Semi-plotted starter for @wingsxcrossroads
He truly should stop doing that, before it became a recurring thing. Or, even worse, a habit. One time had been not just enough, but also too much already and one would have expected him to learn from it, since he had just barely made it worked.
It turned out that he hadn’t, not really. He had been stupid enough not to listen to Hela and wait until he was fully recovered before going back to Earth. Look at where that had landed him. Betrayed by Loki, who had showed no hesitation to exploit his weakened state instead of offering him asylum, and straight into Asmodeus’ clutches. Both had been dealt with as they deserved, but the concept still stood.
And now he was stranded in a parallel universe, without a vessel, his Grace so reduced that he had to make an effort just to keep existing. He had no idea of what gruesome end his counterpart had met in that reality, but he had the feeling that he hadn’t been a pagan god, because that alternative version of Michael hadn’t even bothered to check if there was anything left of him.
As for Lucifer...The bastard had probably assumed that he couldn’t have managed to pull a similar trick a second time. And he couldn’t exactly blame him, because he was having a hard time to believe it too.
Gabriel shifted, his presence nothing than a mere shimmer in the many layers of the fabric that composed reality. He wasn’t even sure of how much time had passed since his second “death”. Days, perhaps weeks? It was hard to tell. Time moved differently when you were so close to dissipate into non-existence.
That wasn’t all, though. There was something else he had noticed, even if he hadn’t been able to put it into focus. The barrier between realities felt...thinner in some moments. Perhaps it was because the rip Jack had made the first time had never fully healed, or maybe it depended on the fact that the threshold had been crossed so many times in such a small period of time. He wasn’t sure and he didn’t particularly care. What he knew was that, at times, it was as if he found himself floating...somewhere else.
Like it was happening in that exact moment. He was no longer surrounded by the ruins of that fallen, rotting world, but by something more alive and yet, at the same time, that felt less real.
The fleeting thought crossed his mind, quick and ethereal as he himself was. It could be, but whose? And could he even communicate with them, when he probably looked like just a small ball of golden light? Well, everything was possible in dreams.
Someone here? I took the wrong turn...at some point. Probably a few millennia ago.
