Michael has been having a bad week. Actually, longer than that; he's been having a bad while, ever since the disastrous break down of his family's careful alliances and truces that had kept them all at peace. He'd had to break up altercations and had missed even more of them, and despite what his siblings apparently thought, he was not an endless source of patience that existed to keep them from their immature squabbling and lead them all around by the hand.
This event was turning out to be the last straw, too. Of all of them, Lucifer seemed to be the only one besides Michael that knew who they were, where they'd come from, and what they'd all done. Raphael, who Michael was closest to, looked at him with unfamiliarity and though that alone might've been distressing but ultimately okay, there was an additional issue. With the Hellfire corrupting her grace, she was unpredictable even outside of events, and while she barely even knew Michael, he was distantly concerned through his calm confidence. Anger, as well, simmered below the surface though it was directed at Lucifer, who had caused this issue to begin with, and for what? Wounded pride?
So Michael had been spending as little time as possible around his siblings; he was, like most angels, restless at best so it wasn't all that strange that he would fly aimlessly around the city. And it's not like Raphael would notice he was being more avoidant that usual.
He was perched on the top of a building, watching the city idly when his PCD beeped to alert of a new message to the network. As usual, he checked the device out of curiosity, a little surprised that it was Raphael; she rarely posted to the network, after all. But after viewing the message, he was displeased. Maybe leaving her alone wasn't the best idea, if she was so oblivious that she was playing with an archangel sword. And so, Michael flew home immediately, striding in through the door with no need to announce his presence. He was hard to miss when he wanted to be.
[Offline] Log format because I do what I want. 8|
This event was turning out to be the last straw, too. Of all of them, Lucifer seemed to be the only one besides Michael that knew who they were, where they'd come from, and what they'd all done. Raphael, who Michael was closest to, looked at him with unfamiliarity and though that alone might've been distressing but ultimately okay, there was an additional issue. With the Hellfire corrupting her grace, she was unpredictable even outside of events, and while she barely even knew Michael, he was distantly concerned through his calm confidence. Anger, as well, simmered below the surface though it was directed at Lucifer, who had caused this issue to begin with, and for what? Wounded pride?
So Michael had been spending as little time as possible around his siblings; he was, like most angels, restless at best so it wasn't all that strange that he would fly aimlessly around the city. And it's not like Raphael would notice he was being more avoidant that usual.
He was perched on the top of a building, watching the city idly when his PCD beeped to alert of a new message to the network. As usual, he checked the device out of curiosity, a little surprised that it was Raphael; she rarely posted to the network, after all. But after viewing the message, he was displeased. Maybe leaving her alone wasn't the best idea, if she was so oblivious that she was playing with an archangel sword. And so, Michael flew home immediately, striding in through the door with no need to announce his presence. He was hard to miss when he wanted to be.