Skulduggery made a noise somewhere between offense and assent, grudgingly submitting to the order not to move his jaw. He was never an idiot. Occasionally reckless, misled, or mistaken - other times downright dangerous - but never an idiot. He would, however, do his utmost best to make sure nothing punched off the poultice in the next hour. He may have deserved the pain that came along with the break, but that didn't mean he wanted to endure it any longer than necessary.
Skulduggery managed to avoid any physical fights for the rest of their conversation, although his jaw did move a fraction of an inch when he heard that Gabe's wounds hadn't even begun to heal. That was... worrying, to say the least. Had an Archangel ever been injured before? Were they even capable of healing without proper assistance? No offense meant to the Professor, but this was hardly his area of expertise. Maybe Gabe simply wouldn't heal, not until either Raphael arrived or... well. God intervened.
Actually, now that Skulduggery was thinking about it, where was God in all this? Even ignoring the omnipotent and omniscient aspects of His existence, Skulduggery found it difficult to believe that He would really leave one of His sons out in the cold without at least keeping a close eye on things. And if that was the case, why hadn't He helped? Was He here now?
... Had He been in the church?
No. Skulduggery immediately slammed down that train of thought, crashed it, and allowed it to drift away. He'd been through enough crises of faith since reclaiming himself during the war - just because he'd suddenly received the most convincing proof of the man's existence he would ever receive, it didn't mean he could torture himself all over again. Or allow himself the slightest modicum of hope.
~~
Saint Gabriel's Master.
China almost laughed. She was glad she didn't. The laugh would have sounded a little too bitter, a little too psychotic. Even in her current state, China still had standards. That was good to know.
But He was, wasn't He? Gabriel's Master. Gabriel was His creation. Technically, they all were, but the Archangel Gabriel had always been the messenger, every time he was mentioned in a piece of religious script - the connection between God and angel, God and man. God's right-hand man. God's companion.
Saint Gabriel's Master. China had effectively just tried to take that position for herself.
Why, she wondered numbly, am I still alive?
Without the strength to speak, she simply nodded. Wondered if she should feel grateful for all of the second chances she seemed to be receiving. Couldn't come to a decision, and decided on feeling nothing instead. It felt safer. 'Safe' wasn't something China had thought much about before; now it was everything. It was the only way she could protect herself.
no subject
Skulduggery managed to avoid any physical fights for the rest of their conversation, although his jaw did move a fraction of an inch when he heard that Gabe's wounds hadn't even begun to heal. That was... worrying, to say the least. Had an Archangel ever been injured before? Were they even capable of healing without proper assistance? No offense meant to the Professor, but this was hardly his area of expertise. Maybe Gabe simply wouldn't heal, not until either Raphael arrived or... well. God intervened.
Actually, now that Skulduggery was thinking about it, where was God in all this? Even ignoring the omnipotent and omniscient aspects of His existence, Skulduggery found it difficult to believe that He would really leave one of His sons out in the cold without at least keeping a close eye on things. And if that was the case, why hadn't He helped? Was He here now?
... Had He been in the church?
No. Skulduggery immediately slammed down that train of thought, crashed it, and allowed it to drift away. He'd been through enough crises of faith since reclaiming himself during the war - just because he'd suddenly received the most convincing proof of the man's existence he would ever receive, it didn't mean he could torture himself all over again. Or allow himself the slightest modicum of hope.
~~
Saint Gabriel's Master.
China almost laughed. She was glad she didn't. The laugh would have sounded a little too bitter, a little too psychotic. Even in her current state, China still had standards. That was good to know.
But He was, wasn't He? Gabriel's Master. Gabriel was His creation. Technically, they all were, but the Archangel Gabriel had always been the messenger, every time he was mentioned in a piece of religious script - the connection between God and angel, God and man. God's right-hand man. God's companion.
Saint Gabriel's Master. China had effectively just tried to take that position for herself.
Why, she wondered numbly, am I still alive?
Without the strength to speak, she simply nodded. Wondered if she should feel grateful for all of the second chances she seemed to be receiving. Couldn't come to a decision, and decided on feeling nothing instead. It felt safer. 'Safe' wasn't something China had thought much about before; now it was everything. It was the only way she could protect herself.