There was a halo around Gabe. It wasn't a visible thing; it was where the wards and the necromancy met, where they rippled and the agony eased into relief. It was that ripple he couldn't erase, too faint for any necromancer to feel in their magic--but enough for Solomon to recognise.
The Archangel put enough confidence and intent into his step that the door wardens stammered an objection and then did nothing as he swept past them without anything more than a pleasant smile. He didn't dare stop and take a breath, or brace himself; he couldn't afford to let that confidence lapse. He was as prepared as he could be.
The corona hummed on a metaphysical level as he was plunged into the depths of the Temple, encased in the Scream all around. He let it all slide off him, around him, a boat moving smoothly through the water. The others trailed in his wake, bright in contrast to the Scream. Their presences helped. Reminded him that something existed other than this place.
"What--hey! Who are you?"
Gabriel didn't even pause as he swept past the intersecting hallway and the necromancer in it. "No one in particular," he drawled. "Just here t'see Auron."
"The--what?" The necromancer's baffled voice was muffled by stone as Gabe left him behind.
Gabe's steps were intent. Quick, but unhurried. They never faltered no matter how many turns he took, following the current that existed even in the stagnation of this place. The Screams were greater where the High Priest lived. Twice more he crossed necromancers' paths. Twice more he moved forward without stopping. Non-violent--but inexorable.
Then he rounded a corner, and down the corridor a man turned, his face lifting. A man shrouded in darkness, but with a burning ember at his heart. Its flame was blue. Small, but hot enough to hurt with its brightness against the shadow. It was burning away at him, the things he had always accepted. The soul of a man on a precipice, torn between two parts, and already feeling the pain of it.
Nathanial Quiver's gaze raked across the little party, no surprise in his face. "You're here for Solomon."
Solomon. Not Wreath. Gabriel smiled. "Sure am, pardner. Mind showin' us to Auron?"
For a long moment Nathanial regarded them, his face impassive and soul searing. Then, slowly, he inclined his head and turned. "This way."
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The Archangel put enough confidence and intent into his step that the door wardens stammered an objection and then did nothing as he swept past them without anything more than a pleasant smile. He didn't dare stop and take a breath, or brace himself; he couldn't afford to let that confidence lapse. He was as prepared as he could be.
The corona hummed on a metaphysical level as he was plunged into the depths of the Temple, encased in the Scream all around. He let it all slide off him, around him, a boat moving smoothly through the water. The others trailed in his wake, bright in contrast to the Scream. Their presences helped. Reminded him that something existed other than this place.
"What--hey! Who are you?"
Gabriel didn't even pause as he swept past the intersecting hallway and the necromancer in it. "No one in particular," he drawled. "Just here t'see Auron."
"The--what?" The necromancer's baffled voice was muffled by stone as Gabe left him behind.
Gabe's steps were intent. Quick, but unhurried. They never faltered no matter how many turns he took, following the current that existed even in the stagnation of this place. The Screams were greater where the High Priest lived. Twice more he crossed necromancers' paths. Twice more he moved forward without stopping. Non-violent--but inexorable.
Then he rounded a corner, and down the corridor a man turned, his face lifting. A man shrouded in darkness, but with a burning ember at his heart. Its flame was blue. Small, but hot enough to hurt with its brightness against the shadow. It was burning away at him, the things he had always accepted. The soul of a man on a precipice, torn between two parts, and already feeling the pain of it.
Nathanial Quiver's gaze raked across the little party, no surprise in his face. "You're here for Solomon."
Solomon. Not Wreath. Gabriel smiled. "Sure am, pardner. Mind showin' us to Auron?"
For a long moment Nathanial regarded them, his face impassive and soul searing. Then, slowly, he inclined his head and turned. "This way."