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[Guten tag, Adstringendum. Today's daily dose of lineface angel starts off with fog, fog, and more fog, with Raphael's shape only just emerging through the haze. As muted as she normally is, there's something different today- almost constrained, wilted, a little too tight and a little too quiet. She's sitting on what appears to be the bottom of a set of steps- when the fog clears just a little it's obviously stone steps, like a pyramid or a very tall dais.]
There is a glut of idiocy this week.
[She gestures and the PCD rises, turning to face her at a slightly different angle. Behind her, it shows the stone dais- for that's exactly what it is, large steps of a massive grave, consisting of the huge dais leading to an enormous figure seated in a vast marble throne. The grave is impressive, to say the least. The carvings on it, just visible over her shoulder, are all in a mix of Enochian and Hebrew, including the Hebrew inscription of God's own name.]
It is astounding that any of you can survive on your own in this place, if this is how you handle anything new. [Then her expression tightens more, if possible, something dulling in her eyes slightly.] If you cannot learn for yourself, then know this: the graves should not be destroyed.
[Trust her. It isn't worth it. Her mouth presses into a thin, tense line before the feed cuts out altogether.]
[OOC: she's sitting at the base of fake-God's throne/grave in the middle of a ring of archangel graves, including her own, a destroyed Gabriel statue, a Lucifer mausoleum, and a smoking crater where Michael's used to be. Come bother her, bros.]
There is a glut of idiocy this week.
[She gestures and the PCD rises, turning to face her at a slightly different angle. Behind her, it shows the stone dais- for that's exactly what it is, large steps of a massive grave, consisting of the huge dais leading to an enormous figure seated in a vast marble throne. The grave is impressive, to say the least. The carvings on it, just visible over her shoulder, are all in a mix of Enochian and Hebrew, including the Hebrew inscription of God's own name.]
It is astounding that any of you can survive on your own in this place, if this is how you handle anything new. [Then her expression tightens more, if possible, something dulling in her eyes slightly.] If you cannot learn for yourself, then know this: the graves should not be destroyed.
[Trust her. It isn't worth it. Her mouth presses into a thin, tense line before the feed cuts out altogether.]
[OOC: she's sitting at the base of fake-God's throne/grave in the middle of a ring of archangel graves, including her own, a destroyed Gabriel statue, a Lucifer mausoleum, and a smoking crater where Michael's used to be. Come bother her, bros.]
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I would like to.
Have you seen visions of Him?
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Yes. It is not adequately described by "seeing." [Experiencing their Father was always so much more than that.] Castiel has, too. And Lucifer.
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Gabriel?
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[Raphael did leave the statue several times, nothing was perfect. When he steps forward she does as well, instinctively putting a hand on his shoulder and gripping hard. It's the same instinct that once upon a time had her shrinking back into Michael's shadow when called into the throne room, that had her nearly collapse against him the day He left.]
Wait for it. You will see something.
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After a few minutes, it comes. The familiar feeling, the sweep of Revelation and a dizzying sound like trumpets, the urge to fall to her knees and cringe away and a memory so strong she can hardly stand it. It's so familiar. So distant. This vision is different; it's reminiscent of a memory of Michael, a day when He berated them for being too soft on the angels and instructed them to banish Gabriel for failing to slaughter the Israelites.]
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But this one is for Michael - for them both, but mostly him - and Raphael is a smaller player in the scene that unfolds around them before it blows away on the high winds again like desolation and the setting sun. This time, as every single time, she wants her knees to buckle and to fall to the hard marble to process it. But she doesn't.
Neither does she look at Michael. As soon as the vision dissipates she realizes she's still holding onto him, and pulls away.]
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I almost feel the Animus deserve a thank you for this event.
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I have witness Gabriel's death seventeen times this week.
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I have not seen it.
Despite what happens, Raphael, we are all here together.
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[It comes out more forcefully than she intended. Raphael turns away, staring off into nothing with an unreadable expression.]
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I don't. And I know that we parted on bad terms.
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It has hardly been easy, Michael. This godless, forsaken universe is barely holding together as it is.
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Brother. You do not know what it is to be truly, irretrievably alone.
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No. I don't.
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You have no reason to be here, speaking with me.
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I am not above admitting my mistakes, especially to you. At times, only to you.