"Only every single day," Gabriel said quietly and with a strange kind of fierce pride. The pride of a guardian, of a carer, of someone who saw people who shouldn't need to fight and did because they could. "Not that you'd see much grace in that, 'course," he added a moment later with a roll of his eyes. "Fair few. Here an' there. Less than there was."
Because the bloodlines had died out, and magic and power had become a thing of evil, and his siblings' children had been hunted.
None of it was a lie. Not really. Even though the universe the Faceless Ones had actually been in had stood no chance of defeating angels--not those angels, and not as cohesive as they had made themselves. Gabriel shifted a little and winced at the prod at his back, just between his shoulder-blade; Sanguine's magic in the stone made his wings tingle in a not-quite throb. This was not even remotely comfortable.
~~~
When Father O'Reilly had said nothing for some moments, Solomon had returned his gaze to the altar, neither speaking not moving. He avoided looking at the crucifix, avoided thinking about what it meant. Too much thinking in less than a day. Instead he found himself comparing the altar to the ones in the Templer--and was glad for the distraction.
Maybe later, he'd be able to compare the two faiths again. The difference was that this time it would be Necromancy found to be the lesser.
It still took a moment for him to drag his thoughts from where they'd been, a moment to turn and look at O'Reilly. "I'm afraid," he said slowly, "you take me for a better man than I am. We in the Temple aren't--weren't--concerned with good and evil. Our philosophy is what it was, and with it, we planned to save the world ... most of it. It isn't a matter of should. What I did is incompatible with who your God is, and I would be a fool to deny that in the face of evidence."
no subject
Because the bloodlines had died out, and magic and power had become a thing of evil, and his siblings' children had been hunted.
None of it was a lie. Not really. Even though the universe the Faceless Ones had actually been in had stood no chance of defeating angels--not those angels, and not as cohesive as they had made themselves. Gabriel shifted a little and winced at the prod at his back, just between his shoulder-blade; Sanguine's magic in the stone made his wings tingle in a not-quite throb. This was not even remotely comfortable.
~~~
When Father O'Reilly had said nothing for some moments, Solomon had returned his gaze to the altar, neither speaking not moving. He avoided looking at the crucifix, avoided thinking about what it meant. Too much thinking in less than a day. Instead he found himself comparing the altar to the ones in the Templer--and was glad for the distraction.
Maybe later, he'd be able to compare the two faiths again. The difference was that this time it would be Necromancy found to be the lesser.
It still took a moment for him to drag his thoughts from where they'd been, a moment to turn and look at O'Reilly. "I'm afraid," he said slowly, "you take me for a better man than I am. We in the Temple aren't--weren't--concerned with good and evil. Our philosophy is what it was, and with it, we planned to save the world ... most of it. It isn't a matter of should. What I did is incompatible with who your God is, and I would be a fool to deny that in the face of evidence."