"I've seen 'em run in packs," Gabe said palely, staring through the doorway. Now the magic of the entrance wards was out of the way and he knew what to listen for, he could already hear the residual resonance of that insane shriek. Vampires were hardly even sentient anymore. "But only the way sharks run in packs until there's blood in the water."
Which was to say, not exactly running in packs and more like just tolerating each other until there was prey to be had.
Gabriel didn't want to step through that door. The Faceless Ones's whispers had been awful, awful in a personal way--twisted and broken and insane. But at the same time they weren't exactly souls; they were darkness, their choices informing their nature in a way only angels suffered. There was a twisted quality to broken souls that made their sounds worse, because Gabe knew they weren't as they should be. Because, in some fashion, the Faceless Ones were true to those natures--as dark as that nature was. So too were damned souls, true to the choices they had made.
Not so with necromancy. Not so with vampires.
He smiled weakly. "Kinda wishing it was, t'be honest." The Archangel took a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath to brace himself and then stepped forward through the door, his body noticeably tense. He glanced toward Skul, trying to summon some humour into his expression. "Wonder if they have any more scotch in the waitin' room."
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Which was to say, not exactly running in packs and more like just tolerating each other until there was prey to be had.
Gabriel didn't want to step through that door. The Faceless Ones's whispers had been awful, awful in a personal way--twisted and broken and insane. But at the same time they weren't exactly souls; they were darkness, their choices informing their nature in a way only angels suffered. There was a twisted quality to broken souls that made their sounds worse, because Gabe knew they weren't as they should be. Because, in some fashion, the Faceless Ones were true to those natures--as dark as that nature was. So too were damned souls, true to the choices they had made.
Not so with necromancy. Not so with vampires.
He smiled weakly. "Kinda wishing it was, t'be honest." The Archangel took a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath to brace himself and then stepped forward through the door, his body noticeably tense. He glanced toward Skul, trying to summon some humour into his expression. "Wonder if they have any more scotch in the waitin' room."