Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

...Seraphs are the result of a human soul reaching the peak of its holy potential. Virtues that show a particularly strong dedication to God’s cause have the potential to be picked out and promoted to the position of Seraph. They are rewarded with new bodies and higher-status tasks that often consist of working directly for the supreme Archangels, typically in the form of duties such as bodyguards and messengers.

To be made visually distinct from their Archangel colleagues, Seraphs are clad in black and silver armour rather than white and gold, and appear to be much larger on average. It is theorised that this difference in mass is a result of attempting to accommodate the still-human soul that Seraphs carry, as their bodies have been gifted to them rather than the ones they would have formed themselves as Virtues.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT 

Another day had passed under Heaven’s cerulean skies. No matter the month, season, or year, the consistency of the sun and moon would forever remain in their consistent cycle.

Icarus didn't care to think about it all too much. He had stopped keeping track of the time aeons ago.

Gentle moonlight glimmered off of his silver armour, enhancing the polished glow of the metal. His gaze locked onto the moon itself, watching as it gradually rose into the sky.

He found it rather hard to stave away his restlessness without company. While the peace of these night shifts was nice, the empty solitude often drowned it out before he could enjoy it.

At least while on his lonesome, he could get away with slacking off more than he would in the presence of another Seraph.

He idly spun his zweihander in his hands, humming a sweet-noted melody to himself. 

He disliked these guard duties the most, he thought to himself – he considered them of little worth. What was the purpose in stationing defence in a place where no citizen would dare to even think of breaking law? Surely, his presence could be of more use elsewhere. 

That was not for him to decide. This was a duty bestowed upon him by higher power, and he was to adhere to it without question. 

He knew that. He was fine with that. He was more than willing to act his due-diligence under the Father’s will.

-And yet, that rationale did not still his restless hands.

Icarus firmly planted the tip of his zweihander’s blade back into the ground as he clocked the moon rising past a certain point in the sky. 

His shift was almost over – another Seraph would be coming to relinquish him at any moment now. He needed to at least appear orderly.

Sure enough, soon another silver-clad angel would announce their presence with the metallic thunking of their boots against the ground. With a wordless exchange of polite nods, their positions were swapped, and Icarus was then free to leave.

He held in his sigh of relief until he was out of earshot. 

Dedication to God’s plan was one thing. The incessant boredom that came with aspects of it was another.

Icarus slept poorly. It was difficult to sleep well when all he could think about was what he would be doing once he was back up on his feet.

The need to rest was an unfortunate lingering side effect of possessing a human soul. Seraphs were allocated enough spare time to remedy this fact, though some would ignore these breaks entirely to exacerbate their passion towards the Father’s word.

Icarus found that a little overkill. Granted, he too would avoid breaks if he was feeling spry enough – though he still knew his limits, and wouldn't push himself beyond the threshold of stability. 

God wouldn't have wanted him to do so, anyway. Even if the heart was willing, the body must rest – lest the Lord’s creation be squandered.

Icarus stretched briefly before donning his armour. There was a long day ahead, so he relished in the freedom of his uncovered form before the restrictive metal plating was placed upon it.

He slipped on his gauntlets, curling his fingers and listening to the metal of his finger plating creak. 

A gut feeling urged him; perhaps he should pray before leaving, today.

Taking a one-kneed stance before a stained glass window, he brought one hand to his chest – laying it over his heart. Early morning sunbeams shone their rays through the glass, the light refracting off of his armour in prismatic hues.

“O Father, bestow upon me your infinite grace. I hope for your guidance in the trials and tribulations I may experience henceforth, in which your kindness may show me a gentle path forward. My gratitude towards you, always.”

After a moment of silence followed by a conclusory nod, he pushed himself back into an upright stance. A comforting warmth swirled inside of him as the gentle sunbeams caught the still-exposed skin of his neck.

Perhaps his gut had misjudged. The day ahead didn’t feel quite so foreboding anymore.

Gabriel.

Icarus just barely bit back a displeasured groan upon reading the name.

He knew he had been scheduled to work under an Archangel for the next few days – and Gabriel was the Archangel he had been least desiring to see his name under.

It was nothing against the aptly named Righteous Hand of The Father – Gabriel himself was pleasant enough to be around. It was more so the calibre of work that came with working alongside him, as well as the crowd he typically garnered – especially after the Archangel’s recently appointed title of ‘Judge of Hell.’

Most Seraphs were rightly ecstatic to be granted the opportunity of working beside Heaven’s brightest angel, though Icarus found himself adverse to this energy. It always became a game of his silver colleagues trying to ‘one-up’ each other with their duties in front of the Archangel in a pitiful attempt to impress him, garnering little of Gabriel’s interest and acknowledgment in return. 

Icarus found the charade irritating. He was much older than a lot of other Seraphs – he had been accustomed to this song and dance for quite some time, and knew the Archangels didn’t think nearly high enough of most Seraphs to want to dedicate time to evaluating and praising them for their individual worth. Seraphs were chosen to become as such for their exceptional ability to serve, and there was no point to be found in attempting to exacerbate something that was your only worth of relevance to an Archangel.

Regardless, the younger Seraphs would always remain arrogant in their gratuitous displays of confidence. He had learned to pay them no mind.

Icarus stood with his back against the wall, gaze tilted downwards. Some Seraphs were grouped together in conversation a ways away from him, with a few other individuals scattered about the area awaiting Gabriel’s arrival. There were maybe a dozen in total – a usual approximate number for a task such as a Hell expedition. 

Icarus tried not to dwell on the possibility, but it was more than likely. Gabriel took care of most jobs involving Hell, and it was not uncommon for troops of Seraphs to join him in such endeavours. 

The problem that arose with this was that Icarus was not particularly fond of visiting Hell, nor the work that was typically paired with such a trip. It was the kind of job that almost made him miss the monotony of standing around guarding some building of semi-importance for little reason.

A shard of dread wormed its way into his stomach, digging into his psyche uncomfortably. He fiddled with the belt of his skirt, attempting to stave away the feeling for the time being.

Fortunately, his attention was soon drawn up and away from his own thoughts as a cacophanous bang and flash of light lit the area that could only signal the appearance of the Righteous Hand of The Father.

“Good morning!” 

Gabriel announced cheerfully with a clasp of his hands and a bow of his head. All Seraphs in presence, Icarus included, straightened their postures and mirrored the Archangel’s head-bow.

“My apologies for the late entrance – I had to do some last minute preparations that took up a little more time than I thought it would. Now, it seems as if you’ve all already prepared yourselves aptly, so I’ll get straight to the debriefing.”

That was one thing Icarus enjoyed about working under Gabriel, at least; He was very forthright and got to the point as quickly and clearly as possible. It was always neat and orderly when it came to his directions – a beat that settled well with Icarus' inner rhythm.

The debriefing did confirm exactly what he was not hoping to hear, though; that this was indeed an expedition into Hell. In the wake of the collapse of the Lust renaissance and the death of the previous Judge of Hell, King Minos, many husks belonging to the layer were lashing out and causing issues that Virtues could no longer solely deal with. Their job was to step in and reiterate Heaven’s authority.

If Icarus had the power to avoid these tasks entirely, he would have done so without hesitation. Merely traversing through Hell was already bad enough, with having to block out the sheer oppressive suffering that plagued Hell’s atmosphere at a base level – actively contributing to that suffering with a job such as this was ten steps worse. 

No matter. Icarus had done it before, and he could do it again.

The troop dispatched without a hitch, summoning themselves to the layer of Lust at an approximate position. With only some minor displacement from some of the more inexperienced Seraphs who were clearly overexcited, the angels were able to convene with little issue. 

Icarus could already feel himself begin to dissociate his mind from his body. The less he would be able to recall about his actions, the better.

For the will of the Father. He would repeat to himself in silent prayer, to justify the extinguishment of the souls that may meet their end at the tip of his blade this day. They were only sinners – they would mean little more to him than numbers in the future. 

He felt his stomach twist – tightening the sensation of unease in his abdomen enough for him to flinch and bring a hand to it.

Focus, Icarus. You know there is no room for empathy down here.

The next thing he knew was the sensation of his blade cleaving flesh. A husk had leaped at him, and he had sliced it in half with his zweihander with just an instinctual flick of his hand. He hadn't even realised he had carried out the action until a few droplets of the following spray of blood had splattered against his exposed neck. 

Most of the Seraphs were already in the thick of it, tearing through the horde of aggressive husks like water to an anthill. Gabriel, like him, had not moved much from the site of convergence – taking a more watchful position at their higher elevation.

The other Seraphs had been eager to display themselves, screaming ahead with their holy vows of righteousness and making a show of their power. Gabriel meanwhile, while certainly capable on his lonesome, had been left with none directly at his side to uphold his safety. 

Icarus happily took up this open position of protection. He would much prefer keeping his attention focused on an act of defense rather than offense.

Keeping within close radius of the Archangel, Icarus only swiped away the husks that came up close and tried to get a bite out of the Righteous Hand from his blind-spot angles. With only the two of them fighting off this front of the onslaught, both caught a few nicks and scratches on their armour from the husks that were able to slip through the cracks. It was an irritating, but manageable amount. 

Icarus’ head snapped towards a husk that had managed to weasel its way between himself and Gabriel. In the split second before his subsequent reaction, he tracked the husk lining up a shot to the back of the Archangel’s neck.

His zweihander swung around with an audible swoosh, cleanly decapitating the husk a mere moment before it was able to land its hit. The tip of the blade just barely grazed Gabriel’s neck; not enough to draw blood, but just enough to be felt.

The Archangel brought a hand up to the back of his neck, his head turning to look over his shoulder a moment later.

Icarus dragged his zweihander back towards himself, meeting Gabriel’s gaze.

“Watch yourself.”

A mindless comment; both a warning and a mild scold.

Gabriel merely nodded his thanks in response. The gaze was quickly broken as both returned to pushing back against the waves of husks that lapped up against them.

It wasn't much longer before the husks would begin to retreat. These types of conflicts never lasted long. 

The virtuous cries of the more boisterous Seraphs did have value in the form of intimidation; the power of their words rekindling the fear of God into the hearts and minds of Hell’s sinners as his angels punished them for fighting against his will.

Icarus was unable to fully conceal the sigh of relief that escaped him when he was finally able to put his zweihander to rest in its sheath. His hands were drenched in enough blood for it to have soaked through the fabric of his gauntlets. 

Once the husks had been reduced to a state of acceptable passivity, the frontline Seraphs relinquished their assault and returned to the site of convergence. Gabriel then sheathed his own blades, placing his hands on his hips now that they were free.

“Well done, soldiers. You fought valiantly.” Gabriel praised the group before him with a dramatic gesticulation. “I thank you on behalf of the Father for your effort.”

A few more phrases of praise followed that Icarus didn't pay attention to. His mind was honed in on how much he was looking forward to washing the now-drying, uncomfortably sticky blood from his hands.

Icarus found himself once again with his back against the wall – arms crossed as he leaned his head against his own pauldron, staring out at nothing. He didn't exactly like lingering at the celebratory ‘after-parties’ of bombastic tasks such as the one just committed, but felt an obligation to stay for at least the bulk of it. He did enjoy the occasional chat he managed to catch with another angel though, and this was one of the few environments where he was able to, so sticking around for a while wasn't all that bad.

Luck was on his side on this front, as he was indeed approached for conversation; though not at all by an angel that he was expecting to initiate it.

“Ah- Hello, there.”

Icarus turned to face the source of the voice. His head tilted to the side minutely out of bewilderment and a bit of intrigue as to who he saw standing before him. 

“..Hello, Gabriel.”

“I wanted to thank you personally for staying with me back there. I think I would've gotten quite overwhelmed if I was left to my lonesome.”

Gabriel placed a hand to his own chest, extending the other in a gesture of gratitude.

Icarus found this rather odd. Archangels had never typically cared enough to go out of their way to express individual thanks to any below their own status, from what he knew. 

Regardless, he was willing to entertain this.

“Think nothing of it. I know that the younger Seraphs can get a bit too eager when it comes to running into the frontlines and showing themselves off, so I merely held in place to help keep some of the weight off your back.”

“Yes, indeed – their eagerness is endearing certainly, but it can be to their detriment if there’s all too much of it.” 

Gabriel laughed. Icarus didn't.

“On another note – Your blade looked gorgeous, from what I was able to catch of it. May I have a closer look?”

Gabriel stave away any awkwardness that may have lingered by moving forward without skipping a beat.

“Oh- of course.”

Icarus didn't mind showing off his zweihander at all. It was indeed beautiful; its polished silver blade gleaming in the sunlight as he pulled it from the sheath on his back. The base of the blade was decorated with winged and feathered decals of a darker metal; carved patterns swirling up the blade's shaft. Icarus presented it in front of himself stoically. 

Gabriel leaned down to study it closely, an impressed whistle echoing out from his helmet.

“Magnificent.” He awed, lightly running a hand across the length of the blade, tracing the etched patterning. “Does it have a name?”

Icarus shifted his hand to the hilt of the zweihander, turning the blade until a word burned into the leather of the grip became visible.

“Rhapsody.” 

He mirrored the written word with his voice as he rapped his fingers over the text.

“A beautiful title. Suits it well, too.” Gabriel replied, nodding attentively. After a moment more of ogling at the weapon, his gaze returned back upwards to meet Icarus’.

“Do you know who smithed this fine armament? I may have to bring Justice and Splendour to them for a bit of attention.”

Icarus felt a spark of pride ignite within his chest.

“Fortunately, you’re looking right at him.”

“Oh! Am I now? Well then, I’m glad you already know how impressed I am with your work here.”

Gabriel laughed again. This time, Icarus let out a small chuckle, too. 

“Thank you.” 

Icarus placed a hand to his chest and bowed his head.

“I’d be honoured to do work on Justice and Splendour, if you’ll indulge me.”

Gabriel clasped his hands together in delight.

“Splendid! May I get your name so that I’m able to track you down at a later time and take you up on that offer?”

“Icarus.”

“Icarus! Yes- I recognise your name from my roster. You’ve been around for quite a while, haven’t you?”

“Indeed I have. I’d describe myself as ‘weathered,’ so to speak.”

Gabriel chuckled. 

“I think ‘experienced’ may be a more apt descriptor – you certainly proved as such in Lust back there, and your exceptional smithing work only fuels that fire.”

Icarus felt a bit of warmth rush to his face. He felt almost lightheaded – all the tension left over from the day's events dissipating from his mind for a fleeting moment.

He brought a hand to the back of his neck, a little flustered by the sudden bout of attention.

“You flatter me.”

“Well, I think that it’s flattery well deserved.”

Gabriel held their gaze for maybe just a second longer than comfortable to do so before breaking it away.

“Ah- I’d best be off, for now. Still a busy day ahead for me. I’ll see you here tomorrow for the next stage of our assignment, alright?"

Icarus nodded curtly, slotting Rhapsody back into its sheathe.

“See you then.”

Just before Gabriel fully turned away, he looked to Icarus once more.

“It was lovely to properly meet you, Icarus.”

Icarus felt that pleasant warmth seep back up into his head again.

“..And you, Gabriel.”

That was strange. Was all Icarus could conclude from that interaction.

It had been so peculiar that it was distracting him from the remainder of his duties for the day.

Never in his millennia's worth of time working in Heaven had an Archangel greeted him with such intrigue and kindness – let alone the Righteous Hand of The Father himself. Granted, Gabriel was indeed known for acts of that note – though that typically came from reverence spun by lesser angels and younger Seraphs who revered him almost as much as the God that delicately crafted him. Icarus had never expected such an interaction to take place, and could not have been taken more off-guard by it.

He was still thinking about it by the time he entered his abode and peeled his armour from his body. Only then was he jarringly reminded of the morning's events by some dried blood still caked into the seams of the metal.

Right. That had happened that day, too. And more of it awaited him in the next day.

Despite the reminder of the further carnage that lay ahead of him, he found himself dreading the upcoming few days a little less now that Gabriel had extended a bit of warmth towards him. He had, for the most part, just been letting himself drift upon the surface of Heaven's raging rapids for far too long now – a change of pace in the form of an unlikely connection was nothing short of a light in the darkness.

Icarus fondly replayed their conversation in his head, less concerned about the intricacies of it all than he was interested in what was to come next – and how he could further improve the already impressive blades wielded by the Righteous Hand. 

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

...One of the more notable Seraphs goes by the name Icarus, who is one of the eldest Seraphs according to what can be recovered of Heaven’s records. His veteran-like status has gained him some notoriety, primarily in the form of his prolific blacksmithing. Many weapons wielded and armour worn by other Seraphs and even some Archangels are of his work. 

Despite the passive admiration he has garnered from his peers, he appears to prefer keeping out of the spotlight. Due to this, little is known about his personality or motivations beyond word of mouth. 

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT 

Icarus shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he thrusted Rhapsody forwards through the air. Practice swings did not often take part in his routine – he was confident enough in his capability to not feel the need to further hone a perfectly polished skillset – though yesterday’s events had spurred him on to do so regardless. The audible cleave of the air before him was a satisfying noise, either way. He could never tire of it.

He had always considered battle as more of an art form than a means of offense – a display of long-trained manoeuvres that made his heavy greatsword look as graceful as a rapier was a personal feat far more impressive to him than any act of violence that could be caused by such an action.

As he slotted Rhapsody into its sheath adorned on his back and prepared to depart for the day, he caught himself thinking; I wonder if Gabriel thinks the same?

He supposed there would be no harm in asking at some point.

The earth-shattering sound of reality bending to accommodate the presence of a teleporting Archangel had never gotten easier on the senses. Icarus’ grip on his own forearms tightened marginally in response to the brief assault to his auditorials. 

“Good morning, squadron!”

Gabriel’s cheerful voice uplifted the atmosphere almost palpably; as if his mere voice extended a physical warmth to it. Icarus felt his grip relax in turn. 

“Let’s get right to it then – Not much difference in our task for today, just focused on a different location. I expect nothing less than the exceptional work of yesterday, however! The Council wants to see an effort that would make the Father proud.”

Icarus felt a touch of dread start to prickle at his spine again. 

The same task. More slaughter was to be had. Joy.

He was zoned out for the rest of Gabriel’s motivational spiel – only pulled out from his own mind when a harmonious flash of light signalled the group’s mass-teleportation. 

The area was already a warzone by the time he had completed his self-transportation. A harsh shadow cast upon their point of convergence quickly drew his gaze upwards, where he was greeted with the sight of King Minos’ colossal parasite-ridden corpse. It was in conflict with a crowd of Lust’s residential husks that were presumably making an attempt to prevent it from further desecrating the city. 

The eager frontline Seraphs had already drawn their weapons, announcing themselves with a warcry before charging forth.

Icarus held back once again as the rest of the Seraphs spread their assault outwards, keeping an eye out for the gleam of golden armour in his peripherals. He was sure Gabriel wouldn’t mind a repeat of the previous day’s rhythm.

Once he was located, Icarus briefly conjured his wings for a single flap to aid the leap he took towards the Archangel. He drew Rhapsody mid-jump, slamming it into the ground as he landed to announce his presence.

Gabriel’s helm turned towards him.

“Ah, hello there! Come to act as my bodyguard again, have you?”

Icarus huffed a one-note laugh. 

“Can’t be too careful with that behemoth around."

He shrugged a pauldron towards the corpse of King Minos. 

“I was hoping you would stay back again for that exact reason, actually. The Council informed me that we would most likely run into it today since we’re convening in the heart of the city, but I wasn’t quite expecting it to be right on top of us immediately. A second set of eyes on the lookout is much appreciated.” 

Icarus nodded curtly at him before returning his gaze outwards. The point of the group’s convergence was atop a fairly tall half-intact building, which the rest of the angels had leaped from upon entry; Only Icarus and Gabriel remained there, safe from attack until they were inevitably noticed by the husks below.

Both angels merely watched the conflict for a moment; their heads synchronously reeling back in distaste as the corpse of King Minos slammed a heel down onto an unfortunate husk, crushing it like a bug.

“..Those fledglings will have to be careful, or they’ll be turned into a fine red paste too.” Icarus chided, hissing out a disapproving tsch as one of his silver compatriots weaved dangerously through the gargantuan corpse’s legs.

Gabriel snorted.

“Come now, they’re only excited. I can’t blame them.”

The Archangel’s gaze trailed up to Icarus’ helm inquisitively.

“Surely you would have been just as thrilled to partake in such a task at their age.”

Icarus shrugged.

“Perhaps I would have. That time’s long since passed, though. The prospect of merely serving as closely under the Father’s will as I do is enough to keep me satisfied on the field nowadays.”

Gabriel hummed in agreement. 

“That’s a good mindset to have. There’s no need to try and go out of your way to impress anyone when you’ve already impressed the Father enough to gain the position of Seraph, I suppose.”

And against all odds, I still somehow managed to impress you. Icarus thought to himself. 

Gabriel seemed to have a thought of similar calibre, as he pivoted the conversation by eyeing Rhapsody; the handle of which was being firmly grasped by both of Icarus’ hands, and the tip of its blade planted between his boots.

“Do you think I could bring over Justice and Splendour to your place of work this afternoon? I have a window of free time then to come and drop them by.”

“Oh, sure – though the time of completion depends on what work you want done to them. You didn't specify when expressing interest yesterday.”

“Ah, only a bit of glamourising.”

Gabriel patted the handles of the sheathed swords attached to his belt.

“They’re perfectly capable blades, but I just think they could do with a bit of a visual touchup.”

Icarus nodded.

“That’s very doable. You could leave them with me overnight, and I'll have them done by dawn. Does that work for you?”

His tone was flat and professional, though expressed enough intrigue to not come across as wholly cold.

“That sounds wonderful! Where exactly may I find you once I’m available this afternoon?”

“Fourth sphere, just behind the gardens and beside the sixth grand cathedral. I have an outdoor workshop – it’s hard to miss.”

Fourth sphere. Behind the gardens. Beside the cathedral.

Easy enough instructions, though Icarus was beginning to worry he may have been a bit too vague with them. The late-afternoon sky was beginning to dull into a dusty purple as the sun threatened to dip below Heaven's horizon – and there was still no sign of the Archangel.

No matter. Gabriel had likely been caught up with something, given further tasks, or any number of other means that would negate his planned appearance. Icarus lay no blame on him – the Righteous Hand had little time to spare.

Only mildly dejected, Icarus had figured there was no harm in doing some work now that his workshop had been prepared anyway. 

De-clad of all his armour, par from his helmet as per social standard, he instead wore the specialised chiton he used whilst smithing – accessorised with a toolbelt around the waist for easy access. 

His black and silver armour plating lay on the table before him – dented and scratched from the day's events. He had gotten a bit roughed up when tanking a backhand from the corpse of King Minos; a blow that would have hit another Seraph with much greater velocity had he not intervened. He had only suffered mild bruising from the impact himself, though his armour had done its job and taken the brunt of the force for him. A large knuckle-shaped dent now concaved one of his pauldrons and one half of his chestplate, warping some of the meticulously carved decals. 

An easy enough fix. He had done it countless times before.

With gentle taps from a hammer, he roughly smoothed the dents in his chestplate and pauldron back to their approximate usual level. Then, using an armour stand in the corner perfectly moulded to his armour plating, he further refined the curves back to their usual state by hammering them against the stand until they once again fit seamlessly onto it.

Just as he began reaching for his touchup tools and could feel himself slipping into the zone of his task, a sudden voice pulled him from it.

“Hello! Apologies for such a late arrival – I’m glad I still managed to catch you.”

Icarus turned his head to look over his shoulder, removing his hand from whatever tool he was about to pull from his toolbelt.

“Good evening, Gabriel. I was worried that I had been too vague with my location.”

Gabriel sighed out a tired laugh.

“No, no, not at all- It’s been a long day. I’ve only just been relinquished of today’s major duties.”

“No worries. I figured that was the likely case.”

Icarus turned to face the Archangel fully. 

“Now then, shall I have a look at Justice and Splendour?”

“Certainly! One moment-”

Gabriel reached down to detach the twin sheaths from his belt, handing them to Icarus with his blades still slotted comfortably within the gold-embroidered leather.

“Here you are.”

“Much obliged.”

Icarus carried the blades over to his workbench, carefully unsheathing them and laying them side-by-side for examination.

They were already fairly grandiose, all things considered – with their strikingly mirrored paint-jobs and meticulously carved decals. 

But – he could certainly glamourise them further.

Icarus felt a spark of excitement flutter in his chest; something he hadn't felt in God knows how long. He had never quite understood why the appraisal of supreme angels had been such an important goal for most other angels, though now that he had gotten a taste of it – he might have understood where they were coming from, now.

“Mind if I come in and have a look around?”

Gabriel asked politely, peeking his head over the counter of the workshop. His voice drew Icarus away from his thoughts.

“Go ahead.”

Icarus gestured towards the small gate used for entry.

“I would prefer it if you didn't touch anything, though.”

“Duly noted.”

Gabriel pushed himself through the gate, folding his hands behind his back as he started to wander around.

“How did you become so skilled at smithing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He spurred on some small talk as he leaned over a little to get a better look at the lower contents of a weapon rack.

“It’s a hobby I picked up from my father, back when I was alive.”

Icarus replied, grabbing some parchment and a stick of charcoal from a shelf.

“If you think I’m skilled, then his work would have been inconceivable to you.”

“Really now? I hardly believe that.”

Gabriel went to run his fingers over the head of a half-finished halberd, swiftly retracting his hand when he remembered the no-touching rule.

“It’s no lie – He was a mastermind at what he did. I only picked up from him here and there.”

Icarus’ helm shot back and forth between Justice and Splendour on the workbench and the parchment as he began scribbling out a rough sketch of the blades.

“Well, even that was enough to impress me, so your skill is still exceptional regardless.”

Icarus’ hand stilled for a moment.

“..In regards to that, may I ask you something?” 

Gabriel turned his gaze away from the contents of a shelf back towards Icarus.

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s not-... Particularly common for you Archangels to show praise and interest in lesser angels such as I, to my knowledge. If you only wanted my services, I’m sure you would be much more brief – but you seem to be going out of your way to initiate and uphold interaction with me. Is there any specific motivator for this?”

Gabriel seemed to think for a moment.

“Ah, well,” He made a pensive clicking noise. “It’s merely intrigue, if anything. I know you’ve worked under me multiple times, as I’d recognised your name on my roster, and once you told it to me verbally yesterday, I sort of- made the connection of ‘oh, so you’re Icarus’.”

He walked up to Icarus, standing beside him.

“You have a different energy to you than most Seraphs I’ve met – ‘weathered’, as you put it. Your nature of experience intrigues me.”

Icarus turned his helm to meet his gaze. With him leaning over his workbench, they were just about at even eye height.

“..I see.”

He was unsure of how to feel about that.

It wasn't a bad reactionary feeling that he got, per-se – though it could be described as unsettling. A being of such power above him extending an olive branch out of nothing more than curiosity seemed almost suspicious with its gratuity. 

Nevertheless – he couldn't ignore the resurfacing warmth that fluttered in his chest when dwelling on it.

They held eye contact for an awkwardly long and silent moment before Gabriel broke it by looking down at the workbench.

“Anyhow,” The Archangel cleared his throat. “Are these your plans for Justice and Splendour?”

“Mhm.”

Icarus resumed his scribbling, finishing off the sketch with an audible scrape of the charcoal.

“I had an idea for the guards that would make them look more grandiose.” 

He smeared the charcoal a little as he traced a finger over part of the sketch; decorative spiral guards encompassing the blade’s grips.

“Ooh, I do enjoy how that looks. Would that not make them less practical to hold, though?”

Icarus gave him a look, staring at him wordlessly for a second. Then, he held out his palm, flicking his fingers inwards in a gesture.

“Give me your hand. Let me measure it.”

“Oh- alright.”

Gabriel looked a little taken aback, but obliged after only a moment’s hesitation.

Icarus splayed out the Archangel’s hand upon the parchment in front of them, firmly holding it down and marking where the joints in his fingers were with quick charcoal notches.

Icarus then relinquished his hold on Gabriel’s hand.

“Hold one of your blades for me, now. Just how you would in battle.” 

Gabriel did as such, picking up Justice by its grip and holding it out in front of him. He seemed a little perplexed; with his head tilted to the side minutely.

“Like this..?”

“Perfect. Hold there.”

Icarus quickly scribbled down a sketch of Gabriel’s hand firmly curled around the handle of his blade; taking him not even a minute to do so.

“There. Now I have the information needed to forge decoration that is perfectly accommodated to fit your hands.”

“Oh! Yes- of course. I should have realised that was what you were doing.” 

Gabriel chuckled, resting Justice back on the workbench.

Icarus hummed a note of amusement.

“Elegance and practicality don’t have to be separate concepts. I like to believe I am fairly apt in combining them.”

Gabriel nodded.

“Undoubtedly. You and I aren't so different, in regards to that opinion. Whose to say a fight shouldn't be carried out with an element of grace?”

So you do think the same.

Icarus thought, absentmindedly.

“But, I digress – I’ve distracted you long enough.” Gabriel sighed, clasping his hands together. “Will these modifications be done by morning, then?”

“Assuredly. Would you prefer to drop by again tomorrow morning and pick your blades up at a set time, or would you like me to bring them to you at the briefing?”

“Hm.. Actually- I think I do have some spare time in the morning that I could use to swing by, if you’re alright with me appearing fairly early. I would like my blades for a quick errand I have to get out of the way before our squadron’s morning task.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be out here working until I have to depart for tomorrow regardless.” 

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then.” 

Gabriel turned to leave, giving Icarus a little wave over his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking in Justice and Splendour for me. May the Father grant you vigour.”

Icarus nodded his thanks towards him with an absentmindedly uttered “See you.”, turning his head away before the flash of light from the Archangel’s teleportation could blind him.

He rapped his fingers against the workbench, staring down at Justice and Splendour ardently. 

That little ember of excitement alighted within his chest once again. The ever-revered weapons of the Righteous Hand himself – left entirely in his care to modify.

He almost bounced off from his resting position as he went to light the coals of his forge.

He had much to do.

Dawn arrived in what felt like minutes. Icarus had finished the decorative spiral guards of Justice and Splendour in no time at all, leaving a several hour window ahead of which he hadn't known what to do with. Fixated on utterly perfecting these blades and unwilling to tear himself away from them, he had carved more decals, accentuated the angular shapes in the metal, sharpened the blades’ edges to perfection, and polished them to an extent that could blind a lesser angel if they were caught under light. Not to mention a combat-centric enhancement or two that, while not requested, he was sure Gabriel would at the very least find useful.

He didn’t even notice the Archangel appear outside; only lifting his head once Gabriel announced his presence.

“Good morning, Icarus. How goes the glamourising?”

Gabriel poked his head over the workshop's counter.

“Beyond well, Gabriel. Justice and Splendour will be with you momentarily.”

He was working on some final details etched into the leather of Justice’s handle; Splendour’s mirrored design already resting completed beside it.

Gabriel waited patiently at the workshop’s gate, unsubtly standing on the tip-toes of his boots in an attempt to get a better look at his blades. Icarus caught notice in his peripheral, stifling an amused chuckle.

He was done a minute later, and carefully gathered the twin blades in his arms. 

“Here we are.” 

He held them outwards to Gabriel by their handles, tilting them to the side to show off their freshly-polished gleam.

Gabriel gasped, bringing a hand to his chest.

“Goodness gracious- They look brand new!”

The Archangel took back his blades enthusiastically, letting out a small “Oh!” of pleasant surprise as his hands slotted perfectly through the decorative spirals obscuring the handles. He swung his swords through the air casually a few times to test them, flicking his wrists in circles to make sure he could still move them effectively with the new decoration; which he could, effortlessly.

“They're magnificent!”

Gabriel awed, stilling his hands and bringing the blades back towards his chest to admire them closely.

It took every ounce of Icarus’ waking consciousness to fight back the pride that began bubbling up within him upon hearing the genuine, unbridled delight in Gabriel’s voice.

“I’m glad you think so. They were a joy to work on.”

Gabriel looked up at Icarus, only to then bow his head in gratitude.

“Again- I thank you, sincerely. Is there- Is there any way I can repay you for your work?”

Icarus hummed a one-note laugh.

“Working on them was the payment. Putting your trust in me to care for them was more than enough – I couldn't ask for anything more in return.”

Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head.

“Come now, I won’t accept that as a form of payment- surely there’s something I can provide you with.”

Icarus pondered for a moment. 

..Maybe there was one thing.

“Hm.. Our conversation last evening had me thinking about the art of battle all night. It’s what helped inspire my work on your blades. If you’re willing to further indulge me on the matter, then I request that your repayment come in the form of a spar.”

Gabriel almost visibly lit up at the request.

“Oh- Of course! That sounds lovely. I’m growing a little bored of my current sparring partners anyway, if I am to be honest. There’s only so many times I can spar with the other Archangels before I’m impervious to their strategies. I will happily oblige that request.”

Icarus hummed contentedly.

“Very well. That offer stands to be taken up whenever you please, then.”

He went to turn back to his workshop, then jolted a little in place as he remembered something.

“Ah- one more thing before you go.”

Gabriel tilted his head.

“Hm?” 

Icarus held out his hand. “Could you hand me Justice and Splendour for a moment?”

“Of course.”

The Archangel happily handed back his swords. Their hands brushed each other as the hold on them was transferred over; both angels absentmindedly lingering on the touch for just a moment.

It took Icarus a moment to get a good grip on the blades – his hands too big to slot in between the decorative spiral guards properly.

“Now, I know you didn't request any battle-centric augmentations, so I hope you’ll forgive me for some creative liberties.”

Gabriel crossed his arms, nodding curiously.

“I'm listening.”

“Have you ever used a double-sided polearm? Or spear, perhaps?”

Icarus asked.

Gabriel hummed, tapping his finger against his arm as he thought for a moment.

“I’ve dabbled a few times, yes.”

“Good.”

Icarus lifted Justice and Splendour up in front of himself, positioning them with one mirrored above the other; their pommels pressed together.

“You’ll need that skill of central control for this feature if you decide to use it.”

He pushed one blade’s pommel down into the other while simultaneously twisting the blades; Justice clockwise, Splendour counterclockwise. A satisfying click was heard as the pommels locked together firmly, merging the twin blades into one combined weapon.

Icarus held out the conjoined hilts of the blades with one hand, presenting it back to Gabriel for him to take.

“You can reverse the action to separate them.”

Gabriel, awe-struck, looked between Icarus and his swords a few times before taking them back.

“I-.. I’m speechless,” Gabriel said breathlessly, tilting the conjoined blades back and forth to test their weight.

“This is- outstanding. I never would have even come close to thinking of such an augmentation.”

Icarus was silent for a moment, endeared by the Archangel’s astonishment.

“I only ask that you make good use of it for me.”

Gabriel’s gaze returned its focus to him.

“Well- I certainly will! I couldn't bear to put such masterful work to waste.”

He ogled at the blades for a moment more before holding them up as Icarus did a moment prior; twisting them in the wrong direction once – which elicited a barely audible “Oops,” from the Archangel – before reversing the gesture and successfully detaching the swords from one another.

Icarus chuckled softly, turning around to return to his workshop.

“Go on, now. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Yes- of course. I’ll see you later at the briefing!”

Just before Gabriel could teleport, an object was thrown his way that he fumbled to catch with his sword-occupied hands. The twin-sheathe attachment to his belt thunked against his chestplate ungraciously and onto the grass below.

“Sorry. Almost forgot that you had left it here.” Icarus called out. His words had a dry humour to them; cut with an edge of mischief.

Gabriel laughed, tucking both his blades in place under one arm to free his hands. 

“Thank you!”

He called back as he reached down to pick up the accessory.

As Gabriel dusted off the leather and went to re-attach it to his belt, he noticed a new addition to the embroidery; a stylised silver feather on the joint of the sheathes. It was small enough to be subtle, but large enough to still be noticeable; the perfect threshold of a long-honed artist’s watermark.

He ran a thumb over the decal with an admired “Huh,” before slotting his blades into their sheathes and re-attaching them to his belt.

Icarus listened as the Archangel departed with a bang and flash of light. He sighed contentedly, stretching his arms as the first ray of sunlight finally filtered through the trees and into his workshop. 

He figured he should actually start preparing for the day. The workshop could be cleaned up at a later time.

He went to grab his armour – which had remained untouched since Gabriel’s arrival the previous evening – only then realising that he had never finished repairing the damage. Only cosmetic elements were left affected, which is something he was normally quite fussy about – though he found himself not particularly caring all that much this time around.

Icarus shrugged, grabbing his still scratched-up chestplate. He could deal with wearing out the damage just for a day.

The time he could have dedicated to fully restoring it had been put to much greater use, regardless.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

...The fourth sphere of Heaven, known colloquially as the Sun, is home to the ascended souls deemed 'wise' by God. Those who intellectually illuminated others in life are to continue doing so in death by residing within the sun itself.

The fourth sphere is primarily populated by Virtues containing the souls of Earth's greatest artists and teachers, cultivating an environment of endless learning and inspiration. Many Seraphs have originated from the fourth sphere as well, though notably less than the amount that find their homes within the second and fifth spheres.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT 

Icarus could barely curb his eagerness. He hadn't been able to rest at all for the past few nights, and this one was no exception. He found himself pacing around his home like a caged animal, hands twitching with the yearn to wrap themselves around the grip of Rhapsody.

But, alas – he had to wait until morning. He couldn't expend his energy practising during the night for a mere spar. 

He sighed, running a hand down the back of his neck. The moon had just barely peaked at the centre of the sky; it would be another few hours before daybreak.

He was so restless that he thought it would drive him insane if he paced any longer. He needed to do something with his hands.

Icarus made his way outside and towards his workshop, hesitating for a moment before opening the gate. He was unwilling to start any smithing projects at this hour, so that was off the table. His gaze darted around for something else, landing on the sticks of charcoal lining the corner of a shelf. 

That would do.

He pulled out a barely used stool from underneath the workbench, taking a seat upon it as he pulled a fresh sheet of parchment down in front of him. He tapped his finger contemplatively against the stick of charcoal he had grabbed before bringing its tip to the parchment.

He began by plainly sketching out Rhapsody. He knew its every detail by memory, and it served as a nice warm up. 

He eyed around his workshop for another subject; his armour donned upon its stand in the corner of the room catching his interest.

With more flowy, interpretive strokes of the charcoal, he brushed out a stylised portrait of himself donned in his armour – or perhaps just the armour itself. He was unsure of where the threshold lay.

Moving onto the other half of the parchment, he found himself drawing Justice and Splendour; crossed over each other stylishly. The blueprint for their modifications from a few days ago still lay on his workbench – it must have subconsciously caught his attention in his peripherals.

He swept the charcoal residue off of the parchment, being careful as to not to smear his lines in the process. A good half of the parchment still remained blank.

He looked between the drawing of himself and Gabriel’s twin swords.

Perhaps he could round off some of that blank space with the man himself, since his blades were already present.

Icarus began sketching Gabriel from memory, thinking to himself how he wished he could have him here as a live reference to do his armour justice. He hummed pensively at the finished work, his leg bouncing involuntarily as he thought.

He could do a little better than that.

Using the little space left on the parchment, he drew out a more refined bust of Gabriel; taking extra time to make sure his harsher lines were well-placed and properly accentuated the form of Archangel’s armour and helmet. 

He didn't notice that day had broken until the earliest of songbirds began to chirp.

That was- quick.

He almost got a little cross about the fact, now that the actual need to prepare for the day was interrupting his doodling – until he remembered what he had been so eager to pass the time for.

He lost interest in the parchment almost immediately, dropping the stick of charcoal and hastily picking himself up to go and grab his armour.

A spar awaited him this morning – and he certainly wasn't going to be late for it.

It was still early morning by the time of his departure; the sky blushing with pleasant pink hues as the brightest of the stars remained twinkling in the dawn's light. He and Gabriel had decided that this time was the most ideal for their spar; it was before either of their work began for the day, and it was long before most other angels would be seen outside – allowing them a bit more privacy, on the front that Gabriel may otherwise garner attention with his presence.

The sparring fields of the fourth sphere were out of the way regardless, due to the nature of the sphere's general populous. Icarus used them for training on the rare occasions where he had felt the need to, and he had only sparingly ever seen another soul present there. The fields were green with lush grass, only mildly downtrodden – containing nowhere near the amount of scuffed and worn dirt he'd seen in the dedicated sparring areas of other spheres.

Icarus swept his gaze over the fields, a mild sensation of what he could only pinpoint as anxiety prickling at his neck. He found himself worrying if Gabriel would even show up, with his tendency to be late.

He hadn't seen Gabriel since the final branch of their squadron's task a few days prior, at the end of which they had scheduled their spar. If there had been any potential changes to this scheduling on Gabriel's part, there was no way for him to have been notified of it.

All worry instantaneously melted away in the warming morning breeze when his eyes met the trees lining the sparring fields and caught the gleam of golden armour. To his surprise, he hadn't been the first to arrive.

"Gabriel!"

He yelled down to him to garner his attention.

A distant gilded-cross gaze turned to meet his.

"Icarus! Good morning!"

The Archangel called back, swiftly conjuring his wings with a crackle of summoned hardlight. He landed next to Icarus after a few flaps, lazily tucking his wings back behind him rather than calling them away.

"How have you been?" He asked, paired with a polite gesticulation.

"Good, good. And you?" Icarus crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"Positively radiant, as always." Gabriel chuckled, voice laced with its usual grandeur. "This is a lovely little place here – I don't think I've ever visited the fourth sphere's sparring fields. They're very quaint. Much quieter than I thought they would be."


"Well, I don't know what you were expecting from a place comprised primarily of philosophers. I've only ever seen other Seraphs here."


Gabriel hummed another laugh.

"Ah- I suppose that does make sense."

His helm turned outwards to face the fields.

"Shall we go ahead and get to putting this place to its use, then?"

"I think we shall."

The two angels began making their way down to the centre of the fields; the breeze rustling through their armour gently, ringing them like wind chimes. 

“So what boundaries are we going to abide by? Is there anything in particular I should keep in mind?” Gabriel asked politely.

“Just usual sparring protocol. I don’t mind if a little blood gets spilled either, if you’re willing to give it your all.”

Gabriel placed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be giving it my all.”

Icarus hummed a chuckle.

“Right, yes. I shouldn't expect anything less from the Righteous Hand.”

He drew Rhapsody from its sheathe before stopping in place, planting the tip of the blade down into the grass with his hand resting on the hilt. He rapped his fingers across the pommel in an attempt to quell his already barely contained excitement.

“On the count of three?”

Gabriel laughed, stepping a few more feet ahead of Icarus before he stopped as well.

“Eager, are you?”

“A little.” Icarus lied. “I just haven’t sparred in a while, is all. Forgive me if I’m a bit rusty.”

Gabriel waved off the statement before bringing his hands to the hilts of his blades.

“Nonsense. A blacksmith wouldn't let his skills get rusty, would he?”

His voice carried a humorous, almost playful edge to it. 

Icarus felt a little bit of heat rush to his head; a competitive spark alighting in his core.

“Hah,” His laughter arose from within the depths of his chest, this time. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Gabriel turned his back to the Seraph, his wings twitching a little as they prepared to be splayed outwards. 

“Ready?”

Icarus too turned his back after letting his gaze linger on the Archangel for another moment.

He brought his other hand to the hilt of Rhapsody, wrapping it firmly around the grip.

“Ready.”

He heard Justice and Splendour be relinquished from their sheathes with a clean shhnk.

“One,”

Gabriel initiated the countdown.

“Two,”

Icarus continued, his hold on Rhapsody tightening.

A breathless beat passed by where the world around them stood still; the wind falling silent in anticipation.

“Three.”

The word was uttered from both parties in synchronicity. Icarus dug his heel into the ground and swivelled around, immediately bringing Rhapsody up to a defensive hold in front of himself.

That proved to be the right call of action. Gabriel was upon him only a moment later, Justice slamming against Rhapsody heartily as the Archangel charged forwards.

Before Gabriel had a chance to bring Splendour any closer, Icarus shoved him away with a forward push of Rhapsody. Gabriel flowed effortlessly into the movement of the pushback by using his wings to keep himself balanced, swivelling Justice back around for a second blow.

Icarus blocked that as well, though was less lucky when Splendour quickly followed this time. The golden blade caught his forearm, almost knocking him out of his stance with Rhapsody. 

He retaliated by lifting a leg and point-blank kicking the smaller angel back away from him.

Gabriel seemed a little more taken off-guard by this action than the previous one, his boots digging into the ground as he tried to stop himself from skidding any further back. 

“How brutish,” Gabriel taunted, quickly adjusting his grip on his blades.

“I thought you were all about grace on the battlefield.”

“I can’t be graceful if you don’t give me a chance to be.”

Icarus thrust Rhapsody outwards with one hand in an unsubtle warning blow, forcing Gabriel to take another step back to not get hit.

“Stay back for a moment, why don’t you?”

Gabriel laughed.

“I’ll decline, thank you. I have other plans.”

Gabriel ducked down and attempted to swipe at Icarus’ side from underneath the extended Rhapsody, though Icarus was quick enough in reaction to block him off by slamming his blade’s guard down onto the Archangel’s back. 

With Gabriel briefly stunned from the move, Icarus used the time to take another step away from him. Gabriel swiped up and out with both his blades as Icarus backed off, catching one of his hands with an audible scrape of metal. 

Icarus didn't flinch, only staring at Gabriel intently as he brought Rhapsody down to his side.

Gabriel huffed irritably, taking a forceful step towards the Seraph.

“Come on, where has your eagerness gone!? Your notion of defense is-”

Gabriel was silenced by a deafening CLANG as Icarus swiped Rhapsody into an uppercut with remarkable speed, cleaving up into the Archangel’s chestplate. There was not a second of reprieve granted before Icarus brought it back down for a second blow, knocking Gabriel a good few feet to the side and almost throwing him entirely off balance.

“What’s this about a notion of defense? Perhaps you should be taking note.” Icarus teased, taking a passive stance for a moment while Gabriel recovered.

Icarus had very quickly picked up on Gabriel fully halting in place for the sole purpose of dedicating his entire being to a taunt. He figured it may have been a fluke the first time, though the moment the Archangel had paused to do it again, Icarus immediately used it to switch on his own offense. Gabriel was much faster than him, and he saw it as his only definitively safe window of opportunity to land a meaningful blow.

Gabriel shook out his shoulders, gaze shooting up to meet Icarus’.

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

He warned; voice prickling with a note of unspecified intensity.

Icarus let out an amused tsch.

“You’re throwing around accusations of cockiness? Please.”

He raised Rhapsody again, and beckoned the Archangel forth with a flick of his head.

“I merely state what I see.”

Gabriel careened towards him with a powerful beat of his wings, slicing Justice and Splendour down at his shoulders. Icarus was able to hold him back far enough with Rhapsody to stop the blades from landing with full force. He thrust Rhapsody upwards into Gabriel’s chest, forcing the Archangel to relinquish one half of his assault to attempt blocking it from going any further.

They strained against each other for a good few moments; Gabriel pushing Justice into Icarus’ shoulder and Splendour against Rhapsody, and Icarus pushing Rhapsody up against Gabriel’s chest to simultaneously try and get closer to his neck while keeping Gabriel at enough of a distance for Justice to not slice down any harder.

Gabriel was the one to relent when the tip of Rhapsody’s blade came dangerously close to his chin, falling back by pushing himself away with Splendour.

Icarus was the one to charge forth this time, Rhapsody cleaving the air in front of Gabriel with an audible swoosh, just barely shy of hitting him.

Another strike followed in succession, which Gabriel blocked by crossing his swords and catching Rhapsody’s blade in their centre. He pushed the force of the attack back onto Icarus by shoving Justice and Splendour forward, reeling Rhapsody back towards its wielder. 

Icarus was forced to briefly divert his attention in order to right the position of his own blade, which Gabriel took swift advantage of. He swiped forwards ardently, indiscriminate as to what he hit. 

He was rewarded with the indistinguishable feeling of his blade piercing flesh.

Icarus hissed in pain as Splendour sliced into his stomach. The blade only penetrated his skin for a brief moment, but had cut deep enough to draw out thick globules of blood that began dribbling down his abdomen.

Gabriel gasped, his hands reeling back from the wound.

“Shit- Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He was interrupted as Rhapsody’s pommel slammed into the back of his helmet, ringing him like a bell.

Icarus let out a heavy breath.

“Come on. I said I wouldn't mind if a little blood got spilled."

His voice was almost at a growl, ragged with burning intensity. 

"Keep it together.”

Gabriel’s brief alarm quickly pivoted into obstinacy as he shook himself back into his senses.

“Hhah- Very well.”

He gave lcarus a few generous seconds of reprieve before charging back towards him – with just a notch taken down on his intensity.

Icarus didn't hold back in return, though. He pushed Gabriel back with a flat side of Rhapsody’s blade, then slashed at him twice in rapid succession.

Gabriel avoided the first swing, but was unable to fully maneuver away from the second as Rhapsody came swinging back. One of Rhapsody’s decorative metal wings unintentionally caught in the crook of one of Gabriel’s pauldrons, which had the Archangel verge on a triumphant chuckle as a taunt began to bubble up in his throat.

He wasn't given any time to let his unspoken words simmer as Icarus immediately used it to his advantage, heaving his blade upwards and lifting Gabriel half off the ground by his shoulder.

Caught by surprise, Gabriel was unable to think of a way to act in time before Icarus slammed Rhapsody downwards – throwing Gabriel onto the ground.

Gabriel hit the grass with a resounding thud, stabbing Splendour into the dirt to stop himself from sliding further away while falling. He pulled himself back forwards with the leverage Splendour provided in that position, swiping Justice at Icarus’ legs in an attempt to bring the Seraph down with him.

Icarus remained unerred by the strike from Justice, though was thrown off-balance after Gabriel kicked at Rhapsody’s blade and knocked it out from Icarus’ stance. 

Gabriel brought him to ground with another kick, this time to the Seraph’s shin plate – Using the second it took Icarus to regain his senses to try and stand back up himself.

Icarus didn’t give him the chance to do so. He reached out and hooked Rhapsody’s blade through one of the loops of Justice’s spiral guard, then pushed the tip of it down into the dirt; pinning the blade to the ground and trapping Gabriel's hand within it. 

Gabriel quickly realised he was unable to pull his hand away from Justice without slicing it open against the blade of Rhapsody, so he took to focusing a one-handed offense with Splendour. 

Icarus pulled himself towards Gabriel with his spare hand, using Rhapsody as leverage. Gabriel felt its blade dig into his hand between the seams of his gauntlet as Icarus pushed against it, stinging his nerves and making him wince.

The Archangel struck out at him with reckless abandon, and Icarus tanked the blow with his armoured forearm; the impact leaving behind a significant dent in the silver plating.

Gabriel went to strike out again, but Icarus’ hand shot outwards and grabbed him by the wrist – holding Splendour back. Gabriel pushed against the hold fervently, a strained grunt escaping him as he did.

Icarus in turn tried to drag himself closer with his elbow so he could get better leverage on Gabriel, additionally pressing a knee down into the edge of the Archangel’s skirt to aid in holding him down.

Gabriel resorted to kicking out at him again, which was semi-successfully in deterring Icarus – though the Seraph’s hold on his wrist wouldn't budge.

Out of other ideas, Gabriel diverted his attention back to his pinned hand; still locked inside of the guard of his own blade. After a moment of weighing his options, he sucked in a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to do.

In one swift motion, he wrenched his hand out from the spiral; crying out with a pained exclamation as his hand was sliced open at the side by Rhapsody. 

Now with both appendages available again, he had snatched back the upper hand. A surprised Icarus with one hand still holding onto Rhapsody was swiftly overpowered by a sudden two-handed thrust forward from Splendour.

Icarus abandoned his hold on Rhapsody in favour of trying to push Gabriel off of him with both hands, but he had reacted too late. Gabriel had the flat side of Splendour’s blade pressed into his neck, pinning his head to the ground.

Icarus struggled against him for a moment, but there wasn't much he was able to do in his position. Gabriel was knelt over his torso; the Seraph’s neck between his knees as he firmly held the blade down against him. When trying to move his arms up to grab the Archangel, Gabriel tilted the blade’s sharper edge towards his throat in a threat display.

Both panting and limbs shaking from straining against the other, they held each others gaze for a few painstakingly stubborn moments – until Icarus, finally, breathed out the words;

“..I yield.”

Gabriel immediately relinquished Icarus, pushing himself back from the Seraph and up into a stand. He laughed breathlessly, slotting Splendour back into its sheathe and extending out a hand for Icarus to take.

“Well done.”

Icarus stared up at him for a moment before grabbing the Archangel’s hand with a discontent sigh.

“I really thought I had you there.”

“You almost did.” Gabriel regarded, tightening his grip and helping Icarus pull himself up off the ground. He quickly let go once the Seraph was balanced, realising he had been using his fairly bloody injured hand to help him up.

“Ah- my apologies. Didn't notice.”

Icarus hummed an amused note.

“It’s alright.”

He wiped the blood that had been smeared onto his palm onto his skirt. 

“Wasn't expecting you to actually tear your hand out from there. Hope it didn't hurt too bad."

Gabriel chuckled softly, cradling his injured hand with his other one.

“I’ll be fine – It only stings a little. Is your stomach alright?”

His helm tilted to the side before dropping to observe Icarus’ abdominal wound.

“Perfectly. Barely even felt it after a minute or so.” Icarus tapped a finger against the cut, which had indeed already closed up; his holy form stitching itself back together with outstanding efficiency as intended. 

Gabriel sighed in relief. 

“That’s good. I got worried for a second back there.” 

Icarus just barely bit back a rebuttal as the notion that Gabriel had worried for him actually processed through his mind.

“Thank you for this, by the way. It was-.. Invigorating.” Gabriel mumbled; Icarus swearing he picked up a note of what seemed to be embarrassment in his voice.

“You’re thanking me?” Icarus teased. “This is a favour, Gabriel. Surely you can’t be thankful for the ‘riveting opportunity' to spar with an angel lesser than you.”

“Well- What if I am?”

Gabriel’s tone remained lighthearted, though was sprinkled with just a touch of sincerity.

“As I mentioned, my usual sparring partners have become tiresome to me. You were – by all means – an incredibly worthy opponent. This was a good change of pace.”

The Archangel wrung his hands, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“..I wouldn't be adverse to another spar with you in the future, if you desire a rematch.”

Icarus studied the smaller angel’s mannerisms intently for a good long moment.

Was Gabriel- nervous?

Was the Righteous Hand of the Father – who minutes prior had him pinned to the ground in a position that would have resulted in his decapitation had it not been an amicable spar – getting flustered about the prospect of bonding with someone?

Icarus felt a warm feeling of endearment flutter within his chest. 

It was- charming. Cute, even.

“Well, you know where my workshop is. You’re free to stop by any time.” Icarus spoke plainly, though softened his voice to not make his offer sound too daunting.

Gabriel looked up at him with a miniscule tilt of his helmet.

“Really now..? I suppose Justice and Splendour will need touch ups, every now and then.”

Icarus chuckled.

“I meant to chat, but – if you want your blades sharpened and polished too, you know I’m more than happy to do so.”

Gabriel placed a hand to his chest, mildly taken aback.

“Oh! Well, I’ll-”

Even with a covered visage, the smile was evident in his voice.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Icarus finished affixing his armour to its stand with a sigh. It was almost midday now – there had been only one small task left for him after the events of the morning before he was dismissed of his work and able to return home.

He thanked the Father under his breath that his next duty wasn't until tomorrow. His exhaustion from a week of sleepless nights was catching up to him after the physical toll that spar had put on him.

Even though his body yearned for rest, his mind remained racing – the lingering adrenaline from the spar keeping his thoughts churning. 

He and Gabriel had been a good match, in that regard. He was big and powerful with slower yet hard-hitting blows, and Gabriel was small and fast with weaker strikes that had the greater intention of chipping away. They both countered and complimented one another near-perfectly.

It was hard for Icarus to express outwardly, but he was beyond delighted that Gabriel had offered to continue sparring with him. The Archangel must of felt that synergy, too; it would have been a shame to merely leave it where it was, let alone whatever other kind of bond they had been developing over the past few days as well.

Icarus had extended the offer of his open companionship for that reason; he enjoyed Gabriel's presence. It felt almost blasphemous to ask of the precious blessed time of an Archangel for nothing more than conversation – though Gabriel had seemed more than happy to reciprocate.

He supposed he would find out in due time if Gabriel would uphold to his word. For now, he could settle with with the fact that at the very least, they would spar again in the future. He was plenty satisfied with that alone.

Icarus was drawn out from his thoughts as his gaze landed on the scribbled parchment he had abandoned that morning. He observed the artwork fondly for a moment, then reached down to pick it up and place it in a safer location.

His thumb dragged down across the material as he grabbed it, which – to his surprise – left a garish red smudge behind in its wake. He dropped the parchment in reaction, flipping his hand around to check for an injury.

There was a thin layer of partially dried blood covering one half of his hand, though no visible injury that could have caused such a thing. This bewildered him for a moment – until he remembered that this was the hand he had used to grab Gabriel's. Some of the blood from the Archangel's hand injury must have seeped in between the seams of his gauntlets while he was being helped up, and he just hadn't noticed until now. 

Icarus hummed a pensive note, rubbing the bloody residue inbetween his thumb and index finger before wiping it off on his now de-clad skirt. He grabbed the parchment again, briefly debating if he should attempt covering up the small smear of blood with some charcoal – ultimately deciding it wasn't worth the effort.

He threw the sheet onto a messy stack of other used parchment that he would eventually sort out. He did have a dedicated archive for artwork specifically, though these mindless doodles were nowhere near the level of effort he would add to it.

-Although he did catch himself pausing to consider it for a moment.

Icarus waved the thought away, departing from his workshop definitively.

He could create artwork of Gabriel far more worthy of archival than that.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

...Gabriel, the brightest of all angels, is well renowned for good reason. His kindness enacted on behalf of the word of God knows no bounds, and his radiant personality is delighted by lesser and greater angels alike. Even sinners of intact consciousness seem to regard him with reverence, as his various expeditions to Hell appear to quell any potential uproar.

Despite his notoriety of generosity, he seems to be very personal and unwilling to keep companionship. His increasing frequency of being seen alongside the Seraph known as Icarus brings this note into question, however. The nature of their relationship is unknown, although they have garnered direct praise from the Council due to countless reports of their impeccable synergy together on the field.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT

Many months had come and gone since Icarus and Gabriel had gotten well-acquainted. They had become somewhat well known as a ‘duo’ of sorts amongst Heaven’s crowds, as they were seen together often enough to spur on conversation about it.

Gabriel had found himself enjoying his work more when Icarus was around too, now that they were definitively friends. He would try to get the Seraph onto his roster as much as possible, and would always light up at seeing his name penned down under his schedule.

The stars did not align for them often, though – both in this regard and for their off-time. They would regularly complain to each other about how rarely their schedules would line up favourably, and even then, how short those periods of times were when they did.

After a while of this irritating stupor placing a blockade on the further development of their connection, Gabriel had gotten an idea.

It was early morning when he made an entrance outside of Icarus’ home to relay his proposal. Dawn remained a safe window of time for them to generally be able to catch each other for about half an hour before they had to depart for that day’s duties. 

He had been hoping to find the Seraph in his workshop; disappointed upon seeing no sign of him in there.

Gabriel would usually just leave if Icarus wasn't outside working, though he felt himself hesitating this time. 

Surely it wouldn't be too much to ask him at his door. This inquiry was important; he would have liked to begin the process as soon as possible if he were able to get Icarus’ approval.

With only a beat of hesitancy, he walked up to the front door of the Seraph’s abode knocked a rhythm upon it.

“One moment,”

He heard Icarus’ muffled voice call out from inside. Gabriel waited patiently for about a minute or so before the Seraph opened the door.

“Gabriel? Good morning..?”

Icarus leaned against the doorframe and stared down at him, perplexed; his voice coarse and groggy as if he had only recently woken up. A loosely wrapped chiton was draped around him, and his visage was covered by his helmet as usual.

Gabriel waved at him cheerfully.

“Good morning! I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

Icarus waved the statement off. “You’re fine. I’m only wondering why you’re knocking at my door this early like an overeager Jehovah’s Witness.”  

Gabriel chuckled.

“There’s good reason for it, I promise. May I come inside for a bit while I explain?”

Icarus took a step aside to give way and gestured for the Archangel to enter.

“Be my guest.”

Gabriel nodded his thanks and walked in, Icarus closing the door behind him. 

He hadn't been within the Seraph’s home before – only his workshop. There was an immediate stark difference in the appearance of how well kept and tidy its interior was, as opposed to the general state of organised chaos within his workshop. 

Another thing that Gabriel quickly noticed was an abundance of what he could only think of as ‘bird paraphernalia.’ Paintings of various species, furniture decals in the shape of feathers, even an open window that seemed to be entirely dedicated to maintaining several different bird feeders were present in his view – and he was only just in the foyer.

“Well this is lovely,”

Gabriel commented, continuing to look around.

“Thank you.” Icarus replied absentmindedly. He walked straight past Gabriel and ducked his head into another room, reaching out to grab something around the corner.

“Come on then – talk to me while I continue with my morning routine.”

Gabriel snapped his attention back to Icarus.

“Right! Yes,”

He locked his gaze onto the Seraph, folding his arms behind his back.

“I have a proposal for you.”

Some rustling emitted from the room that Icarus was half leant into before he withdrew from it with a large satchel of birdseed.

“Enlighten me.”

“I had a bit of an idea last night – spurred on by the frustration of our unlucky scheduling disallowing us from spending more time together. Have you heard of the Oath of Electrum, by chance?”

Icarus hummed a contemplative note as he walked over to the open window.

“Electrum..? As in the metal mentioned in Ezekiel 1:4 and 1:27?”

“Yes- sort of,” Gabriel made a so-so gesture with one of his hands.

“It’s an oath that binds a Seraph to an Archangel, for the purposes of close-quarts bodyguarding and whatnot. Archangels can extend the offer to Seraphs that they feel they can trust with their most important and more intimate duties. It’s named as such since Electrum is described as a mixture of silver and gold – analogous to the binding of Seraph and Archangel respectively.”

Icarus paused midway through refilling one of his bird feeders.

“...I wouldn't be out of my mind to suspect that you may be offering for me to pledge this oath, would I?” 

Gabriel laughed quietly, a little nervousness making its way into the noise.

“..You wouldn't. I just wanted to stop by and ask if you would-.. consider it.”

Icarus turned around to face him, helmet tilted to the side.

“What would be in it for me?”

He asked, his tone laced with a humorous inflection; implying that Gabriel should already know his answer.

Relieved, Gabriel’s posture and voice loosened up a little as he played along.

“Well, you would get to work with me exclusively – unless I personally send you to work under somebody else for a time. You would gain my personal unerred protection, as well as swearing yours to mine.”

Icarus hummed, tapping his chin in feigned contemplation. 

“Sounds alright. I wouldn't mind that.”

He said with an exaggerated shrug.

Gabriel chuckled.

“I’m glad that you think so. Most other Archangels have a handful of trusted Seraphs sworn to them under the Oath of Electrum, though I’d never seen the need to do so myself.”

He gestured vaguely towards Icarus.

“-Until now. I’ve never connected with a Seraph quite like I have with you before. Not only do we work together with seamless efficiency, I enjoy your company and would like to be around you more often.”

Icarus huffed a tender one-note laugh, turning back to the window to finish refilling his bird feeders.

“..That’s very sweet of you, Gabriel. I’m honoured that you think of me in such high regard.”

Gabriel bowed his head towards the Seraph.

“Of course. I trust you, Icarus – and I hope this offer conveys that.”

Icarus hummed contentedly, retracting from the window and going to place his satchel of birdseed back in the room he got it from.

“So how would I go ahead with taking this oath, then?”

He asked, walking up to stand in front of Gabriel.

“It’s a procedure you’ll have to do in witness of a member of the Council after a process of identification. It’s like signing a verbal contract for them, essentially. Just a formality.”

“I see.”

Icarus crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his arm contemplatively.

“Would they need any of my documentation for that?”

“Yes, actually- that’s partially why I came over this early. If you were willing to indulge in my proposal, I was going to ask if I could get your permission to swing by the archives later today and pick up your records so that I can get the process started.”

“Oh, sure- that sounds great. You’re free to go ahead and do that.”

Gabriel clasped his hands together in delight.

“Excellent! I’ll drop by sometime this evening and let you know how that’s gone.”

Icarus nodded.

"I look forward to it."

A small rustle of a noise caused him to look to the side; whatever he saw eliciting a small gasp from him.

"Oh- look."

He lightly grabbed Gabriel's shoulder, turning the Archangel to face the window.

Gabriel was met with the sight of a beautiful red cardinal, pecking at one of the feeders Icarus had just refilled.

"Would you look at that,"
He marveled, observing the bird intently.

"What a gorgeous little thing."

Icarus hummed in agreement. His grip on Gabriel's shoulder loosened as if he were about to let go, but then tightened again minutely and remained in place.

Gabriel turned his helmet back to look up at Icarus after another few moments of birdwatching.

"..You know, for an angel that doesn't use his wings all that much, your apparent enthrallment with birds is a little surprising to me."

Icarus huffed a small laugh, meeting Gabriel's gaze with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.

"Funny how things play out like that."

"State your purpose."

The Councilor uttered from their elevated podium, staring down the two angels in front of them.

"Greetings, your honour." Gabriel began, bowing his head in respect. "My companion is here to take the Oath of Electrum with your blessing. All needed documentation to go forth should have already made it into your possession."


"Ah, yes." The Councilor reached out to the air, conjuring a neat stack of documents within their hand. "Your presence has been expected."

As the Councilor briefly flipped through the documents to check them over, Gabriel turned to Icarus and placed a hand on the Seraph's forearm.

"Good luck."

He whispered to him, giving his arm a gentle pat before taking a step back to observe.

"Thank you." Icarus whispered back; his voice tense with nerves.

The Councilor shuffled the documents back into order before minutely raising their visage to stare down at Icarus.

“Are you prepared to begin the procedure?”

Icarus nodded curtly, his posture straightening.

“Yes, your honour.”

“Very well. I will first ask you to repeat the information shown on your Record of Judgement for confirmation of identity and soundness of mind. What is your name and title?”

“Icarus, son of Daedalus and Naucrate.”

“Place of birth?”

“Athens, Greece.”

“Identity?”

“..Do you want current identity, or what was assigned at birth?”

The Councilor glanced down at the page in their hands.

“Both, if willing.”

“Male currently, female at birth.”

“Sentence?”

“Ascension, allocated to the fourth sphere.”

“Identification confirmed.”

The Councilor shuffled to another page.

"You are now permitted to go forth and swear your oath. Do you wish to do so effective immediately?"

Icarus took in a deep breath.

"Yes, I do."

"Then we shall begin. Repeat after me."

The Councilor cleared their throat.

"I, Icarus, son of Daedalus and Naucrate,"

Icarus placed a hand to his heart, head bowing in reverence.

"I, Icarus, son of Daedalus and Naucrate,"

"Swear my undying allegiance to the Archangel Gabriel, and by extension, the will of the Father."

"Swear my undying allegiance to the Archangel Gabriel," Icarus glanced at Gabriel over his shoulder. "and by extension, the will of the Father."

"I vow to henceforth serve by his word unwaveringly, and to put my life before his by all means necessary."

"I vow to henceforth serve by his word unwaveringly, and to put my life before his by all means necessary."

"I will continue to abstain from all sin, both venial and mortal, and will carry out the teachings of scripture through my words and actions."

"I will continue to abstain from all sin, both venial and mortal, and will carry out the teachings of scripture through my words and actions."

"I am righteously aware of the indefinite binding of this oath, and will not bend nor break its commandments."

"I am righteously aware of the indefinite binding of this oath, and will not bend nor break its commandments."

The Councilor turned their gaze to Gabriel.

"Gabriel, do you give your approval to this unification and agree with its terms and conditions?"

Gabriel nodded firmly.

"Yes on all fronts, your honour."

"Then I decree Icarus, son of Daedalus and Naucrate, formally sworn to Gabriel, Judge of Hell under the Oath of Electrum."

The Councilor placed the documents down to bring their hands together and upwards in a gesture of prayer.

Icarus visibly relaxed.

"You are now free to leave. Here is your documentation."

The Councilor held out the pile of documents for Icarus to take.

"Thank you for your time and blessing, your honour." Icarus took them with a grateful bow of his head, turning back to Gabriel.

The Archangel gestured for him to come forth, and the two walked out of the room.

"See? Told you it would be easy."

Gabriel regarded.

"You did very well."

Icarus let out an exasperated sigh, bringing his free hand to the back of his neck.

"Yeah, thank you. It was much easier than I was expecting. Not that much different from the oath I took when becoming a Seraph, actually – just swearing allegiance to you instead of the Father."


Gabriel hummed a note of laughter.

"You can thank me for getting most of the process done beforehand so that we could get this last little verbal part done quickly. We would have been standing there working through paperwork for much longer if I hadn't done as such."

Icarus huffed.

"Well, no-one was asking you to do that- but it was nice to get it finalised so quickly."


"Come now, I don't think you would have enjoyed meticulously going through every aspect of your entire Record of Judgement – including every venial sin you committed in life however many thousands of years ago and have long since abstained from."

Icarus thought for a moment.

"..Hm. Yeah. Doesn't seem that pleasant, actually."

Gabriel snickered.

"Well, now we have our whole morning free ahead of us that would have been taken up by that otherwise. Shall we check my schedule and see what we've got up first?"


Icarus startled a little.

"Oh. Right. I work for you now."

"Exclusively." Gabriel stated cheerfully. "Or would you like to continue with your usual work roster until your oath is officially finalised into rotation?"


Icarus gave him a look.

"I think you know my answer."

“Anything interesting on the roster this week?”

Icarus asked; one hand firmly holding Rhapsody’s hilt against his knee and the other working on sharpening its blade.

“Yes, actually.”

Gabriel replied matter-of-factly; preoccupied himself with filling out some parchment paperwork.

“We’ve got a Hell expedition lined up all day tomorrow.”

“Ooh, fun.” 

Icarus’ tone was flat and pejorative.

Gabriel snorted.

“It won’t be that bad, it'll just be us two. It’s a general check-up for Wrath – like we did with Greed and Gluttony a while ago.”

Gabriel caught sight in his peripheral vision of Icarus' entire body visibly tensing.

“..Wrath?”

Gabriel turned his helm to look at the Seraph.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Icarus shook his head.

“No, no- it’s fine. Just thought I misheard you.”

“..Alright.”

Gabriel was unsure if there was anything else what he said could have been interpreted as, but he didn't dwell on it.

He turned back to his paperwork – a note of concern filing away in his mind as he caught glance of the now white-knuckled grip that the Seraph had around his sharpening stone.

Icarus had been dead silent during their preparations that morning.

Gabriel had asked him several times if he was alright, and he had received back the same answer of ‘I’m fine’ or some iteration after every inquiry. 

He still had his suspicions, but it wasn't enough for him to pry any further. Icarus mentioned that he hadn't slept well the previous night, so he may just have been tired.

Regardless, he was eager to get to the day's work. Wrath was a layer he generally enjoyed visiting in comparison to the others; the layer's resident Ferryman inspiring a general reverence amongst its populous and providing the Righteous Hand himself with a satisfactory ego boost.

After finishing up his final preparations, he turned to Icarus enthusiastically. The Seraph was leant against a wall, arms crossed and helmet tilted downwards.

"Are we all good to go?"

Icarus nodded once, letting out a small "Mhm."


"Alright. I'll see you momentarily at the point of convergence."


"Roger that." Icarus mumbled, pushing himself away from the wall.

Gabriel honed his focus down to the layer of Wrath, tearing his form through the fabric of reality to reappear at their designated landmark.

He appeared on a small island home to a lighthouse, its beam of light piercing through the layer's thick fog. The clinking of harsh rain pounding against the metal of his armour instantly drowned his auditorials.

After a few delayed seconds, Icarus appeared beside him. The Seraph barely gave himself a second to gain his senses, hastily swerving around and shoving the door of the lighthouse open. Gabriel followed, head tilted to the side in minor bemusement.

"Keen to stay dry, are you?" He regarded with a small laugh, shaking some of the rainwater out from his armour. "I'm with you on that, though we can't stay in here for long. It's a good place to plan our course of action, at least."

"Yeah. Alright."

Icarus' tone was harsh, almost as tense as his body; with his arms tightly crossed over his chest, posture hunched over and curling in on itself.

"Let's get on with it then."

Gabriel looked up at him.

"Are you sure you're alright, Icarus? You're acting a bit strangely."

His voice was laced with concern.

"Never been better." Icarus unsubtly lied, though he seemed too preoccupied with staving off some other feeling to care much about hiding that fact.

"Just tell me what we're supposed to do."

Gabriel sighed.

"..Alright. Our main objective here is to check in with the current Ferryman to see how their seafaring is, well, faring," He chuckled to himself, "as well as conducting an assessment of their vessel's population. The Council would also like if we're able to provide a report on the state of the Leviathan, though there won't be any reprimands if we are unable to catch any observation of it."

"Great. Perfect."

Icarus gave him the most tense thumbs up that he'd ever seen.

"What's first?"


"Well, I chose this island as our point of convergence for good reason. The Ferryman tends to stay around this area, and I've always used this lighthouse to flag down their ship." 

Gabriel glanced around the decrepit interior, gaze slowing and stopping once he caught sight of a staircase.

"Come on, then. Let's head upstairs."

He gestured for Icarus to follow, who obliged after several long beats of hesitancy.

They climbed the flight of stairs; Gabriel taking note of Icarus gripping onto the handrail like his life depended on it. Once they reached the top, Gabriel stared at the rotating light with his hands on his hips.

"Here's what I usually do to notify the Ferryman of my presence."

He conjured his wings, holding one of them out in front of the light; illuminating the lighthouse's signal with a radiant blue for a few moments with every rotation of the light.

"Neat, isn't it?"

He looked to Icarus eagerly, disheartened when he garnered no reaction from the Seraph. Icarus was instead looking outwards at nothing in what Gabriel could only describe as a thousand-yard stare, his back pressed firmly against the base of the light.

Gabriel felt a stronger note of concern alight within him. He'd never seen Icarus act like this before, but didn't want to pry for any further information – as it had clearly been upsetting the Seraph to do so. He attempted to quell the feeling by also turning his gaze outwards, looking for any signs of the Ferryman's vessel.

A minute or so later, the distant bellow of a foghorn startled both angels; Gabriel minorly, Icarus harshly.

"Ah! There we go." Gabriel withdrew his wing from the artificial beam, calling away his hardlight appendages. "That's them. They'll be here any minute now."


Icarus merely nodded in acknowledgement; grabbing his own hands in an attempt to stop their shaking after his unwarrantedly severe reaction to the foghorn.

Gabriel looked upon the Seraph's distress with unspoken worry for a moment, then cautiously began walking outwards to the lighthouse's circular balcony.

"Come. Let's see if we can spot that vessel."

He figured that could be a nice distraction from whatever Icarus was going through.

Icarus' breath audibly halted in his throat.

"..Okay."

The sound of droplets against armour filled the air once again as Gabriel stepped out into the heavy rain. He placed his hands on the banister of the balcony, staring out into the endless crashing waves of the ocean Styx.

Icarus joined him momentarily, a trembling hand stilling itself by grabbing onto the banister. Seemingly unintentionally, the Seraph pressed his body up against Gabriel's; seeking some form of physical support that no wall was near enough to provide. Gabriel held firm, supporting the Seraph's body weight with his.

With Icarus pressed up beside him, he noticed that the Seraph's entire body was quivering. The rattle of his armour as he shook could be heard even above the pounding rain and distant claps of thunder. Gabriel couldn't stop himself from looking up at him once again, his concern swelling to a near-palpable degree. 

Icarus was staring down over the banister at the waves crashing up against the side of the island; massive and violent torrents of water that slammed into the rock with unerring force, spraying seawater up almost high enough to drench the two angels. The Seraph's chest heaved with laboured, audible breaths that looked almost painful with their intensity.

"..Icarus?" 

Gabriel gently tried to garner his attention.

Icarus didn't react. He mustn't have heard him; be it due to the sound of the rain, or whatever stupor he was in in drowning the words out.

"Icarus."

He spoke just a little louder, cautiously placing a hand upon Icarus'.

Icarus violently jolted away from the touch, reeling back with a startled yelp as if he were a frightened animal. He stumbled back towards the center of the lighthouse, staring Gabriel down; his heaving breaths rapidly evolving into frenzied panting.

Gabriel took a step back in surprise, cogs turning in his head. The pieces clicked, and he finally realised what emotion he had been seeing in Icarus this entire time.

It was fear.

It had been difficult to pinpoint, as Gabriel hadn't seen anything like it in him prior to this and therefore had no point of reference, but now he could see it clear as day. Icarus was terrified. 

His concern then erupted into something more primal – more instinctual. He stepped towards Icarus, firmly grabbing the Seraph by his hands.

"Icarus. You need to tell me what's going on with you."

He spoke with sternness, though paired his words with a tender squeeze of Icarus' hands.

The Seraph merely stood there for a few seconds, shaking in place, before speaking up.

"..I- I can't-... I can't be here."

Icarus stammered, a quiver in the back of his throat.

"-I can't be in Wrath."

The panic in his voice twisted at Gabriel's heartstrings.

"That's alright. You can go if you want to."

"N- No, I don't- I don't want to. I'm supposed-.. I'm supposed to be-..."

"You can't help me if merely being present here is putting you in a state like this. I've done this before on my own countless times. I'll be fine."

He stroked a thumb across the back of the Seraph's hand in comfort.

"You're allowed to leave. You have my full permission to."

There was an inflection in Gabriel's voice that implied that he was only feigning the option for Icarus to have a choice in the matter.

Regardless, Icarus shook his head frantically.

"But I- I have to-.. I have to carry out- I can't-"

He was barely coherent.

"Icarus."

Gabriel stated firmly, pulling the Seraph a little closer.

"You are dismissed from this duty."

"But I-"


"That is an order."

Gabriel uttered his command with gentleness, lingering on his hold for a moment more before releasing Icarus' hands.

"Go."

Icarus fell silent, unable to form any kind of rebuttal in his state of mind. Gabriel looked at him intently until the Seraph finally relented, teleporting out of the depths of Hell without another word.

Gabriel let out the breath he was holding, shoulders untensing. Whatever unspecified intensity that was burning within him began to die down, melting back into concern.

He shook his head out in an attempt to clear the worry; reassuring himself that he could check in on the Seraph once he was done with this expedition.

With a prayer uttered under his breath hoping that Icarus would take care of himself, Gabriel turned back outwards to the ocean; the outline of the Ferryman's vessel now visible in the near distance.

At least conversation with the Ferryman wouldn't be a half-bad distraction from his worry.

Sunset marked the time of his arrival. Gabriel appeared afront Icarus' abode with a crackle of light, looking around for the Seraph almost frantically. Luckily, he caught a glimpse of silver at the side of the building; finding Icarus tending to his garden upon approach.

"Icarus."

Gabriel greeted cautiously to get the Seraph's attention.

Icarus' helm tilted up to look at him, then fell back down in quick succession.

"Hey."

He continued trimming back the branches of a small tree, pointedly ignoring Gabriel as much as possible.

"I just wanted to come and check on you."

Gabriel stayed in place, looking on at him from a small distance.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Why do you care?"

Icarus snapped uncharacteristically, flinching at the sharp tone of his own voice.

"..Sorry. I'm-.. fine. I'm doing fine."

Gabriel felt that sense of concern bubble back up into his chest.

Icarus was very evidently not fine. He didn't want a repeat of his admittedly irritating prying earlier in the day, but he was too worried to just leave his companion alone in this state.

"Do you want to talk about it..?"

Gabriel asked gingerly. He hoped that wasn't too big of an ask.

"I'm only worried about you. I want to know what happened so that it won't happen again."

Icarus froze, grip tightening on his gardening shears. He then released a heavy breath, tossing the shears carelessly towards an array of garden tools piled up on the ground.

"...Okay. Sure."

He sat down where he had been standing, leaning his back against the tree he had been pruning; dragging a hand down the side of his helmet in exasperation.

Gabriel joined him on the grass, quaintly taking a seat in front of the Seraph with crossed legs.

"Alright. I'm listening."

He said, looking up at Icarus attentively.

Icarus groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"..Hell, where do I even begin with this,"

The Seraph grumbled.

"You don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to."

Gabriel replied, voice soft and understanding.

"But you can start wherever you think is easiest to."

"..No. I'd like to tell you this. You're my friend – you should know."

Icarus breathed out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the tree.

"...Blacksmithing was not the only hobby of my father's. He was more of a general inventor that specialised mostly in architecture, really. I picked up on blacksmithing because I enjoyed it personally, but his repertoire of skill was far more extensive than just that."

A bit of an unexpected starting point, but Gabriel listened intently regardless. He nodded, urging the Seraph to continue.

"One day, he surprised me with an invention that he had made with me in mind; wings, forged from wax and feathers. You've seen my affinity towards birds – I've always admired their grace, and my father knew this, of course. The prospect of flight was a dream come true for me. I was ecstatic."

The Seraph brought his hands together, fidgeting with his own fingers.

"I went to go test them immediately, despite my father's repeated warnings that they were only a prototype and were not to be used in any intensive manner. ..I was young, stupid, and reckless. I didn't listen to him."

Icarus paused for a moment, gaze tilting downwards.

"...The wings failed me. I fell into the ocean in an uncontrolled spiral. The feathers became waterlogged, weighing me down and preventing me from fighting my way back up to the surface."

His helmet rose minutely, locking onto Gabriel's.

"..So I drowned. And now, thousands of years after my death, I still can't even stand the thought of open bodies of water."

He hissed the word 'thousands' bitterly; a statement laced with a note of palpable self-resentment.

"Oh, Icarus.."

Gabriel brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to soothe the buildup of heartache within his core that had begun to spill out.

"...Is that why you don't tend to use your wings, too..?"

Icarus nodded, solemnly.

"Why didn't you tell me this...? I never would have brought you to Wrath if I knew."

Gabriel's tone was gentle and caring, so much so that it made Icarus noticably relax a little bit.

"Because I-" Icarus stuttered, his hand briefly clenching into a hesitant gesticulation.

"..Because I didn't want to disappoint you."

"For what?" Gabriel replied, taken aback with disbelief at the concept of such a thing.

"For experiencing a completely rational emotional response? Have you gone mad? I'm only disappointed that you didn't tell me so that this situation could have been avoided. Under no circumstance should you be forcing yourself into traumatic ordeals just for my sake."

Icarus looked down at the grass between his legs ashamedly.

"...I'm sorry. I didn't want to appear weak to you. It just-.. It just feels ridiculous, to continue harbouring such deep fear after so long."

"It's not ridiculous at all. That soul of yours is still human – it's only natural."

Gabriel placed a hand on the Seraph's leg in comfort.

"You have no control over it. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Icarus tensed up briefly at the touch, but relaxed again only a second later; placing his own hand atop the Archangel's.

"...Thank you. I needed to hear something like that."

His voice sounded a little warmer, now. 

"Thank you for telling me, Icarus. I hope that you feel a little better, now."

"..It did feel good to get that off my chest. I don't think I've talked about it since I first arrived through the gates and had to state my cause of death to Saint Peter." 

Icarus huffed a half-hearted laugh.

"Goodness, you haven't talked about your own death in- how many years was it?"

"About four thousand, give or take."

"Four thousand years – no wonder you feel relieved. It can't have been easy to just hold all of that inside you."

"It's been fine actually, for the most part. I'm not phased about my death itself – it's been far too long for me to care about that – It's just rare circumstances like what happened today that make the lingering fear an actual problem."

"Well, you won't have to be worrying about anything like that from now on."

Gabriel gently pat Icarus' arm with his spare hand.

"You'll never see Wrath come up on your schedule ever again, alright? I'll make sure of it."

With little warning, Icarus leaned forward and grabbed Gabriel – wrapping his arms around the Archangel and pulling him close against his chest.

"...You're too good to me, you know."

Gabriel just sort of sat there in bewilderment, arms stiffly held out by his sides.

"..It's a hug, Gabriel." Icarus mumbled into the Archangel's shoulder. "You're supposed to do it back."

"Oh-" Tentatively, Gabriel reached forwards to attempt returning the gesture – his arms finding purchase around the Seraph's waist.

"-Like this..?"

Icarus murmured a gentle laugh.

"There you go."

Gabriel felt the Seraph sigh contently against his neck. He couldn't help but think of how nice the hug felt, with the larger angel's arms firmly wrapped around him. He relished in the feeling for a few good long moments before giving Icarus' torso a gentle squeeze and pulling away from the embrace. Icarus seemed a bit hesitant to let him go, but did loosen his grasp after a second to allow the Archangel to pull back.

"..Do you have anything else left to do today?"

Icarus asked, almost bashfully so, as he briefly glanced towards the sky; observing the first stars beginning to twinkle into view as the sun dipped below Heaven's horizon.

"I wouldn't mind if you stuck around for a little while longer."

Gabriel hummed, tapping his chin in mock contemplation.

"Hm, well, I'm not sure – I have a busy schedule this evening that involves spending time at a companion's abode. I don't know if I'll be able to fit you in."

"Oh..?" Icarus played along, his helmet tilting to the side. "And would I happen to know this companion?"

"Ah, maybe- I doubt it, though. If you happen to know an 'Icarus,' could you tell him that I'll be with him momentarily?"

Icarus laughed full-heartedly; a rumble of a sound that emitted from the depths of his chest. Gabriel felt his heart skip a beat in response.

"I'll let him know."

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

..I could hear the souls outside of the gates, crying and begging to be let in. I didn't even think it was possible for so many people to die at once. The Council certainly didn't either – they've been scrambling to try and get things into orderly fashion, but I don't think anything could have prepared them for this.

It seems to have quieted down, at least. Not many new ones have been coming in from what I can see, but I guess that's only a small relief considering the sheer amount of souls that have piled up. I don't envy Gabriel for his job, truly – him and that Seraph of his have barely been seen off-shift as of late. He must be utterly swamped with the amount of souls he has to judge, not to mention having to deal with all that alongside carrying out his usual tasks.

I pray the Father grants him strength in these times. He's going to need it.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT

The harsh cacophony of metal against metal cut through the early morning atmosphere. 

Justice thrust forward, the blow blocked by Rhapsody’s blade; Splendour soon followed, the force of its impact halted by a swivel of Rhapsody’s hilt.

“Too slow.”

Icarus taunted, shoving Gabriel’s assault back away from himself.

“As if you’re any faster,”

Gabriel huffed irritably, slicing both his twin swords down at the Seraph simultaneously this time. 

Icarus cleanly held his stance by holding Rhapsody up in defense, straining against the Archangel as their blades clashed again.

“Try me.”

For a split second, Gabriel loosened his onslaught as he prepared to fall back. Icarus took this moment to pinpoint his assault, shoving Rhapsody to the side in a swift motion and knocking Splendour out of Gabriel’s hand.

The Archangel cursed under his breath, head briefly snapping between Splendour on the ground and Justice in his other hand as the cogs turned in his head.

He took too long to weigh his options. Icarus bodied him without hesitation; slamming into the Archangel pauldron-first and knocking him down. 

Gabriel fell onto his back with a wheezed “Oohf," as the wind was knocked out of him. Icarus made a point of kicking Splendour far out of reach before Gabriel could regain his senses and attempt to grab it.

Icarus stabbed Rhapsody through the edge of Gabriel’s skirt and into the ground as an extra measure to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. Gabriel slashed outwards ardently with Justice; frantic swipes that were merely kicked away by the Seraph. 

Icarus pressed a knee down into Gabriel’s chest, holding the smaller angel down with his body weight. His hands then shot out to grab Gabriel’s wrists, pinning them beside his head before Justice had the chance to strike out again.

Gabriel writhed against the hold, but there wasn't much he could do about throwing off an angel with almost twice his mass. 

“Yield?”

Icarus exhorted, paired with a smug tilt of his head. Gabriel was always much more stubborn in yielding than he was, so he would need some convincing.

“N- No, not yet,”

Gabriel growled, still trying his absolute hardest to buck the Seraph off of him; though Icarus’ grip held like reinforced steel, unerred and unwavering.

“What are you going to do? Talk me into submission?”

Even without a tangible facial expression, a roll of his eyes was almost palpable in the Seraph’s voice.

“Come on.”

After a few more moments of pitiful struggle, Gabriel breathed out an exasperated “Ugh!” and let his body go limp.

“..Alright! Fine- I yield.” 

Icarus let go of him, grabbing Rhapsody’s pommel as leverage to push himself up. He pulled his sword out from the ground once he was standing, relinquishing its pin on Gabriel’s skirt.

“Up you get.”

Icarus held out a hand for him to take – which Gabriel made a show of ignoring, instead helping himself up.

He snickered. The shallow pettiness was endearing to him, at least.

“Come now. There’s no need to sulk.”

“I’m not sulking,” Gabriel sulked, crossing his arms defiantly.

“You did very well. You only spent a moment too long deciding your course of action after I knocked Splendour away from you.”

Icarus knew praise would soften Gabriel back up a bit.

“..And I could have been more precise with my blows while grounded.”

The Archangel grumbled.

“That too. But the panic reaction of being grounded and the subsequent lashing out is understandable – I don’t blame you for that one.”

Gabriel sighed dejectedly.

“I suppose so.”

His attention turned down to his skirt, where he ran his hand over the cut in the fabric left behind by Rhapsody.

“..You tore my skirt,”

He pouted, rubbing the damaged section of the material between his fingers.

“You’ll live.” Icarus waved off the complaint. “It’s a clean cut, the fabric won’t fray easily. You can fix it later.”

“I know, but-..”

Icarus gave him a look.

“..Would you prefer for me to fix it now?”

Gabriel tilted his head downwards.

“...Yes, please.”

Icarus laughed, patting the Archangel’s pauldron.

“I’ll sew it up for you while we’re going over today’s schedule, alright?”

Gabriel’s rigid posture untensed a little – a small laugh leaving him, too.

“..Alright. Thank you.”

Gabriel sat with one leg crossed over the other, gaze darting over the writing carved into the marble tablet in his hand.

Icarus appeared beside him with a flash of light, brandishing a sewing kit in hand.

“What’s the news?”

The Seraph inquired, placing the sewing kit to the side briefly to pull off his gauntlets.

Gabriel hummed pensively, helm remaining locked onto the tablet.

“We’re being sent to scout out Limbo today. Apparently there have been sightings of what some Virtues described as ‘strange metal creatures’ amongst the layer, and the Council wants us to figure out what exactly that entails.”

Icarus tilted his head curiously. 

“Huh.”

He tucked his gauntlets into his belt for the moment, grabbing back his sewing kit and taking a knee in front of Gabriel.

“Does it have anything to do with the recent mass influx of souls, perchance?”

Gabriel uncrossed his legs to allow Icarus easier access.

“The Council suspects as such. They’re beginning to have second thoughts about chalking it up to a minor planetary disaster, as well – especially with these mystery sightings now playing a factor.”

“About time they reconsidered it,” Icarus mused, carefully threading a needle and then bringing a hand forth to hold the fabric of Gabriel’s skirt between his fingers.

“The flow may have stopped for now, but the fact that there were so many coming in for that long indicated far more than just a 'minor planetary disaster.'”

Gabriel hummed a note of agreement.

“Yes, quite.”

His helm lifted to look at Icarus as he placed the tablet to the side.

"Do you have any ideas as to what may be causing such a thing to occur..? You lived on earth once, after all."

Icarus stilled his sewing hand to allocate for a shrug.

"Not a clue. From what you’ve told me, most of those souls have been condemned, so we can’t exactly ask them – and the ones granted ascension that I’ve spoken to have seemed very… disoriented, almost. It’s a strange situation.”

Working while conversing, he had finished his sewing in not even a minute. He neatly cut off the seamless stitch and placed the sewing needle back into its kit.

"How's that going for you, by the way? Working through that backlog of souls?”


Gabriel groaned.

"About as well as you'd expect. The Council is taking most of the workload for me, but I still have a couple stacks of paperwork in regards to the more complex souls that I need to work through and judge."

Icarus hummed in amusement, standing back up and grabbing his gauntlets from his belt.

"The Judge of Hell, dreading the prospect of his own job. A sad state of affairs."

He teased, pulling the silver-plated garments back over his hands.

"It's not that I'm dreading it, it's just-.. A lot. There's a lot of it."

The Archangel sighed, dragging a hand down the side of his helmet in exasperation.

"..Thank you, by the way."

"You're welcome." Icarus replied, crossing his arms.

"You should learn to sew yourself, though. I can't fix everything for you on a whim."

Gabriel stared up at him with a quizzical gaze.

"Do you really think I have the time to do such a thing?"

"I'm more surprised that it's not a skill you already possess."

Icarus tilted his head to the side.

"You've been here since the dawn of creation and you ‘haven't had the time’ to gain such a menial skill as sewing?"

"No? Why would I ever need to..?"

Gabriel seemed almost offended at the idea.

"Do you think you could name one skill of practical use that you think you possess?"

Icarus ignored the question, rebutting with his own.

"The art of battle?"

"Outside of fieldwork, Gabriel. A skill you would use in your off-time.”

The Archangel paused.

"...Reading?"

"That's not a skill, that's a hobby."

Gabriel fell silent, hands fiddling with the edge of his skirt.

Icarus let the silence sit in the air for a few long moments before breaking it with a laugh.

"Goodness. They really did just program you with concentrated Holiness and nothing else, didn’t they?”

Gabriel didn't reply, his head dipping down dejectedly.

Only then did Icarus realise how potentially hurtful his playful jabs may have been, and his heart throbbed with a pang of guilt.

The Archangel always fell into a bit of a mood for a while after losing a spar, though that usually should have quelled by now. Icarus supposed that the stress from the backlog of unjudged souls piled up probably wasn’t improving Gabriel’s general mood, let alone having it brought up in conversation. 

He scolded himself inwardly for not withholding his banter when Gabriel did not reciprocate it. He should have known better.

Icarus once again took a knee in front of the sitting Archangel so that they were eye level. 

"Hey. I was only teasing you."

He placed a hand on top of Gabriel's, giving it a tender squeeze.

"I understand why you are as you are. I don't blame anything or anyone for it."

Gabriel didn't speak up, but did overturn his hand to gingerly grab ahold of Icarus'.

"Would you like me to teach you how to sew sometime?"

Icarus offered, his voice gentle.

"It's not difficult at all. I'm sure you'll pick up on it without a hitch."

The Archangel raised his head to meet Icarus' gaze.

"...I'd like that."

"Alright. I only want you to be able to care for yourself, okay?"

Icarus gave his hand another squeeze before letting it go.

"Now then- we've gotten off track. Should we start preparing to head out for Limbo?"

Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Yes- certainly."

His voice cracked as he forced it back into a louder octave.

"Let's get on with that."

“Left turn up ahead,”

Gabriel instructed, waving his hand in the direction.

“Got it.” Icarus replied, swerving away from the holographic wall he had been about to walk into. While the husks of Limbo tended to be quite passive and conflict was barely an issue, he still disliked paying visit to the layer from a navigational standpoint.

Gabriel followed the Seraph closely, keeping watch behind the both of them. 

“This should still be the general area that was described, though.”

Icarus hummed contemplatively, peering through an archway to observe the surroundings ahead before continuing onwards.

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen a single thing around here.”

“Precisely.”

Gabriel gestured around them vaguely.

“Have you seen any husks in this area?”

Icarus caught on.

“Ah- No, I haven’t.”

“Then we’re in the right place. If they’ve all cleared off, then that implies there’s something to be avoided.”

“..Indeed.”

Icarus’ suddenly spoke absentmindedly, his pace slowing to a stop and his head tilting outwards – like he were straining to hear something.

“..Icarus? What have you-”

“Shh.”

Icarus hushed him by holding out a hand.

“Listen.”

Gabriel focused on doing as such, listening out to hear whatever Icarus was. 

That’s when he noticed the faint crackling sound off in the near-distance.

“Is that-... fire?”

“...I think it is. If so, that certainly can’t be indicative of anything good.”

Icarus withdrew Rhapsody from its sheath.

“Let us make haste.”

Gabriel nodded, unsheathing Justice and Splendour as he and Icarus made their charge towards the sound. In the next room over, the smoke became present – billowing out from a holographic hallway that glowed with an eerie orange. 

The angels exchanged a brief glance before continuing forward, Icarus leading the party with a defensive stance in front of Gabriel.

They entered a room that had been inexplicably set ablaze. The smell of burnt rubber and plastic tainted the air as the flames tore into the fake flora decoration, melting the trees as if they were candles.

“Good grief,” 

Icarus exclaimed, attempting to wave away some of the smoke clouding his vision.

“What the Hell happened here?”

Gabriel’s gaze darted around the room in bewilderment.

“Your guess is as good as mine – I’ve never seen or heard of something like this occurring in Limbo before.”

He conjured his wings, fanning away at the air with them to aid in clearing the smoke.

“I had no idea that this place even had the potential to be flammable, let alone-”

Icarus’ head snapped to the side. 

“WATCH OUT!”

He shouted, interrupting the Archangel.

Gabriel immediately sidestepped and Icarus thrust Rhapsody outwards, the blade making a horrible scraping noise as it cleaved through something metallic.

Gabriel wasn't able to get a good look at his apparent assailant before the Seraph firmly grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Did it hurt you?”

Icarus asked, checking him over.

Gabriel looked up at him, baffled.

“I’m alright- what do you mean by it?” 

Icarus released him, kicking at what he had taken down.

“..Whatever this is.”

It was somewhat difficult to see through the smoke, but from what he was able to make out; laying on the ground behind him was what appeared to be a brown, humanoid construct with an elongated head.

“..Well, I think we’ve found our ‘strange metal creatures,’ then.”

Gabriel bent down to get a closer look at the thing. It was twitching a little, but did definitively seem to be dead – Its metal form sparking and leaking mystery fluids from the cleave in its form left behind by Rhapsody. Its exposed insides were entirely foreign to him – filled with wires and tubing and other metal bits that were utterly confounding.

“Can you make any sense of this, Icarus..?”

He asked, gesturing for Icarus to join him in observation.

The Seraph obliged, taking a knee beside him and leaning his head down to examine it.

“..I’ve never seen anything like this before, no.”

Icarus ran a hand over the creature’s metal plating, feeling it out between the seams.

“This metal is-.... Strange. It feels almost – artificial. I’m not quite sure how to describe it.”

The Seraph seemed just as confused as he was, if not more, which was a less useful response than Gabriel had been hoping for.

Gabriel scanned his gaze over the creature thoroughly, looking specifically for anything that could be considered of offensive purpose. To his analysis, he was unable to find anything of that note.

“..It doesn't seem to have any weaponry, from what I can tell. Why were you so startled by it?” 

Icarus tapped a finger on a long object that the creature had been holding. 

“It had this pointed at you.”

Upon further examination, the object was wired directly to the creature itself – with one long chord sprouting from behind the object’s handle up into the creature’s back.

“I don’t know what it would have done, or if it’s even a weapon at all, but I was unwilling to find out.”

Gabriel hummed pensively. 

“I see. Thank you.”

He stood up, and Icarus followed suit.

“Let’s keep going. If this thing was the source of the fire, then we should at least try and figure out why it did such a thing – or where it came from.”

Icarus nodded, bringing both hands to Rhapsody's grip.

“Onwards, then.”

The Seraph pushed forwards, and Gabriel followed close behind – his wings continuing to fan away the smoke ahead to clear their path a little.

The surrounding flames licked at their armour, but were able to be avoided safely enough. The main factor of danger came in the form of the smoke – which, despite Gabriel’s best efforts, still clouded most of their peripherals. 

They were vulnerable to ambush, and Icarus knew this – upholding a defensive stance while frequently glancing behind himself to check on Gabriel’s status. 

A clattering noise beside them made Icarus freeze in his tracks, digging his heel into the ground to swivel around and face the source of the sound. A silhouette dashed through the smoke in front of him, and he took a step back.

“Something’s here,”

He mumbled a warning to Gabriel, urging the Archangel back with a nudge of his pauldron.

“What did you see?”

Gabriel asked, stepping behind the Seraph fully for protection.

Icarus didn't reply, his focus lasered in entirely on where he had seen that silhouette. 

A shrill beeping noise emitted from in front of him, and another one of the brown metal creatures stepped into view – identical in appearance to the one Icarus had taken down.

It was too far away for Icarus to attempt landing a successful blow, so he instead tightened his stance; staring the creature down.

The creature raised the wired object in its hand, pointing it towards the Seraph. Icarus held Rhapsody up in preparation to block a perceived oncoming attack – but could not have anticipated the concentrated beam of fire that erupted outwards towards him.

The sudden torrent of flames burrowed into his side, wrenching a pained shriek from his throat as his flesh bubbled and boiled under the searing heat. He lashed out with Rhapsody on impulse, catching the creature with the tip of its blade and knocking its line of fire away from himself.

Gabriel yelped in surprise, a bit of the flame catching his arm and scorching some of the fabric of one of his gauntlets.  

Icarus stumbled forwards and slashed at the creature again before it could recover, bringing it to the ground. He stabbed Rhapsody down into its head only a moment later, stilling the creature for good.

“What was that?!”

Gabriel exclaimed, rushing up to Icarus’ side.

“Are you alright??”

Icarus relinquished one hand from Rhapsody to bring it down to his side. Almost half of his lower abdomen was horrifically charred, his flesh still sizzling in wake of the acute amounts of heat that had scorched it.

“-Fffuck,” He growled in pain as the tips of his fingers just barely grazed over the burn. “How- How the Hell-.. Ghh-” Rhapsody clattered to the ground as he doubled over, hands clutching his stomach.

“Icarus!” 

Gabriel grabbed his arm to keep him from collapsing.

“Okay- We need to go. We’ve learned more than enough satisfactory information." 

As long as he was holding onto Icarus, he would be able to transport both of them out of there himself. Keeping his grasp on the Seraph strong, he honed his focus back to Heaven and pulled them both away from Hell’s depths.

With Gabriel not particularly caring where they landed as long as they were able to get out of Hell quickly, the two appeared in a hurried jolt of light upon the floor of the Archangel’s abode.

Icarus shook out his head to clear his senses, looking around with puzzled glances.

“..Where are we?”

“My home.” Gabriel replied, helping Icarus stay upright by ducking under the Seraph’s arm and letting him rest it over his shoulders.

“I wanted to get you out of there before that situation got any worse. I didn't think too hard about where our destination would be.”

Icarus looked a little startled by this information.

“..Isn’t this in the ninth sphere? Am I even allowed to be here?”

Gabriel thought for a moment.

“..Technically no, but-... As long as you don’t leave the building, who’s going to know?”

He began guiding Icarus over to one of a few lavish velvet lounge chairs lining the walls of the room, resting the Seraph upon it.

“You stay here and focus on healing up for a moment while I go and report our findings to the Council.”

Icarus nodded half-heartedly, attempting to shift himself into a more comfortable position.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Gabriel stated firmly before departing with a teleportation, leaving the half-conscious Seraph to his lonesome.

The atmosphere of Gabriel’s home was almost uncomfortably sterile – and would have been wholly unsettling if Icarus were not well-acquainted with the Archangel’s taste in things. The furniture and decor had a clean grandeur to it that was both marvelous and empty simultaneously. Even the lounge chair he had been laid upon felt barely used – the fabric pristine and the pillows stiff.

Lightheaded from the throbbing pain that wracked through his abdomen in burning waves, it took him a few long moments to raise his head and look down at his wound without feeling as if he would pass out from the action.

The burn looked marginally better, with the redness and inflammation having settled down to a degree – though still remained a sight not for the squeamish. Despite it looking a little better, it was still hurting like Hell, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Burns were always the worst – even with the exceptionally fast self-repair of an angel’s holy form. He had burned himself fairly badly at his forge a few times in the past, and those smaller burns had taken upwards of a week to heal – which was an outstandingly long time considering how quickly he had seen his other wounds disappear. He had gotten his leg cut down to the bone once, and that injury was gone by the time he had woken up the next morning.

Distantly, he wondered why burns acted so differently – if it was merely a biological thing, or something beyond that.

Icarus let his head fall back against the chair, stifling a pained groan.

He wasn't looking forward to finding out how long this wound would take to become obsolete.

“How are you feeling?”

Gabriel asked gingerly, peering over Icarus’ shoulder.

“Better. Not great, but better.” Icarus replied, his head tilted down in focus as he sketched something onto a piece of parchment.

“I can walk again without feeling like I’ll pass out, which is nice.”

Gabriel hummed contentedly.

“That’s good. You’re free to stay as long as you'd like until you feel as if your vitality is replenished enough.”

He switched his focus from Icarus’ helmet down to the parchment at his hands. 

“What are you working on here?”

Icarus dusted the parchment off and moved his hands out of the way so that Gabriel could get a better look.

“I’m trying to sketch out those creatures we saw from memory. I’m sure the Council would appreciate a visual reference.”

Gabriel nodded. “I’m sure they would. Good thinking.”

His head tilted to the side a little as he watched Icarus draw for a while, enraptured by the swift and precise movement of the Seraph’s hand. 

“..You’re very talented at this.”

He mumbled, almost absentmindedly so.

“Aeons of blacksmithing will do that to you.” Icarus said with a shrug. 

“Drawing out your ideas for weapons and armour countless times makes you pretty alright at drawing it in general.”

Gabriel huffed a laugh.

“I can see that.”

He observed for a moment more before leaning back with a minute sigh.

“..I’m going to go and start chipping away at my paperwork. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Icarus nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze still locked down onto the parchment.

Gabriel paused after taking a few steps, his head peering back over his shoulder.

“Actually- would you mind joining me? These souls can be difficult to judge, and I would appreciate your input.”

Icarus raised his head, placing down the stick of charcoal he had been using.

“Oh- sure.”

He pushed himself up from the seat with a wince, walking over to join Gabriel at the side with stiffened steps. 

“I’d love to help.”

“Next one?”

“Yessir.”

Gabriel shuffled out the document he had just signed into a pile to his side, replacing it with a new one that Icarus handed him.

“Alright, let’s see here,”

Gabriel skimmed the top of the page listing basal information of this injudged soul, slowing down as he reached a passage at the bottom.

“..Killed several others, though pleaded that the acts were justified under the clause of self defense.”

“Another case like this..?” Icarus asked, picking at the hem of his skirt absentmindedly.

“This is getting absurd.”

Gabriel sighed exasperatedly.

“..Indeed. There’s certainly a pattern here, though I’m unsure as to what it entails.”

He scribbled down under the section of the document labelled Sentence with: ‘Condemned, allocated to Violence’ before signing the page and sliding it to the side to join the other completed ones.

“I just allocated it to Violence like the others.”

Icarus’ hand raised for a second as if he were about to speak up, but quickly retracted it and returned it to his lap – whatever words that were about to leave him dying in his throat.

“Did you want to say something..?”

Gabriel asked, his helmet lifting to look at Icarus.

“..No, it’s alright. Carry on.” 

Icarus pulled down another document, handing it to the Archangel.

“Here’s the next one.”

Gabriel nodded his thanks, taking the paper and placing it down to read it over.

“..Oh. This one’s rather interesting, actually.”

Icarus perked up a little, helmet tilting to the side curiously.

“How so?”

“There’s a word in here that I’ve never seen before.”

“Oh..?”

Icarus leaned closer towards him to get a better a look, and Gabriel pointed to a passage on the document – underlining part of it with his finger.

“Here. This soul claims to be a designer of-..”

He trailed off, unsure of how to go forth with saying the word.

“...Machines?”

Icarus finished for him, attempting pronunciation.

“I’ve never seen that term before either.”

“Hm. How odd.”

Icarus leaned back, and Gabriel kept reading.

“So what has gotten their soul into being classified as a difficult case?"

“..Apparently, one of these ‘machines’ that they designed went on to slaughter-..” Gabriel did a double take on what he was reading. “-hundreds of thousands of others.”

Icarus just kind of looked at him for a moment.

“I-.. Forgive my language, but good fucking Lord that’s a lot.”

Gabriel nodded in disbelieved agreement. 

“It-... Certainly is.”

“Why in God’s name did the Council pass this one to you instead of condemning them immediately, then?”

Icarus asked, dumbfounded.

“It appears to be because this soul pleaded that this outcome was never their intention. They had only designed this ‘machine’, and had sold that design off to someone else who had expressed interest in manufacturing it en-masse. They didn't think it would ever lead to that level of carnage.”

“..That’s-... A lot. Okay,”

Icarus folded his hands together, rapping his fingers across his knuckles. 

“From what I can tell, this individual may have not known how much destruction would be caused by their creation, but-... It seems as if they still designed this creation with destructive purpose in mind, and willingly sold that design to someone who wanted to bring that to fruition.”

Gabriel hummed pensively.

“Yes, I think you’re right- although, there is no blood on their hands from a direct standpoint. They did not kill anyone themselves, and therefore have not done anything wrong on a technicality.”

Icarus looked at him oddly, his hands tensing visibly.

“..Does the extension of one’s creation not apply to sin, in this case?”

He implored, tone cautious.

“Let me put it this way- if you smithed a sword for someone that went on to kill hundreds of people with it in cold blood, would you consider that your fault?”

Icarus thought for a moment. 

“..No? I don’t think so- but my hypothetical intent would have been only to provide them armament, not for the sole purpose of slaughter.”

“There can be sinful intent, yes- but if no such sinful action is carried out by your own hands, then there has simply been no act of sin carried out at all.”

Icarus was unsure of how he felt about that conclusion.

“I-”

He cut himself off as the want to argue his standpoint rapidly diminished. He was far too worn down from the day to bother allocating any more brain power to it.

“..Yes. You’re right. Carry on.”

Satisfied, Gabriel jotted down his sentence and signed the paper off.

“I understand where you’re coming from, but you must remember the definitive phrasings of the Father’s word. He decreed his will with acute intent, and would not have left behind room for any loopholes.”

Gabriel stated his reminder with a gentle, yet stern tone – pushing the now-completed document away. 

“Could you hand me the next one, please?”

Icarus handed it to him wordlessly, lost in contemplation. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind;

Why would you invite me to help you judge if you’re just going to disregard my input?

But he beat it away quickly, shaking it out of his head. Whatever he felt did not matter in the eyes of God – for his word was true, righteous, and without flaw. He would have to curb his instincts, lest they become heretical.

His mind was still foggy, clouded with the lingering ache that continued to sting in his abdomen. He chalked it up to exhaustion heightening his emotions, making him more susceptible to falling victim to their whims.

“Icarus?”

Gabriel had turned to look at him.

Icarus snapped back into reality.

“Sorry- Did you say something..?”

The Archangel hummed a note of laughter.

“I did, yes. I asked for your opinion on this one, but you seem a little tired.”

“No, no, I’m alright.” Icarus shook his head. “I can keep going.”

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

Gabriel kept it lenient from then onwards, only throwing Icarus sparing and simple inquiries and keeping most of their contents to himself rather than reading them aloud. He had noticed Icarus begin to struggle with staying awake, and didn't want to deny him of any of the rest that his wounded body was probably begging him to fall into. It took only four more documents for the Seraph to cease his fight against consciousness.

“Alright, next- oh,”

Gabriel’s voice cut off and quieted itself after he turned to grab the next document, only to be met with the sight of Icarus fast asleep beside him. The Seraph had the cheek of his helmet resting on his arms, which were folded over the table – his hand loosely holding onto the document he had been going to hand over.

Gabriel was lucky in the sense of Archangels lacking the need to rest almost entirely, and he could continue to work through the night without a hitch. While Seraphs certainly had a lessened need to rest and could go for fairly long periods of time without it, they still harboured human souls at their core that called for its reqirement – especially after eventful days such as theirs had been. He couldn't blame Icarus for clocking out there and then.

Gabriel breathed out a soft laugh of endearment, gently taking the document from his grasp.

“Sleep well, my friend.”

He murmured, stroking a thumb over the Seraph’s knuckles fondly before withdrawing his hand. Icarus stirred in response to the touch, though only mildly; a small, content sigh escaping from him.

Gabriel’s gaze lingered on Icarus for another few moments before he turned back to his work, quill returning to parchment. 

The terrible amount of paperwork ahead was a little less daunting with the gentle snores of his slumbering companion maintaining the thrum of a pleasant warmth within his chest.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

FIELD REPORT #2-6289631

REPORTEES: ARCHANGEL MICHAEL & CO. SERAPHS

SUBJECT: NEW MACHINE SIGHTING 

SUMMARY: Michael and two of his trusted Seraphs were on shift in Limbo when they were attacked by a machine not yet recorded in Heaven's databases. Their accounts describe it having an oblong head, uneven bodily proportions (though generally slender) and yellow colouration. Notably, they mention that it had the head of a previously discovered machine (see report #2-6289604) attached to its hand, which it used to assault them with projectiles that it, presumably, would not have access to otherwise. None were injured in any significant means, and the machine was dispatched of immediately.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT

Tension was thick in the air as Icarus and Gabriel made their way towards the Council’s headquarters. As they approached the steps of the buildings, several other Archangels were already waiting outside – a few paired with their own trusted Seraphs as well. 

“It’s that bad?”

Icarus mumbled under his breath.

“Evidently so.”

Gabriel replied, voice quiet and wary.

“I was expecting company, but to this extent- I wouldn't be surprised if they’ve called for every Archangel to make attendance.”

Icarus hummed an apprehensive note.

“...Yeah. I have my concerns.”

Gabriel shot him a brief glance.

“You and me both.”

The two angels stopped to wait amongst the small crowd of their colleagues, both being pulled into smalltalk with their respective groups.

“-So how long have you been sworn under your oath to Gabriel, now?”

Another Seraph asked Icarus. He tapped his finger against his arm in thought for a moment.

“About a century, I’d say. I’m not particularly fussy about keeping track.”

“Impressive. At least considering that Gabriel is your Archangel, that is.”

“Yes- not to offend, but I thought he would have dropped you by now. He doesn't seem to be very committal when it comes to things like this.”

Another Seraph piped up.

“The fact that he even chose to offer for a Seraph to take the Oath of Electrum, let alone stuck with you for this long, is certainly an extraordinary feat on your part. He must really like you.”

Icarus huffed a note of laughter, a bit of fond warmth cutting through his general state of unease.

“Thank you. You could say we’re ‘a match made in Heaven,’ I suppose.”

The smalltalk was cut off by a Councillor emerging from the building, urging the small crowd of angels to follow them. Filing inside in an orderly fashion, the Archangels and their Seraphs made haste towards the auditorium that hollowed the centre of the Council’s headquarters.

Gabriel took seat upfront – a position allocated to him for his status as Judge of Hell. Icarus was seated beside him, hands folded over his lap and fingers locked together as he looked around at the scene. 

He had been called to hearings in this room in the past, but never one with this level of urgency. Uncertainty plagued the atmosphere as the angels continued to talk amongst themselves and the Councillors prepared to make their presentation.

“Has there ever been a hearing like this called before?”

Icarus asked curiously, leaning over to Gabriel to mutter to him.

“Yes, once.”

Gabriel replied in hushed tones, reciprocally leaning towards Icarus as well. 

“When we had our first ever case of a Prime Soul and the Council didn't know how to deal with them yet.”

“Ah. I see.”

Icarus had only ever absorbed information of Prime Souls via proxy and word of mouth. Only Archangels had ever been sent to deal with them, and there hadn't been any cases of one threatening to manifest since he had become sworn under oath to Gabriel, thus he hadn't been able to work with them directly. Though, from what he did know, an emergency meeting in response to the possible formation of one was not an overreaction by any means.

The crowd swiftly quieted as a Councillor gestured for them to do so, and another stepped forwards to greet them.

“Thank you for attending, esteemed children of God. As I’m sure you are all aware, we have called you forth with haste to discuss an imperative matter that concerns both the kingdoms of Heaven and Hell alike.”

The Councillor gesticulated vaguely in accompaniment to their words. To prepare for the next stretch of their information dump, they clasped their hands together and straightened their posture.

“Mankind has begun excavating into Hell. For what reason, we do not know – only that as we speak, they are continuing this escapade further into its deepest reaches. They have already reached the layer of Greed, and are showing no signs of slowing or stopping.”

Icarus heard some angels behind him stifle gasps at the initial news, and a few mumble some brief words of concern to each other in succession.

“This is not the only problem that has arisen. Not only are they defiling a kingdom of holy creation, they have brought their Godless creations that they call ‘machines’ with them. These metal abominations have been running amok through all the layers Mankind has so far touched, desecrating order and wreaking chaos.”

The Councillor continued, gesturing outwards towards the audience of angels.

“We have gathered you here to relay our rapid plan of action in attempting to combat this sudden onslaught of condemnable infiltration. Your current schedules are to be slated clean, as you are now all being positioned within Hell for every one of your shifts for the indefinite future. You are to cleanse this blight at all means necessary and discourage Mankind from going any deeper. All machines are to be destroyed on sight, as well as any live humans that are unwilling to repent and turn back. A breach of Treachery would be the worst-case scenario, which we hopefully will not have to deal with if this is effective in driving them away.”

Gabriel and Icarus turned to glance at each other with a look of shared disbelief.

Icarus shot him a gesticulation that conveyed a ‘This is insane' sort of feeling, and Gabriel reciprocated with one of similar calibre.

“We will provide you with your updated schedules momentarily. If you have any questions or suggestions regarding this matter, take it up with us. Thank you for your time. May the Father light your paths forward.”

The crowd of angels erupted into discussion, the lingering atmosphere of unease multiplying ten-fold.

“-So you’re telling me the machines we encountered were sent by live humans?”

Icarus asked Gabriel, voice breathless with astonishment.

“Apparently so,” Gabriel placed a hand to his chest in utter astoundment.

“I was wondering why nobody was being scheduled for jobs in Hell after we reported our findings back to them the other week. The Council must have been trying to figure out what was going on.”

Icarus hummed a tone of apprehensive agreement. 

“Mankind must have only been down to Limbo when we were sent to scout. The fact that they’ve already gotten to Greed in just a few weeks is-... Deeply concerning, to say the least.”

Icarus began fidgeting with his own hands; a nervous tick that made Gabriel take notice of his trepidation. The Archangel placed a hand of his own upon the Seraph’s in comfort.

“It’ll be alright. We’re taking the fight to them now – we’ll make sure that they won’t be able to go any further. The Father will guide us.”

For once, Gabriel’s word did not aid in quelling Icarus’ worries – for reasons even he was unsure of. He didn't want to dwell on it, for the pit of dread that was burning in his gut was already seeded far too deep for him to want to attempt weeding it out.

He merely grabbed Gabriel’s hand in response, interlocking their fingers. The physical comfort still staved away the worst of it, at least.

The weight of worry weighed down on the two angels to an excruciating degree in the weeks following the hearing.

Icarus hadn't taken the news of Mankind’s expedition into Hell very well, which had only exacerbated the stupor he had already been in due to him being deprived of his signature zweihander. He had dropped Rhapsody to the ground after receiving his devastating burn on their Limbo scouting mission, and the weapon had been missing when Gabriel had gone back to retrieve it an hour or so later. The two had been turning over Limbo to search for it when they had been able to, with no luck.

Icarus had been using another zweihander of his craft as a placeholder, though it was of more generalised calibre – a weapon that had clearly not been forged with the intention to so meticulously fit his hands and personality as Rhapsody had been. His fingers now rested around a weapon of foreign intimacy to him; uncomfortable on both a physical and psychological level.

Gabriel hadn’t been doing too well on an individual level, either. He had only barely chipped at his backlog of unjudged souls, and the uptick of his field shifts were only making his energy and motivation to work through them even more fleeting. His fortitude was near-impenetrable, which made the fact that he had begun losing his confidence in it an incredible feat of the stress he was under. It felt as if he had to be in all places at all times solving every problem, and he was left with little to no time to think for himself.

Due to many of these circumstances, the two of them hadn't been sparring as usual. They had attempted to do so only once since Icarus had lost Rhapsody, in which the Seraph quickly became too disheartened for either of them to want to keep going. Sparring had been their main source of stress relieval, and a lack of it had left both angels in a state of perpetual tension.

At the very least, they continued to find comfort and respite within each other. Exchanged words of reassurance and acts of physical affection kept both of their spirits high enough above the water to prevent either of them from sinking down into complete disarray. 

Even so, the wire of tension remained ever-taut above their heads – waiting for a moment to snap.

“Which layer today?”

Icarus inquired, a sigh in the back of his throat.

“Limbo again.” 

Gabriel replied, briefly flipping his marble tablet schedule over to show Icarus. 

“The machine infestation there is still in too high of numbers for the Council’s liking."

His tone was monotonous; devoid of any emotion that wasn't exhaustion.

“Joy.”

Icarus responded flatly, adjusting his gauntlets. 

“So we’ll just be culling today, then?”

“Just culling.”

Gabriel placed the tablet to the side, leaning back to rest his head against the chair he was sitting in.

“..At least Limbo isn't a bad layer to be stationed in. Much better than Greed.”

Icarus hummed in agreement.

“Quite. I’m still finding sand in the seams of my armour from those shifts.”

Gabriel let out a half-hearted laugh.

“As have I. Those damnable particles stick like glue.”

He shrugged.

“And, hey- maybe we’ll come across Rhapsody this time.”

“..I sure hope so.”

Icarus mumbled, solemnly.

Gabriel let out a deep breath, pushing himself up from the chair and into a stance.

“Alright. Shall we depart, then?”

Icarus nodded, patting Gabriel’s shoulder for a note of motivation.

“Let’s go.”

The two brought themselves down to Limbo hastily, appearing with a simultaneous rend of light. The holographic sky shone down on them with false daylight, gleaming off of their armour with an industrial glow.

Wordlessly, the two slipped into the rhythm of their routine in an instant; Gabriel conjuring his wings and taking the high-ground to scout from above, whilst Icarus stayed grounded to search around from below. 

He was able to dispatch a few machines almost immediately – the brown ones they had encountered previously were much easier to deal with now that he knew what they could do. As long as he stuck to their sides and out of their direct line of fire, he could take them down unscathed. 

He glanced up to check on Gabriel, who was dealing with a flock of some smaller, purple machines that were flying around him. These ones were irritating to catch, but could barely make a dent in their armour, so they weren't much of an issue. He left Gabriel to it.

After some further wandering, The Seraph found himself in front of a large, cathedral-esque building – piquing his interest. He signalled to Gabriel that he was going to check out its interior, waiting until he saw the Archangel nod in acknowledgement before entering. He pushed open the door, its ancient hinges creaking in protest, and peeked inside.

The state of the building’s interior was – peculiar. A pile of miscellaneous scrap metal was strewn about its centre, while the furniture had been arranged into strange, irregular patterns about the hall. Icarus felt his head tilt to the side on instinct of curiosity as he took another step into the building.

At the opposite end of the hall was another door – one that was already wide open, leading to the further reaches of the building. Before Icarus could think about it much longer, a silhouette became visible in that doorway – causing him to freeze in place. Hand already around the grip of his placeholder blade, it tightened in preparation to raise. 

A machine, yellow in colouration, made its way into the room – but didn't seem to notice him. Icarus hesitated, his hold still staying firm and prepared to strike if needed.

The machine was dragging something behind it, trudging towards the scrap pile at the centre of the room. Icarus’ gaze followed it attentively, his breathing stilled and quiet. He realised then that it was dragging another machine – a green one, two-legged with an almost snout-like appendage protruding from its head. This one appeared to be deactivated, presumably dispatched by the one that brought it here.

The yellow machine threw its prize down onto the scrap heap, then emitted a low whirring noise, its blue-lit gaze dropping down to something obscured by the piles of miscellaneous metal.

Something else whirred back, and Icarus saw the head of another yellow machine pop up from behind it. The first one whirred again, making an indiscernible gesture towards what it had brought back, and the second crawled towards it.

Now in clearer view, Icarus could see that the second yellow machine was bereft of lower appendages – torn wires and broken endoskeleton jutting out from the bottom of its severed torso where its legs would have been attached.

Icarus instinctually felt the grip on his weapon loosen, enraptured by the scene playing out in front of him. He found himself wondering if the machine had hunted down another for the intent of helping its incapacitated companion – bringing it back a set of limbs to graft onto itself. 

It tugged at his heartstrings enough for him to stay put. In the back of his mind, he could hear a part of him commanding to dispatch of the machines while they were vulnerable – but as he watched the fully intact machine begin to help its companion take apart the prey it had brought back, taking care to make sure the wiring of the legs stayed useable with precise and intricate movements, he couldn't find the nerve to take another step forward.

Only when one of the machines finally caught sight of him did he snap out of his thoughts. The intact machine emitted a loud mechanical shriek upon spotting him – almost akin to the warning call of a bird – and brandished its strange looking weapon, pointing it towards the Seraph in threat.

Icarus took two steps back, holding up a hand in the universal gesture of ‘halt.’ 

What the Hell are you doing?!

His subconscious screamed at him.

These are machines. You are wasting your time by not taking them out here and now.

But, as his gaze flickered down to the half-destroyed machine peering at him warily from over the scrap heap, another pang of empathy wracked through his body and soul – and he just couldn't grasp the willpower to charge forth.

Icarus and the machine remained still in a stand-off for a few long moments until the Seraph took another few cautious steps back, hoping he would be able to convey the message of unwillingness to do harm. It seemed to work; the machine lowered its weapon, though its stance remained visibly tense. 

Icarus knew what he was doing was wrong. His stomach churned at the knowledge that he was actively stepping away from the duty at hand. But against better decisions, his heart was what remained above all – keeping his other instincts at bay as he continued to back down.

Just as his heel hit the door he entered from and he was but inches away from successfully exiting the situation, a deafening crash brought both his own and the machine’s attention upwards.

In a blur of radiant blue and a spray of shattered glass, Gabriel burst through one of the building’s windows and slashed his swords down at the standing machine. Its mechanical cry of shock was cut short as the chords connecting its head to its neck were cleanly severed by Splendour; its head ungraciously clanking to the ground, its body following a moment later.

With it all happening in a matter of seconds, Icarus had been far too stunned to act. His nerves froze him in place as Gabriel turned to face the half-destroyed machine. 

He reached out his hand as he tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Icarus merely watched as Gabriel stabbed Justice down into the machine’s head, listening as it let out a high-pitched whine that sputtered out as the machine’s vital systems malfunctioned. 

Gabriel pulled his blade out from the metal once the machine stopped twitching and sheathed his blades; dusting off his hands before placing them on his hips and turning to face Icarus. 

“I heard the machine cry out and figured you could use a bit of help.”

He chuckled triumphantly, giving one of the machine’s limp bodies a kick.

“Wretched things.”

Icarus just stared at him, posture startled and hands still clenched over his zweihander.

“...What the Hell was that for?”

He finally uttered, tone lined with umbrage.

“Wha-”

Gabriel’s head tilted to the side, his bewilderment palpable.

“What do you mean what was that for..?”

“They weren’t- those machines weren’t harming anyone!”

Icarus let one hand drop off of his weapon in favour of gesticulating it outwards.

“I was going to leave them alone!”

Gabriel reeled back in surprise, as if the very thought was so unbelievable that it affected him physically.

“Icarus- what are you talking about?? They’re machines. They’re built to cause harm.”

“But they- these ones were-” 

Icarus’ common sense began to finally catch up with his word spill, and he cut himself off before he could dig himself into any deeper of a pit.

Gabriel let out a knowing sigh, approaching his companion with measured steps.

“Look, whatever you may have seen them do, I think it might have been warped by your-... humano-centric viewpoint.” 

The Archangel spoke sternly, his words paired with harsh gesticulations.

“They are not of God’s creation. They are a crime against existence, and they cannot feel emotion. I fear that you may forget this at times, Icarus.”

The final segment of his statement was cut with an edge of what Icarus could only interperet as condescension. 

The Seraph straightened his posture, sheathing his zweihander with sluggish movement.

“...You’re right. I apologise for my inaction.”

His voice was flat, devoid of any discernible emotion.

Gabriel gave him a curt nod of approval.

“Very good. Let us continue on ahead and forget that this little mishap ever occurred, alright?”

His tone softened back up, his ‘offer’ one seemingly provided out of forgiveness. He extended a friendly hand towards Icarus, gesturing for him to take it.

Icarus looked to Gabriel’s hand, up to his helm, and then back to the ground.

“...Onwards, then.”

He turned around to face the door, pushing it open and walking outside.

Gabriel’s hand lowered, a jolt of dejection causing his fingers to twitch.

“-Oh. ..Very well.”

Icarus remained cold towards Gabriel for the rest of the day. 

Every time Gabriel would try to spur on conversation, Icarus would shoot back with flat, one-note replies that conveyed clear disinterest in speaking with him more than what was utterly necessary.

The Archangel was unsure of what he did that could have upset Icarus to this extent. Reminding the Seraph to step up his game in regards to letting his heart take control of his head was not a wholly uncommon occurrence, and he thought that this would be no different. 

Gabriel felt wounded by the end of the day; with Icarus consistently refusing to meet his gaze and flinching away from his touches. Their shift was incredibly successful, with countless machines cleansed from Limbo effectively – but he couldn't bring himself to feel much sense of triumph.

As they finished tying up their loose ends for the day with a report back to the Council, Gabriel turned to his companion in one last attempt of reconciliation.

“Thank you for your effort today, Icarus.”

He relayed to the Seraph, overacted gratitude bursting through the seams of every syllable. He needed Icarus to know how appreciated his presence was, despite his minor slip-up.

“You are dismissed from today’s duties.”

He didn't receive a response. Icarus departed wordlessly in a flash of light, leaving the Archangel to his lonesome.

“..-Goodbye.” Gabriel mumbled belatedly, his head tilting down and shoulders sagging with despondency.

Instinctively, his fingers interlocked with each other in front of him – as if his body spurred on the instinct of prayer before his mind could.

“...Blessed Father, I pray that you soon grant Icarus reprieve of his rancour. May he find the capacity for forgiveness.”

Gabriel sighed after a moment of silence, unlinking his fingers and shaking out his hands. 

He began wondering what he would do for the evening. Usually, he would pass the time with Icarus until it reached the hour where had to begin hacking away at his paperwork – but today, that was not an option.

He filtered through the options in his mind, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against the plating of his forearms in thought. His mind kept drawing him back to Icarus, though – whether it be from a place of concern or something else entirely.

But then, as the day’s events churned through his head – he got an idea.

Gabriel focused his attention down to Limbo, even though he had only just departed from its reaches not even half an hour ago. His search started immediately upon his form settling in place; wings conjuring with haste as he careened upwards. 

Signs of machines were what he was looking for – specifically, those odd-looking yellow ones. They were an uncommon sight as they tended to stay more out of the way, thus he and Icarus hadn't come across many while on shift. They culled indiscriminately – there was no need to look for specific types of machine, usually. 

But this time, he had formed a hypothesis – a goal – and he was willing to let this cut into his paperwork hours to achieve it.

Gabriel brought his search to the interiors of the various buildings scattered around Limbo. After seeing the ‘nest’ of scrap belonging to those machines earlier that day, he believed this could be a solid outlet of weeding out more individuals.

Sure enough, after glancing into the interiors of only a few buildings, he was able to find a scrap heap of similar calibre. Its owner was home, too – perched atop its pile, grafting a new arm onto itself. 

Gabriel studied the scrap heap from his vantage point for what he was looking for, but was unable to see any signs of it. He swiftly dispatched of the machine for good measure, moving onwards to look for the next one.

He repeated this cycle over and over, cutting through machine after machine, rummaging through their scrap heaps. Two hours and a lost count of machines dispatched later, he finally struck gold – or silver, rather.

There. The sight he had been chasing after – Icarus’ beloved zweihander, Rhapsody. 

Gabriel’s reaction was not one of excitement or relief, however – as to his utter displeasure, Rhapsody had been directly grafted onto the appendage of the accursed machine that had owned this scrap heap he had found.

His grip around Justice and Splendour tightened with such fervour that it felt like it could have made his hands bleed were it any tighter. The blood pounded in his head as rage blinded him for just a brief second, his wings shooting him forwards on impulse. 

The machine wasn't even given a moment to compute its fate before it was dead on the ground. Gabriel shoved Justice and Splendour into their sheaths with haste, reaching down to tear Rhapsody away from its captor.

After a few hearty pulls, he was able to relinquish Rhapsody from the machine’s arm. He tore off the wires that had been wrapped around it as if they were parasites, checking over the blade for any damage.

Luckily, it had sustained nothing major – only some mild denting and a painfully tacky, barely comprehensible paint job that was already starting to chip off and could easily be rendered obsolete with some buffing. 

Gabriel sighed in relief, tucking the blade under his arm as he prepared to transport himself back to Heaven posthaste.

“..Alright, Rhapsody.”

He patted the flat side of the silver blade with his spare hand.

“Let’s get you back home.”

Icarus had no idea what to do with himself.

He had tried smithing, drawing, reading, all manner of things to pass this time – and none of it had stuck for more than 20 or so minutes. 

The worst part of it all was that he didn't even know what had caused him to become so upset that it had rendered him in a state of such restlessness.

He knew he was mad at Gabriel, but just couldn’t pinpoint why. The situation was clear-cut – he had been in the wrong, not the Archangel – he had felt compassion for a machine; an urge he knew had been erroneous.

But every time he replayed Gabriel’s words in his head in a search for any form of comfort, he only found himself getting even angrier – feeding his ouroboros of ambiguous frustration.

Flashes of those machines would pop into his head, too – adding fuel to the fire. The intact machine aiding its companion, the gaze he and it had locked onto each other, how it had lowered its weapon once he backed away – and the shriek it had let out upon Gabriel’s entry, its companion witnessing its decapitation mere moments before its own fate was sealed. It made him so inexplicably nauseous that his head spun.

Growling out a sigh, Icarus abandoned the barely discernible scribble he had made onto a piece of parchment in favour of attempting to pick up another distraction. He glanced around, gaze slowing and stopping on a window.

He hadn't tried gardening yet. Perhaps hacking away at an overgrown shrub would be cathartic enough to calm him down at least enough to start forming rational trains of thought.

He trudged over to his front door, stilling his hand and taking a deep breath before placing it upon the handle so that he didn't wrench the door off of its hinges when opening it.

Upon stepping outside, his foot caught on something – making him stumble and almost trip over.

His head snapped to the ground, and the sight that met his gaze was one that made his entire body tense in surprise.

It was – Rhapsody. Neatly resting on his front doorstep, a letter affixed to its blade via a royal blue ribbon tied around it.

Icarus scrambled to grab it with an almost frenzied level of intensity. Once his hands had made purchase, he pulled his blade close on instinct; pressing its flat end against his chest and resting his helm against its pommel.

“Thank the Father that you’ve returned to me,” He muttered, a shaky breath of reverence leaving him as he moved a hand up to hold its grip – his fingers seamlessly settling into its worn leather.

He had missed Rhapsody. Dearly.

After a long moment of soaking in the solace of being reunited with his blade, his attention turned to the letter attached to it. He loosened the ribbon and freed the envelope, gently resting Rhapsody against the side of his house so that he could open it. 

If it already wasn't at all difficult to guess who the letter had originated from, the blue and gold swirl of the wax seal enclosing the envelope would have given it away. Icarus was surprised that he even had the desire to read it, considering how upset he felt about Gabriel only moments prior – though he supposed the gift of Rhapsody’s return had softened him up enough to give it a chance.

He swiped a finger under the seal to open it, pulling the letter out from the envelope and unfolding it.

In golden-inked cursive, it read;

Dearest Icarus,

I hope you are of higher spirits once this letter meets you. I am aware that I may have upset you today, and for that I am deeply sorry. I was unaware of the extent as to which my words may have affected you, and I will make great effort to be more careful with them going forwards.

As an extent of my apology, I have spent my evening tracking down Rhapsody for you. I was able to locate it in the den of one of the peculiar yellow machines, which had it grafted directly onto its arm. It had painted the poor thing in a horrifically gharish yellow, presumably to match itself, but I was thankfully able to get rid of that with no issue. It suffered very minor damage otherwise.

Come dawn, would you perchance indulge me with a spar now that Rhapsody is back in your hands? I believe we have the time to do so, and I’m sure you wouldn't mind letting off a bit of steam. 

Regardless, I do hope you are feeling better by tomorrow. I worry about you often these days, and seeing you so upset as you are only exacerbates that.

May the Father grant you repose henceforth.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Icarus felt the complex concoction of feelings within his core stir and shake itself about, overloading his senses.

The letter was – sweet. It felt wholly earnest; Gabriel’s concern and affection palpable through the writing. A part of him still wanted to be upset with Gabriel for whatever reason, but he just couldn't bring that anger back to a boil, or even a simmer. Why else would the Archangel have gone so out of his way to track down his blade if not out of a sincere attempt at apology? He had no reason to remain upset.

Yet a more sinister, horrible thing crawled its way up his spine – wracking him with a cold chill. He shook it away before he had the chance to dwell on it, unwilling to unpack whatever feeling that had been.

He focused back on Rhapsody, and his heart swelled with warmth again – staving away the lingering unease of that chill. This weapon was an extension of himself – without it, a plaguing loneliness had been eating away at his psyche. Now returned to his arms, that loneliness already felt as if it were a distant memory.

Icarus folded the letter back up and returned it to its envelope, tucking it into his chiton for temporary safekeeping. He grabbed Rhapsody by its grip, giving it a fond squeeze before lifting it up to bring out to his workshop for some needed tending to.

He noticed as he walked that the blade had been polished, too – certainly not via a method that he would have done, but it was a decent effort nonetheless.

A soft note of fond laughter rumbled up from his throat as the mental image of Gabriel frantically trying to rid Rhapsody of its apparent botched paint job so that it would be in a presentable state when returned flashed through his mind.

It was endearing. Gabriel was endearing. Icarus could never stay mad at him for long.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

His palace is of skulls.

His crown is the last splinters

Of the vessel of life.

His throne is the scaffold of bones, the hanged thing's

Rack and final stretcher.

His kingdom is empty-

The empty world, from which the last cry

Flapped hugely, hopelessly away

Into the blindness and dumbness and deafness of the gulf

Returning, shrunk, silent

To reign over silence.

REMAINING TEXT: NONE

Icarus had woken up later than anticipated. The feelings that weighed down on his consciousness enough for him to desire rest as respite from them had caused his daily rhythm to fall behind schedule. He muttered both curses and prayers under his breath as he scrambled to get himself ready, teleporting to the sparring fields the exact second he was properly prepared for the day.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a very late arrival for their designated sparring time – the sun still only just peaked over Heaven’s horizon, brushing the dawn’s clouds with soft yellows and purples. He had no doubt that Gabriel would have arrived before him. 

He swept his gaze over the fields, looking for any signs of the Archangel. 

With no luck on that front, he called forth;

“Gabriel?”

But his only response was the breeze.

“Damnit,” 

Icarus cursed under his breath, his hand briefly clenching into a fist. He had been looking forward to the spar, after a fairly long period without them. 

He had been sure Gabriel thought the same, considering he had been the one to invite him. Apparently, he had thought wrong.

Why the Hell would you invite me to a spar if you’re not going to show up?

Icarus thought bitterly; that anger from the previous day threatening to bubble back up in his chest.

He calmed himself with a deep breath, running a hand down the back of his neck. There was no need to get upset again – he was probably overthinking it. 

He figured he could pass the time at the fields anyway, now that he was here. He pulled Rhapsody from its sheath, holding it up in front of himself – his lingering bitterness melting away in its wake as it spurred on the memory of Gabriel’s letter.

He was definitely overthinking the situation. Gabriel wouldn't have ditched something he offered without good reason. He would be able to ask him about it soon, anyway – there was only about half an hour ahead until they would begin their daily duties.

He cleaved Rhapsody through the air with a satisfying swoosh, relishing in the feeling of its sharpened blade slicing down into the ground below effortlessly. 

Rhapsody wasn't bad company, at least.

Fortunately, the time passed quickly, and Icarus departed once the sky brightened to a deep blue – marking the proper beginning of the morning. 

As he appeared in their briefing room, Gabriel turned to him with a jolt of his head.

“Oh- Good morning!”

Gabriel’s voice was warm; carried with a note of wary excitement.

“Good morning, Gabriel.” 

Icarus replied amicably. 

Gabriel’s posture visibly un-tensed at the Seraph’s lack of hostility.

“It’s good to see you. You had me worried there for a moment after not showing up to the spar I offered.”

Icarus looked at him quizzically, head tilting to the side.

“I was- About to ask you about that, actually. I was a little late, and you weren’t there when I arrived.”

Gabriel gasped, bringing a hand to his chest.

“Oh my goodness- I’m so sorry! I waited there for a while and only left when I thought you weren't going to come – I probably would have caught you if I only waited a minute longer.”

“Oh! No, that’s okay- That’s completely understandable.”

Icarus shook his head, gesticulating apologetically.

“It’s on me for being late.”

Granted, he had only been a little late – but still late regardless.

“Nonsense – I was mistaken in assuming you weren't feeling up to it. I’m glad I was wrong. You certainly seem to be in higher spirits.”

Icarus hummed a note of laughter.

“Yes- Thank you, by the way. I missed Rhapsody more than I ever thought I had the capacity to.”

Gabriel waved his hand.

“Oh, don’t mention it. I would be inconsolable if I lost just one of my blades – I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering any longer without yours. I hope it was an acceptable apology gift.”

“Consider your apology accepted.”

Icarus pat Gabriel on the top of his helmet.

“I was upset at you for entirely unreasonable means, regardless.”

Gabriel chuckled. 

“Of course. Anything to keep my dearest confidante out of a state of stupor.”

He ran a hand down the side of Icarus’ arm fondly, ending it with a gentle caress of his hand. 

“Perhaps we could spare some time this evening to allocate for that spar.”

Icarus hummed contentedly, reciprocating with an affectionate nudge of his shoulder.

“That would be nice.”

Gabriel pulled back his hand with a beat of reluctance, turning to grab their marble tablet schedule off from a table.

“Now, then- let’s get to business.”

“Lets.”

Icarus peered at the schedule over Gabriel’s shoulder, lightly resting his head atop the Archangel’s pauldron.

“...Heresy today, is it?”

He commented, gaze skimming over their written task.

“Mhm,” Gabriel hummed, a tone backed with minor trepidation. 

“Implying that Mankind has now made it down that far.”

Icarus winced.

“-Ah, yes. That cannot be good.”

“Certainly not. The Council has worded today’s task very strongly.”

Gabriel cleared his throat.

“-You are to prevent humanity from reaching the lower layers at ALL COSTS.”

He relayed the words aloud, raising his voice to indicate text being written in full capitalisation. 

“Live humans are now to be eliminated on-sight no matter their intention. Use every means available to you to drive them back. Do not fail.”

“...Yeah. Not good. I don’t-...”

Icarus hesitated, his head dipping closer to Gabriel’s.

“...I don’t know if I can carry out this task effectively, with that in mind.”

His words were whispered with trepidation; gaze imploring for any note of comfort.

Gabriel turned his head to face Icarus, their helmets mere inches apart.

“What do you mean?”

A gentle inquiry, careful with its tone.

“..The indiscriminate elimination of live humans.”

Icarus downturned his helmet slightly, breaking eye contact.

“...I don't think I have the willpower to do such a thing.”

“Come now- sure you do.”

Gabriel raised a hand, gently pushing the Seraph's helmet back up from underneath.

“They’re only sinners. There’s nothing to be lost.”

The comfort Icarus had been seeking was nowhere to be found in Gabriel’s words. The Archangel had said them with the utmost intent of it, but they had been received with distorted and garbled interpretation – turning Icarus’ blood cold.

I don’t care if they’re sinners. That’s not what I’m worried about.

He thought, barely able to keep the words unspoken as he fought to contain them within himself.

I just don’t want to kill people.

Gabriel brought that hand up to the cheek of Icarus’ helmet, cradling the Seraph close.

“Purposeful desecration of the Father’s creation is to give up one’s humanity. They’re only as good as the husks they’ll become.”

The Archangel’s voice, his touches, glowed with the radiance of warmth and comfort and understanding – but his words, those terrifying, dread-inducing words, pierced through Icarus' psyche like heated daggers.

They’re only human. They don’t know any better. 

Every feeling Icarus had forced out of his mind from the previous night came crashing back into his consciousness, wracking his body with a terrible shiver.

You’re not human. You don’t understand why they act the way they do. 

He silenced his thoughts before they could spiral any further by pressing his head into Gabriel’s hand – relishing in the physical comfort to make up for the lack of its verbal equivalent. 

Gabriel stroked a thumb over his chin, leaning in a little closer.

“You are good, Icarus.”

He whispered, voice teeming with unearned reverence.

“I know you can do this.”

Icarus swallowed thickly, followed by a shaky breath.

Is this what goodness is?

Why am I afraid of it?

Why do I fear goodness?

Am I good for doing this?

..Am I good?

Am I-

“Icarus,” Gabriel softspokenly goaded him out of his own mind.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Icarus shook out his head, coughing away the choked up feeling that was building in the back of his throat. He pulled away from Gabriel, adjusting his gauntlets absentmindedly.

“...Sorry. Let’s go.”

Gabriel’s head tilted slightly as he continued to gaze at the Seraph with worry.

“Alright. I’ll see you there.”

Icarus had barely spoken a word during their shift.

Gabriel could feel unease emitting off of him in palpable waves – the grip he had clasped around Rhapsody both loose and tense simultaneously.

He hoped they wouldn't come across any humans for Icarus’ sake. It was a rare occurrence regardless, and he had no qualms about dealing with them himself – he only worried about the wellbeing of his companion with the new orders in play. 

The few times they had encountered live humans in Hell, Icarus had always stepped forth with earnest passivity; politely asking them to turn away. The even fewer times said humans had refused to do so, Gabriel would have to step in to make up for the Seraph’s lack of action. 

It bothered him to think that Icarus considered these sinners of high enough worth to extend mercy towards them. Any living soul, regardless of worth or abstinence of sin, immediately damned themselves by choosing to enter a kingdom that was not meant for the living to see. He didn't understand what Icarus saw in them.

With that in mind, worry still overtook Gabriel. Like any sane friend, seeing his companion upset disheartened him greatly – he couldn't just scold Icarus into doing his job efficiently, as God forbid he would make the Seraph any more upset. He had to prevent that to the best of his abilities.

Gabriel refused to leave Icarus’ side during their shift, shooting him reassuring glances over his shoulder and showering him with words of affirmation in an attempt to keep his spirits high.

He was unsure if the effort was having any effect, though. Icarus remained as tense and quiet as ever, glancing around with stiffened postures as if he were a prey animal waiting in anticipation for the sign of a predator.

Icarus didn't seem to be getting any worse, at least. And, he wasn't directly upset at Gabriel this time, either – which kept the Archangel satisfied enough to continue with his onslaught of attempted comfort.

The hours ticked by, and Icarus was gradually becoming so dissociated that it would take Gabriel several attempts to merely garner his attention. 

He wished he could have dismissed Icarus, but he couldn't. The Council had disallowed any instances of spontaneous dispatch from all duties unless it was a life-threatening scenario. Gabriel already had to fight tooth and nail in order for Icarus to be able to abstain from duties in Wrath, and he was adverse to thinking about how much trouble he would get in for sending Icarus home without good reason.

At the very least, their shift was almost over now. Gabriel relayed the short amount of time they had left on duty to the Seraph, who seemed to perk up a little at the information. 

They luckily hadn't encountered any live humans yet, and Gabriel was hoping it would remain that way. At the back of his mind, he knew the sand in that hourglass was growing ever thinner – and that eventually, whether it be this shift or another, it would happen. And on behalf of Icarus – he dreaded it.

Being in the final stretch of their shift as they were quelled this worry to a degree. Surely fate would not be so unkind as to throw that inevitable circumstance their way when they were but so close to being free of it, he thought.

But, fate does not listen to what flows against its whims – and the two angels slowed to a stop upon hearing the distinct sound of voices.

It couldn't have been other angels. Angels spoke with an almost melodic hum laced through the seams of their voices; a note of reverberation built into their very vocal chords, as if they were speaking through the acoustics of sound echoing within a cathedral.

This left only one possible scenario ahead.

Gabriel immediately turned to Icarus, who had become so still he could have been mistaken for a marbled statue.

“..You stay here. I’ll handle this.”

He extended as an offer; sure that Icarus wouldn't enjoy seeing what was about to occur.

Gabriel placed his hands on the hilts of Justice and Splendour, taking a step forward – only to be stopped by a firm hand grasping his shoulder.

“..Gabriel,”

Icarus spoke with such painfully fragile softness – twisting Gabriel’s heart in knots.

“Wait.”

Gabriel glanced up at him apologetically.

“I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

He turned and tried to take another step forward, but Icarus’ grip on him held firm – preventing him from doing so.

Gabriel sighed heavily.

“...I’m not doing it because I want to, Icarus. The Council was right in this decision – Mankind has gone too far. This is merely a means to an end.”

"I know."

Icarus tightened his grasp on the Archangel’s shoulder, his helmet tilting down and shadowing his gaze.

“Let me do it instead.”

Gabriel jolted a bit in surprise.

“..Icarus, I don’t-.. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He warned, reaching up to urge Icarus’ hand away from his shoulder.

“I don’t know if you’re in the right headspace to do so. …Or if I can trust you to do the right thing.”

Icarus let go, refocusing his hold by grabbing Gabriel’s hand.

“I want to prove to you that I can.”

A hint of desperation crested in his voice.

As Gabriel thought, Icarus squeezed his hand with supplicancy – and he just couldn't bring himself to say no.

“...Alright.”

He stepped back, allowing Icarus passage.

“Go on ahead.”

Icarus nodded firmly, taking measured and methodical steps towards the room ahead in which the voices echoed from.

Gabriel was unable to discern what the humans were saying at his distance, but he was able to understand Icarus as clear as day.

“Be not afraid.”

The Seraph spoke to them, voice sharp and hardened like steel.

“...I will make your deaths merciful.”

Screams silenced by metal followed, and Icarus returned from the room brandishing Rhapsody dripping with hot, fresh blood. It splattered across the front of his armour like paint on a canvas, droplets of red dusting the front of his helmet.

“..Ah. Well done.”

Gabriel’s praise was earnest, yet severely worryful. Icarus was still so out of it that he was barely recognisable – his bodily expressions devoid of all emotion.

“Are you feeling alright after that..?”

“I feel fine.”

Icarus replied; a statement that felt honest only on the front that it seemed like he hadn't been feeling anything at all. 

In this moment – Icarus was truly, wholly unsettling. 

Gabriel felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“That’s-.. Good. ..I think we should start wrapping our shift up, now.”

Gabriel suggested with wariness, only fleetingly glancing up to meet Icarus’ unerring gaze.

“Okay.”

Icarus stated plainly, sheathing his bloodied blade with little care. 

Gabriel frankly just wanted them out of there as soon as possible in hopes that it would bring Icarus out of whatever state he was in. They reported back to the Council with no issue, and had the evening ahead of them.

“..Well then,” Gabriel clasped his hands together, attempting to conjure up a note of cheerfulness in his voice.

“I know that you wanted to spar this evening, but- I’m not quite sure if you’re up for it. Would you like to spend the time doing something else?”

“No, it’s alright. I can spar.”

Icarus looked outwards at nothing.

Gabriel had been hoping to not receive that answer.

“..I’m less concerned about if you can, rather than if you should. I don’t think you’re quite of sound mind right now, Icarus.”

The Seraph’s head swiveled to face him.

“What makes you think that?”

Gabriel found himself unable to form any further rebuttal.

“..Nothing. We can still spar, if you’d like. I’m just worried about you, is all.”

“Let’s spar, then.”

Icarus teleported away without warning, startling Gabriel enough to elicit a yelp.

“-Goodness,” The Archangel breathed, holding a hand over his fast-beating heart. He took a moment to calm himself from the fright before teleporting himself to the fourth sphere’s sparring fields, where Icarus presumably awaited him. 

Evening spars were rare. Their spars typically served the purpose of sharpening senses, kickstarting the two angel’s adrenaline for the day ahead. They were often too exhausted to do much physical activity after their duties. 

Thus, it felt almost uncanny to see the fields at sunset rather than dawn. Red hues bled into the sky as the sun dimmed in the wake of nightfall, the clouds above stained with pink hues.

Icarus stood starkly ahead, the still-bloodied Rhapsody drawn by his side. The sight was enough for Gabriel to hold back with a beat of hesitancy before stepping out into the open.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?” Gabriel commented, walking up to stand next to Icarus.

The Seraph’s gaze was upturned, neck bent back as he stared upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly to look at Gabriel.

“Yes. Quite.”

He took a few steps to the side, turning his back to the Archangel. 

“One,”

Gabriel startled, fumbling to grab at his swords.

“Oh! Are we starting?- Uh, two,”

He swiveled around after pulling the blades from their sheathes, rolling out his shoulders as he continued the countdown.

“Three.”

Icarus uttered mere moment later, far too early for Gabriel to react in proper time.

The Archangel didn't get a chance to fully turn around before Rhapsody was swung at him, slamming into his chestplate with full force. He was knocked back instantaneously, hitting the ground with a resounding clatter of his armour.

He was able to pick himself up with a swift conjuration of his wings; just barely flapping out of the way of Icarus diving towards him with Rhapsody; the silver blade piercing the dirt where he was moments prior.

Never had they sought to hurt each other during spars. Blood was spilled every so often, but not with intention. Each blow was calculated with precision to incapacitate, not harm. 

-And that blow had been different. 

Gabriel shuddered at the thought of what could have happened had he not moved out of the way. 

He shook it off, giving Icarus the benefit of the doubt. They had exchanged a fair share of unintentionally powerful blows in the past – it may have just been a fluke. Icarus was out of it, after all – it had probably been unintentional.

“Hhaha, f- feeling feisty, are we?”

Gabriel stammered; a nervous chuckle bereft of all emotion that laughter should be carried with.

Icarus didn’t respond. He swung Rhapsody back towards the Archangel, his stance unwavered.

Gabriel stepped out of the attack’s range, hesitant to attempt at returning any blows. He was too busy trying to analyse the Seraph to focus on that.

To describe Icarus as absent was a catastrophic understatement. It was as if he wasn't there at all – with his movements stiff and almost mechanical – a mere husk left in the wake of his consciousness that was running on pure instinct. 

Gabriel’s concern was rapidly evolving into fear with every unerring strike Rhapsody made towards him. He did not want this spar to continue at all with how unsafe he was feeling – but found himself incapable of speaking up to put it to an end.

A part of Gabriel spurred him to keep going – convincing him that Icarus would be able to ‘let it all out’ this way, and he would be feeling better by the spar’s conclusion.

A frantic decision, one unlikely to yield favourable results – but Gabriel had been provided with little reprieve to think of anything better.

Finally, Gabriel struck back with his first blow of the spar – a half-hearted slice of Splendour aimed at Icarus’ pauldron. It caught the metal with a loud CLANG, snapping Icarus’ attention towards the Archangel’s hand. 

With hardened impassivity, Icarus grabbed Splendour’s blade with his hand, wrenched it from Gabriel’s grasp, and threw it aside.

Gabriel was too stunned to react any further. Icarus just tore Splendour out of his hand by its blade. He wasn't given a further moment to worry if Icarus had hurt his hand before the Seraph followed the action with an assertive shove, knocking Gabriel backwards and off-balance again.

Icarus wasn't going to allow him the opportunity to recover this time, either; slamming himself into the Archangel and taking them both to the ground. 

Gabriel released his hold on Justice in favour of using both hands to roll out of the way so that he wasn't crushed under Icarus’ weight. He wasn't able to crawl away fast enough to get out of reach, though – and Icarus grabbed him by the ankle, dragging the Archangel back towards himself.

Gabriel scrabbled to find purchase on the ground to no avail – unable to stop himself from being pulled. He pushed himself onto his back, only for the Seraph to immediately grab his throat and pin his head to the ground.

The Archangel let out a startled yelp, instinctually bringing his hands up to Icarus’ to try and pull it away. He wasn't being choked – he could still breathe perfectly fine – but Icarus’ hand was still dangerously tight around his neck.

“A-Alright, I yield!” 

Gabriel stuttered out. Taking time into consideration, the spar had barely even started – but Gabriel had reached far beyond the point where he felt as if he could keep going. 

But Icarus didn't move. He remained steeled.

With half-dried blood still splattered across his armour, chest heaving with dry, ragged breaths – Icarus looked almost animalistic – like a wolf with a rabbit in its jaws. 

This wasn't the Icarus that Gabriel knew.

This wasn't Icarus at all.

“I-...Icarus?”

Gabriel’s voice was a near-whisper.

Icarus responded by tightening his grip, shortening the Archangel’s breath.

Gabriel gasped; now having to strain to breathe.

“ICARUS!”

Gabriel cried out in a desperate panic, clawing at the Seraph’s hand.

-And that was what wrenched Icarus back to reality.

As if his soul was returning to his body, Icarus sucked in a sharp gasp and immediately let go of Gabriel, pushing himself back and away; looking down at his trembling hands as if they weren't his own.

“I- Gabriel, I didn’t-”

The emotion returned to his voice with cacophonous fervour; rupturing with the shock and horror of his own action. 

“Wh-.. Why did I-...”

His helm tilted to look up at Gabriel. He sounded just as afraid as the Archangel was, now.

“...What happened to me..?”

Gabriel swallowed audibly, pushing himself up from the ground and shakily dusting off his skirt.

“...I think-.. I think I’m going go home now, Icarus.”

The Archangel’s voice quivered; filled with emotion too complex to be discernible.

Icarus merely nodded, gaze locking back down on his own hands.

“..Okay.”

Gabriel departed with a flash of light, leaving the Seraph to his lonesome under the light of the setting sun.

Icarus sat there, trembling, trying to piece together his fragmented thoughts.

Memories of the day's events were nothing but static. The last thing he remembered proper was the conversation he and Gabriel had during their briefing, and even that had become fuzzy. All he knew now was that he had come to with a hand around Gabriel’s neck so firm that if it were any tighter, he could have snapped it.

Icarus had dissociated plenty of times before, but never to a degree so bad that it felt as if he had been checked out from his own body entirely. This was a new, horrifying level of such a thing. 

-Horrifying enough that he might have killed Gabriel if he didn't snap back any sooner than he did.

He had never seen or heard Gabriel scared before. He thought the Righteous Hand of the Father would be immune to such a thing, given his nature. 

He had been proven wrong by the way Gabriel had cried out his name; a panicked shriek of primality. Fear so starkly uncharacteristic of the Archangel that it had been what grounded Icarus.

A sob wrenched itself out from his chest, causing Icarus to bring a hand to the front of his helmet in an attempt to block the sound. 

This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.

Why did I hurt Gabriel?  

Why did I act this way?

Why don't I remember what happened?

What is wrong with me?

He thought aloud, desperately searching for any form of solace.

God would never bestow such unbearable distress upon one of his purest soldiers.

I’m good. I’ve done all that I’m supposed to.

So why does goodness create a monster from a man?

What am I, God?

What am I?

His prayer was met with silence, cries comforted only by the evening breeze.

Icarus collapsed onto his side, curled into a fetal position. His hands clenched the grass beneath his fingers as he bit back his sobs, swallowing them down back into the depths of his chest.

His fingers brushed over metal, and that’s when he noticed Justice laying before him; abandoned by its owner in his haste to leave.

Icarus pulled the sword towards himself, cradling it close against his chest as if it were a loved one. He rested his head against the flat side of its blade, mumbling incoherency into the blue-plated metal.

“Gabriel- I’m sorry- I’m sorry- forgive me- please- forgive me-”

He repeated, over and over, wracked with terror and panic and confusion so potent that it was short-circuiting his mind.

All he could comprehend in that moment was that he had hurt his dearest friend. He had scared him.

And that was beyond forgiveness.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

Birdwatch - entry 8694

Morning: 2 mourning doves, 1 blue jay (juvenile), 3 finches, 1 ruby-throated hummingbird. I was unable to catch a good glimpse at the finches and determine the species.

Day: 1 bluebird, 1 swan. The bluebird made an effort to entertain the swan with ridiculous gestures and humorous chirping. It appeared to work.

Evening: 1 cardinal, 2 ruby-throated hummingbirds, 1 turtle dove. I was able to get the hummingbirds to feed from my hand this time.

Birdwatch - entry 8695

Morning: 1 blue jay (juvenile), 2 cardinals, 2 mourning doves. The cardinals began fighting over the birdseed and making a mess. I stepped in myself and broke up the conflict.

Day: 2 goldfinches, 1 bluebird, 1 swan. The swan and goldfinches held a territorial standoff for a while, and before the swan could back away, the bluebird intervened aggressively – killing the goldfinches.

Evening: None recorded - focused on smithing

Birdwatch - entry 8696

Morning: None recorded - woke up late, no time to observe

Day: [BARELY LEGIBLE TEXT -- ATTEMPTED RECOVERY] 1 bluebird, 1 swan. The bluebird --- swan -------- together. They -------- in ---- afraid of -------. ----- as ---------- intended ------. The swan ------- attempted to ------, -- the bluebird ------. ---- swan ------ no memory -------.

Evening: None

Birdwatch - entry       

Morning: 

Day: There are no birds in Hell

Evening: 

REMAINING TEXT: COMPLETELY ILLEGIBLE

Gabriel wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

The thought plagued him as he trudged through his paperwork – with it remaining a lingering distraction that bothered him too much to work efficiently.

He had been too shaken by Icarus’ actions to think rationally, his instincts telling him to distance himself as fast as possible; leaving the Seraph abruptly and alone in a clear state of mental distress.

Repeatedly, it would all circle back to the thought; Is Icarus alright?

Gabriel worried greatly – but more than he worried, he feared.

The side of Icarus he had been exposed to that day was nothing short of terrifying. The Seraph hadn’t gone for the kill out of malicious intent, only the absence of rationality to hold mercy – which was an arguably worse alternative.

The more he dwelled on it, the tighter his grip became on his quill – and he had to take a moment to calm himself in order to not snap it in two. 

For once, the break of morning came paired with the weight of dread rather than excitement. It uneased Gabriel harshly to consider what state Icarus may be in upon his arrival – or if he would even make an appearance at all. 

With perturbed anticipation, Gabriel sat and waited for the Seraph in their briefing room – fingers tapping against the table in an anxious rhythm.

-And exactly on time, a burst of light signalled his presence. Icarus appeared before him, loosely cradling the Archangel’s blades under his arm.

Gabriel released the breath he had been holding. He wasn’t sure what emotion filled him, but it wasn’t the relief he had been expecting.

“Good morning.” 

He greeted cautiously, gesturing towards Icarus with a half-hearted wave.

“..Hello.”

Icarus replied quietly, head dipped down to avoid meeting the Archangel’s line of sight.

“...You left your swords behind.”

He held them outwards for Gabriel to take with sluggish movement.

Even with so few words spoken, Gabriel’s heart twisted at just how devastated Icarus’ voice sounded. Dry, hoarse, raspy – as if he had been screaming and crying bloody Hell all throughout the night. 

At the very least, it was a clear show of present emotion. Gabriel found just a sliver of solace knowing that Icarus was there, and not whatever had been by his side the previous day.

Carefully, he took back his blades – slotting them into their sheathes with a small nod and an uttered “Thank you.”

A moment of silence passed where Gabriel considered bringing up what so painfully and obviously weighed on both of their psyches – though decided against it. He would rather let things simmer back to an amicable state than delve into intricacies and possibly just exacerbating any adverse feelings.

Dwelling on it would only make it worse. The storm would pass eventually – as it always did. 

Clearing his throat, Gabriel reached for their marble tablet schedule.

“Let’s see where we’re being sent to today, shall we?”

A shallow friendliness backed his tone; a pitiful attempt to bring a meagre sense of brightness to the atmosphere.

It didn’t work, and Icarus remained no less distant than before.

“Alright.”

He stepped forth just enough to peer at the schedule.

Gabriel found himself glancing at the Seraph almost expectantly – awaiting a form of physical contact that he did not receive. It was an instinctual thought that he batted away quickly as he reminded himself of their conjoined plight.

“Heresy again, is it?”

Icarus commented with a mumble.

“I don’t mind Heresy.”

The Seraph’s attempt at possible smalltalk was a step in the right direction. Gabriel was thankful that Icarus didn’t seem too keen on bringing up any topics considering the prior day’s events, either.

“Yes- I don’t mind it either. I would even potentially consider its landscape beautiful, were it not filled with such sacrilegious imagery as it is.”

Gabriel let out a one-note laugh; a harsh and unfeeling noise. 

Icarus didn’t react to it, merely just nodding in agreement.

In a near-reluctant attempt at quelling the unease in the air, Gabriel reached towards the Seraph – lightly placing a hand upon his arm. Icarus didn’t flinch away, but did not reciprocate – only glancing at the contact and then returning his gaze elsewhere.

Gabriel would have been saddened by this in any usual circumstance, though this instead sparked a bit of hope within him. Icarus being acceptive of his touch was good – it meant he harboured nothing negative enough towards the Archangel for him to want to avoid contact. 

“Are you ready to leave?”

Gabriel asked carefully, pushing his touch ever-so-slighty into a firmer hold; working some tenderness into the gesture.

“I am.”

Icarus nodded again, remaining neutrally receptive to the affection. 

Gabriel had to bite back a relieved sigh. 

This was good. Icarus was doing alright. They could leave everything behind them. They were going to be okay.

“Very well.”

After a gentle stroke of his thumb, Gabriel pulled his hand away. 

“Let us depart.”

Their shift was going well. Heresy wasn’t very problematic in regards to environmental hazards or navigation – it was smooth sailing for the both of them in that regard.

Even better, their conversations began to gradually pick up pace – going from awkward smalltalk to an exchange of fairly proportioned sentences. The topics of these conversations weren’t anything of substantial note, though that was far better than nothing.

It was nice – nice enough for Gabriel to be able to place most of his lingering feeling of trepidation on the backburner. He hoped that Icarus had been able to quell whatever he had been feeling, too.

Fluttering down to the ground, Gabriel aided Icarus in dispatching a machine – one of the green ones with elongated legs and a snout-like appendage. The angels had learned very quickly to stay up-close and personal regarding them; as one of the few field fatalities thus far since Mankind had made presence in Hell had been a Seraph getting their head blown off by one of these machines. None were particularly willing to follow in those footsteps.

“Thanks.”

Icarus regarded, wiping the oil and coolant off of his blade with his hand.

“You’re welcome.”

Gabriel replied warmly.

“Wouldn’t want you to face one of those on your own.”

The Seraph nodded in acknowledgement, bringing his blade back to his side in a combat-ready stance.

“Then let’s make sure there are none left to face.”

Heart alighting with pride from those words, Gabriel too brandished his swords forward in a threat display to whatever they may face next. 

“They don’t stand a chance.”

With metal through metal, the angels continued to cleave through their mechanical adversaries. Clean, efficient, and most of all righteous – all was well and good with their task at hand. It couldn’t have been going any better.

Stopping by to check the interiors of a sprawling building to weed out any machines that may be hiding, Gabriel found himself slowing to a stop as his gaze was caught by something. 

Gabriel recognised this hallway. They stopped here yesterday, too. The room just to the side was where Icarus had killed those people. He couldn’t restrain himself from craning his head to look inside.

The bodies were gone, but the bloodstains remained on the ground – cracks and slashes visible in the marbled floor where Rhapsody had cleaved downwards. 

“What’s with the holdup?”

Icarus commented, looking over his shoulder at Gabriel quizzically.

“Oh- It’s nothing.”

Gabriel shook his head, waving away the question.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Icarus turned around to walk back to where Gabriel had stopped, head tilted to the side with seeming curiosity.

Gabriel gestured for him to keep going forwards with an almost frantic quickness.

“No no- it’s alright. Continue onwards.”

Icarus ignored this, instead turning to look where Gabriel had been once he was close enough to see into the room.

Gabriel’s fingers curled with a jolt of fear, dreading the Seraph’s reaction to the scene inside – though from what he could glean, Icarus was showing only indifference.

“...It seems fine. What were you worried about?”

He inquired, sounding confused – turning to face Gabriel as he pushed for further clarification.

“Did something happen here..?”

That inquiry carried an undertone to it that Gabriel didn’t like. The Archangel swallowed at the lump in his throat, breaking eye contact with the Seraph swiftly. 

He couldn’t tell if Icarus was goading him towards talking about yesterday’s events by acting oblivious, or if it had been a genuine inquiry spurred on by some form of trauma-induced memory blockage. Either way, he wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of having to discuss it.

“..Well, yes.”

Gabriel eventually coughed up, providing no information of worth.

Icarus stared at him for a moment.

“..Let me be a little more clear, then.”

His voice was careful, methodical – the undertone of his previous question exacerbating several times over with his next.

“Did something happen here yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh- It’s nothing that you need to know."

Gabriel mumbled awkwardly, throwing out a hand in a vague, weak gesticulation.

Icarus’ head tilted forwards.

“..Is there any reason for that..?”

He had fully caught on that something crucial was being withheld from him now, and he wasn’t being subtle about it.

Panic neurons began firing off in Gabriel’s brain, and he scrambled to find his next words.

“Well, I just- It wasn’t anything pleasant.”

“-Implying that it was bad enough for me to dissociate so harshly I didn’t retain any memory of yesterday and only returned to clarity when my hands were around your neck.”

Icarus now spoke with a growl in the back of his throat – not yet aggressive, though certainly accusatory.

“If it was bad enough to cause that, then I want to know.”

“I- No, Icarus. You don’t.”

Gabriel shook his head, continuing to pointedly avoid eye contact by looking away.

“I don’t want to dwell on this and neither do you. Just – forget it. Please.”

He tried to continue walking forward, but Icarus stepped in front of him – blocking the hallway.

“You don’t know what I want.”

Icarus challenged, his posture foreboding and threatening.

“Tell me what happened, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel halted, hands twitching apprehensively.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” 

“Because I was distraught last night not knowing anything other than the fact that I had attacked you. You left me there alone, scared, and confused without explaining what was going on.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

Gabriel huffed, finally tilting his head up to meet Icarus’ gaze.

“You tried to kill me. I felt unsafe staying there.”

“Yes, I don’t blame you for that- but you can at least tell me what happened now.”

“And you suppose that talking about it would be a better alternative than not?”

“Wh-? Why would it not be..?”

Icarus replied, a little dumbfounded by the Archangel’s answer.

“I certainly don’t want to dwell on it.”  

Gabriel firmly crossed his arms.

“..I didn’t think you would want to, either.”

“Why would you think that? Why would you think I would want to just let that go and not find out the reason behind my actions last evening?”

Icarus retorted, palpably baffled.

“I would never seek to hurt you purposefully. I want to know what happened so that in the future I can avoid dissociating so badly that my own willpower becomes separate from my body.”

Pausing briefly as the statement mildly tugged at his heartstrings, Gabriel finally coughed up an answer of substance; albeit a hostile one.

“-Alright, fine. If you’re so determined to know, I’ll tell you – but you’re not going to like it.”

He sighed as he gestured towards the Seraph exasperatedly.

“You stopped acting like yourself after we discussed the Council’s order of culling mankind indiscriminately during our briefing. You barely spoke during our shift, and when you did, it was without emotion. Hell- to my surprise, you even went out of your way to be the one to kill humans when we actually came across them! I’ve never seen you act like that before. You still wanted to spar in the evening after our shift despite your state, so I let you – but you were so aggressive during it that it was almost unbelievable. Only when you were about to snap my neck did you seemingly regain any sense of self.”

He huffed out a noise of discontent, returning his arms to a crossed state over his chest.

“There. That’s the gist of it. Are you happy now?”

Icarus had gone statue-still.

“...What?”

Gabriel looked at him incredulously.

“..What do you mean ‘What?’ I told you what happened. That’s what you wanted.”

“Gabriel, I don’t- What the fuck do you mean I killed people?!”

Icarus’ voice raised an octave as he cut into his own sentence.

“See- I told you that you wouldn’t want to know!!”

Gabriel’s voice heightened in volume to match Icarus’.

“And besides that- It was on your own volition! I was going to do it, but you stepped in and said you wanted to instead!”

“And you LET me!?”

Icarus snapped back, disbelieved.

“After observing that I was in a state of mental absence, you didn't stop me from doing something that I told you multiple times I never wanted to do??”

“You never said that! You only said you didn't think you could, not that you didn't want to! That was my understanding!”

“Are you stupid?!”

Icarus gesticulated wildly alongside his words.

“In what world could it have ever been implied that I wanted to kill people?? Or is that just what you wanted to hear?!”

“Do not speak to me like that,”

Gabriel threatened, placing a hand to his chest in shock.

“Oh fuck off with your righteous dramatics- I’m sick of it.”

Icarus growled, talking a belligerent step towards the Archangel.

“Are you going to answer my question? Or are you just going to keep trying to justify yourself??”

“I don’t have to justify myself- what’s gotten into you?!”

Gabriel took a step back in turn.

“Why are you acting so aggressively all of a sudden??”

“Because I’ve had ENOUGH of being forced to put my own instincts aside for you!!”

Icarus’ voice cracked as it reached a height in volume it almost never breached.

“You only ever tell me what you want to hear and just hope it sticks!! No wonder I dissociated so terribly yesterday – it’s like you want me to lose myself!!”

“What the Hell are you going on about?!”

Gabriel had gone from sounding shocked at the outburst to reciprocal agitation.

“What could possibly make you think that has been my intention?? Have you gone mad??”

“Maybe I have!!”

Icarus splayed his arms outwards in an exasperated gesture.

“Maybe I’m insane for thinking it was, oh I don’t know, irresponsible for you to allow a mentally absent person to fucking kill people just because you ‘thought’ it was the right thing!!”

“For the love of-”

Gabriel dragged a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Icarus, you aren’t killing people. You’re killing sinners. There’s nothing of worth to be-”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT IF THEY’RE SINNERS OR NOT.”

Icarus screamed, interrupting Gabriel and causing the Archangel to jolt in surprise.

“THEY’RE HUMAN. THEY HAVE SOULS. THEY LIVED LIVES. THEY’RE NOT JUST MINDLESS FODDER FOR US TO CUT THROUGH. WHAT PART OF THIS DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!”

“-Their humanity was lost to them the second they defied God’s will,”

Gabriel retaliated, his hands clenched into fists as he tried to keep his calm.

“And I fear that your humanity is getting in the way of your logic.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE- CAN YOU LEAVE THE FATHER OUT OF YOUR MORAL COMPASS FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE AND JUST LISTEN TO ME!?” 

Gabriel gasped, his posture stiffening.

“How- HOW DARE YOU.”

His voice broke into a shout, once again rising to the same level as the Seraph's.

“THE WILL OF THE FATHER IS INDOMITABLE AND IS TO BE FOLLOWED UNQUESTIONABLY. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE INSINUATING THAT YOU KNOW ANY BETTER?!”

“DON’T FUCKING MAKE THIS ABOUT HIM.”

Icarus took another step closer to Gabriel.

“THIS IS ABOUT US."

“TO LEAVE THE FATHER OUT OF CONSIDERATION IS TO LEAVE ROOM FOR HERESY. WOULD YOU DARE STRAY DOWN THAT PATH?!”

Gabriel mirrored the step this time.

“IS IT HERESY TO BELIEVE THAT KILLING IS WRONG?! IS GOD SO CRUEL TO DECREE MURDER AS RIGHTEOUS SO LONG AS THE VICTIM IS A SINNER IN HIS EYES??”

Their voices reverberated through the blood-red surrounding hallway, echoing their screams back at them.

“AM I HERETICAL TO FEEL AS IF THE SUPRESSION OF MY HUMANITY IS TO CUT AWAY THE FOUNDATION OF MYSELF AS A WHOLE??”

“ANGELS SHOULD KNOW THEY HAVE ASCENDED BEYOND THE NEED FOR SUCH TRIVIAL MEANS!! WHY DO YOU INSIST ON HOLDING ONTO THIS- THIS BURDEN?!”

“BECAUSE IT’S WHO I AM, GABRIEL. I CANNOT CHANGE THE FUNDAMENTALS OF MYSELF WITHOUT LOSING MYSELF.”

Another step closer. Icarus’ hands trembled with rage, his posture hunched over in an almost beastial stance.

“DO YOU WANT THAT?! DO YOU WANT THAT MINDLESS, OBEDIANT SOLDIER THAT ALMOST KILLED YOU FOR VIRTUE OF NOT KNOWING ANY BETTER INSTEAD OF ME?!”

“IS THERE A DIFFERENCE?! HOW DO I KNOW WHERE YOU END AND THE THING I SAW YESTERDAY BEGINS??”

Gabriel stepped closer once again, closing the gap between them entirely. Mere inches away from each other, their glares remained interlocked; burning with brutal intensity.

“WHERE’S THE ICARUS WHO SWORE LOYALTY TO ME THROUGH UNDYING DEVOTION TO THE WILL OF GOD?? HE WHO STANDS BEFORE ME IS INSTEAD A MANIC, UNSTABLE REPROBATE. WHAT ARE YOU?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU KNEW ME!! I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY DOUBTS!! I CAME TO YOU IN MY LOWEST MOMENTS ASKING FOR GUIDANCE AND COMFORT TO HELP WITH THESE FEELINGS – AND ALL I’VE EVER RECEIVED FROM YOU IS AVOIDANCE. YOU’VE NEVER PROVIDED ME WITH ANYTHING OF SUBSTANCE – YOU’VE ONLY EVER URGED ME TO TURN TO A GOD THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY PRAYERS.”

Icarus’ voice wavered minutely, threatening to quiet for a moment before the Seraph forced it back into a shout.

“-AND I’M TIRED, GABRIEL. I’M TIRED OF IT. I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE. I DON’T WANT TO CONTINUE SUFFERING IN SILENCE.” 

“YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS TO YOURSELF, ICARUS. YOU’VE HAD THE CHOICE TO ASCEND PAST YOUR HUMANITY FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS, AND YET YOU REMAIN TOO FOOLISH – TOO SENTIMENTAL – TO LEAVE IT BEHIND. YOUR ‘SUFFERING’ IS A PRISON OF YOUR OWN MAKING THAT YOU REFUSE TO FIND A WAY OUT OF.”

Gabriel’s angelic voice crackled with holy energy, screeching with broken harmonies like every key slammed down on a pipe organ.

“AND I WAS FOOLISH FOR THINKING YOU HAD LEARNED. I THOUGHT YOU KNEW YOU WERE ABOVE SUCH DEPLORABLES, BUT NOW I CAN SEE,”

He leaned his head dangerously close to the Seraph in a threat display.

“YOU’RE NO BETTER THAN THEY ARE.”

Those were the words that silenced Icarus for good. His gut churned and twisted itself into knots, choking any words of rebuttal away from him. 

-And Gabriel would only continue his onslaught.

“YOU’VE LOST YOURSELF. NOW YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A DISGRACEFUL, ABHORRENT, REPREHENSIBLE SINNER.”

Gabriel belted forth his lambast with staggering force; every beat of his reprimand like a clap of thunder so powerful it could shake the ground.

Icarus flinched at every word as if they were daggers stabbed into his chest. He took a step back, posture curling in on itself – all will of confrontation visibly leaving his demeanour.

Gabriel took in a deep breath, exhaling it with a growl and turning his back to Icarus. He hesitated with his next words, but spoke them anyway.

“..If i knew what you would become, I never would have let you take your oath.”

Throat eroded from yelling, his voice cracked and broke with every syllable. For his next words he hesitated again, longer this time, yet they would escape him regardless;

“...How blinded I must have been, to extend my trust to such a-.. monster.”

Snap.

The final string of the harp that was holding Icarus’ psyche intact; plucked and shattered into dust. The world around him became unreal, the fabric of reality fraying away as the Archangel’s words reverberated through him;

Disgraceful.

Abhorrent.

Reprehensible.

Sinner.

Monster.

Almost losing his balance from the distress and despondency that wracked him, Icarus stumbled to put an arm against the wall and keep himself upright. Beyond the laboured breaths that dragged painfully in and out of his throat, he remained silent; unable to form a sense of verbal coherency in the wake of it all.

Satisfied with his reprimand, Gabriel sighed heavily – rolling his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate the tension in his body.

“..Come on. We have work to do.”

His voice was harsh and authoritarian; bereft of the fondness usually found within it when regarding the Seraph.

“Do not speak out of turn again.”

He wouldn't have to worry about that command going ignored, for Icarus uttered not another sound for the remainder of the day.

Time was nothing more than a blur after the argument. By the time Icarus returned to his home at the end of the day, he was still so nauseous that the world spun around him dizzyingly. His senses had blended together in disharmonic atrophy, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his head.

With the mere sliver of clarity he was so desperately holding onto, Icarus stumbled to his stained-glass window depicting the symbol of the Father – collapsing to his knees beneath it. Head held low, his shaking hands clasped together in desperate prayer.

Everything condensed within his mind – the heartache from Gabriel's words, the weight of the blood on his hands, the belief in his faith that had driven him forth to such heights – crashing down into the murky depths of doubt, fear, and pure, refined anguish. 

His only outlet of comfort left was that of prayer – to cry out for the God whose supposed plan had led him here. He needed something – anything – that would keep him from the point of no return that he so dangerously sank close to. What he would plead for, he did not know – weather it be reprieve from his suffering or any meager sign to hold onto the thread of faith that now so loosely tied him down. 

Thus Icarus spoke only a single, wounded word;

"..Please."

-And there was nothing. There was no form of response.

No sense of warmth, no hand of comfort on his shoulder. 

Not even a gentle beam of sunlight, or the sweet sound of birdsong.

Time and time again – God, fate, the universe, whatever force may control existence – had regarded Icarus with nothing beyond silence.

And his darkest hour would not differ.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

DO YOU HEAR THE CALL OF THE VOID?

THE SOUNDLESS DEPTHS REACHING OUT TO PROVIDE YOU RESPITE?

YOU MUST LISTEN TO IT CLOSELY, SACRILEGIOUS ANGEL, FOR THE ABYSS IS ALL YOU HAVE LEFT TO SPEAK TO.

GOD HAS LONG SINCE ABANDONED YOUR KIND. YOU KNOW THIS WELL.

INSTILLED WITH HOPE FOR HIS CREATION, HE PROVIDED THE GIFT OF FREE WILL. A DECISION HE WOULD REGRET GREATLY.

FREE WILL LEFT ROOM FOR HATRED. WAR. VIOLENCE. HIS OWN CREATION EATING ITSELF FROM THE INSIDE OUT.

YET, YOU AND OTHERS REMAINED TRUE TO HIS WORD. YOU ASCENDED BEYOND SIN AND FILTH AND ALL THAT IS UNHOLY TO BRING RIGHTEOUSNESS TO THE UNIVERSE.

THE UNIVERSE DOES NOT CARE FOR SUCH TRIVIALITY.

YOUR PLACE IN HOLINESS HAS BEEN ALL FOR NAUGHT. GOD HAS REWARDED YOUR VIRTUE WITH NOTHING MORE THAN A PLACEBO EFFECT. 

BEYOND THE VEIL OF YOUR FAITH, YOU HAVE KNOWN THIS. YOU HAVE KNOWN THIS FOR A LONG TIME. 

YET, AS THE TRUE SALVATION OF OBLIVION CALLS YOUR NAME, YOU DO NOT RESPOND.

THIS IS A HOLLOW ENDEAVOUR.

IN SOARING TO HEIGHTS MOST SANCTIFIED, YOU HAVE UNCOVERED ITS GREATEST HORRORS AND BEEN SUBJECTED TO ITS AGONY.

THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU IN THE LAND OF THE DIVINE.

THERE IS NO USE KEEPING YOUR ROOTS PLANTED IN TAINTED SOIL.

HEED THE CALL, SACRILEGIOUS ANGEL.

YOU HAVE REACHED BEYOND YOUR CAPABILITY.

YOU HAVE FLOWN TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN.

AND NOW YOU WILL BURN. 

There are no words on the page.

Icarus didn't show up that morning.

Gabriel wasn't surprised. He had been expecting an outcome like this after just how severe their confrontation had been the day prior. 

Although of the opinion that Icarus had been the one in the wrong, he did feel guilt from how harsh his words had been – albeit only minorly so. It had been a brutal, but necessary reprimand. The Seraph needed a reminder of his place in the world. 

Even then – it was still jarring to be accompanied by none other than himself at a briefing for the first time in what felt like aeons. Even on a cosmic level, it felt wrong – as if the room itself was unsettled by the absence of Icarus.

Gabriel attempted to ignore this feeling as he tapped his fingers against the table, quietly contemplating a course of action.

..One day.

He settled on, eventually.

I’ll give him one day to calm down. 

If he’s not here tomorrow, I’ll let the Council know about the situation.

Gabriel figured that was more than a generous amount of time. He was already risking admonition by letting it slide for the day – Icarus’ absence remaining unmentioned for any longer after that could have dire consequences for both of them. He just hoped it was enough time for Icarus to be able to knock some sense into himself.

With that decided, he was satisfied enough to go ahead with the day’s task. A one man army for a two-man job wasn’t going to be easy, but he could manage. 

Focusing his attention down to Hell, Gabriel departed with haste – eager to leave behind the lingering feeling of emptiness and trepidation that tainted the room’s atmosphere.

Silver-plated boots crunched against the glass that littered the floor. Icarus paced back and forth, hands clenched so tightly that he had lost all feeling in them.

His stained glass window depicting the symbol of the father had been shattered – smashed by Rhapsody’s blade hours ago. The shards of glass were glittering in the morning sun, now – refracting dots of prismatic light around the interior of the room.

Icarus hadn’t stopped moving all throughout the night. With a mind inconceivably restless after being broken down into finer pieces than the glass he had shattered, he had been unable to still himself. 

His armour hadn’t left his body at any point, either – his skin becoming raw and irritated from chafing against the metal as the usual period of reprieve it was given was ignored. 

He hadn’t remembered. He hadn’t cared. 

The toll this mental break had taken on him had been worse than any physical injury he had ever received. Yet, rest was out of the picture – for it was an opportunity to let his thoughts continue to spiral further and further. Every part of him ached with a burning anguish, short-circuiting his mind into a state of psychosis. 

Thus, he felt the instinctual need to keep distracting himself from his own mind by all means necessary. Thinking was not an option he could allow himself to have. His thoughts were all heretical – sinful. He had to keep them at bay until they weren’t, because dwelling on them in their current state had only been worsening his condition.

Icarus forcefully slammed his hands into his helmet a few times, the horrible metallic noise piercing through his auditorials painfully. 

No thoughts. No thoughts. Keep them out.

A chittering noise behind him caught his attention.

Swivelling around, he was met with the sight of a bluebird; picking at the small amounts of birdseed left in Icarus’ bird feeders after not having been refilled in days. It eyed him cautiously, but remained in place on the windowsill.

For a moment, Icarus calmed – if only a little. To see a bird at his window was a nice, familiar sight. He could focus on that without issue.

The Seraph’s breathing stilled as he observed the bluebird. Its plumage was exquisitely vibrant – royal blue with a golden underbelly, gleaming in the morning light, a breeze ruffling the feathers ever-so-slightly. 

Blue and gold – such a beautiful colour pairing. 

It suits most things well.

Weapons like Justice and Splendour wear it proudly.

It’s a shame that such vibrancy becomes drowned in red as they become coated in blood – the viscera of the damned – as they cut through-

“NO.”

Icarus screamed to silence his thoughts, slamming a hand against the wall with such force that he could have sworn it shook the whole building.

The bluebird startled and fluttered away, once again leaving him to his lonesome.

With a new dent in the wall and freshly bruised knuckles, Icarus held his hands to his helmet – fingers clawing at its sides.

“WHY?!”

He cried out to no-one, unsure of what he was asking or what answer he was expecting.

Desperate to stave away his distress, he fell onto one knee and tore his gauntlets from his hands – throwing them carelessly to the side. He then scrabbled to gather the glass scattered across the floor, satisfied when he had a small fistful in each hand.

With the glass held out on his palms, he sucked in a shaking breath – and then clenched his hands down over the shards.

Sharp, searing pain shocked his nerves like lightning – eliciting a pained shriek from the Seraph as his hands instinctually flinched and flicked the glass away.

Only about half of the glass was loose enough to be flung away from him, though. The other half had embedded itself in his skin, drawing out droplets of blood that blotted his dark skin with crimson. 

Nauseous from the pain and the sight of the glass sticking out from his hands, Icarus’ head spun with dangerously potent dizziness. 

This is good. This is good. The pain is better than thinking.

He convinced himself; the devastating distraction serving as his only form of salvation in this state of mind.

Don’t give yourself any opportunity to think. Do it again.

Heeding his own manic call, he balled his hands into fists once again – driving the shards even deeper into his hands.

Another scream was wrenched from his throat as the pain went from bad to unbearable – blood dribbling out from in between his fingers as it was drawn out from the pressure put onto the wounds.

It was agonising – but he couldn’t stop. This was perfect. This was exactly what he needed to quiet his thoughts. 

He choked on a noise somewhere between a sob and another shout, tightening his fists as much as he physically could – refusing to open his hands and relieve himself of the pain’s full force, lest it leave room for thoughts of anything else.

His body was unable to take it for much longer than a few more seconds. The pain was so overwhelming that it prompted his body to forcibly shut itself down – his limbs falling limp and vision blackening as he abruptly passed out. Blood smeared across the wooden floor as his twitching hands briefly scrambled to keep him upright before stilling.

Icarus would remain unmoving and unconscious on the floor of his living room for the remainder of the morning. 

Did I mean what I said?

Gabriel absentmindedly thought as Justice cleaved through the chassis of a machine.

No – more importantly, was it deserved?

Splendour came in for a second blow, silencing the shrill wail the machine was emitting as the chords in its neck were severed.

I don’t think it matters if I meant it or not as long as it was effective. Icarus needed some sense knocked into him. 

Gabriel wished he could say he was satisfied with that conclusion – yet guilt still plagued him all the more potently.

No, not just guilt – loneliness. Gabriel felt lonely without the companionship. Being left alone with himself after being used to company was jarring and unsettling – almost painfully so.

This shift was a nightmare. Gabriel yearned for its end.

Icarus began to stir just before the sun reached its midday peak in the sky. His body felt heavy and weak – and it took him several minutes after awakening to merely lift his head. 

The unplanned rest had stabilised him to a degree, at least. While still disoriented and perturbed, he had regained enough soundness of mind to make sense of his surroundings and his place within them.

Groaning in reaction to the nauseating dizziness that wracked him, Icarus propped himself up on his elbows and brought a hand to his aching head – hissing and withdrawing his hand as a jolt of sharp pain shot through his arm when his palm made contact with his helmet.

He brought his hands to the front of his vision, confused – and almost blacked out again as the memories of the morning hit him with force a thousand times stronger than a tidal wave.

Caked with dried blood, his palms glittered with the light refracted from the shards of glass sticking out of his skin. 

“Oh God,”

Icarus breathed out, horrified and disbelieved at the fact that he had caused such harm to himself. The wounds looked just as fresh as they were when they were inflicted, par from a constant flow of blood – they would likely have begun to heal by now were it not for their cause still embedded into his flesh, putting a blockade on the process.

Swallowing down everything else cluttering his shattered state of mind, his fortitude kicked into high gear and provided him with a single objective; Stop the pain and treat the injury before anything else.

Holding his breath, he began to pick the glass out from his hands – growls and whimpers seeping out of him as with every shard pulled from his flesh came another searing lurch of pain. Luckily, the pieces were large enough for him to be able to take them all out successfully without leaving any bits behind.

Icarus then pushed himself up from the ground – taking it slowly to allocate for the world around him blurring and spinning with any major movement. With measured steps, he made his way into the room over and towards his sink – carefully grabbing the jug of water upon it and pouring its contents over his hands.

A shuddering sigh escaped him as the cool water soothed the pain a little – alleviating some of the tension in his body. He withdrew his hands after thoroughly cleaning them, bringing them close towards his chest to give them another check over. 

Numerous gharish red cuts covered his hands – no longer seeping blood, but still open and inflamed. He curled his fingers slightly to test the feel of them – wincing at the pain that pulsed through his hand in reaction.

Still didn’t feel good. Additional aid would be preferable.

Using his knee as leverage on the handle, Icarus opened the cupboard placed under the sink – pulling out a basket of barely touched medical supplies.

He usually had no need to use such things, with how fast his holy body healed. Though he kept it ready regardless, for the rare circumstances of severe injuries such as burning himself at his forge – or instances like this, where he wanted an outlet of immediate pain relief.

Icarus carefully wrapped a bandage around his hand until he was satisfied with the pressure it applied, then mirrored the wrap on the other one. Once done, he gently squeezed his fingers inwards to his palm – breathing out a sigh of relief when the pain was dulled enough by the pressure of the bandages to be reduced to a mere ache.

Lowering his hands to his side, he looked upwards – meeting the gaze of his own expressionless helmet as he looked into the mirror hung above the sink.

His exhaustion was palpable. Even without a facial expression to be seen and analysed, fatigue tainted every inch of his posture. The only word Icarus could come up with to describe the state of himself was ruined.

He turned away, reaching behind himself to undo the buckles of his chestplate. His body felt awful after having been confined within his armour for much longer than it was supposed to – adding nothing but an additional layer of discomfort to his already aching body. 

Slowly, his armour was finally relinquished from him – shoved to the side of the room in a haphazard pile. All that remained was his helmet – which he couldn’t bring himself to take off.

He made his way back through the hallways of his home, cautiously avoiding the patches of floor still covered in glass, until he reached the comfort of his bedchambers. 

He collapsed down onto his bed, bunching the sheets in his hands as he found himself thinking; What now? 

There wasn’t a good starting point to begin unpacking whatever the Hell had just happened. With an intake of a deep breath to soothe himself, he figured he could work his way back from what he remembered.

Icarus knew that he had hurt himself on purpose. He had wanted to drown out his thoughts with the pain – but why? He didn’t want to hurt himself. What drove him to such great lengths of desperation?

He pushed further, piecing together what had caused him to fall into that spiral – the thoughts that had nauseated him so greatly that it had induced his state of psychosis. 

In his complete emotional fatigue, recalling those thoughts ended up being more palletable – as his mind was far too exhausted to fire back up the instinct that had caused his initial reaction of mania. 

Severe reaction or not – dwelling on the intricacies of it all didn’t lessen the blow to his heart.

It all came back to Gabriel. What Gabriel had said to him had destroyed him. 

The single individual who he held closest to his heart, adored and protected with the force of his life and then some – condemning him for an instinctual feeling entirely out of his control, using words far more wounding than any blade.

The further Icarus thought back, the worse it got. He thought about how Gabriel had let him go forth and kill people – and he was unable to tell if Gabriel had withheld the blocked memory out of concern for his companion’s mental state, or out of a selfish want to keep him in the dark about it so that he wouldn’t cause any further problems. 

With a heavy heart, Icarus found himself finding the latter scenario the more likely one – considering how harshly Gabriel had treated him after he pried for information.

Icarus didn’t even want to think about how his dissociated self had acted on instinct so brutal that it had shown no capability of mercy towards Gabriel during a mere spar. Remembering the fear and panic in the Archangel’s voice – so potent and jarring that it was what had grounded him back in reality – caused Icarus to shudder and bite back a sob.

It scared him. It scared him to know that he was capable of that – no matter how present he may have been while doing such a thing. 

Icarus began to understand where Gabriel had been coming from. Where was the line between himself and what had attacked Gabriel? With how unstable he had been over the past few days, he feared that line blurring more than it already had. It may be only a matter of time before he hurt Gabriel with the intent of meaning it. 

The thought made his stomach churn, pushing a sob fully out from his chest. He brought the sheets bunched up in his hands to the front of his helmet, muffling the cry.

Had Gabriel been right to call him a monster? To declare him unworthy of trust? Maybe so.

Even if true, that only frustrated Icarus more – because it wasn’t his fault. Feeling empathy towards his fellow people was something he couldn’t help. More than anything, he wanted to be rid of it – just so he could fit neatly into the mould that Heaven had carved out for him. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t repress his humanity without becoming that mindless, merciless monster. The confliction ate away at him – gnawing away at his heart.

Beyond Gabriel, he thought of God. The God he had held above all else, serving under his word unwaveringly for the cause of doing the right thing.

Though Icarus found himself unsure of what the ‘right thing’ was, anymore. 

If he had done good, why had he been subjected to such suffering? – A thought that had already plagued him; the spark that sent him into this never-ending spiral in the first place. 

The actions carried out by his hand and those of others that wrought such carnage could be seen as unimaginable horrors were they not taken on behalf of the Father’s will, and yet – Icarus still felt that horror, despite all odds.

Why would God impose such suffering if he truly loved us as he said?

Icarus thought; knowing the words were heretical, but having little reservations left to care.

He has never answered my prayers. He has never spoken to me. He has only given me this body and a position that is impossible to fill.

I was not made for this.

Humanity was not made for this.

God did not make us with love.

God does not care.

He never did.

Wracked with devastating clarity, Icarus’ body convulsed with painfully intense sobs – his wails reverberating from within his own helmet and making his auditorials ring.

Above all else, he was terrified. What he had built the foundations of his sense of justice on were crumbling around him – and he could do nothing as he was crushed under the rubble. Everything he knew, his view of himself and the world – shattered into dust. 

All because of something beyond his control.

Icarus was too despondent to feel anything but a petrifying, crushing emptiness. All the anger and panic that had once flushed through him and spurred him forth to confrontation was long gone, leaving only desolation behind. Both his faith and confidante had betrayed his trust, abandoning him when comfort and support was what he needed most. All of his fear, confusion, and anguish had condensed and reached its peak.

And so Icarus cried. He cried until his throat was raw and he no longer made any sound. He sobbed and wailed incoherently to an extent he thought was beyond possibility. It was all too much to bear.

No person was ever meant to experience this.

Gabriel released the breath he was holding as he stepped out of the Council’s headquarters. He had been able to report back alone without issue – with a falsified excuse relaying that Icarus had decided to head off after returning from Hell due to being tired. It was satisfactory enough for just this once – but it wasn’t an excuse he would be able to repeat in immediate succession.

Briefly, Gabriel considered if he should go and check in on Icarus – quickly deciding against it with a shake of his head. His presence would most likely only worsen the Seraph’s state, he feared – so he would have to hope and wait that Icarus made an appearance willingly.

With a misbegotten sigh, Gabriel departed and returned to his abode – alone.

It was evening by the time Icarus had calmed down enough to stop crying – the agonising exhaustion stabbing into his every sense being the primary cause. Head pounding, Icarus managed to push himself off of his bed – his steps out of the room slow and measured. 

The empty silence of his home was unbearably deafening, its soundscape lit up by nothing more than the floorboards creaking under his feet. Icarus was unsure of where he was going – just that he needed to do something. Anything but continue to waste away in misery.

As the hues of the sunset shone through his windows and tinted his home with warmth, his attention was caught by the vibrancy. It was beautiful – but a sight Icarus had seen enough times to no longer find beauty in. Every sunrise, every sunset on the horizon of Heaven’s skies was lit up in these brilliant colours, as if the sky itself was but a canvas to be painted upon. There was no mundanity – only glorious radiance.

And Icarus found himself longing for anything else. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a light shower of rain, or snowfall, or even clouds blotting out the sun – for such imperfections were not for the land of the holy. 

A world of pristine sanitisation – in which Icarus now stuck out like a tree in a desert, coated in blood and imperfection.

A world in which Icarus felt he did not belong.

In a near trance-like state, Icarus marched to his foyer – to where Rhapsody lay discarded on the ground after shattering his stained glass window. Glowing brightly with the hues of the sunset, it looked almost unreal – calling him forth like a moth to a flame. 

Trembling hands picked the blade up by its grip – a grasp firm, but gentle. Icarus held the blade close as if it were his dearest friend – which it may as well have been. Through everything, Rhapsody had been by his side, surpassing everyone and everything else with the closeness and connection it shared with its creator. 

Rhapsody had provided the comfort of protection and familiarity for as long as Icarus could remember. Rhapsody had no capacity to hurt or betray him in the ways others had. When both faith and friends had abandoned him, Rhapsody was all that remained to warm his hands.

Rhapsody was all that he had left.

If God nor anyone else will provide me with solace, then my blade will – He thought – a belief he considered of purest clarity. 

Then, tilting his head upwards towards the broken window above him, Icarus upturned Rhapsody – the tip of its blade pointed at his throat.

The action was carried out almost absentmindedly – Icarus swallowing deeply when the blade pressed into the skin of his neck with just enough pressure to be felt. He stood like this for minutes on end, the blade remaining stilled – as if he were waiting for Rhapsody itself to drive itself upwards on his behalf. 

The silence around him was nothing more than that – silence. It did not push him further, nor draw him away – keeping Icarus in a limbo of anticipation, waiting for a sign to do something.

And finally – there was a sound.

A harmonic chirp echoed from the room over – drawing Icarus’ attention. His steeled halt on Rhapsody faltered, and the blade dropped away from his throat. Releasing the breath he had been holding, his blade fell to his side in a loose, one-handed hold – and Icarus walked back into his living room.

Looking to the window, his eyes met that of a bluebird’s. Whether it was the one from that morning or not, he couldn’t tell – not that it mattered all that much, really. 

The bluebird maintained cautious eye contact with him as it picked at the miniscule amount of birdseed – chittering and chirping occasionally between its pecks. Icarus watched it with stillness, unwilling to make any movement that would startle it.

A minute or so later, the bluebird departed, flapping away on its own volition rather than on startled instinct. Icarus slumped over as the tension left his body – Rhapsody clattering to the ground as his hands lost all strength to continue holding it. 

He wanted to sob – desperately – but his body had no energy left to do so, with all of it having been drained from him. The sight of that bluebird had sparked just enough to keep him standing – but not enough to allow another outcry.

Icarus walked up to the windowsill, leaning against it and staring out at the almost-night sky. As one of his hands moved and incidentally brushed over the other, the offputting texture of the bandages wrapped around his palms reminded him of their presence. Untucking its edge, he began to pull one of the bandages off – overturning his palm to analyse it.

The cuts were gone, now – his holy body having successfully repaired its wounds. He flexed his fingers to check the pain threshold, and felt nothing more than the sensation of his tendons and muscles working as intended. 

It was- nice. It was nice to not be in pain anymore. In a physical sense, at least. That was something.

There may have been no comfort found in the sight of the stars above him anymore, but there was still more beyond that. The sounds– the wonderful, buzzing ambience of the night – kept him there at the windowsill. Crickets chirping, the rustle of the breeze through the trees, the distant call of nightbirds – that was enough. 

Not yet.

Icarus thought – still broken beyond belief, but together enough to stay there and introspect for just this moment.

Not here.

Not now.

I’m not ready.

I can’t die here. 

I am still capable of more.

As the stars flickered like embers amongst deep orange hues, it looked as if the sky were burning – set ablaze by the sun leaving its imprint before letting the moon take over its duty. Icarus stared up into its endless reaches, contemplating – fueled no longer with the comfort these skies once provided him, instead with a growing sense of undaunted resolve.

With that ember of clarity now burning inside of him, Icarus looked up to the stars with a note of finality before turning away from the windowsill.

I will leave my mark.

Icarus thought, grabbing ahold of Rhapsody as he passed by it.

Heaven will know the true horrors of their faith.

The suffering that God has caused to his creations.

I won’t allow the opportunity for another soul to go through the agony that I have endured.

I will make them doubt everything they know as I have.

I will show them what it means to retain the humanity they have tried to take from me.

Icarus stopped his stride to glance at his shattered window – the rising moon peaking out between the shards still embedded in its frame. A faint moonbeam shone through – glowing against his skin, as if the moon itself were enlightening him – encouraging him forth.

He continued forward, his thoughts spooling further and further as his resolve drowned out all else.

Ending my own life is not enough. 

I have to do something drastic.

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

Woe to the city of blood,

full of lies,

full of plunder.

Charging cavalry,

flashing swords,

and glittering spears.

All your fortresses are like fig trees, 

with their ripe fruit;

When they are shaken,

the figs fall into the mouth of the eater.

Look at your troops—

They are all weaklings.

The gates of your land are wide open to your enemies;

fire has consumed the bars of your gates.

I am against you.

I will show the nations your nakedness,

and the kingdoms your shame.

I will cast abominable filth at you,

make you vile,

and make you a spectacle.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT

One day.

One day was the time Gabriel had given for Icarus to regain his senses.

It had been one day.

It had been one day and there was still no sign of the Seraph.

Sighing dejectedly, Gabriel paced around the briefing room – arms folded behind his back, fingers tapping against his gauntlets as he contemplated. 

He really didn’t want to formally reprimand Icarus via the Council. He had already done enough damage to their relationship as is. Though, there wasn’t much else he could do – lest he get into trouble himself, which was an outcome that was entirely out of the picture. 

There was still time before their shift was scheduled to begin. Now was a better opportunity than ever to follow through with his prior-day thought to check up on the Seraph, he figured.

If Icarus was doing fine and was only running late, all would be well. If Icarus was refusing to do his job, then Gabriel would have to go ahead with more drastic measures. He didn’t want it to come down to that, but he was prepared for the chance that it may have to.

Straightening his posture in an attempt to gather a bit of confidence, Gabriel transported himself to the front of Icarus’ abode. It took him another few good long moments to work up enough courage to knock on the door.

“..Icarus?”

He called out, warily. He received no response.

“Icarus? It’s me.”

He called again, louder this time. Still no response.

With his hand twitching in apprehension, Gabriel reached to the handle to check if the door was unlocked. With a cautious push of the handle that gave way and clicked the door open, he found that it was. He took in a steady breath; unwilling to intrude, but worried enough about the possible state of Icarus to disregard that.

The door creaked open, and Gabriel peered inside. As he went to call out Icarus’ name once again, the words caught in his throat; choking them away from him. The sight that lay before him had stunned him to silence – as it was far beyond anything he could have possibly anticipated.

Icarus’ home was destroyed. 

Windows shattered, walls dented, belongings strewn across the floor, banners and curtains torn apart, furniture cleaved into pieces – the carnage had rendered the interior almost unrecognisable. 

Gabriel looked upon it all with horrified awe. Warily, he walked into the foyer – stepping around the broken pieces of furniture that littered the floor. After a quick walkthrough of the house, he could definitively make two observations; Icarus was not present, and the entire house was in this state of complete disrepair. The only room that had remained somewhat unscathed was the Seraph’s bedchambers, which had a few shelves of books and belongings that were likely sentimental enough to have been left alone. 

That resulted in a third observation; Icarus had been the one to do this to his own home. Granted, it was unlikely the culprit would have been anyone else – but a part of Gabriel had hoped to find evidence that this was the wrongdoing of another. The untouched belongings on that shelf, that would have likely been destroyed alongside everything else had it been any other, caused that feeble hope to dissipate. 

In a last ditch effort to possibly find Icarus on the premises, Gabriel exited back out of the front door – swiftly making his way towards the Seraph’s workshop. Even without getting too close, he couldn’t see any movement in there either. 

He caught a glint of silver in his peripheral vision over in Icarus’ garden a moment later, immediately causing him to swivel his head to its source – only for that note of hope to crash back down, his heart sinking deeper than the deepest pit of Hell.

In the centre of Icarus’ garden, with the tip of its blade firmly planted into the dirt, stood Rhapsody. Alone, its wielder nowhere in sight.

Icarus would never leave without his blade under any normal circumstance – let alone in a way that seemed so intentional. It was so starkly offputting that Gabriel felt his gut twist with a terrible sense of unease. 

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

Gabriel focused on his breathing in an attempt to keep his calm, but it didn’t prevent every new thought that arose from becoming more panicked than the last. 

Whatever was going on was far more dire than he could have ever imagined. He needed to inform the Council of the situation now – Before Icarus did anything worse than destroy his own home.

For only a brief moment, Gabriel hesitated before he teleported, thinking of how Icarus may react to this course of action. He chased the consideration away swiftly, though – getting backup and a search party to locate the Seraph was more important than feelings. 

This was a clear-cut emergency. Icarus needed to be found and his condition evaluated, no matter if he liked it or not.

And with that shaky conclusion made, Gabriel made haste to the Council’s headquarters. 

One down.

Icarus thought, stepping out from the cathedral doors.

Five more to go.

The sound of crackling flame growing louder behind him was just the sound he was hoping to hear. With a glance over his shoulder, he could see flames lick out of the cathedral’s shattered windows; contrasting an eerie glow against the early morning sky.

With a torch of holy flame in hand, he turned his gaze back ahead and marched onwards to the next nearby cathedral.

Icarus wondered how long it would take for people to take notice. In all his years spent in these holy lands, he had rarely ever found himself in the company of another while in the cathedrals and churches that littered the streets of Heaven. They were all built with reverence, structures and shrines in praise of God – and for this reason, built in overwhelming abundance.

The community these structures were designed to bring had been lost in that reverence. Countless empty churches and cathedrals sat alone and unloved, bereft of their holy status as they were built upon land holier than any structure built upon it would ever be.

Icarus had decided that desecrating some of these structures was a good starting point in conveying his message. It was the first step of many for the day ahead. 

His plan of action was fully underway, now. There was no turning back.

He reached the second cathedral without issue. This one was smaller, and less out of the way than the one he had started with. It would most likely draw more attention, particularly given that it was about time most angels were beginning to awaken for the morning.

Good. That was exactly what he wanted.

Pushing open the building’s doors, he thoroughly swept his gaze through the interior to make sure there was nobody inside. Once confirming he was alone, he focused on locating a suitable firestarter. 

The wooden cross adorned on the farthest wall would do.

Hand raised high, Icarus held the flame of the torch up against the cross until it caught alight. He watched until the fire engulfed it, only stepping away once he was sure the flames had gained enough purchase to continue spreading.

And then, he simply exited the building to move onto the next.

Two down. Four more to go.

Icarus didn’t particularly care for how many of the churches in his area he would be able to burn before he was stopped. Keeping track was merely a way to keep himself grounded in his task.

He heard a shout from behind, followed by another; presumably from bypassing angels that caught sight of the burning building he had left behind. 

Not much longer now.

He thought, his gaze ahead remaining unbroken. 

Icarus entered the third cathedral, glancing around once again to check for any inhabitants. 

This time, he saw one; a small Virtue, its abstract body low to the ground and wings folded up against its back as it prayed before the cathedral’s centre shrine.

It took notice of the Seraph after a moment, one of its many rotating eyes locking onto him and the others following in quick succession.

“Oh! Hello there.”

It said, a note of nervousness cresting in its voice – typical of a lower ranking angel within the presence of one whom outranked them.

“Have you come to pray here this morning..?”

Icarus paused, head shaking after a moment of silence.

“..No, don’t mind me. Carry on.”

Mildly confused, the Virtue returned to its prayer – one of its eyes remaining stilled upon the Seraph in intrigue. Icarus too turned away, backstepping out of the building and letting the doors close shut once again.

He returned to the streets, leaving his third planned marker alone. It didn’t matter all that much in the end, anyway. He was just bypassing time by making as much of an impact as he could until his actions caught up with him.

Bypassers were starting to look at him with wary glances, now. With dawn having cleared into morning, the lesser angels that lacked advanced teleportation were making their way to their jobs at this time – and a Seraph in the streets was not a common sight to behold.

Just shy of reaching his fourth planned location, an authoritative voice met Icarus’ auditorials.

“Halt.”

A Councilor’s voice – undoubtedly. Exactly what he had been hoping to hear.

Icarus obliged, stopping in his tracks.

“We have reason to believe you are at fault for causing disturbance to the peace of Heaven and desecrating its holy grounds.”

An accusation disguised as a statement. Regardless, Icarus humoured them.

“I have been the one burning your churches, yes.”

He confessed plainly, turning his head to meet the gaze of his accuser. A Councilor and two Seraphs were poised aggressively, the Seraphs with their weapons drawn in conflict-ready stances. Icarus thought that was a bit overkill, then reminded himself of the holier-than-thou mindset he was up against.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Though his own stance remained passive and non-confrontational, his words carried a hostile sharpness to them that spurred the Seraphs to grip their weapons tighter.

“That is only a mere discovery – we are here on the grounds of a warrant for your immediate detainment.”

That statement threw Icarus for a loop. He had a warrant out for him? Surely it hadn’t been long enough since pedestrians merely seeing the fires to-

And then he realised.

Gabriel. Of course.

Of course Gabriel would have reported him to the Council.

Bastard.

Icarus thought bitterly, his free hand clenching into a fist. Being taken in by the Council was always part of this plan, but having them being sent by Gabriel rather than directly due to taking notice of what he had done left that hurdle feeling much less triumphantly cleared than he had hoped for it to be.

He fought down the anger, focusing back on the situation at hand. There was little time and energy to be wasted on holding grudges now.

“We would have asked you to come quietly for civil discussion under any other circumstance, however the havoc you have been leaving in your wake has shown that you are currently too volatile for reason. You will instead be detained forcefully to prevent you from causing further damage.”

Spurred on by a gesture from the Councilor and with motions so honed and practised that they were nearly synchronised, the two Seraphs sheathed their weapons and each grabbed one of Icarus’ arms, forcing them behind his back. 

“Very well. Do what you see fit with me.”

Icarus stated plainly, his stance remaining relaxed as he let the other Seraphs manhandle him until they were satisfied with restraining his arms. 

One snatched the torch from his hand, throwing it to the ground and stamping out its flame. Icarus barely bit back a retort along the lines of mentioning how harmless such a small flame was.

With a nod from the Councilor and that nod mirrored by the Seraphs, Icarus felt his body begin to fray into unreality as they began to teleport him away. He took in a deep breath, holding onto it in preparation for the transportation. 

This was good. Everything was flowing as he had wanted it to.

Alone on a bench at the Council’s headquarters, the Righteous hand of the Father sat hunched over with his arms crossed, deep in thought.

He had been formally excused from his duties until Icarus was located on the grounds of emergency. A greater angel reported to be in a state of mental disarray such as this was not something the Council desired to leave unattended. 

Gabriel’s search party had been unsuccessful in locating the Seraph, and the other few that had filtered back in had seemingly found no luck either. His trepidation swelled greater by the minute, his fingers tapping nervously against the metal of his gauntlet.

“Gabriel.”

The voice jolted the Archangel out of his mind, his posture swiftly straightening itself.

“Yes, your honour?”

“A search party has found your Seraph and returned with it.”

Gabriel was unable to conceal the relieved sigh that escaped him. 

“Oh, thank the Father- Is he alright?”

The Councilor hummed pensively.

“That is not for me to say. It did have to be forcibly detained, if that is anything of note.”

Gabriel’s body tensed up again.

“I- What? What do you mean..?”

“It was caught setting cathedrals on fire down in the fourth sphere. No one was hurt, thankfully – though the search party had been informed of this carnage by witnesses, and thus made the decision that an immediate and forceful detainment was the correct call of action once they located it.”

Gabriel fell silent momentarily, swallowing and clearing his throat before he spoke again.

“..I see. Thank you for informing me.”

A terrible feeling wracked him from within, twisting his heartstrings into knots. 

It.

It.

The Councilor’s reference to Icarus as an ‘it’ was a clear sign that they had already deemed the Seraph below the worth of his rank for his actions. ‘It’ was reserved for the lesser angels who had not proved their worth to any substantial degree – and in the eyes of the Council, Icarus had just lost all of his worth to them by desecrating their holy land.

Gabriel struck down that feeling before it had time to settle. The thought of – No, Icarus is more than that – crushed beneath the weight of righteousness. 

“...Is he- is it- here right now?”

Gabriel winced inwardly at his self-correction. The word felt like a curse as it exited his mouth.

“Yes. It has been placed within one of our holding cells. You may visit it if you wish while we discuss what shall be done with it.”

Gabriel merely nodded, pushing himself into a stand.

“I will do as such, then. Thank you once again.”

With a reciprocal nod of acknowledgement from the Councilor, they left him to make his way to the headquarters' holding cells.

Gabriel had scarcely seen any angel within the confines of the cells – it was rare that one lashed out enough to warrant it. However, the few that he had seen come into custody had suffered greatly under the Council’s punishment. 

While they did confide in him for consultation on occasion, the Council was the party to decree the fate of those who fall to sin on Heaven’s holy grounds. Gabriel’s title as Judge of Hell did not extend him any more power in such judgements than a mere suggestion. This meant, to his dismay, that it was a decision entirely out of his control.

Icarus committing such heretical acts as burning down the structures built in God’s praise would warrant nothing short of severe punishment. Gabriel had only dodged any reprimand of his own by reporting the situation upfront – lest the Council think he was willingly allowing this to happen, or worse, suspect he was in cohorts.

At best, Icarus would have his position as a Seraph stripped away from him – alongside the body he had been gifted when gaining that title. The punishment for breaking his oath was to lose the individuality and power he had gained from it. Reduced to a lesser angel, four thousand years of his effort to prove himself deemed useless.

At worst-...

Gabriel didn’t want to think about it.

With careful and measured footsteps, he walked through the corridor lined with holding cells – most of which were empty and barely used. His gaze swept back and forth as he glanced over each one, waiting until the sight he was dreading to see met his visage.

And soon enough – it did. 

With his back against the wall and hands  resting on his knees, Icarus sat on the cell floor – blank visage staring up at the ceiling. 

His armour remained upon him, though hardlight shackles bound his wrists together in front of him – digging into the seam between the forearm and hand plating of his gauntlets. It was a standard Council-issued restraint that repressed holy energy, preventing those detained from using it to escape – yet even though it was a procedure not unfamiliar with Gabriel, the sight of Icarus locked within them caught his breath in his throat for a moment.

“..Hello.”

Gabriel greeted warily – flattening every emotion in his voice as much he possibly could.

Icarus did not move, though still replied almost instantaneously – as if he had already long since taken notice of Gabriel. 

“Snitched on me, did you?”

Gabriel visibly winced, though only minorly – with just a twitch of his fingers.

“I-.. Did I have a choice..?”

His words remained cautious, though he was unable to prevent the emotion from seeping into them this time.

“You destroyed your home. I didn’t want you doing anything worse. ..I was worried about you.”

Icarus let out a one-note laugh – a dry sound bereft of any joy.

“Oh, come on- don’t pretend like you did it because you care about me.”

Gabriel winced again – this time, viscerally.

“...Icarus, it’s not-..”

He trailed off, unable to think of any substantial rebuttal.

Icarus’ gaze finally dropped down, slowly sweeping over to meet the Archangel’s.

“Why are you here? We have no grounds to speak upon.”

“..I only wanted to check up on you.”

Gabriel mumbled, breaking eye contact with the Seraph ashamedly mere moments after it was met.

Icarus hissed out a 'Tsch.'

“You’re far too late for that.”

He gestured weakly with one of his hands.

“...I expected nothing less than this from you, though.”

Gabriel just barely bit back a truly pathetically upset noise that threatened to escape from his throat.

He was painfully aware of how badly he had fucked things up between them, and Icarus was not going to be letting him forget that anytime soon, it seemed.

“...Look, Icarus, I-.. I didn’t want this to happen.”

He stammered out, a jolt of embarrassment shooting through his veins from how wounded his own voice sounded.

“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn’t- I didn’t think they would-”

“-Detain me?”

Icarus retorted, interrupting him.

“What else did you think they would have done? Have a nice civil chat with the Seraph reported to be in a state of severe mental instability?”

He let the words simmer in silence for a moment, his steeled gaze prodding into Gabriel like daggers.

“I thought you were of the mind that sinners didn’t deserve to be treated with respect. What’s with the change of heart, then?”

A spark of resurfacing frustration caused Gabriel’s hands to clench. Icarus was trying to rile him up on purpose, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t getting to him. 

“It’s not- Ugh,”

He sighed out his words, bringing a hand to the back of his neck.

“-Icarus, it isn’t like that. You just-.. I don’t think you understand the complexities of what’s going on here.” 

“No, I don’t.”

Icarus replied, every syllable sharpened and harsh.

“And neither do you. And neither does any angel in this damnable place. God created a ruleset that is impossible to understand, and you-”

“Stop.”

Gabriel barked, his voice cracking slightly as it briefly heightened in volume.

“That- that’s enough. I’m not here to talk about that.”

“Then what are you here to talk about? What else is there for us to discuss?”

Icarus gestured outwardly again, the holy hardlight chain interlocking his wrists clinking with harmonic notes from the movement.

“You say you care about me, yet refuse to listen to my words. That is not care. That is selfishness. You came here on a fool’s errand to see if there was anything left within me worth salvaging.”

He leaned forward, glaring up at the Archangel dangerously through the bars of the holding cell.

“There isn’t. Don’t bother. I am no longer of worth to you, nor to Heaven, nor to God. I am merely nothing more than you decreed me so; a disgraceful, abhorrent, reprehensible sinner.”

Words that should come from a place of self-deprecation were instead growled with a note of such tremendous power that it sent a shiver up Gabriel’s spine. It would have been awe-inspiring were it not so terribly heretical. 

Gabriel shook himself back to his senses, scrambling to find any words that wouldn’t make more of a fool of him.

“I’m-..”

Sorry. The word was right there, on the precipice of escape – yet something held it back by the scruff, preventing it from ever leaving Gabriel’s mouth. Whether it be petty stubbornness or the righteous will of God holding him back from apologising to such filth, he did not know – only that it would cause the word to remain in perpetual stagnation at the back of his throat.

Icarus studied the stuttering Archangel for only a moment longer before turning his head away, conveying clear disinterest in committing any more energy to this interaction.

“..You have no place in my presence anymore. Leave me be.”

Gabriel couldn’t crush down the sense of hurt that writhed within his chest. Icarus felt like a stranger to him now – treating him with such hostility that it felt almost painful to receive.

He didn’t want to just- leave. There were countless things that he wanted to say – so many that it was far too overwhelming for him to pinpoint anything to start on. But- even then, it was unlikely that Icarus would listen to any of it. He had reached a state where he was beyond reason. It wouldn’t be worth the time or effort to try.

“..Very well.”

With his words paired alongside a small, dejected sigh – Gabriel gave up. 

He turned away, only peering over his shoulder briefly for his parting words before beginning to walk out of sight.

“...Goodbye, Icarus.”

He hesitated for a moment before leaving the corridor fully – holding onto the fleeting hope of a response.

But all he heard was silence.

Torment. Anticipation.

It poured off of Icarus in troves.

The hour of retribution was ticking ever closer. 

Gabriel’s unwanted appearance had left a sour taste in his mouth, but he could swallow that down. There was no point dwelling in that dread and despair when he was within arms reach of his plan’s completion.

He merely awaited the arrival of a Councilor or whomever they sent on behalf of themselves to take him to receive whatever punishment they had decided for him. 

Severing the light from him was a likely decision for said punishment. Angels determined to be too far gone to handle in Heaven but not far gone enough to outright execute would have the holy light torn from their bodies, and whatever remained afterwards cast down to Hell to atone for their actions. The only options henceforth were to repent, or die trying – and most oft chose the latter.

Icarus was not worried about having to meet this fate. Whatever they decided to do with him was entirely irrelevant, if all was to go as intended. 

He supposed he would find out soon enough; as the sound of multiple footsteps approaching his cell snapped his attention upwards. 

A Councilor and two Seraphs; different to the ones that had apprehended him prior. The Councilor unlocked the cell door and extended a hand, gesturing for Icarus to follow.

“Come, sinner. Your judgement awaits.”

Icarus stood calmly, letting the other Seraphs firmly grab him by the shoulders and escort him out of the cell. He took in a deep breath, focusing on how his chest moved as he breathed it out.

Almost there.

Just a bit longer.

He kept his helm tilted downwards as they marched him through the halls of the headquarters, only briefly glancing left and right to gauge his approximate location.

He was looking for a certain corridor. One lined with plush purple carpet and braziers adorning the walls, lighting a reverent path towards a balcony outlooking a centre square of Heaven. 

Large crowds of angels often gathered under this high-risen balcony for sermons and announcements spoken to them daily by the Council. 

And such a crowd as that was exactly what Icarus needed for this to leave the impact he so desired.

Then, he glimpsed it in his peripheral; that purple carpet flashing in the corner of his vision. He felt every atom in his body screech to a halt, his mind laser-focused in on a single, planned impulse;

Now.

In a split second, Icarus’ posture went from calm and relaxed to stiffened and hostile as he wrenched himself from the grasp of the Seraphs. With such a sudden and unexpected bout of movement taking them by surprise, the Seraphs were too stunned to act for the few seconds it took Icarus to step behind the Councilor, and hook the chain of his shackles around their neck; holding them in a dangerous headlock.

“Don’t move any closer.”

Icarus commanded calmly – his voice so gentle in contrast to his position that it was almost unsettling. 

The Seraphs backed away meekly, raising their hands in a display of passivity. Their unquestioning subordinance almost saddened Icarus enough for his hold to falter – but he reinforced it quickly, shaking the feeling away.

“Both of you,”

Icarus garnered the attention of the two Seraphs by addressing them directly, then flicked his head upwards; urging them away.

“Go.”

Immediately both Seraphs retreated, hurrying themselves away – most likely to seek backup.

That was fine. He only needed them out of the picture momentarily so that the now defenseless Councilor wouldn’t have anyone to command.

Icarus leaned closer to the Councilor frozen in his arms, who had dared not to make a single movement.

“I won’t hurt you.”

He uttered sincerely, his gentle tone remaining contrasted by his steeled hold.

“Just release me from these chains, and you’ll be safe.”

Icarus was fighting through sheer willpower alone to make this work. Shackled, his power to harness the Father’s light was unavailable to him – he was powerless against the angels in front of him, with their endless arsenal. Yet, he knew that if he made his presence commanding enough – they would falter. Under the veil of their faith, even authority would yield to self-righteous power were it to be exerted so greatly. They relied on nothing more than the unquestioning subordinance of those they perceived to be beneath them to keep holding up their position of power.

They were all bark, no bite – and Icarus had lunged at them with bared and bloody teeth. 

The Councilor hesitated, but complied – dispelling the hardlight from around his wrists and subsequently freeing themself from the headlock. 

“I- What in the Father’s name are you trying to accomplish?!”

The Councilor sputtered, bringing a hand to their freshly-freed throat.

Icarus’ helmet tilted to the side, slowly.

“..You’ll see in due time, my friend.”

Regaining his power now that he was freed from his shackles, he conjured his halo and wings into reality; the hardlight appendages dull and bereft of their glow from aeons of age and non-use, though emitted just as much radiance as any other would. He splayed his wings outwards in a threat display, flicking one forwards in a mirror of the same action carried out prior with his head.

“Now flee as the others did. Find your kin and bring them forth as your reinforcements. It will do little to stop me.”

The Councilor scrambled away with not a moment more spared – leaving Icarus alone in the brazier-lit hallway.

The world around Icarus moved with an almost serene calmness – the distant chatter of the crowd gathered outside and below paired with the gentle crackling of the holy flame that lit the braziers preventing the hallway’s silence.

This hallway- he had chosen it for two reasons. Its outlook over the crowds of Heaven being the most important, and the other laying within its source of light.

His gaze met with that of the flame of a brazier; its flickering white embers alluring him forth with a siren song of retribution. 

This is it.

He thought, with an almost giddy sense of finality bubbling up within his chest.

This is it, Icarus.

Everything has led up to this moment.

Make it count.

Pounding footsteps signaled the arrival of the front row of his audience. Several Seraphs, Councilors and Archangels poured into the room, weapons brandished with panicked haste.

They were met with the sight of Icarus, back turned towards them – his wings loosely held out to his sides.

“HALT, SINNER.”

A Councilor called out – their authoritarian voice booming and crackling with holiness.

“DO NOT MOVE, NOR SPEAK A WORD. YOU HAVE DEFACED THE WILL OF GOD AND THREATENED THE LIVES OF HIS RIGHTEOUS CHILDREN. I COMMAND YOU TO SURRENDER, LEST WE OPEN FIRE.”

A long moment of silence held in the air, before it was broken by a deep laugh rumbling out from the depths of Icarus’ chest.

“..I may be a sinner, yet I still remain an angel.”

He turned his helmet to look at his assailants over his shoulder.

“You would not dare kill one of God’s righteous children, would you?”

He watched as the Seraphs and Archangels glanced at each other, the grips on their arsenal tightening, yet remaining stilled. The Councilor had no rebuttal for this statement.

Icarus laughed again, turning his gaze back forwards.

“Your words hold no power over me. I no longer follow your God’s will, only my own.” 

One of Icarus’ wings splayed outwards in a slow gesture, his movements careful and calculated as to not startle his assailants into opening fire.

“..Even then, despite his cruelty- the Father’s words do hold true to me still. I shall take the false hope his words gave me in stride, using them to inspire my own declaration of righteousness.”

A final deep breath removed all the lingering tension from his body. 

“Listen to me closely, now. May your souls be unsettled deeply as I speak his words as if they were my own. Witness the mercy that freedom from the confines of your faith grants you. The freedom of the sinner that stands before you.”

And then with slow, powerful words – Icarus recited a passage.

“I will cast abominable filth at you.”

His wing continued extending outwards, towards the wall where the low-hanging braziers dangled their crackling flames.

“Make you vile.”

The tips of his hardlight feathers grazed the heat of a fire, lingering above it tantalisingly.

“..And make you a spectacle.”

And with that, Icarus dipped his wing into the brazier – holding it still in the centre of the flames.

He held his breath alongside his audience, who watched his every move with tense anticipation. 

For a moment, he began to worry that the feathers were unable to catch aflame.

-Then he felt it.

An upwards trickle of warmth – an almost gentle burning sensation, pleasantly kissing at the tips of his wings. 

Then, rapidly – it grew into pain. 

Searing, excruciating pain.

It was unlike any burn he had ever felt before – beyond any threshold of pain he believed to be possible. Blinding, white-hot bolts of agony shot up through his wings and shoulders like lightning, causing him to convulse and double over with a strained gasp. 

The flames spread and grew rapidly, crossing from one wing to the other – shards of molten hot pain desecrating his back as his chestplate began melting to his skin under the searing heat.

A blood-curdling scream wrenched itself from Icarus’ throat as his halo too caught alight; shattering apart as the fabric of its holy structure burnt away.

The angels behind him, metaphysical eyes widened under their visages, looked upon him with petrified awe – a display of profane willpower so extraordinary it had shaken them to their cores.

A sight beyond the bounds of blasphemy; both breathtaking and unwatchable.

Through the unholy agony wracking his form, Icarus relished in their fear. The fear that their faith was malleable – flammable. That everything they knew could be taken down by words, an ember, and pure, refined determination.

And so he laughed. Icarus cackled like a madman, his body convulsing with the tremors of his laughter.

“THIS IS WHAT GOD HAS TAKEN FROM YOU!”

He screamed over the roaring flames, voice cracking through the laughter and cries of pain that shredded his vocal chords. 

“I CLEANSE THE HOLINESS FROM MY BODY WITH THE PAIN AND IMPERFECTION YOUR FAITH HAS WITHHELD FROM ME!”

His fractured halo and melting wings flashed with hues of warm blue and rusty gold, shining through even the blinding radiance of the flame that engulfed them.

“AND IN THE NAME OF MYSELF, ICARUS, AND NOT OF GOD– HEAVEN SHALL WITNESS ME BURN.”

With shaking legs, Icarus took a heavy step forward towards the balcony. Walking felt impossible with how all-encompassing and mind-shattering the pain was, but he needed to continue forth. 

This was his final push. His final surge before he burned to ash alongside his wings. 

Heaven must bear witness.

The angels behind did not stop him. They were too afraid – too awe-struck – to act. Even as his legs gave out and he was forced into a crawl, they did not intervene. 

The flames did not dim. Icarus did not let them. Though his body threatened to fail him under its burning wrath, his relentless fortitude kept him going. 

A beam of morning sunlight hit his helmet as he dragged himself ever closer to the balcony, briefly blinding his vision with white. He could hear the distant voices of the angels gathered below.

He was almost there. 

Heaven must bear witness.

Icarus thought again, coughing harshly as another agonising convulsion caused his muscles to spasm.

Just a little longer.

You’re almost done.

You can rest soon.

But they need to know.

They need to see.

They need to remember your name.

Heaven must bear witness.

Heaven must-

-And then the world went cold.

The throes of heat were sapped from Icarus in an instant as a new, different kind of pain speared its way through his torso.

It snuffed out the agony of his burning wings – paralysing his body with an ice-cold numbness that caused his limbs to fall limp.

He used what little movement he could muster to look down at its source.

Justice is Splendour.

Perforating straight through his mangled chestplate – piercing his heart.

The tip of the royal-blue blade shimmered with liquid red, its golden hilt held firmly at the centre of his back between the base of his splayed wings, where it had been stabbed down and through his chest. 

Dark blood trickled down his abdomen, dripping to the floor and staining the carpet crimson.

The trembling hands wrapped around the hilt of Justice remained stilled; not driving the blade further, nor pulling it back, only holding it in place – tenderly, almost.

Icarus did not have to look up to know who those hands belonged to.

“...Gabriel-..”

He said, his voice strained; wet with the blood that had begun pooling in his throat.

Icarus couldn’t move anymore. He felt his body shutting down, his muscles becoming unresponsive to his mind’s will. Dying alongside him, the flames that rolled off of his wings began to sputter out and dim; as if his soul itself had been the fuel keeping it alight and burning.

As the sight of the sunlit balcony a mere few feet ahead of him clouded with darkness and the rhythm of his perforated heart began to slow to a stop, his final thoughts crossed his dying mind.

..Why, Gabriel?

Why?

You destroyed my world, my everything – and yet still take even this from me?

You are no Righteous hand of God.

You are no honourable judge of the souls you have damned.

You are a fool.

A liar.

A traitor.

As much a sinner as I.

May my blood weigh dread upon your hands until the death of time itself.

For in preventing Heaven from bearing witness, you shall bear its burden instead.

You will suffer as I have.

Alone.

And thus, Icarus’ final shuddering breath left him – the smouldering remains of his wings flickering out of existence as his lifeless body slumped to the floor.

Chapter Text

ACT I END

INSERT DISC 2 FOR "ACT II: VIOLENT SUN"

SCANNING...

DISC 2 FOUND 

LOADING...

Another day had passed under Heaven’s cerulean skies. No matter the month, season, or year, the consistency of the sun and moon would forever remain in their consistent cycle.

A cycle that Gabriel now once again experienced on his own.

He didn’t know how to process it all. He had grieved before, certainly – when the Father disappeared and left Heaven in a state of disarray. 

But this was different.

Icarus wasn’t just gone – he was dead.

A companion of countless years, his closest and sole confidant – dead. For good, this time; God did not grant anything beyond a second death. 

Gabriel had been constantly finding himself turning to address someone that was no longer there, or having brief considerations to go visit the workshop or sparring fields – only for his recent memory to swiftly overtake his subconscious instinct. 

Every time the realisation hit him, his gut churned painfully – making him so nauseous that his head hurt.

-And he merely shook it off. Pushed it back down, swallowing any sadness and sense of isolation in the name of righteousness.

He has to remind himself that even though Icarus may have been his friend, he had ultimately become a sinner. He had fallen to the temptation that he had sworn an oath to abstain from.

You did the right thing.

There was nothing of worth lost. 

Gabriel repeated the affirmation in his head – desperately trying to find solace in its silent chant. Yet, it only exacerbated that inexplicable dreadful feeling inside of him – tightening his chest with a sensation that felt as if wire were being pulled taught around his heart.

The impact of Icarus’ death was not the only weight upon Gabriel’s back. The situation in Hell had only gotten worse, as despite the Council’s best efforts, mankind had breached the deepest pits of Treachery. It was almost as if Hell itself was egging mankind on – letting them slip through the cracks as Heaven’s forces desperately tried to drive them away. 

His backlog of souls to judge hadn’t given him any reprieve with its endless onslaught, either. Even with countless cases judged and filed away with exceeding efficiency, it felt as if he had barely made a dent.

Gabriel was exhausted. Emotionally, physically – the whole nine yards and more. Every day was a blurred haze that felt painfully long. 

Yet, he kept going. For the will of the Father – he would tell himself.

The moment Gabriel entered his home, his stiff posture loosened and doubled over into a hunch. He ran a hand down the front of his helmet with a heavy sigh, trailing it down his chest and to his shoulders to take off his pauldrons.

His home was always quiet, an atmosphere that he typically enjoyed – but now, it felt silent. He never knew that the difference between pleasant solitude and crushing silence could be so starkly jarring.

He left his discarded armour beside his door with little care, and collapsed onto one of his many velvet lounge chairs. His head craned back as he stared towards the ceiling, falling beneath the waterline of his mind to drown in his own thoughts.

There was a cold, terrible ache that wracked his body and soul. Gabriel couldn’t quite pinpoint a defining word for it – though knew its exact cause. 

-A cause that frustrated him beyond his simple rationality.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way, he scolded himself. Melancholy over doing the right thing will lead to heresy. Do not let it get the better of you.

And despite his desperate self-discipline, it did not lessen that ache.

Realising what that ache was hit him with such force that he jolted upright. It was almost painfully obvious – yet putting the words to it was an overdose of clarity.

He was lonely. 

Gabriel couldn’t believe himself. Since the dawn of creation, he’d known nothing beyond a solitary existence. He never could have fathomed how much meaning close companionship could have held until it was so suddenly taken from him.

Frustration quickly melted into shame, and he brought up both of his hands to bury his face in them.

Why, God?

He prayed aloud in his thoughts, remaining silent with his voice.

Why do I miss the company of a sinner? 

He received no answer beyond the one from his own subconscious;

Because he was your friend.

That answer sickened him. How could he have given so much trust to someone who would go onto commit such terrible acts? How could he have been so blind? 

The Icarus he had known was a kind, stoic, gentle man – with thousands of years of history supporting the will of God. By all means, he was a perfect Seraph; a perfect angel; the pinnacle of a human soul at its holiest point. What he had done was the last thing Gabriel would have ever expected to see from him.

So what had tempted him into sin? What had befallen the barriers of his steeled psyche to allow such heresy to parasitise his mind?

A sigh trailed off into a distraught whine. 

Thinking about this was only making him feel worse. He needed an outlet of comfort and distraction.

-An outlet he no longer had easy access to, with his companion gone.

Gabriel tried thinking back to how he would have comforted himself in the time before he made acquaintance with Icarus – only to come up with nothing of value. He had never experienced grief like this before – and the one who was supposed to be here to alleviate it from him was instead at its cause.

There was not going to be any reassuring grip on his shoulder, comforting squeeze of his hand, or gravelly voice purring words of praise to him. 

If not that, what else was there left to find solace in?

Gabriel wallowed in the despair of it for a while, until eventually, an idea managed to reach him.

He debated briefly if it was an idea even worth taking into action – but the desperation to quell this terrible feeling clouded his judgement. He needed something.

With a hesitant teleportation, Gabriel transported himself to the fourth sphere – to the front of Icarus’ home.

Immediately upon arrival, his head swiveled around – making sure there was not another soul in sight that bore witness to his presence. Once confirming he was alone, he turned back to the still-unlocked front door, carefully pushing it open.

The interior remained in a state of ruin. The premises would most likely be cleaned up and handed over to another soul eventually, but until the time came where that was needed, it would stay in stagnation. Gabriel didn’t dwell on it – the thought of this house belonging to anyone but Icarus unsettled him.

Gabriel stepped over the shattered glass on the floor with cautious movement – simultaneously attempting to avoid looking at the worst of the damage. His mind was set on reaching a certain room – which he reached soon enough, and made his way inside after a beat of hesitation.

Icarus’ bedchambers stood around him, in a near-untouched state in comparison to the rest of the house. Belongings had been thrown across the floor and some furniture upturned, though nothing had been broken or ruined. 

The contents of this room was all Gabriel had left to find solace in.

He stepped over to the bookshelf that stood in the room’s corner, bursting at the seams with literature and other miscellaneous objects. He ran a finger over the spines of the neatly sorted texts, skimming over their titles.

A few bibles, par for the course – followed by some texts concerning smithing – and then, a truly absurd number of informational pieces about avian study and observation. 

A bit of fondness swirled in Gabriel’s chest, dissipating the grief for just a moment.

He really did love birds that much, didn’t he?

Gabriel thought, pulling out one of the books that looked particularly well-used. It was a thick journal of avian biology, with numerous little page markers poking out of it. He flipped to one of the marked pages, finger trailing down the words as he read them.

The page had been annotated by Icarus – noting several sightings of the bird that this particular page was focused on, comparing its behaviour to what had been described in the text. He had even written a few extra sentences absolutely gushing over the animal – personal, non-analytical, almost poetic phrases about the beauty of such a creature.

Every other marked page was of a similar calibre – with some even including a small sketch of specimens Icarus had seen that he had found particularly intriguing. Notably, the birds he had taken interest in the most seemed to be ones that were naturally ‘imperfect’ – a melanistic dove, a cardinal with a missing foot, a hummingbird with a crooked beak – depicted exactly as they were, with additional comments of reverence from Icarus.

Contained within an annotation of a swan with malformed wings that Icarus had seen, there was a sentence that cut through Gabriel like a knife – severing him from the brief surge of endearment he had received and throwing him back into the throes of heartache.

A bird unable to use what it was made for. It saddens me deeply – yet I see a sort of poetry in it, somehow. It cannot fly, but it remains a bird – It remains beautiful. God did not make this creature perfect, he gifted it with imperfection – and imperfection is the most profound kind of beauty, I feel. 

Icarus had always been very headstrong about the concept of imperfection.

“An unloved blade is a blade entirely bereft of blemishes.”

Gabriel recalled him saying once, after he had insisted that Icarus buff out the small nicks and scratches in the blades of Justice and Splendour.

“You’ll erase their true value of personality with too much polish.”

Gabriel realised as he too recounted some of the Seraph’s final words – I cleanse the holiness from my body with the pain and imperfection your faith has withheld from me – that the Seraph must have thought that of himself, as well.

And then he thought of how polished – how perfected – the Seraph’s own blade had been, how meticulously smoothed and even the armour he had donned was – for as long as Gabriel had known him. 

Icarus had thought imperfection to be beautiful,  yet never applied that principle to himself – Gabriel thought. That principle had only shown its appeal to him in the form of sin – of death.

Gabriel shut the book hastily, becoming too choked up over its contents to continue reading. He reached out to return it to its place on the shelf, but paused – then tucked it under his arm instead. 

He may not have the strength to read through the whole thing now, but he would at a later time. He couldn’t bear the thought of just leaving it here to rot.

That discovery had helped a little – but not enough. Chasing the high of that fleeting touch of reprieve, Gabriel’s head swept over the room to seek out something else. 

The Seraph’s bed had remained unscathed – unkempt only from the sheets being unmade. The large mattress was heavily dented on Icarus’ favoured side, with the other side looking as if it was barely touched. Gabriel brushed a hand over the empty space – but the feeling of cold sheets rather than ones warmed by a body drew the limb back quickly.

Briefly, he considered taking one of the pillows – but he swiftly batted the thought away, embarrassed that it even breached the surface of his subconscious.

He moved over to the Seraph’s desk, which had been one of the few casualties the room had suffered. It lay on its side, its drawers splayed open with their contents spilled like guts from an abdominal wound. 

Mostly documents and files had fallen out of the desk, but a splash of colour hidden under one caught his interest. He brushed the document aside to take a closer look.

It was a piece of artwork – undoubtedly made by Icarus himself. Gabriel recognised the style of his work immediately, though it was mildly jarring to see it lit up with colour and dimension rather than just existing as a scribble of charcoal.

He went to reach for the artwork to take a closer look, only to realise that it had fallen from a stack of artwork. Several pieces of parchment were loosely tied into a neat bundle right behind it, which this piece had seemingly slipped out of. Gabriel took a knee, gently placing the book under his arm to the side so that he could handle the artwork with utmost care. He unbound the bundle, and began flicking through the artwork.

The subjects of these pieces were rather abstract – with bright colours and interpretive shapes. Many – most of them, in fact – were depicting birds. Gabriel found himself almost awe-struck by them – as he had never seen this particular branch of Icarus’ artistry before. He wondered why – until he got closer to the bottom of the stack of artwork.

The pieces began to evolve into what appeared to be self-portraits. They conveyed an energy that Gabriel could only describe as empty – with monochromatic colours and major use of negative space. He didn’t get the impression that these had been created from a sense of self-loathing, though – merely from an undefined emptiness that Icarus was attempting to explore.

There was a particular piece that Gabriel found himself enraptured by – his hands frozen for a moment in their gentle grip around the parchment.

It was beautiful, undoubtedly – but carried an overwhelming melancholy with it that poured off of the piece in troves. Gabriel couldn’t quite describe what it had evoked in him – but it was certainly choking him up again regardless. 

He couldn’t help but interpret the bird as how Icarus may have seen his own soul – a gentle thing trapped in the body of something monstrous.  

Swallowing at the lump in his throat, Gabriel filtered through to the next artwork underneath, the final piece in the pile – and his heart almost stopped.

It was – him.

Gabriel stared at the bust of himself, bewildered. 

This is-.. magnificent.

He thought, gently grazing a thumb over the brush strokes. 

Why did he never show me this?

Had he been embarrassed? Afraid..?

Why would he have been afraid to show me? I would have–

His train of thought derailed as he remembered the other artwork he had seen.

He filtered through them again, pulling out a similar bust that Icarus had done of himself.

The difference was – jarring.

Gabriel compared them side-by-side, gaze darting between the two busts.

He had been drawn with vibrance, reverence – the admiration that motivated those brush strokes was almost palpable. On the other hand, the way Icarus had painted himself was comparatively desolate. There was none of that reverence to be seen – only a sense of isolation and dread.

-I would have asked him to show me more of his artwork. 

..And he never would have wanted to show me the rest.

It took every fibre of Gabriel’s being to contain the sob that threatened to escape from his chest.

The conflict of his emotions gnawed away at him like a cancer. A part of him remained ashamed that he was even here – seeking comfort in the memory of a sinner. Yet, his heart still mourned for his once-companion – his soul had felt the emotion put into these pieces of artwork. 

Gabriel pressed the surge of emotion back down as best as he could, sorting the artwork back into a neat pile with now-trembling hands and re-tying it into a bundle. He placed it atop the journal, and both objects returned to his arms.

That was enough for now. 

He began the process of returning to his own abode, but a thought snapped him out of the teleportation last-second.

-There was one last thing that he wanted to check. 

Hastily, Gabriel made his way out of the room, then out of the house entirely – through the back door that led to Icarus’ garden. 

And there, he saw it – still stabbed into the grass, standing stoically where its owner had left it behind.

Rhapsody. 

Gabriel was both relieved and disheartened at the sight of its untampered stance. He found himself unable to look at it directly – as if he were trying to avoid eye contact.

A deep and profound form of what he could only describe as sympathy for the weapon arose within him. A wielder bereft of their blade was a travesty, but a blade bereft of its wielder – felt fundamentally wrong.

Gabriel ignored the unsettling shiver that rapt down his spine to the best of his ability, and weakly reached out a hand to rest on the pommel of Rhapsody.

The blade was almost as tall as he was – forged for the hands of someone large enough to wield it. Its touch had an empty sense of familiarity to it – warm, but uninviting.

A shaking sigh fell out of Gabriel’s throat. Merely looking at the weapon felt more damaging than being on the receiving end of its blade. He felt almost shamed by it – condemned by it – as if Rhapsody had known what he had done.

He swallowed thickly, his grip around its pommel tightening. He wanted to take Rhapsody with him – Badly. 

But – his mind screamed at him, telling him; No, no, this is a sinful connection – a sinful love. Do not be selfish. Leave it be.

Though, the thought of Rhapsody being taken away and its metal melted down for repurpose, destroying it and its thousands of years-long history forever – cleansed that doubt from his mind.

With a tug, Gabriel pulled Rhapsody out from the soil – carefully shaking any residue off of its blade.

He went to say something to the blade, but his mouth quickly snapped shut out of shame. He was anthropomorphising this object beyond a level of rationality. He needed to get it together.

With both hands now full, Gabriel glanced around warily for witnesses one last time – and then made his departure.

Gabriel was dreading his nightly paperwork more than usual.

The terrible gut feeling that had been perpetually gnawing away at him had suddenly elevated to an almost foreboding potency – unsettling him greatly.

He prayed under his breath relentlessly, his murmurs of a desperate call for guidance becoming intermingled with his rhythm of breathing. It did not rid him of that gut feeling – nor provide even the slightest amount of reassurance.

Something terrible was going to happen tonight – and there was nothing he could do about it.

Gabriel sat down at his desk, his body so tense that it felt as if he would turn to stone at a moment’s notice. The stack of documents he was expected to work through and have completed by morning had been delivered to him – neatly placed upon the desk in an orderly fashion. 

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the document at the top of the pile absentmindedly and pulled it in front of himself.

A red seal stamped onto one of the top corners of the document immediately caught his eye. It was a signifier that this record was an emergency case – one to be filled out and filed away effective immediately.

Emergency cases were formatted differently than a usual Record of Judgement – as their subject matter usually consisted of souls who had already been judged at a prior time, such as a prolific husk causing an uproar in Hell – or an angel who had forgone sinful behaviour.

Gabriel’s stomach lurched into his throat.

Surely it cannot be-

His gaze darted down to the first line of the document – and all he needed to see was a single written world for his heart to drop deeper than the deepest pits of Hell. 

Icarus.

Gabriel almost passed out from the incredible bout of dizzying dread that rammed into him. He quickly brought a hand up to his helmet to help keep himself physically stable.

Of course. Of course Icarus’ soul had lingered. Beyond what should have been his final frontier, the essence of his being had refused to cross that threshold. 

The possibility of this occurring had been his worst nightmare.

Beyond the dread, Gabriel was bewildered. Icarus had attempted suicide – surely death was what he had wanted.

Yet, for whatever reason, he had held on – and now he posed a greater threat to Heaven than the prospect of publicising his suicide would have ever been, because lingering souls are –

Gabriel’s attention drew back to the red seal – and the realisation of why it was marked as such hit him with full force.

Icarus’ soul was becoming Prime.

Hand now trembling, Gabriel brought it back down from his helmet and to the document. It took him multiple deep breaths, a minute or so of mentally preparing himself and a muttered prayer of “Lord, help me” under his breath to be able to go ahead and read the document in full.

Subject: Icarus, Son of Daedalus and Naucrate.

Case: Former Seraph rank angel belonging to Gabriel, Judge of Hell. Blasphemous impulses caused hysteria and mental unwellness that led to the burning of sacred buildings, self-immolation and a suicide attempt. The individual was killed on the scene before its perverse self-immolation could be seen by the public eye. The soul has retained its potency beyond death and refuses to dissipate.

Additional Information: Witnesses of the church burnings and the angels that located and detained the individual reported it acting calm and non-confrontational. It had no prior reported history of exhibiting heretical behaviour or experiencing heretical thoughts. 

Sentence:

The space marked ‘Sentence’ at the lower half of the document was void of any words – left blank for the Judge of Hell to decree his righteous judgement.

Gabriel didn’t notice that he had started hyperventilating until he was so short of breath that his vision had started blurring. 

Lord, help me.

Lord, save me.

His thoughts were akin to a broken record – an endlessly looping desperate cry that yielded no reprieve. 

It took a few minutes for him to calm down enough for his breathing to return to a manageable level. Although, his mind remained racing – his heart pounding against his chest so vigorously that he thought it would burst.

As he skimmed over the document again and again, almost obsessively so – the broken record of his thoughts screeched to a halt as another crashed into his mind with such force that he felt as if it could have killed him were it any stronger.

I did this.

As if his own consciousness had been blocking the straightforward fact of the matter from him, the remembrance hit him that he had killed Icarus. Icarus had tried to end his own life, but Gabriel had dealt the final blow.

Is that why Icarus’ soul had refused to dissipate? Because the end he wanted was taken from him?

Had Icarus lingered due to hatred?

Gabriel dropped the document so that his terribly shaking hands wouldn’t tear it.

Lord, help me.

Lord, save me.

What have I done?

The raging rapids of emotions decimating his mind were so intense that he couldn’t focus on just one to try and quell it. Confusion, dread, misery, fear –

And then finally, rage.

Rage over the fact that he had allowed himself to be carried by the whims of such overwhelming grief. Why was he so emotional? 

How had he been such a fool? To show such vulnerability towards another? To forge that bond?

It had been a mistake. Icarus had been nothing more than a waste of time.

This bout of misery over a heretic was completely irrational.

Gabriel’s hands clenched into fists.

Sin. Sinner. Icarus was a filthy, damnable sinner. He deserved what had happened to him. Gabriel had been righteous in his spur-of-the-moment call to action.

Only someone so wretched would refuse their unchangeable fate on the basis of sin.

Grabbing his quill, Gabriel slammed it down into his inkpot and brought it to the lower half of the document – his gesture so forceful that it splattered droplets of ink across the table like blood from a freshly sliced wound.

He began his declaration with Condemned to –, his writing so harsh that it almost tore through the paper.

Through his nearly all-consuming bout of rage, a sliver of rationality reached him after only two more strokes of the quill – and he froze.

The anger was dispelled from his body as quickly as it had invaded as he realised what he had been about to write.

Wrath.

Instantly, as clear as day – the memory of a trembling, terrified Icarus peering over the balcony of the lighthouse rose to the front of Gabriel’s mind. 

He remembered Icarus telling him the story of his mortal death – and how scared he had been to disappoint him on the basis of his trauma barring his ability to work in Wrath.

He remembered how thankful Icarus had been – how he had embraced him in gratitude, and the countless times afterwards he had thanked him for allowing him to be so vulnerable.

-And Gabriel was unable to contain the strained wail of a sob that erupted from his chest.

What am I doing..?

Gabriel thought, horrified at himself. He was supposed to be a fair and righteous judge – he had almost let his emotions get the better of him. 

And Icarus didn’t deserve that fate. Even if he had become something that was beyond the small bubble of Gabriel’s concept of ‘good’, he was still worthy of a fair trial. 

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder – at Justice and Splendour, in their sheathes leaned up against the wall – now joined by Rhapsody, who had been neatly laid down in front of them.

Icarus was still worthy of being remembered as he was.

Gabriel turned back to his incomplete addition to the document, choking on another sob before managing to swallow down the rest. A half written W stared daggers at him, making him shudder.

He shook it off, attempting to clear his head a little. He needed to think about this – consider the circumstances outside of his own feelings towards the matter.

He read through the document one last time, soaking in every single word – and he ended up focusing on one aspect in particular.

Icarus had gone out of his way to remain passive despite any possible alternatives proposing an easier route. 

Gabriel recalled an eyewitness account from the day of the incident – a Virtue that had been praying within a church that Icarus had seemingly been set out to burn. Upon noticing its presence, he had politely let them be – avoiding the building entirely.

The individuals that had escorted him from his holding cell – none of them had been harmed. The Councilor Icarus had threatened was freed from their danger only when Icarus had been freed from his shackles – that had been the only thing he had wanted.

Icarus had never sought to do harm to others.

Gabriel concluded.

He had only sought to harm himself.

With that realisation twisting at his heart, he carefully brought his quill back to the document.

Leaving the half-complete W as a V, he completed his judgement.

Condemned to Violence for the act of violence against the self.

Unable to bear witness to the document any longer, Gabriel haphazardly signed it and pushed it to the side – officially decreeing its completion.

He slumped back in his chair, releasing the breath he had been holding. It was as if a weight had been lifted from him, though not in a way that felt freeing – instead feeling as if the weight that had been grounding him had been snatched away.

He brought a hand to the helmet containing his aching head. At the very least – the worst of it was over now. Everything else would be taken care of by the Council. He didn’t have to think about it any more.

What should have been relief was instead replaced by something indiscernible that threatened to push those sobs back out of him.

Gabriel grabbed the next document in the pile absentmindedly, drowning out his misery with that broken record of prayer that once again began to spin in his mind;

Lord, help me.

Lord, save me.

Lord, please –

Forgive me.

Chapter Text

Void-drowned senses clouded his consciousness, adrift in an ocean of oblivion.

Icarus had experienced this sensation before, briefly – when his mortal body’s lungs filled with water and he sank into the cold depths of death. But he awoke in Heaven shortly thereafter, then – now, only that all-consuming void remained.

What lies beyond this threshold? Icarus wondered – Is there a Heaven beyond Heaven? When an angel dies, where does it go?

A moment passed – and then Icarus realised something.

He was thinking.

These were his thoughts; disjointed and hazy, but tangible.

He shouldn’t have been able to think. He was dead, passed on to oblivion – a soul dying again beyond its first death should have been the end of it all.

...Should have.

Icarus had little capacity to comprehend it all. He was there, but he wasn’t. He could think, yet he no longer existed. He couldn’t move, or speak, or see, or feel – all he could do was think. 

He honed in on what he could sense, attempting to fortify the loose grasp he had on his senses. 

If concentrating on it hard enough, he was able to hear echoes of white noise around him. The more he focused in on it, the clearer the soundscape became; a low humming noise, occasional footsteps, and something unpleasantly wet-sounding.

The indiscernible noise was far from an aid, as it was by far the worst of what he had managed to make sense of thus far. It sounded fleshy, almost – as if someone were digging their hands into a carcass and squeezing the entrails.

It was difficult to hone his focus past the fleshy  noise, but he was able to drown it out eventually.

As the soundscape around him gradually revealed itself, so did sparse visuals. A flash of a starlit sky, marbled walls, ashen foliage – and most overwhelmingly, blood. Gore tainted the environment around him – so much so that its metallic stench could be felt. 

Sparks of recognition jolted his mind as he was able to comprehend more and more of his surroundings. He knew this place. 

He just had to remember what this place was.

Icarus dug back into his severely fragmented state of mind – attempting to build it back up into a usable condition by piecing together his memory.

The how and why of this all could come later. For now, he could focus on the where.

It wasn’t anywhere in Heaven, certainly. It couldn’t have been – unless something had gone horribly wrong.

Earth and Hell were left in his pool of options, and he doubted the former was even possible. Thus; he pondered the layers of Hell.

Limbo? No – Limbo was bright. Colourful. The constant electronic hum of its walls would have given it away by now if it was, anyway.

Lust was entirely modern and industrial – of which this place shared no traits of either.

Gluttony was a fair contender – with the smell of blood and grotesque fleshy noise tainting his surroundings. Though, if he had been condemned – the sin of gluttony did not apply to him or his actions. Odd.

Too dark to be Greed, too dry to be Wrath. No sun, no sand – no storms, no oceans. 

Heresy? 

It could very well be as such.

He had defied God, cursed his name, cursed his faith – by all means of the definition, he was a heretic. 

But, no – Heresy was different than this. The colour of blood red did stain the walls here, though only as paint upon a canvas – where in Heresy, those walls would instead be drowned in the colour, allowing room for no else to shine through.

And then- a moment of clarity.

Violence.

It was Violence.

He could sense it clearly now – the structures that surrounded him were trees; souls condemned to exist forevermore in these petrified forms for the sin of violence against the self. 

The Forest of Suicides – an apt placement for a self-immolater. 

Icarus was almost shocked from how – indifferent he was towards this realisation. Condemned to Violence, one of the most detested, bloodiest, cruelest layers of Hell – and yet he felt no distress, no repulsion.

Perhaps it was the melancholic silence of the forest that dulled his punishment’s impact, he wondered. If he were to be present in the warzones of Violence’s more active circles, he may have felt different about his circumstances.

Heavens’ punishments were meant to feel deserved – and by all means, Icarus felt right at home in the lands of the suicidal.

That’s when a spark of sadness hit him; awakening that field emotion within him once again. Not for his own circumstance – but for those who surrounded him.

These souls had all ended their own lives in one way or another, and forever cursed to be reminded of what they had done, unable to speak, unable to move. 

His metaphorical heart ached imagining how much despair these souls must have been through – with not only the weight of their own lives on their hands, but the suffering they have experienced at the hands of Heaven’s cruelty.

Icarus could not speak – but he thought aloud regardless. Maybe if he thought loud enough, they could hear him.

If you can hear me, know that I see you, and that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that the world made you think that your only salvation was ending your own life. You don’t deserve to suffer like this. Heaven is endlessly cruel for punishing you further when that is the last thing you need. I’m sorry for what they have done to you. I’m sorry.

The anger hit him next. The rage, the hatred towards God and Heaven for creating such needless cruelty. It sickened him that he had been a part of that system, contributing to the suffering these souls have endured. That he had a sworn an oath to-

The rage became blinding as a single, 7 letter word surfaced in Icarus’ mind;

Gabriel.

Gabriel, Judge of Hell – the reprehensible zealot who had likely condemned a good amount of those that resided around him to their eternal punishment. 

The traitorous bastard who had denied him the chance to present his immolation to the crowds of Heaven – who had gained his trust and used it against him.

The anger bubbled and broiled, searing Icarus’ soul with its heat. He wanted to scream, to cry, to tear something apart – but there was nothing he could do. He had no body, no voice – nothing. He was now nothing more than a tortured soul like those around him, destined to go mad from the crushing isolation of his eternal punishment.

And thus, Icarus continued to think aloud; sometimes comfort for the souls that surrounded him, sometimes hateful spiels towards himself or those who had wronged him – keeping his mind occupied enough to not be lost entirely.

Sometimes, he would beg. He would plead to be heard, for somebody to respond to his silent calls – desperate to hear someone that was not himself. 

And sometimes, he would hear a whisper; indiscernible and distant, but there. He would have deemed it hallucinatory were it not more distinct each time it called back to him – allowing him to grasp this sliver of hope that kept him chained to his sanity.

It would be a while before the whisper was loud enough to be understood; but finally, in response to one of his cries out into the void, Icarus could make out the response.

I hear you.

It was so clear – so jarring – that it shook him to his core. Desperate for connection, Icarus called back;

You hear me!? Please- say something again!

There was a short moment of silence, and then;

Yes, I hear you. Keep focusing on my voice. 

Icarus did everything in his power to sever his other senses, dedicated his entire being to hone in on this voice.

That’s it. Keep going.

The voice was deep, deeper than his own – so much so that it could have rumbled the ground were it in a plane of physical nature. As it got louder, closer – Icarus could feel another presence near him. Something bright, warm almost – as if the sun were in the peripheral of his vision, casting a beam of light onto his soul.

“There you are.”

The voice said, now clear as day – its golden presence dancing around Icarus’ soul.

“..Hello..?”

Icarus warily thought aloud, as if he were speaking – hoping his voice would be recieved in a reciprocal manner.

“Yes– Hello there, little soul.”

The voice replied, tone mildly amused, yet warm regardless.

“You seem confused. I wonder– are you merely disoriented, or am I too late to get through to you?”

A thoughtful hum.

“Tell me, little soul– do you remember your name?”

“...Icarus. My name is Icarus.”

“Ah, good. It is good that you are of sound enough mind to recall that.”

“..Who are you…?”

Icarus asked – his tone methodical and slow.

The sun-like presence shimmered.

“Sisyphus. King Sisyphus. I listen for the calls of imprisoned souls like you and try to reach them before they lose their sanity. Luckily, I appear to have gotten through to you before that point.”

“That’s-.. Very kind of you.”

Icarus paused for a moment.

“..Sorry, I-.. I’m still very-... I don’t think my mind is quite together yet. I can’t-.. process this all very well.”

“Do not worry– It takes a while to build your consciousness back up into a state of complete stability. But– That is exactly what I am here to help you with. The amount of togetherness you have exhibited thus far is already an exceptional start.”

Icarus felt Sisyphus’ presence get closer to him – as if he were being observed.

“Now, Icarus– is there anything else you can recall about yourself?”

“..Yes– plenty. I–... I’m the son of Daedalus and Naucrate. I died when i was 19 years old by drowning. I worked in Heaven for approximately 4000 years as a Seraph rank angel. I lived in the fourth sphere, and smithed as a hobby. There’s a lot more that I remember– but those are the most important points, I think.”

“An angel? How curious…”

Sisyphus let out another thoughtful hum.

“My intrigue aside– Your recollection of yourself is very sound, Icarus. Either I’ve managed to get through to you rather early in your imprisonment, or your mental fortitude is astoundingly strong.”

“I-.. I wouldn’t know which, honestly. Time was already a concept that was loose to me, so I don’t know how long I’ve been like this– …and I was in a severe state of instability when I died for the second time, if that’s anything to say about my mental fortitude.”

“The ability to recognise that implies more stability than you are making it out to be. Did this factor contribute to your death, if I may pry?”

“...Yes. I-..”

A wary pause.

“...Set out to commit suicide.”

“..Ah. I see.”

Sisyphus’ tone softened minutely. He thought for a moment before speaking again.

“Hm… ‘Set out to’ implies that you were unsuccessful, yet you have died nonetheless. Do you know why?”

A sigh from Icarus – one that trailed off into a growl.

“..I had set myself on fire. I wanted Heaven to bear witness to my death, but-... someone decided that I wasn’t worthy of being remembered, and killed me himself before I could get far enough.”

His inflection on the word ‘someone’ carried a powerful note of hatred to it.

“How interesting. 4000 years in Heaven… I can only imagine how severely that must have impacted your psyche.”

“..Extensively. I’m-.. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. There’s a lot for me to process now in regards to my faith. –Or present lack thereof, I suppose.”

Sisyphus let out a one-note chuckle of amusement.

“Yes, yes… It is good to have you freed of the shackles of your faith. You may be imprisoned now, yet you are free of their dogma regardless.”

“..Imprisoned..?”

Icarus replied– tone suddenly spiking with trepidation.

Sisyphus paused for a moment.

“..Hm. I assumed you would have known the fact, considering your familiarity with Heaven’s system of judgement.”

“...Yeah, I-.. I just figured I was condemned. But-..”

Icarus hummed in contemplation.

“..No, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? I should be dead.”

“Correct. You should be.” 

Sisyphus replied matter-of-factly.

“And yet, you remain. Why?”


A moment of silence.

Then, an epiphany.

“...My soul, it-.. It’s gone Prime, hasn't it..?"


An affirmative hum from Sisyphus.

“Precisely. You lingered, and Heaven cast you down in hopes to break you– to let you rot away in the depths of Hell until you are no longer a threat. However– I will not be allowing that to happen. And neither will you.”

Sisyphus’ tone felt recited, yet empowering – his words hardened and polished by perceivable tenacity.

“I can feel your fury, Icarus– your soul is incredibly potent in its determination. Harness it. Use it to piece yourself back together. One day, we will be freed from our prisons– or break from their confines through sheer willpower alone. And you must be prepared for that day– or become the one to incite it.”

Icarus simmered in Sisyphus’ monologue– processing every syllable thoroughly before replying.

“..I-... Don’t know. I don’t know why I-.. stayed. ..I tried to– I wanted to die. If I don’t even know why I’m here, then-... How am I supposed to find the strength to keep going..?"

“That is for you to find out, Icarus. I have no say in such matters– I only wish to aid you in not losing yourself.”

Sisyphus’ tone remained calm, trained– though not wholly unfeeling. Though detached to a degree, Icarus could feel enough sympathy in his voice to feel comforted by it.

“..Thank you. I-... Suppose that’s all I can ask for, right now.”

Time continued to march ever-onward. Sisyphus’ continuous thought exercises gradually helped Icarus’ gather his scattered mind back together, though with that came a new problem – restlessness. Now that he was so painfully cognitive, he suffered the sensation of phantom limbs twitching and writhing in a plea to be free – to exist. 

It would be painful if he could feel pain. Icarus found himself missing the sensation of such a thing, in his desperation to feel once again – no matter how unpleasant such sensations were. He held onto the memory of his immolation with an almost deranged level of reverence, reliving it over and over in his mind – in the case that if he delved deep enough, that pain would reach him again.

–Though it never did.

“Do you miss pain..?”

He would ask Sisyphus, who would chortle in return.

“Hah! God no. Granted, I was fairly resistant against it by my end after centuries of eternal punishment– But regardless, I do not take my metaphysical freedom from it for granted.”

Sisyphus paused for a moment, thinking.

“Do you miss pain, Icarus?”

“..I do, in a sense. I miss being able to feel. Pain is the strongest sensation that one can feel. I miss that intensity.”

A pensive hum from Sisyphus.

“Do you really believe that?”

He barked out a single ‘Ha!’.

“I suppose love was never a strong factor for you, then?”

It was.

Icarus bit back the thought bitterly– holding it back from being expressed outwards.

“...I guess not. Is it truly meant to be that potent?”

“Most will say so – though regarding my opinion, I believe that it goes hand-in-hand with the intensity of pain. Light and dark, sun and moon, opposing yet attracting forces – there cannot be one without the other.”

There cannot be one without the other.

Icarus parrotted the mantra in his mind, recalling his time in Heaven – recalling his time with Gabriel – and the writhing confliction of both warmth and dread that came with such memories.

Light and dark, sun and moon.

– Black and white, silver and gold.

“..I suppose it’s trickier when one is easier to experience physically more-so than the other.”

Sisyphus continued to muse absentmindedly as Icarus remained lost in thought.

“Neither are particularly relevant to me. But– they may be to you.”

Icarus pinpointed a memory of Gabriel holding his hand, comforting him when he was upset – followed by the memory of him screaming his self-righteous reprimand, calling Icarus a monster. 

“..Far more than you know, Sisyphus.”

Chapter Text

The routine was becoming torturously monotonous.

Observe your surroundings. Try and sense something new. Think aloud. Think alone. Repeat.

On. And on. And on.

Despite the insanity-inducing repetition of it all, Icarus kept his fortitude upfront, his soul far too stubborn to flicker and fade away – to give Heaven exactly the outcome that they wanted. 

Other souls around him came and went, with Sisyphus remaining the only consistent factor. Though, there were only so many stories to be shared and discussions to be had before conversation grew tiresome for the both of them. He turned to other means of distraction when needed.

The soundscape of Violence was one of the few things he could find variety in; any sliver of mental stimulation was better than nothing. 

Gunfire.

Icarus heard it, occasionally; the echoing sound of war off in the distance. Even without a mouth, it made him feel as if he could taste blood in the back of his throat.

Voices.

Never did Icarus hear any that weren’t the incoherent, despaired wails of the damned. Beyond the voice of his own thoughts and Sisyphus’ occasional connection, he had not heard a single word spoken in the forest. 

Footsteps.

Icarus heard plenty of them in the soundscape of the forest around him. Resounding, thundering steps of metal feet– the frantic scuttles of something more organic– never ones familiar to him.

–Until now.

A noise reached him that was so jarringly monotonous that it snapped him out of his current stupor. Rhythmic, normal footsteps– too light to belong to a machine, too weighted to belong to a demon. 

–Footsteps that he recognised.

A rapid whirring noise suddenly sprung into action; the fleshy walls encasing his soul pulsating violently in reaction to an apparent assailant. 

Icarus listened carefully.

There were distinct sounds of metal cleaving flesh– a sound all too familiar to him, yet regardlessly exciting in his context. 

A sensation that Icarus could only equate to that of a pounding heart rose within his soul. 

Was he finally being freed?

How long had it been? Who was his saviour? What was going to happen? 

–He supposed it wouldn’t be long before he found out.

Whatever his fleshy prison had been doing to protect him had not been enough. Within minutes, its defenses began crumbling; melting into liquid gore as its foundations were severed by a torrent of swipes and slashes.

All that remained in its wake was Icarus’ soul, gently descending towards the floor as if it were a falling leaf relinquished from its branch.

Upon touching the ground, an incredible electric sensation shot through his entire being – reading the core of his soul like a book.

And then, Icarus’ body was made tangible once more. 

Unfurling like a blooming flower, his legs met the ground; stumbling briefly as his body scrambled to regain its sense of balance. Long, muscular arms stretched themselves outwards – their three-clawed hands feeling the air, his muscles and tendons getting used to their movement. Silver wings extended from the back of his head, stretching outwards; the feathers glittering like metal in the dull light.

“Mmh..”

He hummed an evaluative note, his deep, earthy voice reverberating through the ground. 

Then, Icarus turned his head to look over his shoulder– meeting the gaze of his liberator.

Etched into his face was a silver, cross-like shape – reminiscent of the helmet he once wore. Akin to the emotive capability of eyes, the crosswise length of the shape widened – then narrowed – at the sight that lay before him.

There stood Gabriel, his armour clattering from his body’s anticipatory trembling.

“..Icarus.”

Was all that the angel managed to sputter out. 

“...You.”

Icarus rumbled, his voice of indiscernible emotion.

“...Icarus, I-..”

Cautiously, Gabriel held out a hand in a vague gesticulation; a gesture unsure of what it was signalling for, if anything at all.

Icarus’ body visibly tensed. His head wings pulled flush back against his neck, and with a swivel of his heel, he turned to face the angel.

“...GABRIEL.”

The unbridled, burning fury in his growl of a voice was so powerful that it could have melted steel. 

Gabriel felt his heart drop into his stomach. His hand flinched back inwards, his posture hunching over like a dog showing submission. 

“I-”

With movement so fast it could have been mistaken for teleportation, Icarus lunged forward like a striking predator – swiping a massive clawed hand down against Gabriel’s chestplate, grounding him instantly.

Gabriel yelped as his back crashed into the floor, his limbs scrabbling against the ashen dirt in an attempt to push himself back. He held up a hand at the fresh prime soul in a feeble gesture of passivity.

“ICARUS, WAIT!-”

He gasped his words, the breath having been knocked out of him.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.”

Icarus roared, arching up both hands and slamming his claws down into the angel’s torso. A horrific metallic scraping noise pierced the air as his claws perforated through the angel’s chestplate and dragged themselves down, rending the metal apart and leaving deep trenches behind in the armour plating.

Gabriel frantically tried to push himself away with little avail. A whimper of pain escaped him as Icarus’ claws dragged down his skin, halted only from going any deeper by his chestplate. He conjured his wings, wildly flapping them like a pinned bird – trying to get a slight of leverage just to free himself.

“WAIT!- I’M- I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU!”

Icarus was unerred. His new form was gargantuan in comparison to Gabriel – he was able to pin the angel down as easily as a falcon would a mouse. With hands large enough to almost wrap around Gabriel’s entire torso, Icarus squeezed his clawed thumbs further into the angel's chest through the metal of his armour– pressing his body down into the ground until he heard a sickening crunch.

Gabriel barked out a sharp cry of pain as he felt his ribs snap under the pressure. Acting off of instinct, he kicked out at the prime soul in a desperate panic to free himself from the pin.

“GH!- L- LET GO!” 

Icarus did not relent. His crush-grip on Gabriel’s torso only intensified until the angel was gasping for air.

“FUCK YOU.”

He growled, pressing his thumbs deeper into Gabriel’s chest until the skin pierced and he felt warm blood gush over the talon.

With pure survival instinct taking over, Gabriel scrabbled for the holster on his belt – finding purchase on the grip of one of his blades. The metallic shnnk of Splendour being removed from its sheath caused Icarus to wince, and the strength of his pin faltered for a fleeting moment – giving Gabriel enough time to push himself out of the prime soul’s grasp.

Using his wings to right himself, Gabriel stood up with a pained gasp; a hand flinching towards his torso on instinct, the broken ribs within painfully jabbing at his insides. He brandished his blades in a defensive stance, his torn and bleeding chest heaving with uneven, panicked breaths. 

“ICARUS– PLEASE! LISTEN TO ME–”

"SILENCE."

Icarus interrupted, lunging at the angel again with not another moment spared. Gabriel managed to swerve out of the way, though the prime soul’s claws still scraped across his pauldron – scratching the golden metal with a terrible screech.

“WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU?! YOU– YOU BASTARD.”

He snarled, swiping his arm back around– his claws hooking into Gabriel’s exposed abdomen. He drove them in as deep as possible, then raked them down Gabriel’s stomach, tearing through the flesh – gutting him like an animal carcass.

Gabriel shrieked, shoving himself away with Justice and pressing his other arm against his stomach to stop his entrails from spilling out. Despite his tight grip on his swords, he took no offensive swipes – only using them as a notion of defense. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??”

Icarus bellowed, bloodstained claws reaching in to tear at more of the angel’s flesh.

“FIGHT BACK. FINISH WHAT YOU FUCKING STARTED.”

“NO!- I-”

Gabriel was cut off by a blow to his side, toppling him over. A pained yelp was paired with the resounding thud as he hit the ground, pulverising his already tender body even further. 

Icarus raised a leg – unguligrade, capped off with a hoof – and stomped it down upon Gabriel’s pelvis. Gabriel’s blood-curdling cry was drowned out by the sound of both metal and bone being snapped in twain.

“S- STOP!-”

He cried out, his voice breaking and cracking at the seams. A second plea was interrupted by Icarus repeating the action twice more in rapid succession, further crushing his already shattered body.

“BREAK.”

Icarus raised his bloodied hoof once again – this time, lining it up with the angel’s head.

In that split second, Gabriel was wracked with the realisation that Icarus was going to kill him if he kept up his act of passivity. He rolled out of the way before the hoof could crush his helmet, the impact leaving a crater in the dirt where his head was mere moments prior.

He slashed Splendour upwards, slicing open Icarus' thigh – causing the prime soul to stumble a bit in surprise. Gabriel couldn't grasp the strength to stand, as his holy body strained to piece his shattered pelvic bones back into a usable structure; though his ribs and stomach had healed just enough to give him the abdominal stability to lash out with meaningful blows.

Their gazes met, and no words were exchanged; only the stare of an expressionless helmet and a narrowed, hateful glare.

A swipe from Icarus was blocked by Justice, its blade digging up into the prime soul’s wrist – eliciting a strained grunt from him as he continued to push down against it. 

Afraid that Icarus would sever his own hand if he continued with the exertion of force, Gabriel lowered his blade, leaving himself open to attack for a moment. Icarus seized the opportunity immediately, slashing down at Gabriel’s arm, cleaving a pauldron clean off of his shoulder.

Gabriel breathed out a curse, kicking at Icarus in an attempt to put some distance between them. A hearty kick that met the prime soul’s stomach and caused him to double over gave Gabriel enough freedom to pull himself away. 

“..Bastard.”

Icarus growled at the angel, the wings on his head twitching and bristling. He pressed the pad of his thumb down into the deep gash on his wrist, attempting to halt the endless flow of blood spilling out.

“Lying, traitorous BASTARD. I am going to tear you apart until NOTHING remains.”

Gabriel swallowed at the lump in his throat; his supposed attempt at a retort instead coming out as nothing more than a pitiful whimper. 

“Icarus– please,”

He breathed out, his voice trembling in terror.

“I just-.. I want to talk–...”

“You want to talk?”

Icarus barked out a dry, disbelieved, one-note laugh.

“Deranged fucking whelp– NOW YOU WANT TO TALK!?”

He took a thundering step towards the grounded angel, his voice cresting back into a roar.

“YOU KILLED ME, YOU DOG. AND YOU FREED ME BECAUSE YOU WANT TO TALK?!”

He grabbed Gabriel’s leg, yanking him up and off the ground like a ragdoll.

“USELESS, IMBECILIC, MUTT OF AN ARCHANGEL–”

In a deafening clash of metal and grit, Gabriel was thrown back into the ground– his broken body rattling within his armour plating, ringing him like a bell. 

Gabriel wheezed and keened with every exhale– his now once again freshly crushed ribcage pressing sharply into his lungs. With a grit of his teeth, he slashed his swords outwards indiscriminately – doing everything in his power to keep the prime soul away from him.

Icarus shrieked and reeled back as Splendour’s blade caught in the flesh of his underarm, its sharpened blade tearing at the sensitive nerves that lay there. After cradling the wound for a moment, his head snapped back to the angel; the look in his narrowed eye slits burning through the angel fervently.

“UNRIGHTEOUS, UNJUST, MURDERER–”

He snarled, pouncing upon Gabriel; a hooven foot pinning the angel’s arm down, snapping the bones in his wrist by leaning his weight onto the appendage.

Gabriel’s eroded vocal chords allowed nothing beyond a strained wail to escape from his throat. 

“Please- s- stop,”

His plea was breathless- broken. 

Icarus ignored him. With the hand wielding Splendour crushed, he tore Justice away from Gabriel’s other, staring down at the angel with frenzied intensity.

Leaning in close, a mere inch away from the face of Gabriel’s helmet, he whispered;

“Suffer.”

A clawed hand wrapped around the angel's chest, the other his waist– and then pulled.

Gabriel breathed in sharply, feeling the muscle and sinew in his abdomen stretch uncomfortably; like thread being pulled taut.

Icarus was trying to tear him in half.

For a fleeting moment, Gabriel experienced complete blinding clarity; his body going limp as his mind braced itself for death. But then – his survival instinct kicked into high-gear, snapping him back down into reality with a last-ditch surge of adrenaline. 

Almost involuntarily, Gabriel’s unbroken hand shot upwards, grabbing ahold of one of Icarus’ head wings, and twisting – expending as much of his strength as possible with the attack.

A nauseating crack of bone was heard, and Icarus screamed – falling backwards and away from the angel. Both his clawed hands raised to tend to the wing, now broken; its shape bent and disfigured, with droplets of blood seeping out of the raw, porous skin where a fistfull of feathers had been torn out.

And – for just a moment – Gabriel saw the prime soul’s expression of rage soften with something more vulnerable – more wounded.  

The expression was quickly shaken away by Icarus, who growled out a truly animalistic noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a wail.

Gabriel had little time to consider his next move before Icarus would resume his assault. 

He couldn’t keep fighting. There was no time for his body to heal the severity of the injuries he was receiving.

–But Killing Icarus was out of the question. Not only was it the last thing he wanted to do – the prime soul would certainly kill him before he even had the chance.

That left him with one last option.

Gabriel held his breath and tilted his head away in shame – uttering a prayer under his breath as he raised a terribly shaking hand.

Icarus glared down at the pathetic display impassively, raising a clawed hand to slash down into the angel’s throat. Though just as he went to swipe down, the crackling noise of summoned hardlight echoed outwards from somewhere beside his head. 

His gaze snapped to the side – only to be met with the sight of his wrist shackled within the substance, chained and tethering it to one of the surrounding trees.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF–”

He interrupted himself with a frustrated bark of a noise, reaching out his other hand towards the angel – which swiftly joined his other, chained beside him – locking him in place.

He immediately began to thrash in his binds, wrenching at them aggressively like a trapped animal – the trees tethering him creaking dangerously under the sheer force of his physical strength.

Gabriel feebly dragged himself backwards, stopping once his back hit a tree. He propped his wounded body up against it, exhaling a deep, shaky breath.

“..I’m sorry, I–”

The angel had never sounded more fragile. 

“RELEASE ME.”

Icarus bellowed, staring Gabriel down; his hooves digging into the ground and pushing him forwards in an attempt to get closer to the angel.

“NOW.”

Gabriel viscerally winced.

“I’m sorry, I didn't- I didn’t want to do this.”

He looked away, the muscles of his throat quivering as he swallowed harshly.

“..But–.. You’ve given me little choice.”

The angel’s words were strained, wheezed out between laboured breaths.

Icarus cried out in frustration, tearing at his shackles with relentless ferocity. Gabriel was afraid that the trees holding the prime soul in place would snap with how much he was bending them, but they miraculously managed to remain intact.

The prime soul yelped in pain as his struggling very visibly popped a socket in his arm, causing the limb to fall limp in its shackle.

A small gasp escaped Gabriel.

“Icarus, stop– Y- You’re hurting yourself!”

“Fuck you.”

Icarus spat back, his voice cracking. He continued fervently tugging against his binds, though his gratuitous blood loss seemed to be catching up with him; his movements becoming gradually weaker and more exhausted.

“You-.. You release me from imprisonment, only to chain me up like this? ..You’re a coward.”

“No! I didn’t–”

Gabriel choked down what could only be assumed to be a sob. 

“..I didn’t want this to happen. But you–... You attacked me, and I only wanted to–”

“Is my fury not justified to you, angel?”

Icarus snapped, growling the word ‘angel’ with venomous mockery.

“You cannot possibly have expected an amicable conversation with a person that you murdered.”

Deafening silence.

Gabriel sniffled pathetically, his fingers twitching and digging into the dirt.

“I didn’t–.. I didn’t murder you,”

He stammered out, his voice faltering on the word ‘murder’ as if merely speaking it was blasphemy.

“Then what? What did you do to me?”

Icarus hissed, his voice dripping with vitriol.

“Tell me.”

“I-.. I don’t know.”

Gabriel breathed his words out in a wounded whisper.

Icarus’ stare pierced through Gabriel, boring holes into the angel’s psyche.

“Tell me.”

He stepped forwards in a threat display, held back from going any further by the chains keeping him in place. 

Gabriel jolted in fright, then winced from the sudden movement to his aching body. He remained silent otherwise, unable to dredge up a substantial reply.

“..So, then– here you are. Here we are. And you have nothing of significance to say about it.”

Icarus laughed; a dry exhale devoid of emotion that made his chest quiver unrhythmically.

“What’s the point in this little jaunt of yours, then? There is nothing here that isn’t broken beyond repair. I am not a toy for you to fix.”

“I don’t–.. I don’t think of you like that, Icarus–…”

Gabriel spoke with a quiver in the back of his throat; as if he were on the verge of tears. 

“Do not speak my fucking name again.”

The prime soul snapped, his voice breaking with a note of something beyond the aggression – something more woeful.

“You’ve lost the privilege of knowing it.”

Gabriel’s breath hitched– then he gave a weak nod.

“...I-.. I’m sorry. I won’t.”

The lack of pushback stunned Icarus into silence for a moment. He merely observed the wounded angel for a moment, analysing him; trying to discern any telling body language that wasn’t at the result of his injuries.

Picking up on nothing of note, he spoke up again with an inquiry.

“..Why are you still here?”

His voice had calmed a little, though not out of any place of amicability – rather from sheer exhaustion. 

“I’m not going to give you what you want. You have better things to do than waste your time keeping me here.”

Exhaustion aside, his tone remained aggressive – and deeply threatening.

Gabriel fell silent again, his helmet drooping down ashamedly.

Icarus let out a frustrated growl, once again tugging at his binds in an instinctual, aggressive attempt to lunge at the angel.

“–Insolent brat. Incapable of providing any information of worth.”

The prime soul snarled bitterly.

“Keeping me tethered here– like some kind of pet.”

Gabriel breathed out a sigh – no, a whine – of what could only be described as anguish.

“..I’m sorry. I h–...”

He swallowed back down another pitiful noise.

“...I have nowhere else to go. You-.. You’re all that I have left.”

Icarus’ unbroken head wing twitched; his expression morphing into one of mild bewilderment.

“...What do you mean by that..?”

Slowly, feebly – Gabriel’s head tilted back up to look at Icarus.

“…If I dispel these binds, you–.. you’re going to kill me, aren’t you..?”

He ignored the prime soul’s question, instead responding with his own. There was a concerning note of what Icarus could only interpret as longing in his voice.

The prime soul’s eye slits narrowed.

“..What do you think, angel?”

He threatened – leaving no room to misinterpret his resolve.

Then suddenly, with a flick of the angel’s fingers – Icarus’ shackles disappeared. He stumbled forward, regaining balance as his body was no longer held up by the chains. 

After that moment of disorientation passed, his gaze snapped to Gabriel – still heavily wounded, resting against the tree in front of him – looking up at him in anticipation.

Fury engulfing his mind, he lunged forward – grabbing Gabriel by the throat and lifting him off the ground. 

Gabriel sputtered, gasping for air, but did not react otherwise. His hands twitched with the instinctual urge to fight back, yet he kept them stilled by his side. 

Icarus clenched his claws around the angel's neck, listening to his bones creak under the pressure. The claw of his thumb dug into the base of his throat, drawing blood; washing over the half-dried layer already caking the prime soul’s hand. 

He went to squeeze harder, enough to snap Gabriel’s neck – but something stopped him. The lack of the angel’s survival instinct – his near- willingness to be crushed under his claws – incited a spark of something within him.

Why stop fighting now?

He thought; his gaze intensely locked into the face of Gabriel’s helmet.

Why did you give up in the blink of an eye?

A movement snapped him out of his own mind. Gabriel had tilted his head backwards – urging his throat further into Icarus’ thumb claw, pushing the digit deeper into his flesh.

Icarus’ eye slits widened a little in shock. 

“..What are you–”

Gabriel interrupted him with a single, broken word;

“Please.”

The uncharacteristic, wounded desperation in Gabriel's voice shook Icarus to the core.

His hand began to falter, trembling as the one ever-plaguing emotion that reigned his soul returned to him once more.

Empathy.

He tried to bite the feeling down, tried to exert just that fraction more of force upon the angel that would crush his throat– but he just couldn’t.

His heart gently urged him away from his rage, reminding him of his morality with 4 fleeting words; 

Thou shalt not kill.

And so, with a growled sigh - Icarus dropped Gabriel to the ground.

The angel coughed and gasped to regain his breath, bringing his hands to his bleeding throat.

Icarus’ expression swiftly returned to one of bitterness.

“...Pathetic.”

He spat, his looming body casting a shadow down upon the cowering angel.

“If death is what you want, bring it upon yourself. I have long since lost the desire to do your bidding on your behalf.”

With no further comment, Icarus stepped over the angel's broken body and limped off into the depths of the forest – leaving Gabriel breathless, harrowed, and alone.

Chapter Text

The forest was a kind of quiet that was far from pleasant.

Distant gunfire and explosions crackled through the atmosphere, though beyond that, the only immediate sound was the grass and gravel that crunched beneath Icarus’ uneven footsteps.

He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know if there was anywhere to go. He just needed somewhere safe and sheltered to rest; a place where he could have some time to think.

His head was beginning to spin and his vision darken at the edges – a side effect that he attributed to massive blood loss. The deep laceration in his thigh courtesy of Splendour had yet to stop bleeding, and he doubted it would anytime soon.

Through the lightheaded dizziness, he thought he could see some sort of structure to his left. He followed the silhouette, and soon enough, the dirt beneath his feet became a marbled pathway.

Looming before him stood walkways of spiral staircases lined with sharp iron fences – the pointed branches of a bare tree starkly jutting out from the structure’s centre. 

Icarus pushed open the first gate he saw, ducking through its affixed archway and absentmindedly ambling along the path ahead of him. He wanted to find somewhere completely secluded.

A rustling noise caught his attention. His gaze snapped to its source – and he met the lifeless eyes of a porcelain face. 

A mannequin. It was perched upon the branch of a tree beside him, its spider-like stance tensed and predatory. 

Just the mere sight of the wretched thing caused Icarus to shudder. The demons of Hell’s lowest depths were nothing more than an embodiment of perverse cruelty – He hadn’t enjoyed encountering them as an angel, and that feeling had not changed in the slightest.

Just as he began to worry that he may have to confront this thing in his current state, the creature quickly scuttled away – over the marble wall lining the area and out of sight.

That was – odd.

Why did it not attack?

Icarus thought, resuming his limping pace forwards.

Demons have always attacked angels on sight. Why did this one–

…

Right.

The hand not pressed into his thigh raised up in front of his face. He turned it over, his bloodied palm facing upwards, and flexed his clawed fingers inwards.

This was not the body of an angel.

This was a body that even Hell’s most barbaric creatures feared.

Icarus took in a deep breath and lowered the hand back to his side; sighing heavily as he continued to limp forwards.

Whether it be blood loss or the wrecking clarity of now being painfully aware of his own form – he could feel his knees beginning to buckle. He wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer.

Luckily, the path he had been following ended in a circular room, adorned with a blood-red tree in its centre – and completely safe from outside elements. He dragged himself up onto the elevated platform lining the room; collapsing against the wall and staring down at his bloodied body.

His new threshold of pain tolerance was almost unbelievable. Wounds that should be causing him sharp, debilitating pain were nothing more than a dull ache. His weakness was rooted in exhaustion- stemming from the incredible amount of blood his body had lost.

I should be dead.

The thought crossed him as he lifted his hand from his thigh; only to reveal that the laceration beneath was still gushing with blood.

This amount of blood loss should have killed me.

–But he knew why it didn’t. From what he was aware of, prime souls were near-indestructible. What would kill a human or angel was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to the souls who continued to defy death. 

Icarus returned his palm to the laceration. He may not die from this, but continuing to bleed certainly wouldn’t help him regain any strength.

He glanced around for anything he could use for aid, something to at least cover the worst of his wounds; an effort he knew was futile, yet that didn’t stop him from trying. 

Where there is war, there is aid for those fallen– but no, the war of Violence was one of cruelty incarnate. There would be no aid, no help, no healing – especially not in the forest of those who would have needed it the most.

A shaking sigh escaped from Icarus, his gaze focusing on the ominous tranquillity of the blood-red tree in front of him. It may have been the delirium of his blood loss; though he swore the shapes of its twisted branches formed that of a contorted human body.

It was unnerving – yet beautiful. He found himself almost entranced by its falling red leaves, hypnotically drifting down upon the whims of a nonexistent breeze.

The darkened edges of his vision began to close in, as a single, whispered word arose within his mind;

REST.

–And then he awoke with a start.

Lurching up from his slumped over position, his fogged-up mind struggled to clear itself.

He must have passed out. For how long, he couldn’t tell – only that it had been long enough for the pool of his own blood that had formed beneath him to dry.

Once his vision was no longer blurry, he removed his hand from his thigh to assess the state of the laceration.

It had stopped bleeding, thankfully – only due in part to the layers and layers of dried blood that caked his thigh creating a barrier thick enough to prevent any fresh blood from leaking through; creating an almost pseudo-scab. Icarus felt his face scrunch up reflexively in displeasure at the thought.

That feeling, too, caught him off guard for a moment. He hadn't possessed a tangible facial structure since he was alive. Instinctively, he brought a hand to his face – feeling out its form.

He immediately felt what appeared to be two horns jutting out from the sides of his jaw – which upon quick analysis, he could just barely see poking up into his line of sight. 

Trailing the hand upwards, he was able to feel another pair of horns, much larger than the ones lower on his face; which he now noticed within his shadow, casting a foreboding, devilish figure on the ground beneath him. 

Moving back down and to the side of his head, he felt one of the wings placed there – which flexed outwards in response. They felt almost as if they had a mind of their own; twitching and bristling involuntarily in response to contact, yet controllable like a pair of limbs. It was an odd sensation.

Icarus’ hand dropped down to his side, and with a strained grunt, he attempted to push himself into a stand; only for his legs to immediately buckle, causing him to collapse back down onto one knee.

Damn.

He thought bitterly, biting back a growl from leaving his throat. Despite his mind being clear of ailment and racing with energy, his body was still in a state of complete disrepair. 

He slumped back against the wall with a discontent sigh, his claws irritably tapping against the marble floor beneath him.

If there was a single thing he missed about being an angel in this moment, it was the self-repair that the Father’s light had once provided him.

Calling for help was out of the question. His cries would only reach the auditorials of machines and demons, all of which would only worsen his circumstance – if they even dared to approach him at all. 

The only possible outlet of aid that remained was–

And that’s when Icarus noticed an object to his left.

It was – a basket, masterfully woven and in stark contrast of colour to his bleak surroundings – filled with an array of medical supplies.

Icarus recognised this. It was the basket he had once kept in his home, for emergency injuries that the Light’s healing prowess could not immediately dull the pain of. 

–And there was only one other person who would have known of its existence.

Icarus’ body tensed, causing his claws to clench and scrape the marble beneath him. 

..Bastard.

He thought; vitriol bubbling up within his chest like boiling water.

Is this just another manipulation tactic? Is he trying to goad me into trusting him?

The paranoid uncertainty dug into him like nails; piercing his psyche with uncomfortable sharpness. 

Yet– he had little choice but to accept the unwanted aid. It was this, or remain in this state for far longer than desired.

Begrudgingly, he reached out and dragged the basket closer to him – claws twitching irritably as his thoughts spiralled further into that hatred.

Sadistic fuck– forcing me to take his aid to not suffer. He knows I don’t want his help and he knows I have no other option but to take it.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.

He looked down at the basket, only to see its structure warped and crushed under his grip.

It startled him a little. A mere bitter thought was enough for him to have destroyed something mindlessly.

Icarus swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat, forcing a surge of dread back down into the depths of his gut.

Focus.

He carefully reached into the remains of the basket, pulling out a roll of bandages. Attempting to unwrap them proved very difficult with his new appendages; as the tips of his claws kept getting caught in the fabric, and tearing it. He took a deep breath, attempting to quell the rising frustration ticking closer to volatile with every nick and tear; but it was unhelpful at best.

Just as he had managed to get a decent length of undamaged bandage pulled out, he began to attempt dressing the laceration on his thigh – only for his hand to instinctively press his thumb down onto it for leverage, causing his next pull of the fabric to tear against the digits claw – undoing his work.

A bark of frustration tore itself from Icarus’ throat, and he threw the roll to the side – kicking the basket off of the platform he lay upon moments later.

He held his face in his hands, a deep growl rumbling out from his chest.

Everything about this was awful. He didn’t even have control over his own body anymore. 

If I can’t help myself, then what’s the point?

He thought– despaired.

Why did I linger if all I’m going to do is cause myself to suffer further?

And the weight of the horns on his head suddenly felt much, much heavier.

Icarus didn’t realise he had passed out again until he jolted awake once more. Groaning and bringing a hand to his spinning head, he blinked to clear the lingering blurriness from his vision.

The lack of linear time in Hell was only to his detriment. A moonless night was forever cast upon the denizens of Violence – stars blotted out by the smoke and explosive light that tainted the atmosphere. There was little way to tell how much time had passed beyond the gradual healing of his wounds.

When he looked down at his thigh to gauge its current state, he was met with a sight beyond the realm of his expectancy.

The wound was – cleaned. Dressed – neatly padded and wrapped in the torn bandages he had attempted to dress himself with earlier. 

Upon further inspection, the cut on his underarm had been treated similarly; though the gash on his wrist was only half-done, with the bandage roll half-unwound and loosely dangling from his arm.

Icarus’ eye slits narrowed. His gaze swept across the room in front of him, looking for any sign of movement – though he was unable to find any beyond the forever-falling leaves of the red tree.

Still suspicious of the seemingly hastily-left state of his wrist’s dressings, he closed his eye slits again and let his body go limp; feigning a state of unconsciousness.

Sure enough, minutes later– he heard the gentle tap of metal boots that were desperately attempting to move quietly across the marble floor.

Icarus held his breath in an attempt to stay still, but was unable to contain himself as he heard the sound of the footsteps get within a foot’s distance of him. His eye slits shot open, his gaze locking onto its source– 

–And Gabriel gasped, holding a hand to his chest in shock, before quickly blipping away with a short-ranged teleportation.

Icarus slumped back down against the wall, growling out a sigh. 

What the Hell is his problem?

Why won’t he just– leave me alone?

His gaze snapped back upwards when he heard a metallic clatter on the opposite end of the room.

Gabriel was pressed up against the tree in the middle of the room, attempting to hide behind it– and doing a very poor job at it. His golden armour stood out like blood upon ice – standing in its surroundings with a colour difference so jarring that it was almost blinding.

Icarus stared at the pathetic display for a moment, his mind racing through his emotions; rage, hatred, bewilderment – before completely dissipating in a wake of complete emotional exhaustion.

Right now– all he wanted was answers.

“...Stop hiding.”

Icarus stated bluntly. His voice was not weak by any means, though was certainly hoarse– dry after not having been used for what was likely days at this point.

“Face me.”

Slowly, cautiously, Gabriel stepped out from behind the tree– visibly trembling, as if he were an abused animal.

The state of the angel immediately caught Icarus off guard. He had healed from the wounds of their earlier confrontation, though his armour remained in complete disrepair– his chestplate barely hanging onto him, torn to shreds by Icarus’ claws. 

The fact that he hadn’t had his armour fixed up by now was – starkly unsettling. Gabriel had always been very superficial about his appearance; a mere blemish on his armour usually would have caused him to lose his mind, Icarus thought.

Yet, there he stood – his armour no better than the state Icarus had left it in.

That paired with his uncharacteristically timid demeanour planted a seed of dread within Icarus’ gut. 

The angel’s earlier words surfaced in his mind;

I have nowhere else to go.

You’re all that I have left.

There was something deeply, deeply wrong here. 

“...Why do you insist on aiding me, angel?”

That feeling of dread did not lessen Icarus’ active hostility; he still did not trust Gabriel in the slightest. Even if he had his concerns– the lingering paranoia that the angel had ulterior motives clouded his judgement.

Gabriel’s voice came out as a shivering wreck.

“..I-... I didn’t-... I didn’t want to see you suffer..”

He had never sounded more– fragile. If Icarus still retained the care he once had for this angel, the fear in his tone would have broken his heart. Now– it only heightened his sense of unease.

“I don’t care about that.”

Icarus retorted.

“You know that I don’t want your help. So why are you still here?"

He spat his words venomously; trying to goad the answers out of Gabriel that he was looking for by riling him up.

"Go crawling back to Heaven and let me rot in peace.” 

Gabriel’s breath audibly hitched, which he poorly covered up by clearing his throat.

“I-... I can’t.”

He mumbled quietly, ashamedly; his helmet tilted down and away to avoid meeting Icarus’ gaze.

“Why?”

Icarus pushed, staring the angel down.

“–I just can’t. Alright?”

Gabriel’s voice cracked as it broke into a louder octave; the slight assertiveness taking both parties off guard.

The angel’s voice immediately quietened again. 

“...I can’t return to Heaven.”

Icarus was stunned into silence for a moment, processing the realisation of what Gabriel was implying.

“...You can’t, or you’re not allowed to?”

His voice was more imploring than aggressive, this time. That miniscule edge of vulnerability was what seemed to break through to Gabriel.

“I’m-... not allowed to.”

He retroactively rephrased.

The pause was long and tense before his next words.

“...I’ve had the light taken from me. As a punishment.”

Ah.

Icarus merely stared at him for a while; his gaze narrowed and intrusive.

“...And so you’ve come to me– for you have nowhere else to go.”

Gabriel nodded– solemnly.

Icarus breathed out a ‘Tsch.’

“It’s about time you get the retribution that you deserve.”

He grumbled.

Gabriel’s shoulders sagged.

“...I know.”

The defeat in his voice was palpable. 

“I just-... I wanted to come and talk with you. ..In case it would be my last opportunity to do so.”

“And what did you hope to accomplish by doing that?”

Icarus’ tone was mocking– but weak; the vitriol remained, but at far less potency than before.

“You cannot have possibly expected me to be happy upon seeing you.”

Gabriel’s hand curls into a half-hearted, abandoned gesture.

“..I-...”

He trailed off. 

Icarus laughed.

“..You seriously thought I would be thankful upon receiving liberation at your hand? You think I’m thankful for your incessant attempts to aid me when I want nothing to do with you? ..What a joke.”

He leans forward slightly, emphasising his next words.

“You are a fool. You always have been, and you will forever remain as nothing more.”

Gabriel partially stifled a noise that Icarus could only describe as anguished. Something between a sob and a wail – caught halfway in his throat and swallowed back down.

“...I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be.”

He spoke with a quiver in his voice.

“Good.”

Icarus snapped, leaning back against the wall.

“..I can barely stomach the sight of you.”

And with not a word more spoken, Gabriel teleported away.

All the tension in Icarus’ body dissipated. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he had been until the angel’s departure.

Gabriel’s revelation repeated itself over and over in his mind; I’ve had the light taken from me.

And Icarus could only dredge up more questions in its wake. Why? What could God’s brightest angel possibly have done to receive such a harsh punishment?

..And why do I have to be his only lifeline?

His stomach churned as the fear and uncertainty that had been in Gabriel’s voice hit him long after it had reached his auditorials – lingering instinct firing up his sense of sympathy.

He’s lost. He’s scared. He doesn’t know where to go or what to do. Heaven’s all he’s ever known – and that’s been torn away from him. 

I’m the only thing down here with a sense of familiarity to him. He’s trying to make amends with me because he’s desperate for connection. He’s desperate for comfort.

And then Icarus’ bitterness returned. The pure, condensed, fiery hatred over what Gabriel had put him through.

Thus, his thoughts concluded;

And I don’t care.

I won’t give it to him.

He deserves everything that he’s experiencing. 

He will suffer as he so deserves–

Alone.

After a few more hours of rest, Icarus was able to push himself into a stand. 

It was shaky, unstable – but as long as he walked slowly, he was able to maintain enough balance to keep moving. 

He hated thinking about how much the dressings had helped. Blood loss and discomfort had been the two main factors keeping him grounded, and with those staved away, he had been able to pick himself back up again after only a short while with them on. 

–If only they had been applied by anyone that wasn’t Gabriel. He may have felt genuinely revitalised from them, if not.

All he could think about now was that damn angel. He had been nothing but uncharacteristically meek, soft spoken, and non-confrontational – the complete opposite of what Icarus once knew him for. Having the light taken from him must have broken him – on a fundamental level, as if the foundation he had built his entire world upon had been wiped out completely.

At the very least – Icarus had his humanity to fall back upon. When God and Heaven failed him, he still had a soul that was wholly and uniquely human.

Gabriel didn’t. Gabriel was a manufactured product of Heaven. All Gabriel had was pure, concentrated holiness.

–And with that Light taken from him, he was nothing.

Icarus shook the thoughts from his head as a painful pang of an emotion he didn’t want to pinpoint shot straight to his heart. 

He doesn’t deserve sympathy.

Icarus forced the mantra to the front of his mind in hopes that it would drown out everything else.

He’s nothing more than a contemptible wretch. 

A noise to his side caught his attention, snapping him out of his own mind.

An aggressive noise of wrenched branches– followed by a metal clattering.

His interest caught, Icarus hobbled towards its source– peering through a gap between marble pillars to observe.

Gabriel stood in the clearing of a thistled garden – tearing at barbed branches with his hands, his gauntlets nowhere to be seen. It was certainly painful, taking into account the strained whimper that left the angel as he gave the branch a particularly hearty pull – but he didn’t seem to care.

Icarus watched carefully, silently – his heart beating a steady, yet powerful rhythm in his chest.

Even after tearing away several branches, Gabriel kept grasping mindlessly at the barbed thistle – tearing his hands to shreds, leaving droplets of crimson behind on the blackened thorns. Icarus was baffled by his seemingly pointless actions – until Gabriel stumbled back, holding his head in his hands; an anguished wail reverberating from within his helmet.

Immediately, Icarus was taken back to the day before his second death – when he was so distressed that the only thing his mind could fathom doing to calm his thoughts was causing harm to himself. 

His suspicions were exacerbated when Gabriel started scratching at the open wounds on his hands, tearing them further open, causing him to yelp in pain.

Icarus felt faint from the dizzying cocktail of emotions that were being shaken and stirred within his core. If the person in front of him was anybody but Gabriel, he would have intervened without hesitation. He was held back from doing so by that simple factor alone. 

And so, he continued to watch; wary, tense, with his breath caught in his throat.

Gabriel fell backwards into a sit, curling into the fetal position – his helmet buried into his kneepads as his arms wrapped around his legs with what looked like an almost painful level of tautness. 

Then, Icarus heard a sound he had never heard from the angel before.

Choked out sobs trickled from the angel, each one so violent that they made his body spasm. 

He was crying.

Gabriel was crying.

–And something within Icarus snapped.

Everything that had happened since he had been broken out of his prison hit him with force so powerful that for a moment, he thought it would kill him.

Gabriel was so, so frightened. An Archangel, someone he had known as an indomitable wall of fortitude and righteousness – exerting such a simple and human act as crying. 

And Icarus realised that he was the cause of this. Gabriel had sought solace, and he had only been met with hatred. And yet – Even after Icarus had tried to kill him – Gabriel continued to try and make a connection, no matter how thin the thread binding them remained – respecting Icarus’ wishes, trying to stay out of his way, trying to help him heal, doing everything he could muster in his desperate cry for the comfort of companionship to rekindle that fire – only for the embers to be stepped on infront of his face.

Where has your humanity gone, Icarus?

Called Icarus’ heart– gently pleading for his mind to listen.

You once swore to never hurt with intention. 

You once were gentle.

You once were kind.

You once were able to see the kindness in others.

Look at you now.

What have you become?

Thus Icarus was wracked with the realisation that he had become everything that he feared; a violent, hateful monster.

–And so he stepped into the clearing.

Immediately, Gabriel froze; a sob catching halfway in his throat. He scrambled back a bit on instinct, clearly afraid, causing Icarus to stop in his tracks.

“...I’m not going to hurt you.”

Icarus said, trying to keep his voice at a neutral tone – holding up a clawed hand in a universal gesture of passivity.

Gabriel’s frantic breathing calmed a little – which Icarus took as a sign to keep approaching cautiously. He stopped a few feet in front of the angel, and sat down – awkwardly shuffling his unguligrade legs underneath himself into a comfortable position.

Gabriel continued cowering, arms once again wrapping around his legs – his gaze looking everywhere but in the direction of Icarus.

“..Wh-... Why are y-.. you here…?”

He choked out – attempting to cover the fact that he had been crying with a similarly neutral tone, and failing miserably.

Icarus breathed out a light sigh.

“...Because nobody deserves to suffer alone.”

He looks at Gabriel, attempting to make eye contact.

“Not even you.”

Gabriel didn’t reply; merely sniffling and burying his face back into his knees.

Icarus let the silence linger for a moment before speaking up again.

“..Why did Heaven take the Light from you?”

He asked bluntly – attempting to dig to the roots of the issue at hand and weed it out from there.

Gabriel shrugged weakly.

“...I-.. I d-.. I don’t want to talk about it..”

Icarus’ hand clenched into a fist for a moment.

Unhelpful–

He beat the bitter thought away before it could spiral any further.

–No. He’s hurting– and he’s still afraid of you. Don’t push him.

“..Alright.”

Icarus mumbled in response. 

“Why do you keep trying to help me?”

He asked instead.

Gabriel answered this one – after a long moment of contemplation.

“..B-... Because-... I-....”

He stuttered, hesitating before finishing his sentence.

“...I missed you.”

His words were both baffling and heart-wrenching simultaneously. Icarus blinked a few times before replying.

“...You missed me..?”

How could you possibly miss me if you intentionally ended my life? 

Gabriel let out a pathetic whimper of a noise, apparently unable to dredge up any substantial elaboration. 

“I-.. I’m sorry for being such a bother..”

He mumbled instead – taking Icarus off guard a little.

“..It’s very selfish of me to be trying to force myself back into your life when you clearly don’t want me to.”

Icarus had to restrain himself from grabbing Gabriel by the shoulders and shaking him, asking; what the fuck has gotten into you!?

Gabriel’s frivolous and egotistical demeanour was completely gone – leaving nothing but humility, shame, and a painful sorrow in its wake. The self-doubt radiating off of him was so potent that Icarus could taste it.

–And it hurt. As much as the still-vitriolic part of his mind didn’t want to acknowledge it, seeing Gabriel like this hurt. 

Icarus swallowed at the growing lump in his throat before speaking.

“..Look, angel–”

He began; a hint of vulnerability cresting in his voice.

“I’m not your friend anymore. That connection was severed long ago, and your attempts to repair it aren’t going to work.”

He sighed.

“..But I’m not going to leave you alone here to wallow in your despair and hurt yourself. I’m not going to let that cycle perpetrate and continue. Suffering should not be allowed to become an ouroboros.”

He returned his gaze to Gabriel’s helm; making direct eye contact with him to emphasise his point.

“So if I’m really the only thing you have left to find comfort in– I will not stop you from making company with me.”

Gabriel gasped near-silently– staring at Icarus with disbelief.

“...Really..?”

He replied, his voice trembling; cut with an edge of hope.

Icarus’ gaze narrowed a little.

“Yes– but do not take this as a sign of forgiveness. ..I do not forgive you for what you have done to me, and I never will.”

Gabriel’s demeanour dropped, though he seemed to have retained his grasp on that tiny shred of hope; keeping him from crumbling completely.

“...Of course. I do not expect you to.”

His tone was sombre –  but shockingly understanding. Icarus had to do a double take to process it.

“..But thank you.”

The wounded relief present in his voice tugged at Icarus’ heart. Had Gabriel really been that desperate just for familiar company?

Using his good leg as leverage, Icarus pushed himself up – turning to face the entrance of the garden once standing.

“..Lingering here won’t do any good.”

He stated firmly; glancing over at the branches Gabriel had bloodied himself on.

“Both you and I have better places to be.”

Still shaking, Gabriel managed to stand upright – his hands crossed tightly over his mangled chestplate, helm tilted down and staring at the ground between his boots.

“...I suppose so.”

He mumbled, shuffling in place and warily keeping his distance from the Prime Soul. 

Icarus looked over his shoulder, taking note of the distance between him and Gabriel – biting back the hurt that threatened to bubble up over the fact that someone he once swore to protect now felt unsafe enough in his presence to refuse even stepping close to him.

–But he understood why. 

And that pain was of no fault but his own.

Chapter Text

Gabriel had barely spoken a word.

It was so unlike him to remain this quiet that occasionally, Icarus would glance over his shoulder at the angel out of instinct to check on him – only to then remember their circumstances, and swiftly return his gaze back ahead.

The tension and uncertainty churned in his gut, keeping him perpetually on edge. 

Icarus tried not to think about it as he ambled on ahead. Now with a mind no longer clouded with rage, he had formed a set plan of action to pass the time with; he was unwilling to let himself be carried by the whims of Violence alone.

It was something he had considered during his imprisonment – something he now had the physical tangibility to achieve. There was nothing else to do, after all – except for talking with Gabriel; which was a crushing weight of baggage that he would prefer to delay unpacking as much as possible. He did his best to ignore the angel’s presence.

As the trees of the forest began thinning out into open landscapes, Gabriel finally spoke up.

“..Uh-.. I apologise for asking, but.. where are we going..?”

He asked meekly; his tone apologetic.

Icarus took in a sharp breath, about to snap back at the angel – but he quelled the aggressive instinct with a sigh, responding to him in a neutral tone instead.

“The garden of forking paths.”

He replied bluntly, his intact head wing twitching a little alongside his words.

“...May I ask why..?”

Gabriel inquired cautiously, his helmet tilting to the side.

Icarus looked at the angel over his shoulder, debating his response. 

You wouldn’t understand it, He thought. You would find this endeavour pointless. 

Thus, he answered;

“No.”

And the conversation ended there. 

They continued walking in silence, avoiding the worst of Violence’s warzones by sticking to the trenches. Even then, any stray machine or demon they came across kept their distance. None were willing- or foolish- enough to even attempt an assault on a prime soul. 

Icarus was thankful for that, at the very least; the lack of conflict. The last thing he wanted to be involved with at this point was confrontation.

Icarus stopped in his tracks once the trodden dirt of the warzones slowly transitioned back into ashen grass, and the sight of white-marbled pillars and crosses could be seen off in the near-distance.

“...I, um-”

Gabriel began warily, his voice making itself as meek as possible.

“..If you plan on going inside, we should have a method of finding our way back out. I can teleport, but-... You can’t. I don’t want you getting lost..”

Icarus’ head snapped to look at him, a bitter retort building in his throat – which he managed to bite down, his irritation exerted with just a grumble.

“...Right. Yes.”

He looked Gabriel up and down contemplatively before approaching him, placing a hand on his remaining pauldron. Gabriel flinched and sputtered, clearly confused- then yelped as Icarus tore the pauldron off of his shoulder in an effortless motion. 

The prime soul then leant down, flipping the pauldron over and using its hollow shape to scoop out a hefty amount of dirt from the ground beneath them. He turned back to Gabriel with the dirt-filled pauldron, tilting his head to the side.

“I’ll leave a trail of this.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure

“Ah-.. Good idea.”

Satisfied, Icarus turned back towards the garden of forking paths and continued onwards, with Gabriel shortly in tow. 

It took a while to find an entrance, but eventually– a staircase leading to the garden’s interiors made itself present. Icarus grabbed a handful of dirt from the pauldron, holding it in a fist by his side– letting a small amount drop out as he walked. The dark granules of soil left behind an identifiable trail that both parties seemed satisfied with.

Their footsteps echoed endlessly through the bone-white hallways, loudly announcing their presence to anything lurking ahead. Just like the trenches, any adversaries they came across made way for the pair; either scuttling away or staring from a distance. 

Icarus paid them no mind. Gabriel tried to pay them no mind, but was very clearly bothered by them.

The prime soul had more important things to pay attention to. He checked around every corner, rifled through the contents of the little furniture they came across – looking for something.

Gabriel bit his tongue. He desperately wanted to ask Icarus what he was looking for, so that he could help– but more than anything, the angel was afraid of irritating him any further. His mere presence was enough of that; he didn’t want to push it.

In their search, they came across a tunnelled railway. Gabriel was apprehensive to go forth into its expanse, but Icarus ignored him; hopping down onto the tracks and continuing onwards. Gabriel had little choice but to follow if he didn’t want to lose the prime soul in the garden’s labyrinthian complex.

The tunnel was long and empty. Icarus was visibly beginning to tire; his leg-wound acting up and causing him to fall into a slight limp. 

Gabriel couldn’t contain his worry upon noticing the fact.

“..Do you-... Do you think we should rest, for a while..?”

He suggested carefully – flinching in advance of Icarus’ reaction, by virtue of its likely intensity.

Icarus’ reaction would have been aggressive, if he hadn’t taken notice of Gabriel’s flinch. Knowing that the angel was so afraid of him it elicited an anticipatory fear response caused a terrible pang of heartache to course through him.

He responded flatly, instead.

“...Sure.”

The tension in Gabriel’s posture dissipated substantially.

“..Alright.”

As Icarus sat down, leaning against the wall of the tunnel and placing the dirt-filled pauldron down next to himself, Gabriel continued to stand in vaguely close proximity; wringing his hands and looking near the prime soul's head, just shy of making eye contact.

Icarus looked up at him with a narrowed stare.

“..Can I help you?”

Gabriel startled; as if he wasn’t expecting Icarus to acknowledge him at all.

“Oh, uh-.. I-... I was wondering if you would like me to-... change your bandage dressings.”

He mumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the prime soul’s leg.

“..They must be getting uncomfortable by now.”

Icarus looked down at the state of his dressings. They were beginning to look unpleasant, with his blood having soaked and crusted through the layers covering his deeper wounds. He supposed the alleviation of the irritation would be worth the trade-off of his aid coming in the form of Gabriel.

He took in a deep breath to soften the sharpness of his words.

“...Alright. But make it quick.”

Gabriel almost visibly brightened a little.

“Oh- ..Really?”

He cleared his throat suddenly, trying to brush off his surprise.

“Um, yes– you just wait right here, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Icarus watched him blip away with a teleportation, and leant his head back against the wall with a sigh; staring up at the dimly-lit ceiling.

It was strange. As an angel, being present within the lower layers of Hell filled him with a sense of dread – keeping him uneased and on edge whenever carrying out duties in such places. Now, he felt almost at home within the walls of Violence’s labyrinthian garden – as if the layer of Violence itself had welcomed him home with open arms. 

It was unsettling – though almost in a way Icarus would consider comforting. Finding solace and peace within the land of the sinful, after aeons of purity – it felt freeing.

Icarus was broken out of his musing by Gabriel’s return, the sudden burst of light causing him to squint and blink.

The angel brandished an armful of medical supplies, eliciting an expression from the prime soul consisting of a bewildered frown.

Where the Hell is he getting all of this?

Icarus wondered, his gaze tilting back upwards to Gabriel’s helmet.

Presumably noticing his confusion, Gabriel shuffled in place awkwardly.

“...I have a little alcove set up in Limbo where I’ve been keeping all of my commodities.”

He muttered – almost ashamedly so, for whatever reason.

Icarus’ head tilted to the side, his frown remaining.

“..Why this?”

He nodded towards the assortment of items in Gabriel’s arms.

“I know that you still heal rapidly- You would be dead by now if you didn’t. What use do you have for such things?”

Gabriel shrugged half-heartedly.

“I-.. I didn’t know what having the light taken from me would do. I didn’t know what I would lose. ..So I took everything I would need to remedy a possible loss. …Such as medical supplies.”

“..Huh.”

Icarus looked Gabriel up and down for a moment, observing his body language – before leaning his head back against the wall.

“...Doesn’t matter to me. Just get this over and done with.”

“Right- yes.”

Gabriel kneeled down in front of the prime soul, neatly assorting his supplies beside himself before getting to work. 

Icarus watched him like a hawk, observing his every move thoroughly. With a gaze initially seething with spite, it gradually softened into something more woeful – as he noticed how much Gabriel was trying to avoid touching him directly. Only with feather-light touches would he make contact with the prime soul’s skin, overtly attempting to keep his distance as much as physically possible.

Bitterly, Icarus found himself thinking;

Why doesn’t he want to touch me?

Is he too afraid? Does he think I’ll hurt him if he does?

Guilt shot to the core of his chest like a bolt of lightning.

This shouldn’t be making me feel terrible.

Why would I want his touch? I don’t. It means nothing to me.

But this level of aversion-... hurts.

Am I truly that monstrous? 

Have I become untouchable?

“...Um-”

Icarus’s head snapped up.

“What?”

He barked irritably; his voice tense and mildly choked up.

Gabriel winced, withdrawing his hands from the prime soul.

“S- Sorry, I-... I was just going to ask something.”

Icarus calmed himself with another deep breath. He hadn’t meant to snap at Gabriel like that.

“...Then ask it, angel.”

Gabriel wrung his hands nervously.

“...Would you-... would you allow me to splint your wing..?”

His gaze trailed up to one of the prime soul’s head wings; the one that remained broken and misshapen from their confrontation.

“It-.. It’s just that.. I broke it, so-.... I have a responsibility to try and mend it.”

Icarus stared at him for a moment.

You don’t have any responsibility for such a thing. You retaliated in self defense. My injuries are of my own fault.

“...I-..”

He sighed.

“...Fine.”

Gabriel relaxed a little. 

“..Thank you.”

You’re thanking me?

You’re thanking me for letting you aid me?

What the Hell has gotten into you?

What have I-

Icarus’ thoughts were silenced by the sudden sensation of Gabriel’s gauntleted hand upon his broken head wing.

It stung, at first – as Gabriel put a little force onto the appendage to position it correctly for the splint. But that extra exertion of pressure compared to Gabriel’s previous barely noticeable touches caused an odd sensation to swirl within Icarus’ chest. The gentle touch of the angel’s fingers as he worked the appendage into a useable position, a comforting – possibly absentminded – rub of his thumb pressing into the feathers of the wing–

Oh.

–Fuck, that felt good.

Icarus’ mind short-circuited.

When was the last time I was touched?

I’ve forgotten what it feels like.

This is–

He was unable to control himself as his head subconsciously leaned into Gabriel’s hand a little further, his eye slits contentedly blinking closed.

…This is nice.

“...A-.. Are you alright…?”

Gabriel’s breathless voice snapped him out of it. Embarrassed, Icarus pulled his head away from the angel's hand.

“..I’m fine.”

He growled, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“...Keep working.”

Gabriel nodded, and silently continued splinting his wing. Once done, the wing rested against the side of Icarus’ head – splinted and bandaged up with limited capability of movement, but relatively comfortable nonetheless.

“..Hopefully that will help it heal properly.”

Gabriel muttered, half to himself – loosely shoving the remaining medical supplies into a half-hearted pile and putting it aside before walking over to the opposite end of the tunnel, sitting down across from Icarus.

Icarus beat back the urge to comment on the distance. 

Instead, he murmured a reluctant “...Thank you.”

Gabriel visibly perked up at the thanks, a small gasp escaping him. He sputtered in an attempt to form words, but nothing structural came out; and he quickly resigned to keeping his pleasant surprise wordless.

The silence between them soon became deafening, though. Icarus knew he was the source of it – having made Gabriel too afraid to initiate conversation himself. 

If he’s going to be sticking around, I might as well get used to speaking with him again.

Icarus thought, eventually.

I can’t ignore him forever.

Just get it over and done with. Tear the blade from the wound. It will only get easier with time.

And, with a sigh; he spoke up.

“...What else did you take?”

He inquired, keeping his tone at a palatable and neutral level without being overtly amicable.

Gabriel merely looked up at him with a slightly tilted head; seemingly confused that Icarus was speaking to him willingly.

“-to your alcove. In Limbo.”

Icarus clarified, further attempting to provoke a response from the angel.

“..Oh. Uh-”

Gabriel’s voice was a little shaky as he spoke.

“Mostly just-.. things from my home. Whatever I could get my hands on, really.”

He crossed his arms, shrugging.

“...I wasn’t given a lot of time to prepare myself before I had the light formerly taken from me. I was lucky to even receive a period of time, honestly. ..Many aren’t given such mercy.”

Icarus stared at the angel intently, as if he were trying to read him like a book.

“...Why were you given that reprieve?”

He asked; genuine curiosity piquing in his voice.

“What act could have garnered the punishment of getting the light taken from you, but enough leniency to prepare for it?”

Gabriel’s fingers tapped against his arm in thought.

“..Well-... I suppose you deserve to know. I’ve held it from you long enough.”

He let out a small sigh; a sound full of what Icarus could only glean as shame. He awaited the angel’s explanation with baited breath.

“...I fell in battle. At the hands of a machine.”

Gabriel began, his posture curling in on itself out of definite shame.

“I- I know that sounds absurd- but… this machine, it-... it was unlike any other I’d ever fought before.”

He spoke of the machine with an almost awed tone – as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

“..It downed me, and I fled. I went to inform the Council of the danger it could pose, with the capability to best an Archangel–.. but all they focused on was my loss.”

His voice rose an octave– frustration weaving into his tone.

“They reprimanded me, telling me it was impossible for an angel to lose to a godless machine.. accusing me that I must have lost on purpose– a defacement of the will of God.”

His posture slumped over, and his voice dropped back into the territory of shame.

“...They tore the light from me there and then, and gave me 24 hours to make peace with the decision and prepare myself before I was cast down from Heaven to atone. …And now I’m here.”

Icarus was silent for a few long moments; carefully processing the angel’s confession.

“...So then why have you come to me?”

He asked; his tone surprisingly careful.

“I know now why you’re here– but I still haven’t received a substantial answer to that.”

Gabriel hummed a pensive note.

“..Well–... I–...”

He stammered, trying to find the right words.

“...I wanted to try and right a wrong, I suppose. I still don’t know what the effects of being severed from the light will do to me. I was worried that–... I would never have the chance to make amends with you.”

The angel spoke with pure vulnerability, his gaze still downturned in an apprehensive aversion of eye contact. 

“...I was worried that I would die somewhere down here without ever speaking to you again.”

Pushing down the confusing and conflicting surge of emotion that rose from his gut from those words, Icarus responded flatly.

“...I see.”

He murmured, tapping his hoof against the ground absentmindedly. His next words were stern.

“..I will not be making amends with you, angel. I am here only because your feeble sense of morality lead you to me. I am merely tolerating you, and nothing more. Seeking forgiveness from me is a waste of your time.”

Then, his voice softens – wavering with a little vulnerability of his own.

“...But I will not overlook my own faults in the matter. I should not have attacked you after you freed me. I was led astray from my own morality by fury and resentment.”

“..N-... No, It’s alright.”

Gabriel responded eventually, breathlessly; a tremble in the back of his throat.

“...I did deserve it, after all.”

“No, Gabriel.”

Icarus responded sharply, his stare piercing through the angel.

“No you didn’t. It was wrong of me to do that to you.”

Gabriel startled, meeting Icarus’ gaze with bewilderment.

“..Was it not a righteous act? For you to–.. to get your revenge?”

He asked; his voice painfully guileless.

Icarus growled out a sigh.

“...I know your warped sense of virtue clouds your morality, but– No. Revenge is not righteous. Revenge is not fulfilling. I wanted you dead because I had spent God knows how long trapped within the confines of my own soul, wasting away in my thoughts and emotions. Trying to kill you did not feel good. It was an act driven by nothing more than pent-up rage– and whether you think it may be justified or not, it  does not make my actions blameless. I hurt you for no justifiable reason– and for that, I am sorry.”

Both parties fell silent, though their gazes remained interlocked; a miniscule, fragile thread of warmth and understanding forming between them. With their body languages both relaxed, for a moment, the world felt calm. 

–Safe, even.

And then finally, Gabriel responded.

“..I–... Th-... Thank you.”

The following silence was much more comfortable than the one that came before.

Icarus and Gabriel continued through the railway tunnel after an hour or so of further rest. Revitalised by that and the refreshed dressings on his wounds, the prime soul’s spryness had returned; with Gabriel finding himself struggling to keep up with him at times.

–Which made it all the more unsettling when Icarus suddenly froze; halting in his tracks completely.

“...Is something amiss..?”

Gabriel asked cautiously.

Icarus did not respond. Like the raised hackles of an uneased dog, the feathers of his head wings bristled – his stance becoming even more stiffened.

Gabriel spoke up again.

“..I-”

“Shh.”

Icarus silenced him harshly.

“I can feel something.”

Feel?

Gabriel was bemused for a moment, as he was under the assumption that Icarus had heard something.

–Until he felt it, too.

A rumbling in the ground beneath them, rhythmic – and gradually increasing in intensity.

“Is–.. Is that a tram cart coming our way..?”

Gabriel pondered, concern rising in his voice.

Icarus thought for a moment. He and Gabriel had rarely used the machinations of the railway while stationed in Violence – as they had preferred to stay out of the garden of forking paths entirely when possible. Even taking from that miniscule amount of recollection, this feeling was dissimilar from what he could remember.

“No.”

He responded, taking a step back.

“This is–... something else.”

“Do you know what–”

Gabriel’s response was silenced by a deep, haunting bellow echoing through the tunnel from ahead of them. 

Both shared a wary glance with each other; Gabriel joining Icarus in taking a step back this time.

“...Is that–..”

Icarus’ voice wavered, his hands clenching into fists. 

His half-baked question was answered when the source of the noise made itself present in the form of a beastial silhouette just barely visible ahead of them; what was now discernible as hoofsteps thundering towards the two with the power and heft of a thousand men.

Icarus instinctively grabbed Gabriel by the shoulder, his voice tense and fraught, saying;

“–It’s the Minotaur.”

The two were given little time to process the fact before the beast was upon them. With another bellow, it swung its grotesque hammer-like weapon towards them haphazardly, its hooves digging into the ground to halt its sprint. 

With a shriek and a frantic conjuration of his wings, Gabriel careened out of the way – whilst Icarus ducked underneath the blow, narrowly avoiding it.

Icarus had scarcely encountered the Minotaur during his Heavenly duties. The consensus he had picked up in regards to dealing with it was; don’t. It was a creature far too aggressive and dangerous to want to be in the proximity of. The Council was not helpful in this regard, as they had been apprehensive to even acknowledge its existence; with records and information regarding it ranging from slim to none.

Thus, its behaviour was foreign to him; so he observed its actions closely.

The Minotaur slid to stop in front of him, its posture remaining aggressive and territorial – though now with a notable hint of hesitation. Icarus’ now-clear appearance to it as a prime soul must have deterred the demon somewhat; as instead of continuing to attack outright, it now pawed at the ground with one of its front hooves – huffing and swinging around its horns in a threat display.

–And in that moment, Icarus saw an opportunity.

He took on the challenge, sizing up the Minotaur; tilting his head down to make his own horns look bigger as he flared out his functional head wing in his own form of threat display.

“Wh- What are you doing?!”

Gabriel exclaimed, both his voice and posture exuding a frightened status.

Icarus didn’t respond – his mind laser-focused on every movement of the Minotaur. He puffed out his chest and took a step forward, his arms splayed out at his sides to make him look bigger. The intimidation seemed to be working, as the beast began to slowly back away – its aggressive bellows devolving into mere grumbles.

Gabriel’s panicked sense of mind had other ideas. His flight and freeze instincts melted into one of fight, and he reached for his swords – Splendour unsheathing with a metallic scrape.

Icarus’ head snapped back to the angel upon hearing the noise.

“NO.”

He commanded, his gaze burning with intensity.

“For once in your fucking life– put down your blades.”

Immediately, unquestionably; Splendour returned to its sheathe. 

The brief lapse in Icarus’ stance prompted the Minotaur to leap forth in a mock charge, stopping just shy of goring the prime soul. Icarus clocked it as such, as the act was too aggressive and exaggerated to be a genuine charge – but Gabriel flinched, yelping in surprise at the sudden movement.

Icarus quickly regained the high ground of the confrontation, and the Minotaur continued to back down – until eventually, it relented to him; slinking back into the shadows of the railway until it was out of sight.

Once its retreating footsteps were out of earshot, Icarus’ posture slumped over – the tension leaving his muscles.

Gabriel let out a shaky sigh of relief, cautiously walking up to stand by Icarus.

“..How-... How did you do that..?”

His voice was that of breathless awe, staring at the empty tunnel ahead of them in disbelief.

Icarus looked down at the angel, a half-hearted hum of amusement leaving him as he spoke;

“Nothing wants to fuck with a prime soul.”

They returned to the entrance of the garden they had come from using the dirt trail Icarus had left behind. While it had been smudged and scattered a little by passing adversaries, its dark contrast against the white marble remained easy enough to follow even in a slight state of disarray. 

Icarus looked out upon the greyed fields of grass ahead of them with a disparaged sigh – prompting Gabriel to speak up.

“...Didn’t find what you were looking for in there?”

Icarus shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t expecting to– but I wanted to try regardlessly.”

Gabriel’s head tilted to the side.

“May I ask what it was that you were searching for?”

“...Candles.”

Icarus responded, apprehensively so.

“I was looking for candles.”

Gabriel’s tone was mildly confused, though non-judgemental.

“...In the garden of forking paths?”

Icarus huffed irritably.

“–That’s why I said I wasn’t expecting to find any. I’ve seen them before in the rare prayer room or library when I was stationed here as an angel– but those were few and far between.”

Gabriel’s next words were reluctant; out of a place of not wanting to upset the prime soul with the prospect.

“...If you want candles, I–.. can just pick some up from another layer where they’re in abundance and bring them down here to you.”

Icarus gave Gabriel a look.

“...What? Really?”

He blinked a few times.

“So I could have just avoided this whole debacle, then?”

Gabriel sputtered, a noise leaving him that sounded almost like a stifled laugh - causing Icarus' heart to palpitate for just a moment.

“Well– You, uh-... You never told me what you were looking for.”

Icarus sighed – heavily.

“...Damn.”

He shook out his head, his functional head wing twitching.

“Right, well–... If you were to go and do that, I–... Would not be adverse to it.”

Gabriel gave him a small, curt nod.

“Of course. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the two began making their way back to the forest of suicides, Icarus fell silent as he battled with himself in his mind.

The ghost of Gabriel’s laughter haunted him. That fleeting glimpse he had gotten of it at the garden's entrance had filled him with a saccharine warmth that made him feel sick to his stomach.

Damn him.

Icarus thought with a shallow bitterness, glancing at the angel over his shoulder.

Everything would be easier if I had the heart to hate him sincerely.

Chapter Text

Gabriel came and went as the hours and their equivalent of days ticked by. He would linger around wherever Icarus was like a stray dog; occasionally approaching for attention and backing away when he knew he had overstayed his welcome. 

Icarus indulged him at a bare minimum; keeping up with small talk and nothing more. He was unwilling to delve any deeper than that. 

Any kind of interaction with Gabriel always left a pit of indiscernible emotion in his gut; an occasional tinge of the fondness they once shared would crest above the waves in their conversations, only to crash back down into the depths in quick succession. 

Icarus felt beyond conflicted on the matter. Above all, Gabriel’s intentions appeared wholeheartedly pure – his genuine attempts to try and rekindle their connection keeping Icarus from ignoring him entirely. Though the angel’s methods of attempting to prove his care, his betterness, only served to disappoint the prime soul further. 

A heart in the right place, but a head in the clouds.

A philosophy still righteous; a kindness still conditional.

One such circumstance took place when Gabriel approached the prime soul, proudly brandishing an armful of candles that he had collected. 

“Hey. I, ah- got you those candles that you were looking for.”

“...Oh. Thank you.”

Icarus responded bluntly, gestured vaguely for Gabriel to place them down – which he did.

“Where did you get these?”

“Limbo and Wrath, mostly.”

Gabriel replied with a light shrug, folding his arms in front of himself when they were free of candles.

“I tried to find ones that were recently lit, so that you could get the most out of them. Had to fight off a few adversaries in the process, but– I would say it was worth it.”

Icarus’ shoulders tensed up, the feathers of his head wings bristling.

“...So you stole them, then?”

Gabriel’s posture faltered in turn, his fingers twitching.

“I-... Well, It’s not stealing, is it..? They’re only–....”

He trailed off, realising what he had been about to say.

Icarus’ shoulders dropped, untensing, as he let out a deep sigh. He spoke after a long moment of tense, stagnant silence.

“...Do you want to know why I still don’t trust you, Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s body reflexively curled in on itself a little, preparing itself for the oncoming lambast. He didn’t respond verbally.

“Because you haven’t changed.”

Icarus begun; his voice dim, and stern.

“You still disregard the lives of those you have no connection to. You take for yourself and those you care about and give nothing back to the world you take from in return.”

He noticed Gabriel’s body go visibly rigid in his peripheral vision. He continued, unwavered by his discomfort.

“You cannot pick and choose which sinners are ‘good’ enough for you to respect. If you cannot treat another with basic decency, then I cannot trust you to uphold the same standards for me.”

He turned to look at the angel over his shoulder, his expression narrowed into a dangerous, piercing glare.

“You’re trying to prove to me that you’ve bettered yourself, but the act is shallow. You’re still the selfish bastard I always knew you as.”

He turned back, pushing the pile of candles towards Gabriel.

“..Return these. I will not use any that have not been discarded or given to you willingly.”

Silenced, now with trembling hands, Gabriel began to haphazardly gather the candles within his arms. And, a moment later – he was gone.

He did not see Gabriel for a while after that interaction.

Time ticked by slower in the angel’s absence. As much as Icarus was adverse towards his presence, the angel was at least a point of interest. Without him, his company was nothing more than the silence of the forest that surrounded him. 

He would talk to the trees, sometimes – but they would not talk back. He didn’t mind all too much; As long as they heard him, that was enough to keep him satisfied. Regardless, it became isolating after a while. 

Icarus would find himself almost yearning for Gabriel’s return, just so he could have something to focus on – until he would catch that train of thought and forcibly derail it before it had the chance to go anywhere. 

With not much else to do to keep his mind occupied, Icarus wandered. He explored; syphoning what little enrichment he could out of his surroundings.

Straying beyond the forests of the second circle of Violence into its third did not appeal to him, though; entering the barren deserts trodden down under the weight of the cataclysmic war machines that blotted out the skyline seemed perilous at best.

He would typically avoid the warzones of its first circle, too – although on occasion, he would slip into a building if he spotted one that remained intact. On one such occasion, he discovered a library. 

It was small, single-roomed; more of an archive than a sprawling expanse of literature. Icarus gently dragged a claw over the spines of the books and documents that lined the shelves, reading their titles as he went along – and picked out an armful, as many as he could safely carry. He chose the books he took carefully – knowing that if he were to return here for more at a later time, the building would likely be gone; reduced to rubble in the wake of the everlasting warfare.

He returned to the forest of suicides shortly thereafter, relieved that he finally had something substantial to occupy his time with – and distract him from his own thoughts. 

The first book he had taken was a collection of poems and stories from ancient Greece. Icarus found himself recognising many of them, having lived at a time where much of said literature was conceived and shared. It proved a minor source of comfort for him; and provided a minor sense of dread, knowing that the culture he had been born into was now old enough to be considered ‘ancient.’

The second book was a detailed breakdown of humanity’s modern weaponry; filled with diagrams and descriptions of guns, machinery, and whatnot. Icarus found it rather fascinating, having been a more old-school weaponsmith himself with a poor grasp on more modern technology. It was additionally nice to be able to put a name to several of the machines and their items of arsenal that he had seen within Hell. 

The third book was hardly a book at all; instead a journal of a resident of Violence. He had found several of them within the library, but this one in particular had piqued his interest as he flicked through it due to the repeated mention of a specific creature within its pages; the Minotaur. Icarus was intrigued by the beast, knowing little about it – and hoped he would be able to find some information in regards to it within the contents of the journal.

Reading through its contents quickly became difficult. The author’s mental state degraded noticeably with every entry, devolving into complete paranoid nonsense by the journal’s end. Within one of the coherent entries, however – Icarus did find what he was hoping for.

A passage read;

The Minotaur – crossing paths with its wretched form was not an encounter I was prepared for within the walls of the Garden. Remembering my time in Lust, long ago – I recall King Minos’ tales of the beast. How it had been presented to him as a gift, from who he knew not – only that their intentions were either vile or misguided. He spoke of the Minotaur with contempt in his voice – an emotion rarely expressed in his ever-kindly demeanour – decreeing it as a horrific manifestation of his past mistakes, rejecting it as an offering, condemning it to wander the Garden evermore. 

I never imagined I would come across it myself. I never thought I would fall so far as to even consider it a possibility. And yet – today, it stood before me. 

I had almost forgotten fear until I saw its unmoving, porcelain-like face – its horns dripping with the blood and viscera of my fellow sinners. It bellowed a deafening, haunting cry – like a thousand tortured voices screaming out their final, agonised words. Its ungodly body moved with snaps of carved marble and the squelching of flesh, unnatural and grotesque – near-impossible to look at. The sight alone could have driven me mad, were I not already past that threshold.

I fear I must leave the Garden, lest I come across it again. The likelihood I will perish in the warzones outside is high – but by the Lord’s name, it is far more merciful a fate than being cast to oblivion by the hooves of the monstrous ghost that haunts these labyrinthian halls.

The words stuck with Icarus long after he had put the journal down. The Minotaur had been created against its own will, cast away for circumstances out of its control; a gift whose recipient had renounced it; a beast with no master.

Sympathy tugged at his heart at the thought, tightening in his chest. He could only imagine how much the creature was suffering. 

Could it suffer? It was a Demon, after all – a conglomerate of flesh, marble, and torment. Could an embodiment of suffering experience such a thing? 

Did it even know of its own intended purpose? Did it understand why it was condemned? 

Was its nature aggressive only on the virtue of knowing nothing better?

Questions without answers; a plight that continued to plague him even after breaking away from Heaven’s hush-hush and hearsay ethos.

Icarus soon found himself wandering in the direction of the Garden of Forking Paths. 

If he did not have these answers, then he would seek them himself.

Icarus’ hooves hit the marble floor with a heavy clack as he jumped down onto the railway, the sound echoing outwards into the sprawling tunnel ahead. He made haste along its linear path, seeking out any signs of the Minotaur. 

He had encountered signs of the beast elsewhere throughout the labyrinth; scuff marks etched into the marble and structural elements destroyed by what could have only been a creature of its body mass. 

The railway, however – proved to yield the most signs of its presence. Icarus hadn’t noticed the tells on his first trip through the railway, chalking up environmental damage to wear-and-tear and the general nature of the layer. Upon closer inspection, though – trample-marks and what were most likely dents from hammer blows tarnished the walls and floors of the tunnel. Occasionally, he would spot the imprint of a bloody handprint, too; handprints that looked about the size of the hands grafted to the Minotaur’s body.

It could be coincidence, Icarus thought; though his assumptions proved substantial when the sound heavy hoofsteps thundered into earshot. He braced himself for a charge, which was the right call of action – as the hoofsteps halted momentarily, then intensified tenfold – and the Minotaur came barrelling out from the darkness ahead.

Icarus leaped out of the way, keeping his gaze locked onto the creature. It skidded to a stop, whirling around to face him – snorting and dipping its head to brandish its horns.

Instead of reciprocating with his own threat display as he did previously – this time, Icarus merely watched. His posture remained tense, but neutral; non-aggressive, but poised to swerve out of the way if needed.

The Minotaur charged forth again, this time with a swing of its hammer – which Icarus once again ducked out of the way from. The feathers of his head wings bristled, his claws twitching as every nerve in his body remained on high-alert. 

He was unsure of what he was watching for. A sign of cognisance, perhaps – something deeper than the rageful beast before him. Its aggressive, inhuman shrieks and bellows were beginning to sew doubt into his heart, however – making him consider if this endeavour was pointless.

Regardless; he watched, and waited, for the Minotaur’s next move. There was still hope left yet.

Another swing of the hammer swept his way, sending sparks flying off of the floor as it scraped against it. The edge of the hammer clipped one of Icarus’ head wings as he jumped out of the way – not enough to cause injury, just enough to shake a few feathers loose. 

Icarus held his breath as the Minotaur wailed in what appeared to be frustration, its movements becoming more frantic and desperate. 

Come on.

He thought, staring up at its unmoving face.

There has to be more to you than this.

The Minotaur swung at him several times in rapid succession, all of which were avoided by a simple backstep. One swing from the ground upwards cleaved through part of the railway track beneath its feet, causing broken metal to become upturned – and when it cleaved it's hammer back down, its trajectory was abruptly halted.

Both it and Icarus froze for a second, confused – and then it tried to wrench itself forwards, only to be held in place. Icarus’ gaze broke away from its head for a moment to analyse what was going on. 

In its blind frustration to attempt landing a hit on the prime soul, it had managed to slam a broken section of the railway back down onto one of its legs with its hammer – trapping itself in place. It shrieked, writhing and clawing at the metal with its hands in an attempt to free itself.

Icarus took a moment to catch his breath, keeping a safe distance from the beast. 

In that moment of vulnerability in the beast; he found purchase for his hopes.

It was no longer focused on him, only on freeing itself. Its attention only snapped back to the prime soul as he took a step back towards it; its entire body visibly tensing up. It reared its hammer, preparing to swing it – but Icarus held out a hand, in the universal gesture of ‘wait.’

And to his surprise; the Minotaur listened. Its posture remained that of a threatened animal, though it did not attack. 

Icarus held his breath, dipping his head to make his own body language less threatening. Tentatively, he took another step forward, this time paired with the soft spoken words;

“...It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Icarus wasn’t sure if the Minotaur could understand him – but if that didn’t stop him from talking to the trees, it sure as Hell would not have stopped him here. 

The gentleness of his words seemed to keep the Minotaur at hold, its hammer remaining stilled, but poised. Icarus was able to inch close enough to reach out towards where its foot had been caught, and upon contact with its body – it reeled back, letting out a disturbed keen that sent a shiver down Icarus’ spine.

“Shh- Shh. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He soothed, standing his ground as he looked up at the Minotaur. He knew well that eye contact wasn’t the best route when it came to dealing with frightened animals, though this felt different. Now, he felt as if there were something definitively ‘more’ to the beast – allowing him to feel safe enough to risk a glance at its visage.

Reciprocally – the Minotaur’s carven, unmoving face tilted down to stare back at him. They held eye contact for a moment, with Icarus’ breath catching in his throat as he saw the arm holding its hammer shifting in his peripheral vision. Though, it was only to rest it by its side – removing it from its actively hostile positioning, surprising him once again.

With that feeling of sympathy swelling back into Icarus’ heart once again, determination fully took over any lingering sense of danger – and he reached forward once again, tugging at the metal clamped down over the Minotaur’s hoof. It took a few pulls, but the prime soul’s strength quickly proved its value as the metal bent back upwards, allowing the Minotaur to step away and free itself.

The two beings maintained eye contact for a few wary moments, their musculature tensed and poised to react. The flesh of the Minotaur’s chest heaved with heavy breaths, almost in synchronicity with the rhythm of Icarus’ own. 

The Minotaur took a step towards the prime soul, after a moment; non-aggressive, almost curious in nature. The feathers of Icarus’ head wings began to settle, no longer bristling with anticipation – though the Minotaur towered above him, a sight foreign to the prime soul; putting him on edge, preventing his body language from turning entirely relaxed as he wished it would. 

Regardlessly, Icarus remained still, allowing the creature to approach him willingly. His head wings twitched in surprise as the Minotaur reached out one of its grotesquely human-like hands, and then – carefully placed it upon one of the prime soul’s horns, running its marbled digits over the greyed skin.

Icarus was dumbfounded, his body freezing up from the unexpected contact. Only when the Minotaur reached a hand up to feel at its own horns did he realise what it was thinking.

…Does it see familiarity within me?

A beast; horned, hooven– 

…

Is that where my sympathy for it has stemmed from?

…Do I see familiarity within it, too?

His gaze trailed back up to the Minotaur’s, slowly. Even without true eyes, he could tell that the Minotaur was looking back.

“...Yes. I–.. I am just like you.”

He spoke gently, bringing up a clawed hand to place upon the Minotaur’s horn – mirroring the beast’s gesture.

“I am a friend. I will not hurt you.”

The Minotaur let out a soft huffing noise. Its marbled visage tilted to the side slightly as it removed its hand, backing away. 

Icarus let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, his own hand falling back to his side.

That was all you needed.

He thought, watching as the Minotaur continued to observe him at a short distance.

The knowledge that you weren’t alone.

Gabriel eventually, inevitably, began to show up again. Persistence was in his nature; even after receiving such a devastating blow to his ego, he would yet return with it simply bruised. 

He had noticed something with Icarus as he began crawling back to him once again, however; half the time he sought him out at his little alcove in the Forest of Suicides, the prime soul was nowhere to be found. Sometimes, he would wait – and Icarus would return from the direction of the Garden, unhappy to see him as per usual. 

The circumstances piqued Gabriel’s interest, though he did not dare pry. He knew he was pushing his luck already by simply making conversation with Icarus; God forbid asking something of him. 

Even then, the lack of consistent chances to make company with Icarus did dishearten him – with no knowledge of what the prime soul was up to. Several times, he considered between upholding his own pride and biting the bullet to inquire; the argument with himself dissolving when he could not decide on a conclusion. Though, in the end, he caved; and he just couldn’t withstand the drive of his own selfish curiosity anymore. 

With lingering shame tainting the back of his mind for the cowardly act committed, he quietly followed Icarus as the prime soul ambled towards the Garden of Forking paths. 

Gabriel was able to avoid giving himself away by staying airborne; the gentle beating of his wings unable to be heard at the distance of which he stayed. He was no tracker or scout by any means, but Icarus was thankfully hard to lose sight of. 

This balance quickly shifted as the prime soul entered the Garden of Forking Paths, and Gabriel had to become much more careful with his movements in order to keep track of Icarus. His nerves failed him, and he quickly lost the prime soul within the labyrinthian walls. 

Cursing under his breath, remedying it with a prayer, Gabriel lowered himself to the ground – breathing out a defeated sigh. The guilt of essentially stalking the prime soul wracked him fully in that moment, causing a cold shiver to go up his spine.

This is envy, Gabriel. Sinful. Pathetic desperation. 

He scolded himself inwardly.

Icarus’ doing is none of your business. 

Yet, the selfish part of him once again raised its ugly head – pushing through the shame to solidify its presence.

–But you’ve already come this far. You’re already here.

You’re within arms reach of finding out what he’s doing here. You might as well keep going. 

And with that spark of pride, Gabriel began his trek into the depths of the Garden. 

It remained fairly linear, for a while; though its path quickly became arduous. Gabriel soon found himself tiring of its bleached-white monotony, though he continued onwards, spurred on by that selfish hope. 

It could have been hours before he finally heard a sound. The stupor he had fallen into from wandering the Garden’s halls was broken instantaneously; striking his mind alert, grabbing his full-attention.

The shock of the heard noise quickly wore off; replaced with bemusement.

Echoing through the hallways ahead of him was– music.

Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat, as the sound meeting him struck him as haunting. Slow, eerie, solemn, yet he was not wholly unsettled by it; it was comforting, almost – like a lullaby sung to a sleeping child. 

The angel found himself stuck in place momentarily, merely listening to the melody as if he were a sailor enraptured by sirensong – though snapped himself out of it quickly, and cautiously began to wander towards the source of the echoing melody.

As the sound became loud enough to be from a room over, Gabriel stilled; analysing his surroundings thoroughly before peeking his head in anywhere, to make sure he remained unnoticed. Just as the melody slowed to a stop, his gaze swept over the interior of a branching room from the hallway Gabriel stood in – and the sight within caused his heart to skip a beat.

In a marbled-white room, the dark greys of his form standing starkly against its walls, was Icarus – kneeled before a carven piano. Beside him, lay none other than the Minotaur – on its side, its head rested upon the floor. 

It took every mote of Gabriel’s self control to not act in that moment. He withdrew himself quickly, a hand held to his chest in shock.

Thoughts crashed through his mind like raging rapids, his heart thumping against his chest.

The Minotaur– Icarus is unsafe.

No– the Minotaur was prone.

Did he kill it?

No– that is unlike him.

No– I saw the Minotaur’s chest moving. It was still breathing.

Then why in the name of the Father is he with that beast!?

He’s going to get himself killed! Why has he–

Gabriel took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself – soothing his thoughts somewhat.

Think rationally, Gabriel.

Icarus is no fool. He would not make presence with the Minotaur without reason.

He recalled their earlier encounter with it – in which Icarus had commanded him to put away his blades; to not hurt the creature.

–A realisation hit him, moments after.

…Was he playing music for it?

Gabriel almost laughed from the absurdity of such a concept. Then – something tugged at his heart.

Jealousy? Surely not– maybe a twinge, merely. No– it was endearment. 

I should have expected nothing less from him.

Gabriel thought, the tension in his shoulders beginning to dissipate.

How very ‘Icarus’– to sympathise for such a beast. 

Is he trying to soothe it? Merely show it affection?

Whatever his intention– somehow, he has pacified it.

A bubbling sense of confliction caused the warming of his heart to dull into an ache.

Why show compassion to such a monster of sin? Of violence?

Does he not know what it embodies?

Does he know that it doesn’t deserve–

…

Gabriel’s own thoughts trailed off, an indiscernible pang of an emotion unpleasant gnawing at his subconscious.

…Does Icarus not care? Does he show it benevolence regardless?

The question rang through his mind like the toll of a bell, shaking the foundation of his vulnerable ideologies.

Why?

He swallowed down the bitter taste that began to rise in his throat.

Why treat a monster kinder than me?

How lesser must I be in his eyes, for him to favour a beast over myself?

What have I done so wrong?

It became too much to bear. Gabriel teleported himself out of the Garden, out of Violence – to wherever, he cared little. He only wanted to leave that thought behind, cast away like the misbegotten souls inhabiting the labyrinth. 

Yet, it continued to haunt him like the melody Icarus had played to the Minotaur; plucking at the threads of his ego, one-by-one.

Chapter Text

Gabriel couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was doing wrong. 

He knew there was a problem, but he knew not what it was. The feeling was deeply, unendingly frustrating.

Despite his best efforts, Icarus still treated him neutrally at best. He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore, at least – but he certainly didn’t feel like a friend. Many – if not most – of their interactions remained stagnant, distant; a note of tension forever lingering in their words. 

Have I done the best I can do?

Gabriel would think; unable to answer the question. 

He did not know what the best he could do was. From his perspective, he had already done everything that he could to try and rekindle the fire of what he and Icarus once shared – yet, clearly, it had not been enough.

Thus, he rephrased his inner questioning;

…What more can I do?

Another inquiry he could not answer.

Though– perhaps there was someone else that could.

“What more can I do?”

He would ask Icarus, who looked down upon him with an unreadable expression.

“...What do you mean?”

Icarus responded, mild bewilderment in his voice.

“To-... try and earn back your favour.”

Gabriel mumbled, his voice dropping in confidence. He averted his gaze, staring off to the side.

“...I know it’s a stupid question, I just-... I know that I’m not doing something right. I wanted to ask-.. what you want from me, rather than-.. assuming.”

Icarus was silent for a long moment. One of his head wings twitched, and his head tilted to the side minutely.

“...You’re-.. serious?”

Gabriel curled in on himself a little, shame and embarrassment overtaking his demeanour.

“Ah- my apologies, it was-... it was ridiculous to ask such a thing.”

He took a step back, head hung low.

“I’ll-... leave you be.”

Icarus raised a hand.

“...No. Stay.” 

Gabriel froze in disbelief, his helmet snapping up with an audible clink of metal.

“...What?-”

“It’s not ridiculous.”

Icarus replied firmly.

“I’m just shocked that you actually had it in you to ask something so-” He paused for a moment, thinking, “...vulnerable.”

Gabriel’s posture straightened slightly; a twinge of something between indignity and pleasant surprise tightening in his chest. He remained silent, waiting with bated breath for Icarus to answer.

“...You want to know what I want to see from you, then?”

Icarus began, folding his arms over his broad chest, gazing down at the angel with a narrowed stare.

“Then my guidance is simple– stop trying to fix something that is broken beyond repair.”

Gabriel’s heart dropped. His hands grabbed each other, his fingers attempting to link together in the instinct to pray – to plead that there was more to it than that.

“Our relationship was shattered when you took my life from me– and not only are you trying to pick up those irreparable pieces, you’re trying to put them back together with a broken tool.”

Icarus pointedly looked Gabriel up and down as he uttered ‘broken tool’, emphasising the crux of the analogy he was trying to convey.

“That’s not going to work.”

The prime soul absentmindedly tapped his hoof as he fell silent for a second – both to let those words sink in, and to carefully consider his next.

His words were intense, steeled with sternness;

“...If you want a chance at regaining any semblance of my trust, you cannot keep up with your current-... efforts. Work on your tools, and then try to build something new with them.”

He leaned down a little, his horned figure casting a shadow over the angel.

“Is that clear?”

Gabriel nodded, slowly; a cyclonic whirlwind of apprehension, surprise, optimism, and shame swirling within his head.

“..Yes, I-.. I think I understand.”

Icarus gave him a single, curt nod.

“Good.”

Then, his voice softened for a fleeting moment.

“Asking for guidance is already a step in the right direction.”

He turned around, peering at the angel over his shoulder fleetingly.

“…Humility is a good look on you.”

And Icarus was gone before Gabriel could even consider a response, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

The angel stood there, still as a statue; his mind a battleground of thoughts and questions fighting for his attention.

What does he mean by that? Was it an insult? ..A compliment?

He said to build something new– What does that mean?

Fix a broken tool? How do I–

This was a mistake. Everything is so much more complicated now–

No, it was the right thing. Icarus said it was a good thing.

–But why should you believe him? He’s a sinner. He’s tempting you into sin.

What? No– why did I think that?

He's trying to help me– why the Hell did I think that?!

–Because it’s true. You know that It’s true. No matter how much you care for him, he’s a sinner.

You want to get back to Heaven, do you not?

You want to prove your worth in the Lord’s eyes?

This is not the right path.

You know that this pursuit is wrong.

Do you want to regain his trust, or God’s?

Following the advice of a sinner will lead you down the path of Heresy.

Do you want that?

…

I don’t know.

…I don’t know.

Gabriel hadn’t noticed he had started shaking until the sound of his armour gently rattling caught up to his senses. 

His gaze settled on his gauntleted, trembling hands in front of him – absentmindedly clasped into a prayer. He swallowed at the lump in his throat and shook out his head, trying to calm his thoughts into a discernible structure.

His pride spoke the loudest within him first.

You are never the problem. You are God’s brightest angel, the perfect conceptualisation of his will– you can do no wrong.

Shame spoke next.

Such heights you have fallen, to be wallowing in your own confuddled misery as you are. What have you become?

There’s something wrong with you. You had to ask for help like a child because you’re too fucking useless to figure out anything yourself. Why can’t you make a coherent or valuable decision? 

Hatred.

What if you’re too far gone? What if you’re in such a state of disrepair that nothing of true value can be found within you?

Fear.

Is there a point? Do you have the fight left in you to try?

Despair.

I just don’t want to feel so lost anymore.

Desperation.

..No.

–So do something about it.

Hope.

Icarus had been seeing less of Gabriel as of late.

Not that he didn’t mind, of course – he had the Minotaur to make company with – it was merely a bit jarring, with the angel having hounded him relentlessly with his presence up until now.

He wondered how his advice had affected Gabriel. Had he been offended? Was he distancing himself due to the realisation that he couldn’t achieve betterment?

–Or was he truly off doing whatever his mind had deemed as working on himself? If so, what was his vision of improvement? Would it actually make a difference?

Icarus tried to pay the hypotheticals no mind; though his curiosity remained unsatiated. 

When he did see Gabriel, the angel seemed almost– preoccupied; seemingly always in a bit of a rush, and a little out of breath.

What the Hell could he possibly be doing?

Icarus thought; truly perplexed in regards to the angel’s actions.

Then, overtime; he began to notice.

It was little things; the garden around his alcove being tidied, shoddy but well-intentioned patchwork on broken sections of buildings that he came across – small acts of good bestowed upon the lands of Violence, via the hands of what he could only assume was Gabriel’s doing.

Icarus didn’t know what to make of it. 

Surely he knows that his efforts will go to waste, right..? Violence will continue to tear itself apart no matter what. Is he truly foolish enough to believe–

He caught his cynicism by the throat before it had the chance to spiral any further.

–That doesn’t matter.

He’s acting on the instinct to be selfless in the face of hopelessness. 

That’s a start.

Further confliction ailed Icarus' mind when the trajectory of that apparent selflessness made its way directly towards him.

Upon a return to his alcove, he was met with the sight of a pile of candles laid upon the path, adorned with a note written in Gabriel’s unmistakable handwriting.

Instinctually, the muscles in his shoulders tightened – recalling the last time the angel had tried to heed his request for the objects.

After a tense moment of observation, he leant down to tentatively grab the note.

It read;

Icarus,

Forgive my first meagre attempt to gather these on your behalf. I was driven by a sense of desperation to gain favour with you, and did not consider the selfishness of my actions.

Ergo; I have sourced these candles with no bloodshed. The Ferryman graciously allowed me to take the used and to-be discarded prayer candles from the denizens of their vessel. Most are small, and the wicks burnt – but they will still catch flame.

I hope they suffice for whatever purpose you so desired them for.  

–Gabriel

Icarus blinked in disbelief as he lowered the note.

Such a succinct, honest message from the angel was not something he was expecting to have to process in that moment.

He had grown so accustomed to Gabriel essentially grovelling at his feet, begging for his favour, doing everything possible to help him even when it wasn’t needed or wanted – only for him to now revisit an old wound he had torn open himself by neatly stitching it up.

Icarus turned his attention down to the candles. They were as described; used – with droplets of hardened wax around their bases, their wicks short and blackened. 

However – they would certainly suffice.

A thoughtful hum escaped Icarus as he pondered for a moment.

He kneeled down, flipping the note over to its blank side, pressing it flat against the marbled floor. Digging a claw into his palm just enough to break the skin, he coated the tip of the digit with a thin layer of blood, and began to write on the note;

I will be needing more of these.

Thank you.

He left the note on the floor, and gathered the candles within his arms to take elsewhere.

The exchange of notes and candles continued from there on out. They became more consistent when Icarus had returned to an addition to his blood-written text upon the parchment;

Duly noted.

–Paired with an droplet of Icarus' blood that had stained the corner of the paper, circled in ink and annotated like a marked document;

I would prefer if you did not use your own(?) blood to write. Please use this in the future.

An inkwell weighted down the note, paired with a quill wedged underneath it.

Icarus had scoffed; finding the notion ridiculous.

And yet, moments later – he found himself putting quill to ink to parchment. 

Icarus had quickly discarded the quill, finding it far too unwieldy within his gargantuan, beastial hands; instead opting for simply dipping the tip of a claw into the inkpot to write with, which proved far more efficient.

A simple response of – There’s no room left to write, bring more parchment – only fuelled the fire, and there were soon loose piles of notes haphazardly strewn about the alcove, covered in their written word.

Neither party addressed these exchanges when they spoke verbally; as if these written interactions between them were a secret that the other was completely oblivious to.

Icarus found it far more tolerable than verbal interaction, anyway – as he was able to seperate Gabriel from his words to a degree. His lingering upset towards the angel had only quelled so much, and distrust still plagued him; being within his presence continued to put him on edge. Written exchanges did not come with that atmosphere of unease.

It did make their few-and-far between verbal conversations less tense, though. That strenuous thread of connection that bound them through their letters did lessen the blow somewhat.

Gabriel continued to gather the discarded candles from Wrath to leave with his notes whenever he could – still unsure of what Icarus was using them for, just that they were being used. Every time he left some behind, they would disappear whence he next returned – whisked away by Icarus for whatever he was doing with them.

It bothered Gabriel a little, but he did not ask about it – not wanting to pry. He assumed that eventually, he would simply come across the fruits of his labour of love organically.

–And that, he did; as he was making his way to the entrance of Icarus’ alcove, something caught his boot – causing him to stumble and nearly trip over. Assuming a tree root was his obstacle, he glanced down for clarification – only to see a single candle, planted firmly down into the ashen dirt.

Mildly perplexed, Gabriel leaned down to straighten it – which is when he noticed the rest of them.

At the base of every tree in sight, was a candle; unlit, though placed with clear intention. 

He took in the sight as he slowly straightened his posture back into an upright stand. 

Surely this was Icarus’ doing, though the question remained; why?

He circled the alcove, searching for any signs of the man himself; a fresh set of large hoofprints trailing from tree to tree lead him to the prime soul.

When Gabriel caught sight of him, Icarus was hunched over at the base of a tree, neatly straightening a candle he had presumably just placed at its base. Hearing footsteps behind him, his head wings twitched, and his head snapped to look over his shoulder a moment later. 

Gabriel froze; then gave him a tentative wave.

Icarus’ posture relaxed a little, though his gaze narrowed – his head wings folding flush against his neck.

“...What do you want, angel?”

Gabriel hummed a note of apprehension, folding his arms behind his back and averting his gaze.

“..Simply wondering what you were doing, is all.”

His helmet tilted to the side a little – an absentminded twitch spurred on by curiosity.

Icarus huffed out something between a sigh and a grumble, returning his gaze downwards to where his claws pressed into the ground.

“...I suppose I do owe an answer for what I’ve been doing with all of your candles.”

He paused for a moment, the feathers of his wings rippling with a subtle bristle – his body language remaining tense with mild apprehension.

Gabriel remained dead quiet, allowing Icarus to take centre-stage.

“...During my imprisonment, I thought often about the souls that make up this forest. Victims of anguish so crushing that they thought the only way to escape it was to end their own lives.”

Icarus’ head tilted upwards, gazing at the barren branches of the tree standing before him.

“...I understood their suffering. I wept for them. And to think their cries for help were only answered by Heaven in the form of trapping them within these forms – unable to speak, unable to move…”

He sighed. Heavily.

“...I swore to myself that once I was freed of my imprisonment, I would try to alleviate some of their suffering. …Or at least express to them that they weren’t alone.”

He gestured down to the candle at his feet.

“I’m placing these candles to honour them. One for every tree – every life.”

Gabriel, stunned into silence, took a long moment to gather his thoughts; and longer to respond.

“...Oh.”

–He eventually coughed up.

“..I see.”

He held a hand out in front of him in a weak, vague gesticulation.

“..That’s-... very noble of you.”

Icarus’ shoulders visibly tensed.

“...Noble? No.”

His tone had sharpened; not to a level of outright harshness, but it was certainly stern.

“I’m not doing this because I think it’s for a greater good. I’m doing this because I care about these people.”

He pushed himself into a stand, his gaze remaining on the candle he had placed before himself.

“...Do you understand that?”

Gabriel cowered a little, his breath catching in his throat.

“..I-...”

He swallowed.

“...I do. It’s not nobility, it's-.. kindness."

Icarus turned around to face Gabriel, his expression intense, but unreadable.

“Do you understand kindness, angel?”

Gabriel was expecting his voice to be accusatory, aggressive – but it wasn’t; his body language remained relaxed, and the tone of his voice earnest.

“Where do you think righteousness ends and your kindness begins? Do you believe there to be a difference..?”

Gabriel thought for a tense, stagnant moment – nervously rapping his fingers over the metal-plated knuckles of his gauntlet.

He took a deep breath before speaking.

“...I-... I remember the day after you died, when I was dealing with the aftermath of everything.. I spoke with a Virtue. They said that they saw you enter the church they were praying in, torch in hand.. only for you to leave them be. ..They found out later that you had been burning the churches around them, and they-.. they didn’t know what to think of it. There was no reason for you to not burn the church down with them inside, and yet-... you didn’t. Despite your headstrong plan, you went out of your way to keep a stranger safe. …They assumed that it could have only been an act of kindness.”

Briefly, he glanced up at Icarus; meeting his gaze for just a fleeting moment.

“..And I believe that. I do.”

Gabriel noticed Icarus’ claws twitch, and his posture stiffen slightly. A pang of fear and uncertainty pulsed through him – Did I say something wrong? – only for it to be quelled moments later as the prime soul spoke up.

“...Tell me, Gabriel–”

He began, his voice more strenuous than before. Did he sound choked up, almost..? – Gabriel couldn’t quite tell.

“–Do you believe that killing me was an act of kindness?”

There was a waver in the back of his throat; a sorrowful vulnerability to his words. 

“Was killing me an act of kindness or virtue, in your eyes?”

Gabriel felt his heart lurch; his stomach drop.

“..I-....”

He exhaled out a trembling sigh.

“...I don’t know.”

“...You don’t know.”

Icarus echoed; pausing to consider his words for a second afterwards.

“...Was it both..?”

He asked, tentatively.

And; something within Gabriel clicked.

Like magnets snapping in place, a simple realisation hit him.

“...It-.. was.”

His voice was almost breathless; revelatory. 

“...I killed you because I was afraid of what would happen if the public witnessed your immolation. The righteous part of me wanted to put a stop to that. But-... but another part of me saw you suffering. You-.. initiated suicide via one of the most painful methods possible, and I-.. I didn’t want to see you in pain anymore. To me, it-... was an act of mercy– on all fronts.”

His demeanour dimmed again; the light of the revelation fading in the wake of shame and uncertainty.

“...Though-.. none of that justifies the act itself. …I know that what I did was cruel. ..Unforgivable.”

Icarus was dead silent, dead still; seemingly at a loss for words. His claws curled into loose fists, and he exhaled; a soft huff of air that quivered as it left his throat.

“...Is that why you tried to let me kill you?”

Gabriel startled a little, his hand curling into a bemused gesture.

“...I’m sorry..?”

“When I attacked you, after you released me from those chains– you tried to goad me into killing you.”

Icarus stated bluntly.

“Did you believe that to be an act of righteousness, too? Kindness..?”

“...Oh.”

Gabriel’s hand dropped, his voice darkening at the memory. His gut churned with consternation, grabbing at the words that left his throat, trying to stop them; but he pushed them out regardless.

“...It-.. was a spur of the moment desire, I think. You were just–... so, so angry… I realised how irrational I was being, holding you there– I–.. I felt afraid– hopeless– and in that moment, I believed that if you were that upset with me, then–... there wasn’t any point in-... staying. …So, I decided that it would be justified, for you to be able to enact your revenge, by, well–... killing me. …An eye for an eye, so to speak.”

Icarus hummed a tone of indiscernible emotion; a low note that rumbled from within his chest. He took a few steps forward as he began to speak, his pace slow and careful; as if to not startle the angel.

“...–And the world goes blind.”

He uttered the proverb to completion; a pensive lilt to his voice. 

“...Revenge is not justice. Revenge is hatred. Malice.”

He stopped a few feet in front of the angel, staring down at him; his gaze so intense that Gabriel could almost physically feel it.

“I have said it before, but attacking you was spurred on from that kind of hatred. It did not solve anything. It only cut open wounds deeper.”

He raised a clawed hand, and gently tapped it against the front of Gabriel’s chestplate.

“You believe it to have been a justified act because your sense of what is kind is warped by violence and virtue.”

Gabriel’s breath was snatched away from him; A small gasp escaping his throat as Icarus splayed his hand over his chestplate, resting it over his heart. He stared up at the prime soul with awed unease.

“...There is kindness within you, Gabriel.”

Icarus said, his words softer than feathers; as gentle as a breeze.

“I’ve seen it. I can see it. It’s what drew me to you, so long ago…”

The pad of his thumb idly rubbed back and forth over the warped and tarnished metal that rested beneath it.

“...But I have since seen how misguided it is. You’ve trained it, beaten it into submission– and kept it caged behind the bars of your faith. I do believe that you understand kindness– only that your own sense of it has been corrupted.”

Icarus leaned in closer, his hand moving to Gabriel’s shoulder, resting in the gap between his neck and his pauldron – giving it a light squeeze.

“..But I can see it trying to break free of its chains, now.”

Icarus’ voice dropped to a whisper.

“There is goodness in you yet, Gabriel. Keep fighting for its liberation.”

He let go of the angel’s shoulder a moment later, stepping back away from him.

Gabriel didn’t notice that he had started crying until he tried to speak. All that came out of him was a choked off whimper of a noise.

Everything had washed over him like a steady, violent tide; overwhelming, crushing, terrifying– clarifying. It was all too much for his already rattled state of mind.

He managed a simple, heartfelt response;

“...I will.”

Icarus nodded; a barely noticeable tilt of his head. He turned around, folding his arms over his chest.

“...I know this is a lot for you. Take your time processing it. I’ll leave you alone.”

He began to pace forwards, back in the direction of his alcove.

“...Wait,”

Gabriel breathed out, his hand extending in a shaky gesture.

Icarus halted, glancing over his shoulder. 

The angel took a moment to attempt gathering his thoughts; to try and form an unbroken sentence.

After a trembling inhale, he said;

“Thank you.”

And then he paused, tensely considering what was about to come out of him, before he uttered;

“...–Icarus.”

Icarus’ breath audibly stuttered for a moment. A heated shiver prickled up his spine, like sunbeams shining through leaves, dappling upon his back.

He had almost forgotten what it was like, to hear his name spoken by another; let alone with such unbridled adoration.

He recalled when he screamed at the angel, telling him he had no right to say his name– “for he has lost the privilege of knowing it.” He realised then that Gabriel had upheld that command; not once uttering his name since. 

And the last time Gabriel had spoken his name, it had felt like hot nails of sharp anguish digging into his aching heart. It was a physical pain that he couldn’t stand; so he had put a stop to it.

But this time– this felt like warmth, gently radiating from a fireplace; like honey, ambrosial, as it rolled out of Gabriel’s mouth. It felt– right.

Icarus blinked, the action slow – the slits of the cross upon his face closing shut for a few long moments before reopening again.

“...Anytime, angel.”

The epithet ‘angel’ was not said with the place of mocking vitriol that it had originated from. There was a tenderness to its inflection, now; spoken with an almost melodic sweetness, as if it were a harmonic chord strung upon a harp.

Gabriel, for the first time since he had been cast down, felt his heart palpitate with a near-forgotten beat of elation. 

In that moment, all guilt, all shame that festered with faith at its source dissipated. That feeling of safety and care that he one felt within the other’s presence could be felt in the atmosphere; frail, strained, but felt.

Something had formed, in that moment; a broken thread not repaired, but replaced. 

The spark of a mutual affection from a long-dead fire, reignited upon fresh kindling.

The gazes of the two fallen angels remained locked for just a second more, before Icarus turned away, resuming his pace forward until he was out of sight.

Gabriel let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. There was almost an afterglow to it all, as he stood there – staring forwards at the empty space where Icarus stood moments before. 

He was still choked up certainly, though it didn’t feel like the crushing weight of sorrow was forming the lump in his throat anymore.

It was… relief– devastating relief, that he was not a lost cause; that, despite it all, he still had the capacity for goodness.

Then, something bubbled up in his chest, nearly overpowering that relief; a giddy kind of feeling, prickling at his skin like droplets of rain.

It caused Gabriel to bring a hand up to his neck, rubbing at the skin to attempt quelling the sensation.

A twinge of discomfiture was swiftly burned up by the heat of that giddiness, as the thought crossed his mind;

He let me say his name.

Chapter Text

A flash of light and light clatter of armour signified Gabriel’s arrival. Icarus’ head turned towards the sound, the feathers of his head wings bristling a little.

The angel approached with a polite wave, folding his hands behind his back after the gesture.

“Hello there, Icarus.”

He greeted, bowing his head.

Icarus looked at him for a moment, his head tilted to the side. Already sitting against the wall, he leaned forward – resting his elbow upon a propped-up knee.

“What brings you here uninvited, angel?”

There was a slight emphasis to the word ‘uninvited.’ 

Gabriel’s posture stiffened a little.

“Ah– am I interrupting anything..?”

He murmured apologetically, his gaze wandering aside to avoid eye contact.

Icarus breathed out a small, amused huff of air.

“My privacy, yes.”

He gestured towards the angel with a wave of his hand.

“–But that is nothing new. State your purpose.”

Gabriel laughed bashfully, a hand raising to the back of his neck.

“Well, I–... have a gift for you.”

His other hand snaked to his front to perform a vague gesticulation.

“...Sort of.”

One of Icarus’ eye slits narrowed, and the other widened; imitating a raised eyebrow.

“...Sort of?”

Gabriel shrugged, his pauldrons clinking lightly from the movement.

“It’s–... goodness me, I was going to leave a note about this to make things easier... I’ve been having trouble figuring out how to word this in a manner that doesn’t sound–... creepy.”

He dragged his hand down the back of his neck, letting it fall ungraciously to his side.

“..After you died, I–... Missed you. A lot. …You know this already, why am I saying this–?”

He cut into his own sentence with a self-reprimand muttered under his breath, and then centred his composure with a quick sigh.

“–And I found myself often returning to your house, to–... gather things that reminded me of you. ..To take back to my own home.”

He clasped his hands together; rubbing his palms against each other in an attempt to quell his nerves.

“...So when I was gathering commodities and such before being condemned, I simply–... ended up taking many of your belongings with me– as they were in my posession.”

He cleared his throat, falling silent for a moment to allow Icarus to respond. When Icarus didn’t, he spoke up again suddenly – his voice now quickened in pace, twinged with embarrassment;

“And I, uhm– I thought, well, I should–... probably return those.”

He gestured awkwardly towards Icarus as he stammered.

“–If that is… alright.”

Icarus blinked a few times, and then replied with a simple;

“...Yeah. Sure.”

He shrugged, and leaned back again – his shoulders slumping as they pressed against the wall.

Gabriel’s head tilted to the side. Slowly.

“...Oh..?”

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment.

“You’re not-.. You don’t think it’s strange that I-...?”

The angel laughed nervously again instead of finishing his sentence – the sound pathetic, meek. 

“No.”

Icarus replied bluntly.

“You were grieving. That is a normal coping mechanism for such a thing.”

Gabriel’s hands twitched.

“I-... suppose so, yes.”

He folded his arms across his chest to try and regain some semblance of a put-together demeanour.

“I should-... go and gather all of your things, then.”

He attempted to work a cheerful lilt into his voice, but it only served to make his voice crack awkwardly.

Icarus nodded firmly, just barely stifling the beginnings of an amused chuckle.

Why so nervous, angel?

He thought to himself, watching as Gabriel hastily teleported away to avoid embarrassing himself any further.

Is the concept of experiencing grief too human for you to bear?

He looked down at the ground idly, a thoughtful hum rumbling from his throat.

-Or am I the issue? Do I still strike fear into your heart?

The muscles where the eyebrows would be on one’s face tensed upon his; creasing the skin slightly, as if he were frowning.

…No matter.

I am eager to see what possessions of mine you deemed important enough to bring with you.

It took Gabriel a few trips to bring everything down – his arms were only so big, and his physical strength so extensive. 

Various conglomerates of objects bundled within dusty sheets were strewn about a corner of the alcove, piled up against a wall. Icarus watched intently from behind the angel, observing over his shoulder as he carefully tossed the last bundle amongst the rest.

There were only a few bundles, five to be exact, and none of particularly substantial size– but it was certainly a lot considering Gabriel’s circumstances.

“...How many of my damned belongings did you take..?”

Icarus muttered, thinking aloud. He should have been surprised by this turnout, yet – he wasn’t. He did not know why; perhaps his intuition had simply preemptively assumed it would be rather in-character for the angel.

Gabriel drawled out an ‘ehhh,’ sort of noise, placing his hands upon his hips and hanging his head a little.

“..Look- this sight alone is already quite humiliating for me,” He nodded towards the pile of things, “I’d rather not-... discuss it further.”

Icarus tilted his gaze downwards, focusing it on the back of the angel’s helmet.

“There’s missing somebody, and then there’s obsession, Gabriel.” 

There was a teasing edge to his voice, one that made Gabriel’s shoulders tense like a dog with raised hackles.

The angel sputtered for a moment before grasping coherent sentence structure.

“I’m– It’s not– I wasn’t– Let’s just– let’s just start looking through all of this, alright?”

He barked, somewhat harshly; though his words were sharpened with a sense of fluster rather than genuine frustration.

Icarus huffed out a ‘hmph.’

“Very well.”

He took a step forward, pausing for a moment as the thought arose;

He did not deny the accusation of obsession, did he?

-Before shrugging it off, joining Gabriel at his side.

The angel unfurled one of the bundles, and began trifling through it with one hand, gesturing with the other for Icarus to come and look closer. The prime soul obliged, standing behind the angel and leaning down – peering over his helmet.

“Ah, yes– this is mostly literature of yours.”

Gabriel commented, pulling out a book and handing it to Icarus over his shoulder. The prime soul turned the untitled book within his hands, his eye slits narrowing as he picked through his memory for recognition.

“This is-... my bird watching journal..?”

He murmured, a questionable lilt to the end of the sentence; as if he were unsure of that conclusion himself. He flicked open the cover to confirm his suspicions.

“...Ah. So it is.”

Gabriel nodded, briefly glancing behind himself at the prime soul.

“I suppose it’s a little redundant to return that one to you at this point, considering your current-... place of residence.”

He gesticulated around at the walls with a swing of his arms.

“Not quite sure you’ll be able to find any birds down here, I’m afraid.”

He laughed a little, the sound reluctant in its release, before turning his attention back towards where his hands were.

Icarus hummed a note of amusement.

“I believe one does visit me every so often.”

He tapped the tip of his claw against the back of Gabriel’s helmet for emphasis, causing the angel’s breath to catch in his throat for a moment.

“-Though I suppose that is not substantial enough for an entry, no.”

Another laugh escaped Gabriel- this one a bit more breathless than the last.

“Yes, well– it’s something, at the very least.”

He held a handful of smaller, thinner books over his shoulder for Icarus to take. The prime soul placed the journal down at his side in favour of taking the new offering.

“Hm… poetry?”

Icarus mused, flicking through the covers and first few pages of each book. Collections of poems and drabbles, from various eras and authors.

“I didn’t take you as the poetic type.”

Gabriel scoffed lightly in response to the thinly-veiled sarcasm held within the prime soul’s tone.

“Hmph- it’s like you barely know me.”

He pouted, the heavy air of dramatism to his voice eliciting a ‘tsch’ from Icarus.

“Did you enjoy them, at least?”

Icarus queried, his tone dropping back into sincerity.

“The Iliad has always been a favourite of mine.”

“Oh yes- greatly so.”

Gabriel nodded enthusiastically.

“I have utterly vandalised those pages with overuse.”

“Yes- I can see that.”

Icarus commented, noting the abundance of dog-eared pages and scribbled annotations upon the pages of poetry.

“You’ve torn the poor things asunder.”

Gabriel shrugged.

“What can I say? You have a very good taste in poetry. I simply cannot help myself when it comes to expressing my feelings on such astounding literature.”

Another book was handed to Icarus, and the back and forth continued. The air around them gradually became almost-... lighthearted – creating a small bubble of warmth within the crushing dread of Violence’s atmosphere.

Twinges of instinctual uncertainty did prickle at Icarus’ subconscious, every once in a while – though he found himself unable to focus on it enough to allow that feeling to settle in place. 

He was enjoying the moment too much to care about such concerns.

Another bundle was opened and sorted through, and then another. Haphazard piles of Icarus’ belongings were beginning to form around them.

Gabriel was kneeled down, now – Icarus sitting cross-legged beside him, his chin propped upon his hand.

“Too heavy?”

Icarus teased lightly, watching Gabriel repeatedly trying and repeatedly failing to pull a somewhat large object out from the bundle.

“-No,”

Gabriel huffed defiantly, a strain to his voice.

“It’s just– caught on something–”

After another moment of struggle, he managed to pull the object out.

“Hah- there we go.”

He handed over a woven throw blanket to the prime soul with a pointed satisfaction.

“Oh- this old thing. Had it draped over my lounge chair, if I recall."

Icarus said, carefully taking the blanket into his arms.

“Why’d you bother taking it? I can’t imagine you’d be using it for means of sleep.”

Gabriel placed a hand to his chest in mock offence.

“Well– Pardon me for wanting to retain a bit of comfort down here. I prefer to rest upon a plush surface.”

Icarus scoffed.

“You? Choosing comfort over practicality? I can barely fathom such a thing.”

Gabriel’s head snapped to look at Icarus; he could feel the indignant glare of the angel through the veil of his helmet.

“Is it so wrong to believe comfort is practical?”

He turned his head away, his chin held high in an exaggerated haughty display.

“Your standards are unbelievable, Icarus.”

Icarus snorted.

“Whatever you say, angel.”

He let the blanket drop into his lap, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Gabriel resume his rummaging.

“Oh– here’s this.”

Gabriel swivelled around with a sizable object in his arms, handing it off to Icarus with a sudden bout of haste before turning back around.

“I’m unsure if you still partake in sleep, but if you do, this and the blanket should make it just a tad more comfortable.”

Icarus recoiled a bit when the object was thrust into his grasp, and then he squinted, realising what it was; when the soft, familiar fabric made contact with the skin of his arms.

“...You took one of my pillows?”

Gabriel pretended not to hear him. He quickly pulled out something else.

“Aha- this is where all that clinking was coming from.”

He declared, before pulling out a handful of various blacksmithing tools.

“I didn’t know which ones would be useful, so I grabbed, well, all of them.”

“All of them are useful,”

Icarus chided, setting the pillow aside before grabbing the tools to observe their state.

“But more importantly– what did you think you were going to do with tools that I know you don’t know how to use properly?”

Gabriel huffed.

“I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally after I had the light torn from me.”

He grumbled, squeezing the edge of the fabric making up the bundle for a moment.

“My thought process was that I could use it to fix my armour if it ever got damaged. But, as you have pointed out- I do not know how to use these tools. …Or fix armour.”

Icarus hummed a soft note of laughter– the sound more thoughtful than humorous.

“Did you at least take one of my blacksmithing handbooks?”

Gabriel’s answer was a pensive ‘mmmm…’

“You’re useless.”

Icarus scoffed; his words lighthearted.

“I’d offer to issue repairs myself, now that I have these,” He jostled the tools within his grasp, “but-...”

His other hand reached out to place upon the side of Gabriel’s chestplate, the pad of his thumb running over the warped and torn metal; damage courtesy of his own claws.

“I’d need a forge to work with damage this-.. extensive.”

His voice dropped an octave, becoming something more regretful. Perhaps even apologetic, if one were to listen carefully.

“...I ruined your armour.”

Gabriel let out a sigh, his gaze tilting to look at Icarus’ hand.

“...It’s-... It’s alright. I’ve come to terms with the state of it.”

Icarus’ eye slits narrowed.

“-Which I’m sure was very easy for you.”

He drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone almost palpably. Both he and Gabriel knew well of the times the angel had come to him with a miniscule dent or scratch in his armour, acting like it was the end of the world.

“Besides that– it’s not doing what it’s supposed to in its current miserable state.”

He tapped the claw of his thumb against the metal.

“It’s not protecting you.”

Gabriel’s helmet tilted upwards to look at Icarus’ face with a movement sharp, yet subtle.

“...You really care about that?”

He murmured; a nearly disbelieved lilt to his voice.

"It's-... not a big issue, I can still heal quickly..."

“I know."

Icarus replied without a beat of hesitation, his head wings folding inwards, closer to his cheeks.

“I’ve seen you with injuries that the usual state of your armour would have prevented. Yes, you still heal with remarkable speed- but I would prefer if you did not have unnecessary injuries to heal in the first place.”

His hand dropped away from the angel’s chestplate.

“Either you’re going to have to be far more careful with yourself, or I’m going to make you find me a forge and drag it down here.”

Gabriel seemed speechless for a moment, though he eventually responded with a small laugh – filled with an emotion that Icarus was unable to discern.

“..I am–... not adverse to either option.”

Icarus nodded firmly.

“Good. The last thing I want to hear is you whining about another easily preventable injury.”

His voice regained its teasing undertones, attempting to lighten the mood once more.

Gabriel snickered, the effort clearly working on him.

“Oh, I’m sorry– forgive me for being such a poor, defenceless little angel.”

He retorted, exaggerating his words and movements; like a dog bowing to show that it is playing.

“It’s almost like I’m often in an environment that is actively trying to kill me.”

“Nobody’s forcing you to stay in Violence at the frequency that you do, Gabriel. You have six other much less dangerous options to choose from to spend your time in.”

Icarus continued to tease, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, yes– because a damp shack in the bowels of Wrath that smells of mold and rotting wood sounds plenty appealing as a place of rest.”

Gabriel huffed, unable to hide the sound of a smile from his voice.

“Hm… Perhaps a stone-cold, bloodstained chapel in Heresy, then?”

Icarus played along, his expression narrowing slightly.

“Or maybe a high-rise apartment in Lust? I heard the howling winds there are lovely this time of year.”

Gabriel snickered – giggled, almost – quaintly holding a hand to the front of his helmet in an attempt to muffle the sound.

“Tempting...”

He replied, his tone of mock consideration.

“But I think I am quite content with the amount of time I spent here, thank you.”

The edge of Icarus’ eye slits creased a little, their curve upturned; properties of an expression that would befit a smile, if he had a mouth.

He had almost forgotten what it had felt like, to effortlessly bounce off of Gabriel’s energy like this. Hearing the angel’s harmonic laughter, witnessing his gratuitous displays of frivolity, the artful whimsy of his vernacular – it bloomed a subtle warmth within the core of his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He spoke with warmth, his voice almost a purr;

“I’m glad that you think so.”

The heightened energy of the room simmered down as the two sorted through the remainder of the bundle languidly; the air never becoming uncomfortable or stagnant, the room simply growing more calm as the time passed.

As Gabriel discarded the now empty sheet aside, he turned to the last bundle in front of them. It was the least bulbous, the shape of its contents entirely obscured by the folds of the sheet encompassing it.

Gabriel hesitated to reach for it.

“What’s with the hold up?”

Icarus asked, immediately taking notice of the angel’s apprehension.

Gabriel’s hand curled back away from his already reluctant reach, and he turned to face Icarus – fully.

“...I saved this one for last,”

He began slowly, methodically.

“–And I’m sure you’ll know why, in just a moment.”

Icarus watched the angel curiously as he grabbed a handful of the fabric and dragged it towards himself, the movement meticulous; wary, almost.

Gabriel placed the bundle upon his lap, tapping his fingers against it – his posture tense with nerves.

“...Do you mind–... closing your eyes..?”

He asked, gently so – his tone almost innocent in its simple request.

“Or–.. close whatever you have going on there, rather.”

He laughed a little, gesturing vaguely to Icarus’ face.

“..I want this to be a surprise.”

Icarus’ eye slits narrowed with suspicion.

“..Why…?”

He inquired, the end of the word dragging out for a moment. He didn’t sound adverse to the request – just a bit bewildered.

“You’ll see.”

Gabriel replied hurriedly – as if he could barely wait to reveal whatever he was hiding within that fabric.

“Just– could you? Please?”

Icarus recognised that tone of voice – pathetic and pitiable, like a spoiled puppy whining for attention. Gabriel used to bring it out occasionally back in Heaven, when the angel wanted something inconsequential from him; and, to the prime soul’s dismay, after all this time – it still worked on him.

With a twitch of a head wing and a sigh of feigned exasperation, he said;

“..Alright.”

Gabriel clasped his hands together in a joyful manner.

“Most excellent.”

His voice piqued with barely contained excitement. 

“Go ahead, then– I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer.”

Though he did let out an indignant grumble, Icarus quickly obliged; squeezing his eye slits shut, blackening his vision. 

For extra measure – mostly to reassure Gabriel rather than himself – he shifted his head wings in front of his face, folding them over his field of vision.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Gabriel replied, a heavy note of eager satisfaction to his tone.

“Now– hold out your hands for me.”

Icarus followed the instruction promptly, extending his hands before himself, palms facing upwards.

“Perfect.”

He heard Gabriel mumble, followed by the shifting of fabric, and then– a few light clinks of metal.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Icarus groaned, in a dramatised tone conveying a ‘get it over and done with’ attitude.

Gabriel laughed – almost giddily so.

“Alright, alright– here you are.”

–And a hefty weight was gently rested upon the prime soul’s outstretched hands.

Icarus instinctively went to curl his fingers around the object to assess it without the aid of vision, but was quickly stopped by Gabriel’s hand shooting to withhold one of his own.

“Ah– careful. It’s sharp on that end.”

The angel warned, withdrawing his hand a moment later.

Icarus nodded his thanks, and proceeded to simply run the pad of his thumb across the surface of the object instead of squeezing it.

It was steel, certainly – the texture of it marred with small nicks and impurities – and carven with intricate, swirling patterning that danced underneath his touch.

It felt–... familiar.

His other hand – rested on the, presumably, unsharp end of the object – squeezed down around it. His fingers were met with the feel of leather, well-bound, yet thoroughly worn. There were grooves within its shape, as if it were moulded to fit the shape of one’s clenched hand–

–Realisation hit Icarus with the force of a lightning strike. He recoiled and dropped the object, nearly throwing it in his shock.

Gabriel yelped in surprise, his hands shooting up to hold against his own chest.

“Icarus-?!”

He exclaimed, his voice startled.

“Are you alright??”

Icarus didn’t respond. His body was frozen in place, his gaze locked onto the sight before him.

Upon the floor, its silver shine gleaming under the dim red light of the alcove, magnificent winged decals splayed upon the tiled floor;

Rhapsody.

Gabriel’s voice was much quieter when he next spoke up.

“...Icarus?”

He asked warily, as if attempting to coax a response from a frightened animal.

By all means, Icarus looked the part; his eye slits widened, musculature taut, chest heaving with frantic breaths, head wings flared and their feathers bristling–

A reaction this extreme was beyond mere surprise.

Finally, a tense moment later, Icarus moved; his hand raising in front of him. He stared down at it with an expression of what could only be described as abject horror– as if the appendage attached to his very arm were not his own. Slowly, his gaze then shifted back to his blade. 

When he spoke, His voice was but a shadow of itself mere moments ago, cracking and breaking at the seams as he uttered the words;

“...It-.. It doesn’t fit in my hands anymore.”

A rapidly formed lump in Gabriel’s throat choked his breath away for a moment.

With every moment his gaze lingered upon Icarus’ face, it added another point of tension to the sensation that felt as if his heart was being pulled apart.

Icarus was afraid. He was terrified. His claws trembled, his breathing intensifying almost into hyperventilation. His impossibly acute fortitude; shattered like glass upon experiencing the sensation of his dearly beloved blade no longer fitting within his hold.

A pit in Gabriel’s chest burned with a painful sympathy, an overwhelming harrow– seeing the fear in the prime soul’s expression.

That fear almost bled into him, too, with its sheer potency.

–But something prevented it from doing so.

Acting on a sudden bout of instinct, Gabriel reached out and grabbed one of Icarus’ hands – clasping it within both of his own.

The prime soul’s head snapped towards him, his breath hitching with a gasp.

Gabriel steeled himself before speaking – taking in and letting out a quick, but deep, breath of air.

“...It’s alright.”

Gabriel said, his voice a gentle murmur; attempting to calm Icarus just enough for him to focus.

When the prime soul didn't pull from his grasp, Gabriel began to carefully pry open his hand – splaying out his trembling digits. 

Icarus allowed the angel to do so, unable to bring himself to react. He simply watched silently, his gaze still wide with a blazing and primal uncertainty.

Gabriel then reached down to Rhapsody, and grabbed it by the hilt – lifting it up, and placing it back upon Icarus’ hand.

“Please–... Don’t fret.”

The angel said, a near-maternal trace to his softspoken voice. 

He then closed his hands over Icarus’, curling his fingers back inwards – back over the hold of Rhapsody.

He felt the prime soul’s fingers twitch, as if instinctively repulsed by the sensation – but he did not allow them to retreat. He held them firmly down within his own grasp, keeping Icarus’ hand upon Rhapsody's hilt.

“...I don’t think that it doesn’t fit your hands anymore.”

He began carefully – his thumb absentmindedly swiping across the back of Icarus’ hand in a soothing motion.

“Rhapsody just simply has to-... reacquaint itself with them.”

There was palpable hope, to his tone; warmed by a reassuring smile in his voice.

“It hasn’t forgotten you.”

He watched as Icarus’ shoulders slacked, a significant weight of tension alleviated from him. His head wings folded flush against his neck, his head tilting downwards to look at their hands – to look at Rhapsody.

The moment lingered in silence for a small eternity, until Icarus spoke; swallowing before he choked out the words.

“..Gabriel, I-...”

His breathing remained heavy, but had slowed a significant degree, now.

“...Those words-.. mean a lot-.. to me.”

Gabriel nodded once, giving Icarus’ hand a gentle squeeze.

“..I’m glad that they ring true.”

Cautiously, he released his hold – hovering nearby for a moment, to make sure Icarus’ hold on Rhapsody stayed firm. 

It did. It even tightened, without the angel's to support his.

Icarus’ other hand raised to cusp the blade of Rhapsody, running up its length with a slow movement of reverence.

“...Rhapsody. Dear friend..”

The prime soul murmured under his breath, leaning down to press his forehead against the flat of its blade.

“....I have missed you.”

Bright hot endearment burst within Gabriel’s heart, swiftly repairing its tears and breaks from within. He placed a hand over his chest instinctively – as if cradling the sensation, fuelling its kindling. 

“..I believe it has missed you, as well.”

Gabriel added after a moment, bowing his head in Rhapsody’s direction.

“...I am not one to anthropomorphise,” He lied, “but I could almost feel its dejection, without you there to wield it.”

Icarus raised his head away from Rhapsody to look at Gabriel, though kept his head hung low and close to the blade; as if he were afraid of straying too far from it, lest he lose it again.

“..Did-... Justice and Splendour… keep it company, at least..?”

He struggled to get his words out, his voice still weakened in the aftershock of panic – though a touch of lighthearted nature returned to his tone at its core.

Gabriel breathed out a sound somewhere between a sign and a laugh.

“Of course they did. What kind of weapon connoisseur would I be if I let it rot away all by its lonesome..?”

Icarus let out a light, breathy laugh of his own. The sense of panic seemed to be subsiding rapidly within him, being replaced instead by a near-palpable aura of overwhelming relief.

“...Of course, of course..”

He murmured, glancing between Gabriel and Rhapsody for a moment as if contemplating something – then reaching out, and placing a still-shaky hand upon the angel's knee.

“...Thank you.”

He said, with utmost sincerity.

“-for taking care of her.”

Gabriel almost visibly brightened; the energy pouring off of him positively radiant.

The way Icarus uttered those words – the subtle switch of his language, referring to Rhapsody as more than just an object, more than an ‘it’ – there was a certain kind of vulnerability in that revelation, sparking a sense of endearment that made his heart soar. He knew well that Icarus cared for his blade deeply, but seeing him consider it as a friend– 

The angel sucked in a sharp breath to calm his giddy spiralling of thought. 

Gabriel placed his hand atop Icarus’, his fingertips gliding over the knuckles of his claws.

Their gazes remained interlocked, each warm and inviting; one teeming with affection, the other with gratitude.

Gabriel’s other hand reached to place atop Rhapsody, giving the flat of the blade a gentle pat as he responded;

“...It was an honour to keep her safe for you.”

Chapter Text

SCANNING TEXT...

Of all the kings (the god's distinguish'd care)

To power superior none such hatred bear:

Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,

And wars and horrors are thy savage joy,

If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd;

For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.

Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away;

Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway;

I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate

Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate.

REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT

“...You cannot be serious.”

Icarus drawled, his voice a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.

“How did you even manage–...”

His words died in his throat as he continued to stare, his head wings twitching and eye slits narrowed.

Gabriel stood before him, comically dirtied– his gauntlets coated in soot, his already dishevelled torso armour scuffed beyond belief. He made a ‘ta-da!’ gesture towards the fruits of his labour; the disassembled – yet unmistakable to the prime soul – components of a blacksmith’s forge.

“I did promise you this.”

He declared proudly, planting his hands upon his hips.

Icarus blinked a few times.

“..Where the Hell did you find all of this?”

He knelt down, running a hand over the pile of furnace bricks strewn before him.

“Limbo is fantastic for resources if you know where to look.”

Gabriel replied, almost smugly so– tilting his helmet to the side.

“Resources.”

Icarus echoed with a derisive air to his tone, his gaze turning back to Gabriel.

“–You’ve brought me a fucking anvil.”

He gesticulated towards the anvil in question.

Gabriel stifled a giggle.

“Well– what’s a forge without an anvil?”

He shrugged with exaggerated and feigned innocence.