Chagrin. Chagrin against Skulduggery's gentle amusement, chagrin and apology for worrying him ... but no regret.
Safe.
Well, the Sanctuary is, anyway. You got the Engine away in time.
They weren't words so much as a knowledge, a resonance in him of what was true. It hadn't come from him, it had come from him--it was a mixture of everything in the universe that came to a focus in Gabriel. The Sanctuary was all right. Everyone in the Sanctuary was all right. How could Gabriel regret that? He couldn't. He could only regret the hurt and worry it had caused in Skulduggery, and the way the Archangel drew around the detective spoke of need to comfort just as much as one for comfort.
Gabe wasn't entirely sure what happened next. He wasn't unaware of Raphael's presence, but his brother was a solidness at his back, something he knew would always be there. Even in another universe entirely, his brother had been there when he most needed him. But Rafe did something. Shifted something, and it was like that thin veiling blanket had been lifted.
Something ... strange. A musing of gentle amusement to resignation to acceptance of something that Skulduggery was glad wasn't in the way. Gabriel didn't even have to prod it, even if he wanted to. The thread followed through and rasped against the way he was snuggled around Skulduggery's soul, and Gabriel saw the thought Rafe had been hiding.
He could feel, distantly, the power in the circle beginning to reach a point where Raphael had to be careful with what remained, but that wasn't important. Rafe could handle that. What mattered now was this thought. Skulduggery thought he might be controlling him? Making him feel things?
There wasn't even anger. There was just bewildered confusion. Why would Skulduggery think that? Why would Gabriel even want someone he'd made himself, a construct, instead of someone who was going to be real and truthful and everything glorious in his Master's creation? What would be the point of that? That love wouldn't be real.
"My Lord, we are ... none of us ... to be punished, then?"
"What for? Failing to sacrifice all that I love most, even to spare yourselves damnation? What kind of employer would punish such behaviour? Punishment has rarely much to do with justice anyway. None of you know how long I've waited for this day! Michael, stand and look at me. The love I know you've always born Me, dear old friend, is at last truly perfected. Can you not see that?"
Michael's voice, deferential. His Master's voice, amused and fond and laughing and joyful in ways Gabe had, before then, only ever heard directed toward humanity.
Except for the last words. The last words, a tentative question that Gabe cast before Skulduggery. Why would Gabriel fill Skulduggery with feelings that weren't his, when being given love freely meant so much more?
He must have done something wrong. He must have done something wrong to make Skulduggery think that, and so it wasn't even really a choice for Gabriel to want to give him something in return. An apology, an exchange. Something to put them on equal terms, the ones he'd promised made Skulduggery special to him. Gabriel's wings pulled tighter around them both as he opened himself up to the detective, his soul singing with a name, his name, as only his brothers and his Master could hear it. A wordless gift. An offer.
no subject
Safe.
Well, the Sanctuary is, anyway. You got the Engine away in time.
They weren't words so much as a knowledge, a resonance in him of what was true. It hadn't come from him, it had come from him--it was a mixture of everything in the universe that came to a focus in Gabriel. The Sanctuary was all right. Everyone in the Sanctuary was all right. How could Gabriel regret that? He couldn't. He could only regret the hurt and worry it had caused in Skulduggery, and the way the Archangel drew around the detective spoke of need to comfort just as much as one for comfort.
Gabe wasn't entirely sure what happened next. He wasn't unaware of Raphael's presence, but his brother was a solidness at his back, something he knew would always be there. Even in another universe entirely, his brother had been there when he most needed him. But Rafe did something. Shifted something, and it was like that thin veiling blanket had been lifted.
Something ... strange. A musing of gentle amusement to resignation to acceptance of something that Skulduggery was glad wasn't in the way. Gabriel didn't even have to prod it, even if he wanted to. The thread followed through and rasped against the way he was snuggled around Skulduggery's soul, and Gabriel saw the thought Rafe had been hiding.
He could feel, distantly, the power in the circle beginning to reach a point where Raphael had to be careful with what remained, but that wasn't important. Rafe could handle that. What mattered now was this thought. Skulduggery thought he might be controlling him? Making him feel things?
There wasn't even anger. There was just bewildered confusion. Why would Skulduggery think that? Why would Gabriel even want someone he'd made himself, a construct, instead of someone who was going to be real and truthful and everything glorious in his Master's creation? What would be the point of that? That love wouldn't be real.
"My Lord, we are ... none of us ... to be punished, then?"
"What for? Failing to sacrifice all that I love most, even to spare yourselves damnation? What kind of employer would punish such behaviour? Punishment has rarely much to do with justice anyway. None of you know how long I've waited for this day! Michael, stand and look at me. The love I know you've always born Me, dear old friend, is at last truly perfected. Can you not see that?"
Michael's voice, deferential. His Master's voice, amused and fond and laughing and joyful in ways Gabe had, before then, only ever heard directed toward humanity.
Except for the last words. The last words, a tentative question that Gabe cast before Skulduggery. Why would Gabriel fill Skulduggery with feelings that weren't his, when being given love freely meant so much more?
He must have done something wrong. He must have done something wrong to make Skulduggery think that, and so it wasn't even really a choice for Gabriel to want to give him something in return. An apology, an exchange. Something to put them on equal terms, the ones he'd promised made Skulduggery special to him. Gabriel's wings pulled tighter around them both as he opened himself up to the detective, his soul singing with a name, his name, as only his brothers and his Master could hear it. A wordless gift. An offer.