[What is the most embarrassing nickname you can give my muse?]
“Contrary to your likely assumptions, I am familiar with the local children’s word for older, male extended family members.
Also contrary to your likely assumptions, I am no one’s uncle. Or grunkle. Or whatever other terms of endearment you wish to apply. I claim no responsibility for the health and well-being of--”
“--Anyone other than half the children you dragged from Salvos and the specific one that was reading on your lap an hour earlier?”
“...Lyndon. Do you plan on interrupting me every time I answer a question today?”
All the people I ship romantically with this character
My non-romantic OTP for this character
My unpopular opinion about this character
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
1. He’s interesting because he’s one of the few examples we see in lore of dissent in the High Heavens that isn’t due to some sort of ‘illness’ or corruption. He throws in with the winning side because he wants to survive, and he thinks they’re right. The steps he takes to follow Tyrael about and generally try and either morally-seduce or murder him are really questionably angelic. So, he’s evidence of the Heavens beginning to truly fracture, or he’s evidence that the Angiris are capable of doing more than following strictly defined order…sort of. He does defer to Malthael in place of Imperius.
I like Balzael probably more than is normal for a Diablo fan, mostly because @oyeedraw has done such a great job of fleshing out his character in her Ask the Angiris Council comics. He’s such a wonderful bastard-goose. @asktheangiriscouncil
2. I continually stumble on this question mostly because the Angiris in my series don’t romantically or sexually bond with each other or anyone (usually; that’s how you get Nephalem). But I think he’s attracted to powerful, stable people who are both reliable and can put him in a good situation. He wants to be a reliable second-in-command and I think that would roll over to relationships as well.
3. I think he and Urzael would have been good friends and bonded over trying to keep their Master somewhat sane, had the situation been right. I also think him and Tyrael would have gotten along, oddly enough, again had the situation been different.
4. I’m not really convinced he had a thing for Tyrael, though it is hella fun to talk about that anyway. I think he had a really unhealthy fixation with him the way Malthael had a fixation on the Worldstone.
5. I wish we could have seen more of his character in the past, before Storm of Light took place! Show us a little bit of back story. He’s another interesting character that got introduced and then offed for plot.
The full reality of the situation came tumbling down on Malthael, then. Messōrēs or not, Raamiel was still a Reaper in some fashion, and he had no idea what to do with one who was half-turned into a feral monstrosity. Everything had spiraled dangerously out of his control.
“Too much sound...”
Oh, but he knew that feeling. Knew it all too well, uncomfortably, maddeningly so.
“Coursing?” He hissed at Tobias, annoyed at wasting valuable moments clarifying something that seemed critical. “What is that? How do we do it?”
“Return… where?” The Maiden’s soul rang like a bell, washing over him and raising the hairs on his arms and neck. The ache it carried with it nearly doubled him over the way she had.
--yourfaultyourfaultallyourfault--
Focus. He had to focus. He could solve this. He hadn’t known. But, he could know.
“We should lure her back to the portal. Maybe--maybe if you give her a destination, she’ll follow without much--”
“Toobiaass?”
“Yes, aunt Raami? I’m here… don’t worry…!”
“Prisca’s little morselll…”
Bad tone. Not good. Portal -- very good. People with knowledge, there. Tire her out. Make her chase. Get her away from Tristram, and all the other little morsels she would try and find and rip their souls out--
“Aquincum!” Malthael growled furiously, as he sprinted past the Maiden in the direction Tobias had come from. “Return to Aquincum! This way!”
Every step jarred his shoulder, causing the already forming crust on it to break open and bleed anew. As he ran, he intentionally flicked some of the blood from it, spattering it against tree trunks and bushes -- leaving behind detectable fragments of his essence.
If she wanted something to chew on, she could damn well try and catch him. With some luck, she would follow the trail.
A spark lit in her the moment Malthael tempered his tone. He did not need to see her face to know; the shock was palpable in the way she stiffened, then slowly drew closer to him. She was clearly no fool, and never came close enough to leave easy reach of her scythe. But her reaction told him even more than he had already gleaned.
Not mindless. More than a Reaper’s servant. They survived, perhaps? After Westmarch. Or Westmarch never happened.
And she craved his voice. He’d noticed from the first time he’d spoken how her composure dissolved. Granted, the angels from that realm seemed more casual than the ones he’d known. But everything he saw from her spoke of a reverence for her Master.
For him.
Fear, before. Now something else. Longing? She does not seek the darkness.
He relaxed his shoulders minutely when she knelt. A dialogue was a better conversation to have than a duel, and had the potential to be far more lucrative for them both.
“I’m not good at trades. And I may not be allowed to speak… Regardless of your… response.”
No practice in negotiation. Lower in the hierarchy. Not one of my advisers. Foot solider.
The closest the Reapers had to them, anyway. He nodded, waiting patiently for her to continue.
“I assume the others are… nearby. How much do you know? WHY did you write M-…Why did Your Lordship write?… You shouldn’t have…”
Her questions were simple, though he did not wish to answer them all immediately. Not until he was sure if she was dangerous.
If her Master was dangerous. The Nephalem of his realm could likely contend with him, but they had already fought enough angels as of late. They had their own issues to sort. He didn’t need to bring them more.
The easiest answers first, then.
“I wrote because I was written to first, from an angel in your realm. I was asked for help. After studying the situation further, I determined you might have information that could assist me.”
He paused as her head tilted slightly; he followed the line of her gaze, and realized she was staring at his hands. His bare hands.
Hellspawn.
He believed he would win a direct fight, but the Maiden wouldn’t know that. If she knew he was mortal, she could decide to contest his hold on the letter. For all he knew, she could still hate mortals, and try to Reap him.
“As for what I know: there are differences in our realms that appear to trace back to the beginning of the High Heavens. And there is also a more recent difference no one wishes to mention -- you included.” He glanced briefly in Tzikk’s direction. “And him. Tell me. Raamiel, is it? You should be slain by mortal hands. As should your Master. Yet, I assume you both live. How?”
His realm also had a difference. But if she hadn’t noticed or at least mentioned the Archfall, he was not about to bring it up. Not when she seemed convinced she was being watched by an army of Reapers. The lie granted him some protection, and some time.
