Would Sabriel date a Gabriel who doesn't really like humans or is more apathetic to them, and maybe help them see there's still good in them and it's worth saving them?
Possibly. It depends how much of a headache you’re being for her in the meantime, and how you treat Daniel. She’s not unfamiliar with angels who see humans as a reluctant duty and little else, but she tries to eliminate that in those who work for her. It’s not an attitude she appreciates, yet she does believe it is one that grows from ignorance rather than experience and thus can be changed with exposure to humans.
However, if you resist her offers to help you learn and experience humans and their culture, she’s more likely to write you off as not worth her time. As she’s not actively looking for a relationship, you have to gain her interest through your actions.
Movie Night with Sabriel (Ko-Fi Request, silent15)
silent15 requested m!Gabriel and RO Sabriel fluff. Movie night in, Gabriel’s first time seeing the original Star Wars trilogy. Hope you enjoy it!
You can hear the microwave in the other room, and it takes a concerted effort not to get up and stand anxiously in front of it. The violent pops the microwave belches out aren’t helping. One too many melted, overcooked, and on-fire disasters with the small machine had ruined any trust the two of you might have had.
“You can stop looking like you’re waiting for the house to burn down,” Sabriel comments, sitting cross-legged on a stool and monitoring the situation. She had taken off her glasses, leaving them to rest on the counter.
Per her normal dress, she was wearing a knit sweater, this one a forest-green with stripes of mahogany worked into the pattern. A pair of jeans, worn often enough to begin to appear white around the knees, hugs her legs.
“You’re staring,” she says, never taking her eyes off the microwave. Even from your position in the living room, you can see the slight smile.
“Of course I am,” you retort. “My girlfriend let her hair down; I have to enjoy the sight when I can.”
Sabriel scoffs, but she reaches up and wraps one of the wavy strands that falls over her shoulders around a finger, slowly letting it uncoil. “Girlfriend. Sounds so… juvenile. We’re probably the oldest inhabitants of this city.”
“Oh? What should I call you then? My mate? My bonnie lass? My lover? My—”
Sabriel interrupts with a laugh. “Enough! Girlfriend is good enough. Boyfriend.” She tacks on the label at the end, ducking her chin and turning her head away.
“See, I like the sound of that. Sabriel’s boyfriend. I think it’s rather romantic.”
Sabriel jumps off her perch, yanking open the microwave door. “Cheeseball,” she tosses back, hissing as she tugs open the flaps of the popcorn. The smell of butter wafts through the room as Sabriel tosses the bag on the counter and puts in a second, flat package.
As she slams the microwave shut, she sticks the fingers of her other hand into her mouth, sucking on the tips.
Seizing the opportunity, and bored of waiting on the couch, you get up and move behind her. “Here, why don’t you let me kiss them and make it better?” you ask. It was a concept Daniel had introduced to you, in a very different context, but you didn’t see why it couldn’t be used here.
Sabriel shakes her hand, looking at you sideways. “Human saliva isn’t really going to make it better,” she states.
It’s hard not to roll your eyes at that. Grabbing her hand, you draw it to your mouth, kissing the pad of each of her fingers. She goes from being unaffected to scowling in an effort to keep the blush staining her cheeks from being noticed by the time you reach her pinkie.
“Does it still hurt?” you ask cheekily.
“No, but I didn’t really burn them. And I’m a little more resilient than the average human,” she retorts, extracting her hand and turning back to the microwave.
“Are you sure we need two bags? Daniel’s already asleep,” you comment. Tonight was the culmination of a great deal of planning—anything where you got Sabriel to yourself seemed to take more time and effort than any of the battle-plans you’ve ever had to draw up.
“Love, I’m fond of you, but if you eat my share of the popcorn, there will be a war. We have three movies to get through tonight, and we need to stick to the schedule because I am going to make you watch the prequels. Anakin is a little git, but Padme has to be one of the best additions to the franchise. Plus, I admit I’m a bit of a sucker for Liam Neeson, and his role as Qui-Gon will make me cry. Everytime. And we can’t forget Obi-Wan, especially when he has to put up with the bloody knob of an actor that they used for Anakin in two and three. Plus, the origin of Boba Fett—ah, there I go again.”
Sabriel starts to raise a hand to her mouth, but you catch it. “You don’t need to censor yourself or be nervous around me,” you tell her, gently twining your fingers with hers. “And you should give your poor nails a break.”
She elbows you, and you let out a dramatic oof than has her biting her lip to stifle a chuckle. “Don’t be nervous, the archangel says. Nutter.”
“You’ve seen me almost set the house on fire cooking,” you retort. “You can’t honestly try to tell me that my station is still some barrier to overcome. You certainly weren’t bothered by it when we first met.”
Sabriel pulls a face. “I’ve apologized for my behavior for that night,” she states.
“Actually, I don’t think you ever did,” you muse, tilting your head to one side.
Sabriel leans back against you, digging in her bony elbow. “I’m sure I did,” she says, the perfectly polite veneer disguising her physical jab.
“No, no, I’m sure I would remember—” Sabriel turns in your arms, exasperated.
“Just can it,” she states, and kisses you. It’s quick, a fleeting touch of lips before she’s pulling away.
“Hmm, maybe I remember something,” you say thoughtfully, concealing your grin as Sabriel’s eyes narrow. Goading her never fails to remove the stiff formality that sometimes overtakes her, a yoke around her neck that she can’t always shake on her own.
“Oh really? Let me guess, another kiss might be just what you need to recall better,” she tosses out.
You shrug your shoulders. “If that is your recommendation, my lady. I am a firm believer in a kiss making everything better, after all.”
“I shouldn’t reward you for this kind of behavior,” Sabriel says, her lips hovering over yours. “Might lead to repeat performances, and you are insufferable enough as is,” she adds, poking your side.
“You wound me,” you breathe back, waiting for her. The corners of her eyes wrinkle in a genuine smile as she closes the distance between your lips, kissing you softly, gently, a teasing taste before she pulls away.
“Don’t seem to be incapacitated to me,” she states. Then she sniffs, and her eyes go wide.
“Fu—” She cuts herself off and shoves you away. Whirling, she yanks open the microwave. Smoke curls out, accompanied by the acrid scent of burnt popcorn.
“Nothing worse than the smell of burnt popcorn,” she wails, taking in the singed package. Hanging her head in defeat, she lets out a heavy sigh.
“Turn on the fans, open the windows. I’ll get another bag out after I take this outside. You do not want to throw away popcorn in the inside bin. That smell never leaves.”
Rubbing her back, you decide the best course of action is to remain silent and do as she asks. A few minutes later most of the air is cleared, helped along by a lemon-scented breeze that has you arching an eyebrow at the other angel.
“I thought Grace was for emergency use only.”
Sabriel glares at you as she stuffs another bag in the microwave and punches in some random time. “The smell of burnt popcorn counts. Besides, I’m not about to let anything ruin my movie night with my boyfriend,” she states, before viciously opening the already cooked bag and upending it in a bowl.
You wisely decide not to comment. She had already been in a bad enough mood when she arrive, three hours later than was planned. Not to mention she had forgotten her copies of the original Star Wars trilogy.
Luckily, you had made sure to pick up the movies, with Daniel’s assistance. Seeing as they were some of Sabriel’s favorite media to talk about, you had thought it would be a nice surprise. She had almost cried when she saw that you were prepared, tired and wrung out by work. The popcorn had been her way of reasserting control and calming down while you set up the film.
“Go into the living room. I’ll be done shortly, and it’ll be better without a certain someone distracting me,” she states, turning her attention back to the microwave and leaning against the counter.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say, a subtle reminder that she’s slipped into her authoritative role. Not that you always mind, but she doesn’t often intend to.
“Please, luv,” she adds, tossing you a weak smile in thanks.
You settle onto the couch, stretching out your legs. Sabriel likes to curl against you, tangling legs and using you as a pillow. It might not be the most comfortable position, but you don’t complain. Not when she relaxes against you, drawing lazy circles across your chest, her toes flexing against your legs.
Getting Sabriel relaxed is an art form, one that you are starting to get the hang-of, but you still have a long way to go before mastering it. Which is fine by you. You can see yourself happily spending centuries becoming an expert in what your guardian angel likes and dislikes. It’s strange, the idea that without this assignment you might have never met her. Not face-to-face, anyways.
She’s become such a bright spot in your life that imagining it without her is—unpleasant.
The air leaves your body in a forceful exhalation as Sabriel plops down, half on the couch and half on you. You hadn’t even noticed the microwave go off.
“Okay, popcorn, movie, blanket—” she reaches up and tugs the last item off the back of the couch, throwing it over your legs.
“And boyfriend about to be exposed to the wonder that is Star Wars for the first time. Let’s go.
“Why are we starting with Episode Four?” you ask after the opening crawl, trying to digest all the information the scrolling yellow text had imparted.
“Because that’s the first one made. Not that it originally had the episode number when it was first released. That was a later edition. Anyways, it goes four, five, six, then one through three. Probably do Rogue One after we finish episode, then the last trilogy. Solo isn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. It can certainly wait. Plus the—you know what, focus on one movie at a time.”
“It seems like there’s a lot of them. When do you find the time to watch all them? I hardly get to see you as it is.”
“When I’m not being distracted by kissing my annoying boyfriend, I am an excellent multitasker,” she retorts. “Plus, being aware of popular culture is one of the best ways to fit it. I went to one of the original screenings for this, which was years go. Now shush!”
A fanfare plays, and the words a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... appear on screen.
“Wait a second, this is set in the past? I thought science-fiction was futuristic?”
“Five seconds, and a question. Just go with it! It’s not like it’s absurd, given some of the places you’ve been, I’m sure.”
A yellow block of text begins scrolling across the screen. “Evil Galactic Empire? Not biasing the audience at all.”
Sabriel throws popcorn over her shoulder at your face. You catch it as it falls, and pop it into your mouth. At least the movie begins with action. The imposing figure dressed in black quickly distinguishes himself as the primary villain by choking a man to death.
“That golden droid is rather insulting, isn’t he?” you murmur, holding a piece of popcorn up to Sabriel’s lips.
“I don’t know, I think ‘mindless philosopher’ is an excellent retort. Perhaps one I should start applying to you?” she asks. She shifts, trying to find the best spot to rest her head. “Now just watch.”
The little Jawas remind you of some of the goblins you’ve met at the fae court, constantly tinkering and not to be trusted. You watch quietly as the droids are picked up by a moisture farmer, and the plot thickens as the hologram plays.
“So Old Ben Kenobi is—is that the Obi-Wan you were talking about?”
You play with Sabriel’s hair, your attention split between the movie and your girlfriend, who had made a good dent on demolishing the popcorn.
“Yes, but not this version. Not to say that old Obi-Wan isn’t still great, but he’s not Ewan McGregor.”
“Should I be jealous?” you tease, snagging some pieces of popcorn before her questing fingers snare them.
“What?” Sabriel looks confused.
“Well, you keep talking about these guys—”
Sabriel snorts. “Fictional characters,” she interjects.
“Fictional characters played by flesh-and-blood humans,” you continue.
“Fictional character played by powerless humans in a universe where some of them have an ability to tap into the Force, a power which can control the minds of the weak, be used to wreak havoc—the darkside of the Force—or heal, lift rocks, deflect bullets…”
“In other words, it’s Grace.”
Sabriel opens her mouth to dispute the point, and the shuts it. “You might have a point,” she says begrudgingly. “But we can discuss it later. Talk too much and you’re going to miss the best lines.”
“You’ve probably said them all.”
“Shh!”
It takes effort not to burst into laughter when Obi-Wan, or Old Ben, or whatever name he goes by waves his hand and the Stormtrooper ignores the droid. “Are you sure that the creator of this film never met an angel?” you ask, wrapping an arm around Sabriel’s waist.
“Are you asking me if I had anything to do with this?” she asks softly back, turning her head to speak against your jaw.
“Would you tell me if you did?”
“I can’t take credit for anything to do with Star Wars, though I may be able to confirm that Lucas might have had a guard on him for a while. My job means that I oversee; I don’t get to take cases anymore.”
“Except for Daniel,” you murmur.
“Yes, you are an exception. In a lot of ways,” she adds, kissing your cheek before turning her attention back to the movie.
The main crew grows, adding a roguish smuggler and a tall, furry alien that reminds you of a brownie—if brownies stood well over two meters in height. You can’t understand a word of the creature’s language, a rare experience given your Babylon matrix, but the party banter clarifies when needed.
“So, this is where you got flyboy from. Has nothing to do with me being an angel.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t have anything to do with you being an angel. It’s accurate, either way,” Sabriel says sweetly, rattling the kernels in the bowl as she scrounges for any intact pieces of popcorn.
“I suppose Han is considered charming, in his own way.”
“Fishing for a compliment there, flyboy?”
“Depends.”
“Maybe I should switch to calling you a walking carpet.”
“Hey, no need to bring Chewbacca into it.”
“You’re right. That’s not fair to him.” Sabriel gives you a look that would work if she had her glasses on to look over. As it is, it’s adorable, but not the no-nonsense appearance she’s going for. You drop a kiss on her forehead.
“If I’m flyboy, I’m pretty sure that makes you princess.”
Sabriel lifts a shoulder. “Just remember, this princess doesn’t miss.”
You’re a little surprised when they make plans to take down the Death Star. Since it was a trilogy, you had half-assumed that the Death Star would be the ultimate challenge, especially since it had taken out an entire planet.
You suppose there are the rest of the Imperials to overthrow. Plus, if there’s another trilogy following this one, clearly the evil Galactic Empire doesn’t stay down for good.
“He’s not really going to leave, is he?” You can’t help the incredulity in your voice, watching Han plan to leave the rebels to their attack. “He’s supposed to be one of the best pilots there is, and he’s just going to walk away? And I thought he liked Leia.”
“It’s not over yet,” Sabriel says, squeezing your arm.
You don’t know how you got so invested in the movie, but you’re almost on the edge of the couch, watching raptly as Luke shuts off his sensors, trusting in the Force as he goes after the Death Star’s vulnerability.
It’s a relief as the planet-killer explodes, your favorite characters making it out unscathed. Not that you had doubted they would. A silly grin crosses your face as Leia places medals around Han and Luke’s neck.
“I’m going to have to remember that wink,” you say to Sabriel, nibbling on her ear. She smacks your thigh.
“You think you can pull it off? I’m not sure you’ve got quite the roguish charm required,” she teases, sitting up.
“There’s two more of them to go tonight?”
Sabriel turns to you, eyes gleaming. “Yes.” She hesitates, and sighs.
“If you want to. Given that I was later than planned, it’s understandable if you would rather not.” She says the words, ostensibly giving you an out, but you can see how eager she is to continue.
Neither of you technically require sleep, though since you occupy a shell, and Sabriel runs herself ragged, rest should be taken when the opportunity arises.
“Maybe one more. Have to have some reason to keep you coming back,” you say, capturing her wrist as she gets up to put the next movie in.
Sabriel’s expression softens as she sits back down on your lap. “I’ve got all the reason I need right here,” she states.
You lean forward, kissing her. She tastes of butter and salt, warm and familiar. Too soon she pulls away, chuckling.
“It’s a shame, though. I was really hoping we’d get through Return of the Jedi.” She leans into your ear. “I have my guilty pleasures, and among them include these conventions humans hold. Going in costume is a lot of fun. I’ve done a few of them over the years, but I can’t show you my collection until you’ve seen them all in the movies.”
Your eyebrows shoot up as Sabriel gets up, setting up the next movie. “You run around dressed as Leia? I wouldn’t have thought it was your style.”
“A rebel leader, who you will see, is perfectly capable of taking care of herself? Nothing in common at all.”
“Not sure you count as a rebel leader,” you tease as she walks back, repositioning yourself and moving the popcorn bowl to the coffee table.
“There’s no evil Galactic Empire, either.” She counters. “But my cosplay would be even better if I had a Han to my Leia.”
“Oh really?”
“We haven’t gotten to the part where she says I love you, so don’t be getting so full of yourself yet.” She wags a finger in your face, her grin belittling the scolding.
“Well, we could practice.” You throw in a waggle of your eyebrows for good measure, enjoying the way Sabriel struggles to keep a neutral expression.
“Only if you’re dressed as Han will I let you slide with responding ‘I know’ to I love you,” Sabriel warns.
“He is a little bit of a cocky bastard, isn’t he? Kill her or like her, I think Han put it before the garbage chute?” You pull her down on top of you. “Besides, I think I’d prefer to respond with I love you too.”
“Aren’t you the romantic,” she huffs, leaning forward to bump foreheads with you. It’s not as intimate in the shell, much of your Grace locked away behind barriers and therefore not escaping your mouth to mingle with Sabriel’s citrus scented Grace, but it’s still a tender moment.
“But I do think there are some strong parallels. For instance, I’m pretty sure you would have happily strangled me when we first met.”
“Not worth the paperwork,” Sabriel responds, curling herself around you and hitting the play button. “And Leia never tried to strangle Han.”
“Yet. You said there’s two more movies to go. Anything could happen,” you add, securing your arms around her and resting your chin on her shoulder.
“Well, she strangles someone. But you’ll just have to wait and see who. And if you make it through the movies, I might just let you pick one of my Leia outfits out for a private showing.”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure the princess has much on you,” you murmur as another opening crawl works its way across the screen.
“You are sweet. But you be surprised by how fun it can be to throw in a little, um, roleplay.” The dim light from the TV isn’t enough to show her face, but you can feel how tense she’s gotten. Interesting. She does have some fantasies of her own.
“I might be able to make that work. Play the dashing scoundrel rescuing the princess.”
Sabriel shifts position, digging into your stomach in the process. “Watch who saves who, flyboy. And the deal only counts if you stay awake. If I catch you sleeping, the offer is null and void.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint. Maybe we can make it through one more after this tonight.” You kiss her cheek, and settle in for another round, feeling content and at peace.
Since a Gabriel in the shell can have children with Ramiel/Aelius, I assume the same applies to the angel ROs? How would a romanced Michael react to a pregnant Gabe? Like, it's THEIR child, they are going to be parents! But on the other hand, the child is (going to be) a nephilim, and an archangel's duty demands that all nephilims are to be destroyed. ((pls drown me in angst))
Yes, technically (pre-merge, anyways).
Sabriel and Michael wouldn’t. It’s not just a question of them being children–they are insane monstrosities who can and will kill Gabriel or their other parent without any thought. There would be no joy in either of them, only horror. Nephilim have to be destroyed. It’s not about want. ((From their perspectives, which may or may not be flawed.)) Furthermore, it’s likely that the pregnancy alone would kill Gabriel. If it somehow did happen, Michael and Sabriel would destroy them, quietly, and if necessary, without Gabriel’s permission.
I keep thinking about how a Hongi is the perfect tactical position for a surprise kiss, how would Michael, Ramiel and Sabriel react if Gabriel did that?
Michael would be shocked, and probably end up smacking Gabriel in the nose with his head.
Ramiel would chuckle. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”
Sabriel would shake her head, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. “Should have seen that one coming.”
The Sabriel answer on the sacrifice or run ask made me go through alot of emotions in .03 seconds cuz I was not at all expecting how that ended.
I feel accomplished now. Sabriel is supposed to be one of the more enigmatic and surprising characters when it comes down to knowing everything about her. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and a Gabriel she loves is going to be protective. Therefore she assumes they won’t leave her behind, so she takes that possibility out of the equation.
Sabriel lives expecting to give her life up for the greater good. It’s just a question of when, to her mind.
Most ppl dislike cuz it seems for every option we choose, she will always have something to criticise us for, or be mean to. Im sure youll be able to turn our hearts around! Just like with michael!
I hope so! I just find it interesting that given the whole Michael deal (I mean, how many of the people who are now interested in romancing him wanted to beat him prior to the new scenes? I know there were at least a few of you) some people are still ready to kill Sabriel.
Granted, first impressions are important, but there’s a lot going on with her side of the story that won’t be readily apparent. Believe it or not, Sabriel is actually one of the first characters to be fully developed, and suffice it to say, her background doesn’t lead to her being the most optimistic of angels anymore.
Idealism when faced with reality does not always come away unscathed.
