"If they're in a coma, can they be considered to have consciousness, or simply soul?" Gabriel wondered out loud, idly, as Skulduggery knocked. "Depending on what sort of coma it is?"
The Archangel leaned on Ghastly's arm as the--secretary?--allowed them entrance, and it was just as well he did. The magic in this library was very much in evidence, and Gabriel looked around with appreciation as they moved through the stacks. He wouldn't have been able to manage it if he hadn't had someone to lean on.
"I must confess I've always preferred to experience through living rather than through books," he murmured. It was something people might have considered strange, but only if they forgot that written communication was but a single facet of his nature. The spoken was, for him, of far greater importance, and there was rarely anyone to speak to in such a private enterprise as reading. "But this certainly is a library to behold."
When they rounded the last shelf to the desk, Gabriel only tore his gaze away from the shelves belatedly. The woman, she must be China Sorrows, was already smiling at him, and because it was his nature Gabriel met her gaze and automatically smiled back.
It took him a moment to realise anything was wrong. It was the magic in the room, the soft hum of words speaking to one another and their readers, the fact that he was so weary in body. These things seemed loud and the insidious pressure of China's magic took a second to register, seeping and whispering against him in a way that he might not have noticed if angels weren't so sensitive to it to begin with.
'Love me,' it said, cajoling and sickly-sweet, a thrum of harmony.
The Archangel's smile froze, collapsed and sank into an uncharacteristically flat expression. For the first time since he'd arrived in this reality, his face was impassive--even cold. Without his being conscious of it, he'd straightened, his bearing shifting easily from a casual hobo to something--more. Something with steel. Something unbendable by anything China could summon. "I would," he said with naked warning in his voice, just barely staving off a Command, "very much appreciate it if you would cease attempting to subvert my will."
Gabriel loved only one in such a way as China's magic demanded, because he wanted to, because he chose to, and China was not Him. Not even Lucifer had been able to trick him into doing otherwise--and Lucifer had tried.
no subject
The Archangel leaned on Ghastly's arm as the--secretary?--allowed them entrance, and it was just as well he did. The magic in this library was very much in evidence, and Gabriel looked around with appreciation as they moved through the stacks. He wouldn't have been able to manage it if he hadn't had someone to lean on.
"I must confess I've always preferred to experience through living rather than through books," he murmured. It was something people might have considered strange, but only if they forgot that written communication was but a single facet of his nature. The spoken was, for him, of far greater importance, and there was rarely anyone to speak to in such a private enterprise as reading. "But this certainly is a library to behold."
When they rounded the last shelf to the desk, Gabriel only tore his gaze away from the shelves belatedly. The woman, she must be China Sorrows, was already smiling at him, and because it was his nature Gabriel met her gaze and automatically smiled back.
It took him a moment to realise anything was wrong. It was the magic in the room, the soft hum of words speaking to one another and their readers, the fact that he was so weary in body. These things seemed loud and the insidious pressure of China's magic took a second to register, seeping and whispering against him in a way that he might not have noticed if angels weren't so sensitive to it to begin with.
'Love me,' it said, cajoling and sickly-sweet, a thrum of harmony.
The Archangel's smile froze, collapsed and sank into an uncharacteristically flat expression. For the first time since he'd arrived in this reality, his face was impassive--even cold. Without his being conscious of it, he'd straightened, his bearing shifting easily from a casual hobo to something--more. Something with steel. Something unbendable by anything China could summon. "I would," he said with naked warning in his voice, just barely staving off a Command, "very much appreciate it if you would cease attempting to subvert my will."
Gabriel loved only one in such a way as China's magic demanded, because he wanted to, because he chose to, and China was not Him. Not even Lucifer had been able to trick him into doing otherwise--and Lucifer had tried.