The Archangel was sprawled in a way that made it clear he had no real consciousness over where his limbs went. His human body looked okay, aside from his back, but his wings were askew, twisted and limp. They were ravaged; the open wounds had shifted, expanded, turned his wings threadbare until parts of them weren't anything more than a shimmering, oily rainbow barely holding two parts together.
His feathers blurred like their surface tension had been lost, the ends of his wings impossible to see because they dissolved out of existence. Every now and then, a feather would fall and dissolve into nothing before it hit the ground.
Skulduggery's sudden presence wasn't like a cool balm. It was hot, a light that threw Gabe's agony into sharp relief. The Archangel cried out wordlessly as Skul jostled him, just the slightest, with the tightness of his grip and to pull him into his arms. Without knowing that he meant to, with a sort of instinct that Gabe had never had before, the Archangel clung, the focus of his entire being shifting to the soothing, calm restraint of Skulduggery's soul.
He didn't mean to, but it drew the agony away from the room at large like a receding tide and crashed it against the diamond of Skul's control.
Hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop!
His wings wavered and solidified, some of his outermost feathers gaining proper form and definition instead of just being an unbound rainbow. The Archangel buried his face in Skul's shoulder, sobbing without breath, unmoving. Simply using the contrast of Skulduggery's centuries of control to throw his own form into some manner of reality.
Where his oily light hit the air around the detective, it turned green-gold.
~~~
Raphael. Attend your brother.
His Master's voice made Rafe all but catapult up out of the meditation in which he'd been, trying to wrest just a little bit more efficiency out of his aching body. He didn't even really pause for a defined response, except for an unspoken wave of relief and gratitude that his Master was there, that Rafe could act now instead of wait.
The healer-Archangel cast his mind out for Gabe's again, more cautiously this time. Even still the roaring bushfire of that agony sent him reeling, enough that he thought he felt his consciousness scrape against a startled soul somewhere along the way. Then Rafe honed himself and took the burden of that pain as best as he could with the distance they had.
He was a healer. It was his job. He knew what pain felt like.
It was just that Gabe was never meant to.
'Gabe!' Just a name, a name and a wordless query of how could this happen?!
The younger Archangel's response was immediate and swamping and begging, a medley of memories and feelings that left Rafe shaking. Brothers, twisted. The Cacophony. Some kind of weapon. A damned soul lurked in the background, smote. And something else.
Another soul, not damned at all, lending his brother form and definition.
Rafe cradled his brother mentally, comforting him with his presence without trying to demand any information from him, and set a shaft of his consciousness at this other soul instead.
'Who?' he demanded silently, but it was bound with things the verbal word could never be. 'What's your name?' 'Who are you to my brother?' 'Where are you?' And most importantly, 'Are you someone who can get me from here to there with a minimum of my energy?'
Here came with a swirl of knowledge of the prison, surrounded by a fan of dimensions and levels deep into the earth. There, wherever Gabe was. The rest, a brief showing that Rafe was exhausted, that he needed to conserve as much energy as possible to heal his brother.
no subject
His feathers blurred like their surface tension had been lost, the ends of his wings impossible to see because they dissolved out of existence. Every now and then, a feather would fall and dissolve into nothing before it hit the ground.
Skulduggery's sudden presence wasn't like a cool balm. It was hot, a light that threw Gabe's agony into sharp relief. The Archangel cried out wordlessly as Skul jostled him, just the slightest, with the tightness of his grip and to pull him into his arms. Without knowing that he meant to, with a sort of instinct that Gabe had never had before, the Archangel clung, the focus of his entire being shifting to the soothing, calm restraint of Skulduggery's soul.
He didn't mean to, but it drew the agony away from the room at large like a receding tide and crashed it against the diamond of Skul's control.
Hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop!
His wings wavered and solidified, some of his outermost feathers gaining proper form and definition instead of just being an unbound rainbow. The Archangel buried his face in Skul's shoulder, sobbing without breath, unmoving. Simply using the contrast of Skulduggery's centuries of control to throw his own form into some manner of reality.
Where his oily light hit the air around the detective, it turned green-gold.
~~~
Raphael. Attend your brother.
His Master's voice made Rafe all but catapult up out of the meditation in which he'd been, trying to wrest just a little bit more efficiency out of his aching body. He didn't even really pause for a defined response, except for an unspoken wave of relief and gratitude that his Master was there, that Rafe could act now instead of wait.
The healer-Archangel cast his mind out for Gabe's again, more cautiously this time. Even still the roaring bushfire of that agony sent him reeling, enough that he thought he felt his consciousness scrape against a startled soul somewhere along the way. Then Rafe honed himself and took the burden of that pain as best as he could with the distance they had.
He was a healer. It was his job. He knew what pain felt like.
It was just that Gabe was never meant to.
'Gabe!' Just a name, a name and a wordless query of how could this happen?!
The younger Archangel's response was immediate and swamping and begging, a medley of memories and feelings that left Rafe shaking. Brothers, twisted. The Cacophony. Some kind of weapon. A damned soul lurked in the background, smote. And something else.
Another soul, not damned at all, lending his brother form and definition.
Rafe cradled his brother mentally, comforting him with his presence without trying to demand any information from him, and set a shaft of his consciousness at this other soul instead.
'Who?' he demanded silently, but it was bound with things the verbal word could never be. 'What's your name?' 'Who are you to my brother?' 'Where are you?' And most importantly, 'Are you someone who can get me from here to there with a minimum of my energy?'
Here came with a swirl of knowledge of the prison, surrounded by a fan of dimensions and levels deep into the earth. There, wherever Gabe was. The rest, a brief showing that Rafe was exhausted, that he needed to conserve as much energy as possible to heal his brother.