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@sanctusworn
{✞} Indi single ship Michael based on a Verse made for Hazbin Hotel.
{✞} Blog is 18+ only and will contain mature and adult themes. Minors DNI
{✞} Michael is married to @sanctumpyre
{✞} Sanctus Verse info can be found here {x}
{✞} About Michael can be found here {x}
{✞} A ringleader to a circus that wasn’t lead by his brother was something that did need to be addressed. Among the most duplicitous acts the Angel has seen, waging war on Heaven for the sake of the “people” when really only acting to become an authority over Heaven was one of the most ridiculous pipe dreams he had heard thus far.
A weather man in a fine suit with sweet words rallied the sinners? As Michael eyed the report he could only let out a lingering sigh as if this were a minor inconvenience that needed his attention. Gloved hands calmly take the slips of paper and neatly tuck them within the folder they were delivered in. There was no urgency in his actions as for the son of God will act upon being a messenger for the Holy Lord once more.
Ignorance leads the faithless, the time has come that he must educate the wicked.
It is there on a well made stage where the Tv man encourages and promotes his crusade, his voice growing louder, his words sharper, his grin all consuming as he had just shown all of Hell that he holds more power over even Lucifer and once his speech reaches its apex is when a shiny, blue portal opens above the stage and all go silent.
The spreading of magnificent blue and white wings pour out of it before the man himself appears. Dressed in the stainless white and yellow regalia of his Legion, his sword sheathed at the hip, the stoic expression on his face leaves all guessing on what it is he may do as the Arch Angel slowly lowers himself onto the stage. Black boots touch down on corrupted wood just before a standing microphone, the divine energy under his heels burn the stage below him, producing just the hint of steam that raise around the leather of his boots.
“Good evening.” The Holy Warrior states, his deep voice bellows through the speakers and wash over the crowd of Sinners present. With one swoop of the eyes, Michael meets all of their gazes easily, not one of them missed. It is known immediately that he is aware of their presence, every one of them.
“I’ve been told that all of you are displeased with your stay here in Hell. So much so that you plan an assault on Heaven’s gates. As opposed to the Exorcists, I am not here to stop you.” Some among the crowd were surprised by his words, if he was not here to put an end to them by slaughtering them then why appear at all? Their answer would start with the arrival of his wife, another portal, burning with divine flame opening next to him, she makes her appearance in the military outfit she once had worn long ago before becoming his wife. Now more than ever has that regalia been more appropriate to show herself in.
“However, I pray you think upon your actions.” His eyes lower to a glare, these Sinners have committed a grand atrocity to the Lord and his Kingdom above by plotting against his judgment. “We will protect our Holy Land, the Army of the Lord bends no knee to anyone. Allow me to show you just what awaits for those who do not heed my warning.”
The scene that awaited those Sinners in the crowd, even ones who were not in the area, was one never seen since Hell’s creation as the very sky lights up a color thought impossible. A holy, divine yellow flame that sparks and explodes above them. Within the flames comes the opening of millions of eyes, wide with disdain and judgment.
The gaze of those in the crowds stare up, eyes wide, fear closing in around them like a coffin as they watch figures begin to descend from the Heavens above. Large winged soldiers, apt and ready for a fight they had long prepared for. The Sinners may have hade numbers but the Legion had experience, time, structure and most of all unity among the ranks.
They were nothing more than rats trapped under the nests of hawks.
It’s then that they would feel something strange, a burning sensation in their throats. Some cough, some wheeze, some even begin to pass out. The pure divinity that hangs before them purifies the very air of Hell, leaving those who breathe in the divinity to be left breathless and in pain.
The crowd begins to scramble, scream and panic. These weren’t soldiers, they were individuals out to make their own lives better and it is seen here now more than ever as the man who started it all scrambled back to his feet, trying to shake off the act of God before him, yelling to the crowd, screaming how the Angels threaten them even now and does what he can to lie and manipulate even playing that silly spiraling mind control broadcast of his. But to no avail. No luck. No control. With this single showing of power, Michael topples down the confidence Sinners anywhere had to stand up against Heaven.
The Heavenly Host is still, watching with his wife next to him, how they scramble like raccoons found within waste. It isn’t a pretty sight, nor one that he takes pleasure of. This display isn’t a warning, it is a fact and moreover, a waste of time. There are much more pressing matters to tend to.
With the chaos that he had instilled, his own portal opens and he takes his wife with him back home, soon the rest of the Legion follows in tow, the sky burning flames and eyes, the massive portal to the power above, dissipating to nothing, leaving horrified screams and panic in its wake.
Happy vulture hisses as she rushes in to hug her parents .
@sanctumpyre @sanctusworn
{✞} Strong arms overload her wake as he is easily able to stop her stride with wrapping them around the young girl and hoisting her off her feet. “It’s good to see you too.”
{🔥} - The sigh that leaves the Pyra was a heavy one. Exhaustion, despite not truly lacking in energy, the embers of her soul still ever burned, nay, it was brought on by the mental drainage of the pitiful events that took place during their absence from Heaven.
"This is an annoyance at best & dangerous at worst." Not something that needed to be said outloud, most certainly not to her husband, but such was done so anyway. They have questioned the loyalties of others in Heaven before, but not their abilities.
Right now, Yahbel was beginning to do just that.
@sanctusworn
{✞} Of all the things to come back to the Heavenly Host never expected the issue to arise from Hell. Of course they had their issues in the past and still do but a Sinner of all creatures causing such a ruckus? Reform was on the horizon, the man can almost smell it.
Ungloved hands stilled under a fountain of running water, a promise he had made to her while they were gone.
A bath.
And now more than ever it was certainly needed as he could feel the flames within his wife grow ever so warmer. “Ants pretend they’re mighty until the eater comes to prove them otherwise. I believe it’s time for us to relax, hm?” He takes his hand out of the perfectly tempered water and turns to her. “Come, you’ve more than earned your rest.”
{✞} A ringleader to a circus that wasn’t lead by his brother was something that did need to be addressed. Among the most duplicitous acts the Angel has seen, waging war on Heaven for the sake of the “people” when really only acting to become an authority over Heaven was one of the most ridiculous pipe dreams he had heard thus far.
A weather man in a fine suit with sweet words rallied the sinners? As Michael eyed the report he could only let out a lingering sigh as if this were a minor inconvenience that needed his attention. Gloved hands calmly take the slips of paper and neatly tuck them within the folder they were delivered in. There was no urgency in his actions as for the son of God will act upon being a messenger for the Holy Lord once more.
Ignorance leads the faithless, the time has come that he must educate the wicked.
It is there on a well made stage where the Tv man encourages and promotes his crusade, his voice growing louder, his words sharper, his grin all consuming as he had just shown all of Hell that he holds more power over even Lucifer and once his speech reaches its apex is when a shiny, blue portal opens above the stage and all go silent.
The spreading of magnificent blue and white wings pour out of it before the man himself appears. Dressed in the stainless white and yellow regalia of his Legion, his sword sheathed at the hip, the stoic expression on his face leaves all guessing on what it is he may do as the Arch Angel slowly lowers himself onto the stage. Black boots touch down on corrupted wood just before a standing microphone, the divine energy under his heels burn the stage below him, producing just the hint of steam that raise around the leather of his boots.
“Good evening.” The Holy Warrior states, his deep voice bellows through the speakers and wash over the crowd of Sinners present. With one swoop of the eyes, Michael meets all of their gazes easily, not one of them missed. It is known immediately that he is aware of their presence, every one of them.
“I’ve been told that all of you are displeased with your stay here in Hell. So much so that you plan an assault on Heaven’s gates. As opposed to the Exorcists, I am not here to stop you.” Some among the crowd were surprised by his words, if he was not here to put an end to them by slaughtering them then why appear at all? Their answer would start with the arrival of his wife, another portal, burning with divine flame opening next to him, she makes her appearance in the military outfit she once had worn long ago before becoming his wife. Now more than ever has that regalia been more appropriate to show herself in.
“However, I pray you think upon your actions.” His eyes lower to a glare, these Sinners have committed a grand atrocity to the Lord and his Kingdom above by plotting against his judgment. “We will protect our Holy Land, the Army of the Lord bends no knee to anyone. Allow me to show you just what awaits for those who do not heed my warning.”
The scene that awaited those Sinners in the crowd, even ones who were not in the area, was one never seen since Hell’s creation as the very sky lights up a color thought impossible. A holy, divine yellow flame that sparks and explodes above them. Within the flames comes the opening of millions of eyes, wide with disdain and judgment.
The gaze of those in the crowds stare up, eyes wide, fear closing in around them like a coffin as they watch figures begin to descend from the Heavens above. Large winged soldiers, apt and ready for a fight they had long prepared for. The Sinners may have hade numbers but the Legion had experience, time, structure and most of all unity among the ranks.
They were nothing more than rats trapped under the nests of hawks.
It’s then that they would feel something strange, a burning sensation in their throats. Some cough, some wheeze, some even begin to pass out. The pure divinity that hangs before them purifies the very air of Hell, leaving those who breathe in the divinity to be left breathless and in pain.
The crowd begins to scramble, scream and panic. These weren’t soldiers, they were individuals out to make their own lives better and it is seen here now more than ever as the man who started it all scrambled back to his feet, trying to shake off the act of God before him, yelling to the crowd, screaming how the Angels threaten them even now and does what he can to lie and manipulate even playing that silly spiraling mind control broadcast of his. But to no avail. No luck. No control. With this single showing of power, Michael topples down the confidence Sinners anywhere had to stand up against Heaven.
The Heavenly Host is still, watching with his wife next to him, how they scramble like raccoons found within waste. It isn’t a pretty sight, nor one that he takes pleasure of. This display isn’t a warning, it is a fact and moreover, a waste of time. There are much more pressing matters to tend to.
With the chaos that he had instilled, his own portal opens and he takes his wife with him back home, soon the rest of the Legion follows in tow, the sky burning flames and eyes, the massive portal to the power above, dissipating to nothing, leaving horrified screams and panic in its wake.
@sanctumpyre from x
{✞} It didn’t surprise him at all that she ended up this way when coming back from the embassy. The fires she releases does well to completely go around him, the heat grazes him like a summers wind before soon extinguishing into nothing. His hand rests upon the hilt of his blade within the sheath at his hip, soon walking forward to encircle the spot she sits.
Of course what she said angers him, but the both of them couldn’t afford to dwell within Wrath’s domain. No, she would be allowed her time and he will ensure she is taken care of as gloved hands move to set themselves upon her shoulders and grip lightly. The tall figure stands behind her while she sits, idly massaging her shoulders.
“That is troubling. You are right to be angry.” Slowly he leaned down, pressing his head atop hers, his voice going low. A whisper. “But she would find only ashes within her wake if she dared to stride in such a way.” A gentle kiss, a reminder he was there. “What else did she have to say?”
{🔥} - The cinders smoldered around her, small flakes of black & orange curling up into the air, only the fade away into nothingness. Breaths came weighted, some sorted attempt to calm herself, regain control of her emotions.
Proper reprise only came at her husband's hands, the careful touch to her shoulders, the lull of his voice made low so that only she may hear such a deep holy melody, & the gentle affection coined to the top of her head. Another breath escaped her, this one deep, inhale, exhale. It would do none of them any good for her to burn down their home because she could simply not control herself.
"Lucifer asked her to stand in for him today, he sent her to the embassy in his place." her eyebrows remained deeply creased on her face as she continued explaining. "She managed to remain mostly respectful & professional in our discussions, until the end where she dared to mention missing calling me her friend." In spite of her angered expression, her lips softened in a saddened frown saying this.
{✞} So that was it. How troublesome. The Sin of Envy missing the relationship she once held with Yahbel? “Perhaps she should have made a better decision that day.” He says, slowly leaning down, letting his palms lay flat and run down her form as he knelt only to stop when his lips meet her cheek and pressing a light kiss to the area. A small comfort, one he knew wouldn’t fix how she felt but hopefully will aid it slightly.
“She only wishes to harm you, either physically or mentally. I cannot trust that Sin.” Michael said in a whisper next to Yahbel. “As much as I would love nothing more than to move on from the past, what they have done, I…” He stops himself, takes a deep breath. That was a lot of selfish words coming from him. A shut of his eyes and he focuses, this wasn’t about him, it was about them. So he tries again.
“If you would allow, I will see to it that I meet her next and end any sort of talk that would make you uncomfortable. I’m sure she will listen to me.”
{✞} “I have a feeling you were hoping that was the case. Am I wrong?”
{🔥} - "My greatest joy is being able to serve you & assure your happiness, my love. All my skills are at your disposal."
{✞} “I am intimately aware of the skills you have to offer. Never once am I disappointed.”
{✞} “These shirts are starting to be much too tight. My love, you are still getting me the largest sizes possible?”
{🔥} - "My heart, at this rate I will need to start making shirts for you myself!"
{✞} “I have a feeling you were hoping that was the case. Am I wrong?”
{🔥} - Cough.
No comment.
{✞} “These shirts are starting to be much too tight. My love, you are still getting me the largest sizes possible?”
“Hola “ leaves a sombrero in his ask box cause it’s been ages Miguel .
{✞} “Buenos Dias.” He accepts the hat and puts it on for the day.
@sanctumpyre from x
{✞} It didn’t surprise him at all that she ended up this way when coming back from the embassy. The fires she releases does well to completely go around him, the heat grazes him like a summers wind before soon extinguishing into nothing. His hand rests upon the hilt of his blade within the sheath at his hip, soon walking forward to encircle the spot she sits.
Of course what she said angers him, but the both of them couldn’t afford to dwell within Wrath’s domain. No, she would be allowed her time and he will ensure she is taken care of as gloved hands move to set themselves upon her shoulders and grip lightly. The tall figure stands behind her while she sits, idly massaging her shoulders.
“That is troubling. You are right to be angry.” Slowly he leaned down, pressing his head atop hers, his voice going low. A whisper. “But she would find only ashes within her wake if she dared to stride in such a way.” A gentle kiss, a reminder he was there. “What else did she have to say?”
“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad.”
{✞} “…” Ok. “Your eyes tell me you wish I was your father. No. Anyone else was your father. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be in Hell sharing a space with him again. But I digress.”
{✞} “A reminder to those who choose to participate in debauchery: While redemption is a path you may heed, any continued dabbling in Sin only adds to the list of penance. If that doesn’t bother you, enjoy your stay in Hell.”
{✞} He takes a month or so off and comes back to Sin raising up from Hell? Well, we mustn’t expect God to do all the work.
{🔥} - "My love..." Here is Yahbel, latching onto the back of her husband, arms circling around him to link at his front & her warmth washing over him.
"... you're quite cold today. Are you... feeling well?" She sounded a little concerned, worried this was the onset of the usual or not.
{✞} The onset of these conditions are felt before they are shown. Where the bite had been given on his side, it always began to burn ever so slightly. Discomfort turning to mild pain and slowly increasing over time until it peaked to a debilitating pain. Michael had once hid such things from his wife, being too prideful and trying to ignore the pain while hiding such a temporary flareup so she wouldn’t fret over him.
However, as if she were able to see the signs before even he could, with her arms wrapping around his form and whispering all too sweetly against him… He thought to lie, but Michael knew better.
“…No.” The word leaves his mouth silently, so as to ensure she would hear it, and only her. “I think… I may need to take some days off.” It was for the better, regardless of how he hated doing so… But he knew it would be her suggestion as well.
@sanctumpyre
{✞} In the city, past the rain and bustling streets, if one were to look hard enough and knew a particular phrase, they would find a tall building on the corner of a lonely street. Its brick walls that crumbled by the years of misuse, ware and weathering was merely a coverup for what really lies inside.
A oyster hiding a perfect pearl and one keen eyed detective had made his way there once again. Water splashes as boots hit puddles in a the dim streetlights that sparsely covered the sidewalks. A car or two pass by, spraying gutter water and narrowly missing the man in the trench coat. He stops momentarily, assuring his attire remained dry before turning down the corner of the street.
A man leans against the wall, flicking a lighter, a cigarette dangling from his lips and just past him, a door with stripped paint.
“Awfully dry today.” The man with the lighter speaks, his gaze staying on the shiny silver metal in his hands.
“I prefer it wet.”
That was enough. The man by the door knocks four times in a rhythm, the door opens and immediately the smell of smoke, cheap cologne and desperation for a finer life seeps into the nostrils. This was the place.
His coat is taken, he’s lead around a corridor and into a grand hall. It’s a beauty as always. A large open area with plentiful tables, chairs and a bar full of various alcohol. Patrons come here for many reasons. Some smoke, some drink but others, much like the detective, come for the stage, the pearl that hides within this oyster. A woman with a voice as smooth as silk, as warm as a mother’s hug and looks that could lull a man to his grave.
The band played low pitched chords that complemented the high notes from the woman’s lips. Such deep reds could make any man stunned and compelled to stare, only beaten by the dress she wore and the gloved hands that held the mic so tenderly it could make one feel less lonely.
The detective takes a seat by the bar yet he doesn’t face it, only turning in his seat to watch the woman sing, her hips sway back and forth ever so slightly along with the music. His blond hair makes him stand out along with his rather tall stature and yet, her presence is so compelling no one seems to notice him.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t here for pleasure, never the one to get caught up with such things. No, he was here for information once again, a lead. He would never admit when he was stuck in a case, however, fresh eyes tended to help so he waited for her to finish.
All eyes were on her, even the detectives own…
{🔥} - The lights on the stage are as bright as ever, while the rest of the establishment remained dark, low lights veiling the place in a correcting atmosphere of mystery & darkness. What the patrons of this place do under the shade was often not the subject of concern for it's owners. So long as business is kept on the low, quiet, & brought no trouble, it wasn't anyone's worry. They could enjoy a smoke, a drink & ear catching song the same.
"This is the end Hold your breath and count to ten Feel the Earth move and then Hear my heart burst again." "For this is the end I've drowned and dreamt this moment So overdue, I owe them Swept away, I'm stolen."
That was her part. Measly entertainment to stand center at the stage amiss the patrons, in varying states of sobriety. A figure tall, even without the elevation provided by the stage, it was plain to see the woman who sang was no short dame. Blonde locks of paled hair reached beyond her waist & hug a tender hourglass figure nearly as well as the garnet red dress she wore.
"Let the sky fall When it crumbles We will stand tall Face it all together." "Let the sky fall When it crumbles We will stand tall Face it all together." "At Skyfall~ At Skyfall."
By the time the new arrival had entered, the first chorus has passed, notes passed by red stained lips & sea green eyes fell closed. Things she does at an subconscious level. Diving into her singing, the song, letting her music remove her from this sad, desperate & depressing place. That she could be anywhere else.
"Skyfall is where we start A thousand miles and poles apart Where worlds collide and days are dark." "You may have my number, you can take my name But you'll never have my heart~" "Let the sky fall (let the sky fall) When it crumbles (when it crumbles) We will stand tall (we will stand tall) Face it all together." "Let the sky fall (let the sky fall) When it crumbles (when it crumbles) We will stand tall (we will stand tall) Face it all together." "At Skyfall~"
But such is also exactly what makes her the hidden pearl of this otherwise rutty place. The small movements, the work of her lips to form the prefect note, but it high or low, the sway of her body & small delights of her hands holding the mic-stand, are the arts of a woman lost in her craft. With beauty to add, made Miss Pyra quite the gem.
"Where you go, I go What you see, I see I know I'd never be me Without the security." "Of your loving arms Keeping me from harm Put your hand in my hand." "And we'll stand." "Let the sky fall (let the sky fall) When it crumbles (when it crumbles) We will stand tall (we will stand tall) Face it all together." "Let the sky fall (let the sky fall) When it crumbles (when it crumbles) We will stand tall (we will stand tall) Face it all together." "At Skyfall~" "Let the sky fall We will stand tall At Skyfall~" "Ooh~"
{✞} Sometimes a man had to crawl through mud to find untold riches, some look for gold, some seek out gems and then there’s some who find the most value in moments, people, a time you cannot repeat. It’s times like these that make the detective waver, makes him think of what he was truly doing, was his path righteous? Was his duty to the Lord stained by his actions?
That is the true power of her voice, these lights, the mood and atmosphere. In a way, that power could be a man’s greatest treasure all together. It’s no wonder a crowed gathers here nightly. Seeing such passion on stage rejuvenates hope into those who have lost the spark that once drove them to believe they would do unbelievable feats.
Had he been a man with lesser resolve, he too would find himself enchanted to reappear in this place night after night to watch, to forget. The sins of the past will always be bound onto your soul like a weight that presses down mighty Atlas who holds up the world, what you do with that weight defines who you are. Which is why the detective chose this path, to do better, what he knows is right.
When her song ends, the clapping begins, one after the other, a collective symphony that buffers between songs. However, this time she leaves the stage, it seems he had gotten here just in time, just as planned. Blue eyes watch as she walks off stage and is escorted to a private booth. The man leaves his seat at the bar and approaches only for his path to be blocked by a larger, bigger man who stares Michael down like a unknowing hound to a wolf.
A bouncer, a bodyguard, whatever title the goon wishes to label himself mattered little when he’s told to stand down. They had a meeting, the detective wouldn’t allow it to be interrupted, it is by the good graces of her hands that there was no escalation and once stepping aside, Michael approaches the fine booth. Red cushions, maple table top, finely waxed and finished to shine only slightly with the dim light that hung above. Dolled up for the Doll of the stage no doubt.
“New friend?” The detective asks, taking his seat in the booth, his hands centered on the table top to show both no intention for violence and a suitable lack of weaponry.
{🔥} - A soft tune lures down the halls. A light, wordless melody, yet full conveyed delight, as fingers worked in diligence at something that smelled of upmost deliciousness in front of her.
The day-to-day of Heavens working leave the lady drained, but today, Yahbel felt quite lively, spirited even, like she was young once more. And such happiness glowed on already radiant, angelic features. Happy wife, happy life, as they say.
{✞} So true is the saying, regardless of its origin being a sense of negativity towards presumed ‘ball and chain’ but for the Angel of God and all of his holiness, not once did he see such a saying as forcing himself to do something he’d rather not to appease her.
No, happiness comes naturally to them, what he does, what he wants and what makes her happy all work in tandem with one another in a symphonic rhythm that forms a binding, unbreakable chain that keeps the two together. Never once questioning if they were right together as every morning when he wakes, every workday, every conversation both meaningful and not, he is reminded passively that yes, indeed this was the only match for him.
Ungloved fingers brush against porcelain digits lightly, wordlessly, a simple touch of a reminder he was there, not wanting to break her of the tune she hums and the work she does before seating himself nearby to busy himself either by watching or reading. Everything seems brighter when she’s around, it’s as the saying goes.
Happy wife, happy life.
