Near the top. That made things ... difficult, considering they were at the bottom.
"How fast can you fly?" Gabriel asked with an edge of desperateness, because even though he was assuming Skul's world was closer to this one than his had been, the Archangel still didn't know. He simply could not afford to waste his strength, let alone get in a battle--a battle with these, of all beings!
A battle he wasn't going to be able to avoid, it seemed. With a ripple of air and a vibration in the metaphysical, a Faceless One rolled into the alleyway. A Faceless One.
A Fallen Angel.
Insane. Torn apart. Destroyed, but not enough, by the ocean between realities. The faithful always had wondered just where those demons had gone, the ones too powerful for Lucifer to trust, the ones with whom he'd warred--the princes of nations. The princes of Hell. Had it been deliberate, on their part? On Lucifer's? Had Lucifer known all along their universe was bounded by others?
A question Gabriel couldn't answer in the face of the one before him.
Belphegor. Unrecognising. A shriek of pain and insanity.
Gabriel whirled and swallowed his instinctive spell to protect his voice for the universe-crossing, his automatic cry of loss and anguish at the sight of what had once been one of his siblings. Instead the Archangel's wings shot out and beat hard, kicking up a metaphysical storm that crossed into the physical. The air shrieked down the alley, the walls shuddered and cracked, and the fragmented thing was swept away. (A pang rang through Gabe's wings, but in the moment and with the distraction of the whispers, the knowledge of who this was, the Archangel hardly noticed.)
But it was only the first, and the Fallen--the Faceless Ones--knew where they were. The whispers intensified.
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"How fast can you fly?" Gabriel asked with an edge of desperateness, because even though he was assuming Skul's world was closer to this one than his had been, the Archangel still didn't know. He simply could not afford to waste his strength, let alone get in a battle--a battle with these, of all beings!
A battle he wasn't going to be able to avoid, it seemed. With a ripple of air and a vibration in the metaphysical, a Faceless One rolled into the alleyway. A Faceless One.
A Fallen Angel.
Insane. Torn apart. Destroyed, but not enough, by the ocean between realities. The faithful always had wondered just where those demons had gone, the ones too powerful for Lucifer to trust, the ones with whom he'd warred--the princes of nations. The princes of Hell. Had it been deliberate, on their part? On Lucifer's? Had Lucifer known all along their universe was bounded by others?
A question Gabriel couldn't answer in the face of the one before him.
Belphegor. Unrecognising. A shriek of pain and insanity.
Gabriel whirled and swallowed his instinctive spell to protect his voice for the universe-crossing, his automatic cry of loss and anguish at the sight of what had once been one of his siblings. Instead the Archangel's wings shot out and beat hard, kicking up a metaphysical storm that crossed into the physical. The air shrieked down the alley, the walls shuddered and cracked, and the fragmented thing was swept away. (A pang rang through Gabe's wings, but in the moment and with the distraction of the whispers, the knowledge of who this was, the Archangel hardly noticed.)
But it was only the first, and the Fallen--the Faceless Ones--knew where they were. The whispers intensified.
"Go!" Gabriel cried. "Hurry!"