There. Gabriel didn't let his relief show, didn't let anything show but his warm comfort, his reassurance, his uncondemning presence. For these moments the Archangel almost wasn't a being so much as a clear presence, reflecting love and hope and steadiness, a presence of clarity which dissipated Skulduggery's fury.
The Archangel didn't keep taking it. He let the detective fill up again, be himself, and yet remained--crystalline and radiant and steadfast. He didn't speak, or move, or do anything at all until Skulduggery had rebuilt himself and spoken first.
"I know, dear one," Gabriel murmured, his true voice filled with that subtle resonance that personified his gentleness and encouragement. The Archangel drew Skulduggery into his arms and kissed his forehead, holding the detective close. His wings shifted and then quivered with the lash of pain Gabriel was finally able to register, but the Archangel diffused that too. Even still, the motion was ponderous and trembling as his wings came forward with a rustle, wrapping around Skulduggery in an extra embrace. "I know."
He did. He could feel the guilt, the despair, the wish of some kind of ending Skulduggery felt he deserved. Gabriel's heart ached with the feel of it, because of how the detective had to suffer with his self-hatred until he would finally be ready to let it go.
Skulduggery secure in his arms, Gabe extended his awareness to the rest of the church. Its walls were near-glowing, the remains of the table-altar polished and scented with its timber. Everywhere in the room, the Archangel's presence drew out the highlights, expunged the taints, sanctifying this church of darkness into something else.
Gabe was aware of Crux cowering in a corner, the last shreds of his mind snapped and body catatonic. There was no life left for him; Gabriel would release him into whatever awaited him afterward just as soon as he could.
For now ...
"China." The Archangel's voice was soft, yet audible to all the corners of the room. "China Sorrows, swear on your name--your taken name will do--that you will speak of this to no one who was not present, before no one who was not present, or at need without the leave of Skulduggery Pleasant, for as long as you shall live, whether a life of breath or a life of death."
His tones rose and fell with the cadence of binding magic, a demand for the acknowledgement of repetition. "Do you so swear, China Sorrows?"
no subject
The Archangel didn't keep taking it. He let the detective fill up again, be himself, and yet remained--crystalline and radiant and steadfast. He didn't speak, or move, or do anything at all until Skulduggery had rebuilt himself and spoken first.
"I know, dear one," Gabriel murmured, his true voice filled with that subtle resonance that personified his gentleness and encouragement. The Archangel drew Skulduggery into his arms and kissed his forehead, holding the detective close. His wings shifted and then quivered with the lash of pain Gabriel was finally able to register, but the Archangel diffused that too. Even still, the motion was ponderous and trembling as his wings came forward with a rustle, wrapping around Skulduggery in an extra embrace. "I know."
He did. He could feel the guilt, the despair, the wish of some kind of ending Skulduggery felt he deserved. Gabriel's heart ached with the feel of it, because of how the detective had to suffer with his self-hatred until he would finally be ready to let it go.
Skulduggery secure in his arms, Gabe extended his awareness to the rest of the church. Its walls were near-glowing, the remains of the table-altar polished and scented with its timber. Everywhere in the room, the Archangel's presence drew out the highlights, expunged the taints, sanctifying this church of darkness into something else.
Gabe was aware of Crux cowering in a corner, the last shreds of his mind snapped and body catatonic. There was no life left for him; Gabriel would release him into whatever awaited him afterward just as soon as he could.
For now ...
"China." The Archangel's voice was soft, yet audible to all the corners of the room. "China Sorrows, swear on your name--your taken name will do--that you will speak of this to no one who was not present, before no one who was not present, or at need without the leave of Skulduggery Pleasant, for as long as you shall live, whether a life of breath or a life of death."
His tones rose and fell with the cadence of binding magic, a demand for the acknowledgement of repetition. "Do you so swear, China Sorrows?"