#cruelseraph

[winged-gentleman]

[Send ⚠ and a name, and i will make a bad presentation slide about that muse] 

@cruelseraph

[reprobii]

@cruelseraph continued from here (x)

... “Well, that’s not my fault, is it?” 

[hcngedmcn-blog]

                                                  @cruelseraph​ dropped a heart

                 “ you know, out of everyone, i didn’t expect YOU to make it. ” Hell, he had barely expect himself to make it while he fought with Lucifer and Barton. He had barely made it with the skin of his teeth and afterwards just became worse. Those strong shoulders shrugged, “ though, hopefully it’s taken away that awful arrogance you’ve always had. ”

[mus-brunneis]

Mine

[First person to send “Mine” gets to own my muse for a day!]

“Well I guess I’m all yours for the day! So watcha wanna do?”

[electorofhell]

Continued from: [X]

@cruelseraph

Heaven had become different from what he was used to, but it was also what he had made it into. After Gabriel’s sleep being prolonged, the smaller archangel had become stubborn and refused to leave responsibility to others, this was the result of his cold ruling. Angels whispering behind his back and dared not to confront him, while those who did were usually dismissed in a more aggressive manner.

So when he heard the soft knock on the doors, Michael stood up right away from his chair to tell them to leave him alone. Few people would be allowed to interrupt him, this certain little human was one of them. With a heavy sigh, he sank back down into the chair, moving his wings to the sides to rest with support from the armrests.

“Come in.”

The book that he had been going through was put aside, he’d lost track and focus a long time ago anyway. The table was empty and free from the usual papers and notes, even the chessboard had been moved to his own chambers where he could find more privacy.

Will entered, he was glad that he was able to find Lord Michael and as far as he can see everything was going well, still he knew that his inexperience could state otherwise and perhaps there was more to this than his eyes can see. He closed the door behind me, taking several steps to stand in front of the desk before Michael and giving him a bow, “Lord Michael I am most grateful to you for sparing a moment of your time for me.” How do I state this? No matter how I rephrase their words in my mind they all sound so rude and mocking. I still need to know.

He lifts his head, though his gaze is stuck to the ground momentarily, he had to speak now else he would be wasting precious time. Time that the leader of all the angels couldn’t just waste, but it wasn’t easy either. There were two outcomes and he truthfully hopes that it is the best one of them all instead of the unfavorable one. It’s better to say it now than to let the rumors spread like a wildfire, and if they’re true then something must be done in order to help. “Forgive me Lord Michael if I come off as rude, but I must verify the rumors that are circulating. The dwellers from Hell keep stating that you are reaching your limit and if you do not sleep soon you will fade. Are these facts? Is it true that your rule will come to an end and that Metatron will be the one in charge.” It can’t be him, anyone but him.

[winged-gentleman]

A Michael for @cruelseraph uvu

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[winged-gentleman]

Mine

[First person to send “Mine” gets to own my muse for a day!]

Out of all people– of course NOW Michael suddenly heard what he had said!

Well… he’d just have to grin and bear for a day. Because with that bloody angel owning him, surely this day wasn’t going to be much fun.

“W-well… so I’m yours. Now what?”

[reprobii]

continued from (x)

Upon seeing Michael’s smug expression, his own features contorted into one of pain, like he’d been slammed in the gut by the angel’s words. His hands balled into fists, but he tried to retain the last remnants of his usual composure.

If nearly anyone else had said that to him - he’d have immediately attacked them. But he was Michael, and if a mere pastor (even if Crosby had been a member of the Hand of God) had been able to almost kill him, declaring a personal war on Michael would be a suicide wish. 

Michael, though, was wrong about one thing. 

Sitri knew what he had lost - to some degree. True, there was still the gap in his earliest memories, but he still retained inchoate memories of his mother, fond enough to motivate his desire to return to Heaven - 

In fact, it was this desire that had forced him to accept being a “doll,” as the angel had referred to him as. Sitri had something to lose, and that made him weak. The others - people like Gilles, Baalberith - fought like every day could be their last, and they didn’t care if it was. 

“I’m not… a doll.” His voice falters, though, and he instantly knows he’s just given Michael more verbal ammunition to hit him with.