back to him, she was reaching out, a ghost light touch of her fingers against his jaw, and a smile beneath the veil. she has missed him, her brother michael, the sword of god.
