#nathanielstarter

[seraphimichael]

@natemichaelson​ location: Killjoy’s notes: i hope nate is freeloading off of atlas

Fathers helped their children pack when they left the metaphorical nest. Michael had witnessed as much when him and Nathan had watched 7th Heaven together, also Touched by an Angel. Michael had been big on the feel-good Christian shows when Nathaniel was growing up. “I told you these would come in handy,” Michael said as he packed Nathaniel’s unmentionables into a drawer organizer that he’d ordered off of the shopping network. Because he wanted the nephilim to be prepared for anything, he’d also gotten him a Swiffer and Swiffer Wetjet, a year’s supply of Shamwows and the Slapchop with all the attachments. There were other gadgets in an organized tote that Michael sealed with the Alien tape that had come in a few days ago. 

[seraphimichael]

@natemichaelson​ location: Killjoys notes: father son bonding

The bar was closed but the pair sat at a booth, a pair of beers between them. Michael had supposed from the time that Nathaniel had made his first kill that they’d been old enough to drink. The seraphim considered the other while Nathaniel was distracted with that damn phone, at some point the child had ceased being as such, older still there were lines at the corner of Nathaniel’s eyes, a tiredness beneath them too. Michael wondered when the other had grown up, or if he’d ever really been a child. The seraphim supposed neither of them really had that chance. Still, there was a time when he could support the other with just his palm - Nathaniel had been so little then. Vulnerable. Michael recalled being afraid that at any moment the infant would snap in half, or his little lungs would stop breathing, his tiny heart would no longer beat. 

Michael had been so afraid of breaking him. So afraid of losing him. He used to take a spoon and hold it near the other’s lips, so small were Nathaniel’s breaths that the seraphim couldn’t tell if his chest was moving or not. How they’d grown, how they’d changed. Too soon, Michael thought, Nathaniel you’ll be gone too soon.

“So,” Michael started, “I think you should get your own place.” He didn’t know what was going to happen in the future, but he did want the best for the other. “You’re an adult, you should find a safehouse. Somewhere you can laylow when you need it.” 

[seraphimichael]

@natemichaelson location: Rome's Ruins notes: Farewell

Rods that had kept his power under the Asphodel's control clattered as they fell now to the ground. The city had fallen, Michael had failed, and across the aether he heard the broken cry of Nathaniel crying out for him. The Great Old Ones that Michael and his family had once fought vehemently against rose once more to claim dominion over the realm again. If there had ever been any doubt, Michael and his siblings had failed Ulthar's directive utterly and completely. Now it was too late.

Dad!

Lightning erupted and then crashed to the ground a few moments later as the archangel landed. Nathaniel looked like he'd been through hell but otherwise Michael couldn't see any physical signs of injury. About them were the guts and gore of things that looked like they'd been exploded, there was an overwhelming presence of malignancy but for the moment Michael's only focus was on Nathaniel. His hands moved to the hunter's cheeks as he tilted the nephilim's gaze up towards him.

"I'm here, what is it Nathaniel, are you hurt?"

[seraphimichael]

@natemichaelson​ location: Roman Outskirts, Michaelson farmhouse notes: local father trains child soldier

Nathaniel hit the dirt once again, the subject of Michael’s training as the seraphim’s blade dissipated into the open air. As always Michael stood over him, outwardly disapproving but quietly content as he took a few steps back from the other. The barn rife with Nathaniel’s anguish, the smell of sweat and blood as the seraphim pushed the nephilim to their limits. Rome was far more dangerous than Michael had anticipated, following the events of the red wedding and Lupercalia he’d all but dragged Nathaniel from his apartment below Killjoy’s and brought him to their safe house in the countryside to laylow while the city itself recovered. 

Generally, the seraphim did not get involved with the affairs of mortals, but Michael had abandoned this creed centuries prior following the death of Damkina and Omarosa. He was carved for vengeance and justice and had settled his sights upon Rome and all those who’d been wronged within. Divine justice and fury would be the answer, he just needed to make sure that Nathaniel was prepared for what that would entail. 

“Get up.” Michael said shortly, “We’ll stop now. Rest, and pick this up after dinner.” He approached Nathaniel’s frame as he stood above him and looked down at his son who had always been more warrior than child, Michael extended his hand towards him.