Each word is like a dagger, well-aimed and sharp, the onslaught of pain almost physical. And Gabriel realises that more than half of what Michael says is true; what sort of angel is he? Steeped in humanity and tainted with their sins, he has no right to call Heaven his home any longer, or to stand before the Lord as His servant.
He has never wanted Lucifer that way. But if he has already succumbed to Gluttony and Sloth, how long can he stay away from Lust?
"Lucifer once told me that his door would always be open. I prayed that I would never approach its threshold, that I would be strong enough to keep myself in Heaven's light." But if he didn't belong in Heaven, where else could he go? Earth? He couldn't stay there forever.
"Are you casting me out, Michael?" It takes all his strength to maintain a semblance of a calm facade, and he doesn't think he is succeeding. "How long have you thought all this and kept it to yourself? I thank you for your honesty, however."
He makes to pull away from the Warrior, but pauses at the sight of those wings, so different from the light he is accustomed to. A glance at his own wings reveals that he, too, is no better, the former blue-white now the rich shades of black and dark, dark blue that paint the sky at midnight. He turns back to Michael wonderingly.
"But you have done nothing, you are not tainted. Why, then?" he gestures to the wings. "Or have I lost the right to ask that?"
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Date: Monday, 10 May 2010 04:07 (UTC)He has never wanted Lucifer that way. But if he has already succumbed to Gluttony and Sloth, how long can he stay away from Lust?
"Lucifer once told me that his door would always be open. I prayed that I would never approach its threshold, that I would be strong enough to keep myself in Heaven's light." But if he didn't belong in Heaven, where else could he go? Earth? He couldn't stay there forever.
"Are you casting me out, Michael?" It takes all his strength to maintain a semblance of a calm facade, and he doesn't think he is succeeding. "How long have you thought all this and kept it to yourself? I thank you for your honesty, however."
He makes to pull away from the Warrior, but pauses at the sight of those wings, so different from the light he is accustomed to. A glance at his own wings reveals that he, too, is no better, the former blue-white now the rich shades of black and dark, dark blue that paint the sky at midnight. He turns back to Michael wonderingly.
"But you have done nothing, you are not tainted. Why, then?" he gestures to the wings. "Or have I lost the right to ask that?"