entrancelogs | I must crucify the ego before it's far too late

Entry tags:

I must crucify the ego before it's far too late

Who:Real!Gabriel and Mirror!Gabe (OTA seriously)
Where:Mirrorverse or Wonderland
When: The duration of the event.
Rating:I'll slap a PG-13 on this just cause it's Gabe but will change if it goes in other places for one reason or another.
Summary: Mirror!Gabriel answers his Queen and crosses over, throwing his real self into the mirror world and the Archangel is going to go poke around where he doesn't belong. Still no regrets in not breaking his mirror.
The Story:

So this is how the other half lived hm? How curious. Gabriel thought to himself as he milled about the reverse mansion. He wonders who else was trapped here or what alternate versions of people were still on this side. Was Michael here? Or William? These versions were said to be polar opposites, his curiosity does have him nearly itching to see what they're like. It's just too bad he can't speak with himself… or could he? There had to be a safe way to do so.

Ah well, the Queen made a mistake letting him cross over. He'd been honestly hoping for an opportunity to get into this world and learn what he could. He wondered what would happen, if most of her soldiers are over trying to collect the sword, does that leave her mostly unguarded? Could he kill her? Would that send them all back or destroy the balance? Really, if the Queen weren't worried about having him here than she was a fool.

((ooc: you can find him all around the reverse world/mansion, feel free to toss whoever at either of them. I'm up for whatever!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"As I said, he has his uses, which it's clear that you are too blind to see, just like everyone else." He shrugs. He feels being an Archangel isn't necessary to see how useful William can be but then, many underestimate him. It's a testament to his kindness really.

"Do you think you could do a better job at my side? Because I highly doubt it. You seem like you'd be more a liability than my own William. You assume a lot, and can't take direction. You wouldn't be worth the hassle."

He drifts a moment as he watches the Mirror seem to stop listening to him, he watches, eyes narrowing slightly as he waits, somewhat impatiently. He doesn't like to be ignored. His gaze shifts with the point of the others hand but he doesn't make a move, expression flat and unimpressed.

"Really? And what is that way exactly? Has "God" told you something?" He even raises his hands to do quotes as he speaks his father's name, clearly mocking the others ability.

Uses which, obviously, the mirror couldn't see. If he could hear Gabriel's thoughts on kindness and being underestimated, William would have laughed until he cried. Kind people, the good guys, always finished last. They were always too busy falling over themselves to help others that they simply don't see the crap until it hits the fan. Kindness was a waste of mental capacity.

At the quotation marks William gives a wide smile, eyes crinkling. It's a cold motion, the humor not even reaching his eyes this time. Things were what they were, and nothing would change that, though mocking it? Mocking God? Enough to have William bringing the dagger from behind his back, idly dragging the tip of it across the table surface hard enough to leave deep marks. Attacking an archangel would be stupid, even he knows that, so for now he'll just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

"Could say the exact same about you, and gee what ruffled your feathers? I don't know what is that way. I just know that it is that way."

Edited 2014-09-26 11:52 (UTC)

Gabriel tilts his head slightly, watching as that knife bites into the table top and drags a line straight across the wood. He lifts his eyes to the other, still unimpressed and looking as unruffled as possible. In fact he's cool as ever, smiling softly.

"No ruffled feathers here." A nod towards him, "Though, you on the other hand. Sorry? Did you expect me to believe that speaks with God bullshit, because I don't. I won't fall for your illusions of grandeur. I know my father and he wouldn't pick a sorry sack of shit like you to speak to. I've known his prophets through time, I know the type and you are not it. You are only delusional and insane, believing the little voice in your head to be God."

He shrugs, "I plan to let my mirror know the truth about you. No use in any Archangel, even a mirror copy, to bow to any human, especially one that's clearly off his rocker."

It's not quite clear which statement is the one that manages to press William's buttons, but in the end it amounts to the same thing- an absolutely murderous looking mirror jumping to his feet, teeth bared in a snarl. Was it being called insane, or was it the threat of losing a loyal soldier?

"Go ahead and tell him. No-one gives a fuck what you have to say in the first place! You don't need to believe us, Gabriel believes and I believe. That's all that's important." William is already stalking towards the archangel, and he knows that this is going to get ugly but he just can't help it, swiftly kicking a chair out of his way without even looking at it. The mirror is aware of the loud clattering noise it makes when it hits the ground, but for now his fuming gaze is focused on the annoyance in front of him.

"You're nothing but a disgusting example of why God left in the first place. Small fucking wonder He made a run for it with angels like you around."

Gabriel's expression is one of amusement, "Ooo"ing softly and laughing a little at the sudden viciousness the other is displaying. Oops, looks like he really got under his skin this time and he couldn't be more pleased that his teasing worked. He watches the other stalk forward without losing his cool, calm sort of lean. His wings are the only thing that respond, opening slightly and poising in a ready position, just in case the other does lash out at him. There isn't anything intimidating in the stance, he's too casual for that, but he's no fool, even if it were just a plain knife he didn't want to be stabbed by it.

Actually, his eyes fall to the blade itself and he can't help but furrow his brow a little as he studies it with some curiosity. Though at the comment about being the reason God left he does tense, rising to the challenge then and narrowing his eyes as he squares his shoulders.

"Why? Because I refuse to bow to you?" He scoffs, "And we'll see how quick your little pet turns on you when he learns the truth as well."

The fact the other was getting so defensive meant that it could be possible, that the other had his doubts and concerns about the Mirror Gabriel being swayed.

"God left because of the humans being selfish, greedy for power and destructive. They squandered their gifts and turned their world into a pit. If anyone is an example of that it's you."

It was nothing to do with bowing, or having people at his feet, that was such a small part of it that the comment barely even registers through the annoyance. No, it was the idea that this angel felt he could even talk his own Gabriel out of the things he believes in. William notices the wings curling, how the primaries splay ever so slightly, and he knows that's a warning. How dare he. How dare this copy waltz right in and presume to know everything and anything about how things worked. The sheer audacity of it.

"Oh please, I have nothing to do with what the rest of humanity do, and if anything I'm more inclined to help them out and get God back where he belongs. You on the other hand? Just look at the state of you."

With that, William shoves out with his hands, fully intent on giving the archangel a good solid push. "He must be so disappointed in you. Your mirror is the son that should be recognised most, not you."

Gabriel barely budges when William lays his hands on him and shoves him back, one heel coming down to keep him solidly planted. Gabriel's nostrils flare and with a turn of his shoulder a powerful wing lashes out to bat William aside, striking his body hard enough to send him sprawling a good distance away. The Archangel then turns with a snarl, stalking up to the fallen Prophet.

"God left because the humans were a failure and he couldn't bare the sight of them any more. He'll return when you're all gone from the earth. He would never settle for a pathetic, submissive copy."

William sees the wing too late to move out of the way, trying to take a swipe at it but not knowing if he hits or not, too busy getting the wind knocked out of him when he hits the floor. The impact is hard enough that he skids a few feet, and briefly the mirror wonders if he's even going to walk away from this one. If he doesn't then that's the way it's meant to be, and regardless of his aching back the young man is already sneering up at Gabriel, making sure to keep his grip on the knife. Should this be when he gets killed then William has every intention to go down fighting.

Something Gabriel says pings William, the sneer already turning back to the usual smirk. "All gone, huh? And how much of that does your little follower know. I should tell him, see how fast he ditches you."

There may be a few stray feathers on the ground where the blade caught his wing in that wild swipe. Gabriel hasn't noticed it though, too busy snarling to realize that knife is Empyrean steel and can and will hurt him if he lets the other land a strike. He'd been studying it earlier and is suspicious of what they could get their hands on here, he won't be taking it lightly, but still...

At that threat he laughs softly, "Unlike you I don't have doubts in my followers, his faith in me will outweigh whatever you may try to tell him. He smashed all his mirrors though so good luck with that."

He snorts, "He knows the truth and he'll trust me more than some egotistical copy." He attempts to distract the young man by aiming a kick to his ribs. If it should land, or even if it doesn't, he'll shift his weight and try to slam his foot down on the wrist holding the knife, both to pin the prophet and disarm him.

"I am doing what my father desires. Not some delusional brat who hears voices in his head."

"The mirrors come back every hour, at some point he'll forget. Besides, I'll just send your mirror, I'm sure William will be more inclined to believe him over you. Your William is probably wishing you'd stay here anyway."

It's spiteful enough to get a winded laugh from the prophet, cutting off abruptly when Gabriel's foot connects to his ribs. Immense pain flares down his side, and luckily for William he rolls onto his side, automatically managing to avoid getting his hand pinned. His other hand is already on his abused ribs, and in those few seconds William decides enough is enough, striking out with his dagger in every attempt to stab the foot that had just narrowly missed him. He wasn't delusional, and it was pretty unbelievable that a son of God could even dismiss it as such!

"Doubtful, he'll know better. William will see through it and know you've sent--AAAAAGH!"

The knife bites into his boot and through his foot, ripping a pained howl from the Archangel as it actually manages to wound him. Pain isn't something he's felt in a long time, not since Risen's attempt to blow him apart. That Knife. Now there's no mistaking it's make, he can feel the familiar sting of the steel and the searing bite as it's pulled free of his foot. With a snarl Gabriel grits his teeth and puts weight on it to attempt one last time to disarm William, lashing out at the hand with the knife to try and get it away from him.

Regardless of if it works his anger has the better of him and he's on top of the Prophet in a blink. He slams a knee into his diaphragm as he comes down, bearing his weight down on the thinner human and reaching for the wrist of that offending hand, giving it a firm yank and a twist in his grip to hyper-extend it painfully, straining his elbow and shoulder, threatening to pull it out of it's socket or snap the bones, whichever comes first. If he hasn't lost the knife he'll squeeze his wrist and hand, grinding the bones in his grip until he drops it.

"I should rip out your tongue and break every bone in your body for what you've done. I am Gods true son, the one doing his work and cleansing the earth of the plague that calls itself humanity. You dare enslave a higher being then SPIT in the face of another. You don't deserve to wield an Empyrean blade. You should be begging for forgiveness and praising how KIND I've been to you so far you insolent little parasite! Any other man would have found his guts all over the floor by now and I've stayed my hand far longer than I should have."

There's a reason why the prophet is deigned a protector. It is his job to speak with God, not to fight for God. That was Gabriel's job, and so William knows he's in trouble when he feels the dagger being kicked from his hand. That was his only defence, and in reality the mirror hadn't intended to get this kind of reaction. Sure, bickering was fine, but suddenly it's much clearer that he is in a shit load of trouble.

The knee to his diaphragm has the mirror winching, breath leaving him in a whoosh and leaving William little time to do nothing more than allow himself to get pinned down. Was this meant to happen? William isn't sure, one moment he was briefly victorious in inflicting a wound, the next and he's in the worst position ever, Gabriel's heavy weight keeping him neatly pinned to the ground. Right now he would give anything to have his own Gabriel back, at least the "mirror" Gabriel wasn't such an asshole.

Despite the violence and pain of his arm being twisted, William can't help but be somewhat hypnotized by it all. His own would never ever raise a hand to him, yet here was his double doing just that. Not that he gets to think on it too long, feeling the bones in his arm just about creaking. Teeth are grit hard enough to grind, William doing everything he can not to make any kind of noise. He won't give the archangel the satisfaction, and if he dies here then so be it. That thought alone is enough to have William glaring at the other, expression nothing but silent defiance.

Gabriel tilts his head slightly, eyes trained and focused on every subtle expression or flinch that crosses Williams face. He reads behind the defiance in his eyes, seeing the discomfort and pain for what it is. He can feel his pulse beating wildly against his fingers where they're tightly grinding the bones of his wrist. Is it fear? Excitement? A little of both perhaps. It's clear William now knows what sort of position he's in and maybe, just maybe he'll come away from this learning a little something about how he speaks to a creature bigger and more powerful than himself. He may glare all he wants but that silence speaks volumes.

"Now do you understand your place? You are beneath me. And though you may have my 'copy' under thumb you will not command the real thing. I am a higher being, we are not equals and I am not your puppet to berate and amuse yourself with. I am an Archangel and I demand respect. The only master I have is my Father, whom you serve. And a mortal creature like you does not get to speak to me like I am lesser.

I should slaughter you for this transgression. The fact you are still breathing is a testament to my endless patience and you should be thanking me for that. Are we clear?"

He waits patiently to see how he responds, everything in his expression reads that he is completely 100% serious. He's prepared to break that arm in several places if the other doesn't comply and back down.

Grey eyes are already watching Gabriel's every move, trying whatever he can to see if there is a way out of this situation. Sure, he could have kept his mouth shut and not gotten into this, but then William knows that would never have happened. Should he say something in return about how he only gives respect to those who deserve it? That probably wouldn't go down well. William knows his pulse is absolutely racing, that the archangel can feel it under his fingers, and just knowing that much has the mirror frustrated to no end. Why does the archangel have to be an absolute shitheel? William feels he should be commended for holding his faith, being unshakeable in the eyes of some other being demanding his worship.

The word copy rings loud and clear, the only give away that the comment has even rankled the young man being a slight eyetwitch. At this rate he's going to lose his arm, there is no way out of this scenario and William is weighing his options. No-one is around to see this, it would be Gabriel's word against his, and no mirrors would take the "real" thing's word for it. Right?

William gives another sour glare, trying to ignore the dull, throbbing pain in his arm. He will not give this one any respect, but he can at least have the decency to know what to say that lets him walk away this one time. Or in this case, do, the prophet merely huffing and turning his gaze to the side.

It wasn't so much that he wanted any sort of worship from this mirror so much as he wanted the respect he deserved for even allowing it to live. The attitude and the sniping comments were not going to fly, a lower being such at himself did not get to insult him freely without consequence. He wanted him to learn that he would be punished if he continued this behavior.

As the boy huffs and turns his gaze away Gabriel just raises his brows. Perhaps to the young man that was a sign of rolling over and giving in to the Archangel, but to Gabriel it seemed like more of a defiant display. As if the other was continuing to be bored and ignore him as he'd done before. So with a sharp pull, he tightened the arm in his grasp till it was very nearly out of it's socket. If he twisted anymore something would snap.

"I said, Are we clear?" It's snarled through clenched teeth like a father scolding his child. If the Mirror knew David at all he might be striking a familiar chord.

Looking away was definitely William's idea of giving in, almost like he was rolling over in a show of submission. It was also humiliating as hell. Why was he doing this again? Why was he letting a fake archangel shove him around so much?

The twist at his arm sharply reminds him, William hissing in equal parts pain and incredulity. What the Hell? There's beads of sweat on his forehead now, skin pale and eyes watering at the pain. It felt like he was a second away from getting his arm torn clean off and it has the mirror biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He didn't want to cave in and admit defeat, but if he didn't then how would be be able to serve God? Or more accurately, how would he be able to get his own back against the archangel?

"Clear." Just that one whispered word is hard to get out, almost as if agreeing is going to choke him.

A smile reaches the Archangels face and he reaches out with a free hand to not-so-gently pat his cheek.

"Good boy." He then lets go, quickly backing off to allow the other to fill his lungs properly. He'll wander over, stooping to pick up the knife and have a closer look at it. Hm. Not bad. Not perfect, who ever made this wasn't entirely sure how to mold Empyrean steel but it worked for a knife only made to stab angels. He's debating if he wants to take this back home with him.

"You see? I can be merciful. I'm not harboring any illusions of you following me nor do I want you to, but you can't be allowed to treat me like your mirror whore. We are not equals but I am willing to have a truce with you so long as you do not over-step your bounds Prophet." Because no, you do not get to have the Archangel calling you by your name, you are NOT William to him.

The mirror doesn't seem to be in any rush to get to his feet, staying on his back as he tries to catch his breath. The pain in his arm he'll ignore for now, will acknowledge it when Gabriel has gone and William is in private. Dammit, dammit, dammit. The smug, victorious attitude from the archangel is like nails down a chalkboard and it's taking everything in William not to make a sarcastic remark. How bad would it be if he just started calling the other "Archangel" and nothing more in retaliation? Well it would probably end in tears, William knowing he's losing a battle here, and that is a bitter pill to swallow.

Turning his gaze back to Gabriel, the young man can't help the flicker of worry when he sees the dagger in the archangel's hand. If he takes that back with him, William will be utterly defenseless. The sheer idea of it has him going cold. Should Gabriel know that he would take it in a heartbeat and so William wisely keeps his mouth shut, putting his gaze back to the ceiling.

Gosh, his arm hurts.

"I don't wish to work for you."

Gabriel tilts his head slightly, observing the way the other seems to be taking a long time to gather himself. Did he honestly break him that badly? He sighs then, setting the dagger on the table far enough away from both of them as he moves towards the Prophet. If the other should make a move for it he'll get between it and the mirror before he reaches it, however he's not expecting that to happen given the other's apparent defeat.

"You know. One of the most prominent lessons I teach my acolytes is that where One is broken, one is made stronger." He pauses, looking down at the young man and moving around to his side, doing his best not to limp, or show discomfort. He's also ignoring the wet squelching noise from his boot where blood has soaked into his sock. He stops once more and offers the young man his hand.

"I don't want you to work for me. I just want a truce." And by truce he means he wanted William to submit and stop acting like a brat, but at least he'll hold up his end now as well. Not equals, as he stated before, but not fighting either.

"We can't be one-upping each other with insults until someone is hurt. It gets tiring after a while. We had our first chance to size up our strength and intellect, see what we're about and now... we can be civil. Don't you think?"

When William hears the sound of the dagger being put down the table, he briefly glances over, instantly tearing his gaze away. Looking at the dagger would be a dead giveaway, and he would rather this Gabriel left without taking it from him.

The mention of acolytes gets a nose wrinkle, William already back to watching the archangel approach. Feeling threatened isn't a thing anymore, William is more sulking at how well Gabriel has put him in his place. Just the idea of it rankles but for now he'll listen to Gabriel's preaching. A truce...? A ridiculous notion, one he's ready to scrunch up and throw back into Gabriel's face before he actually gives it some thought. No more winding up like this, humiliated...That and had the Queen seen this William would have had more to worry about than a sore arm. A truce would come in useful, and it would give the mirror ample time to figure out how to get his own back when his own turn to visit the others came.

"I can't argue that." It's not difficult to look like his nose is out of joint at the idea, taking the offered hand and pulling himself back to his feet. And at least his aren't squelching like Gabriel's is; oh yes, William sure heard that. It warmed his very soul. "Fine. Though I can't promise no insults. I don't get to sleep often and if I don't insult someone I might die."

Of course you can't argue it. He thought to himself as he lifted the other to his feet with ease.

"I'm sure you can manage it when I'm around." There's a small smile to hide the warning within it. Really, death by lack of taking one's bad attitude out on someone? Even if it were a joke there was a very real death lurking behind pissing off this Archangel.

"Would it sweeten the deal if I showed you something that could end up helping your loyal Archangel escort if he should get hurt while protecting you from your enemies?" Which he assumes he has many in this realm alone. He's also amused at his own choice of words and what some escorts were known for.

"I'll just need a lighter or something that will burn longer than a match. A candle will do if that's easier."

William winces briefly as he gets to his feet,immediately letting go of Gabriel's hand to school his face back into what appears to be the usual irked expression. It's easier to do than looking as pained as he's feeling right now, safer in a way. At least his arm is settling down somewhat. William spitefully hopes Gabriel's foot gets infected, staring at the other with an unimpressed look when the word "escort" is thrown out there. So childish, how was this guy even an archangel again?

The moment Gabriel mentions something about helping the mirror Gabriel should he get hurt, that is the first time in their entire meeting that the archangel gets 100% of William's attention, grey eyes staring intently. So it's a dead giveaway to where his weakness lies, but William knows that these two Gabriels would never be able to cross paths, so at least there's that. He wants to know, so much that William will pull a zippo from his pocket and hold it out. Lighting candles has it's uses.

"That should do. Right?"

Well, it was also another name for a bodyguard, it worked both ways! Thus why he was amused at himself. But anyway... the Archangel makes a mental note about the Prophets weakness, confirming a suspicion he was fairly certain of. He smiles softly when the other produces a Zippo and moves carefully to take a seat and kick off his shoe. He'll peel off the blood-soaked sock, getting a good look at the damage done to his foot. The knife had sunk in pretty deep and at least now the Mirror could get an idea that yes, the Empyrean steel does do exactly what it's meant to.

Bravo.

He curls a wing around his shoulder and plucks a feather from it. He then holds it near the middle as he strikes up the Zippo. He holds the quill end over the flame until the tip grows waxy and wet as it melts. He'll then flick the zippo shut and hold the end over his wounded foot, squeezing a few drops out of it and through the open wound. He winces, hissing softly as the wound almost seems to echo the sound, skin and tissue sealing up slowly but surely.

"There." He sighs, holding his hand out to give him the Zippo as he wiggles his toes to get a feeling of the progress. Still a bit stingy and tingly but it's getting there.

William is still watching every movement carefully, all pretenses to one side as he focuses on not missing a thing. He's unsure of why the feather is needed, but at least he can be proud he managed to inflict some kind of a wound on the archangel. Good, maybe the other would think twice.

Or maybe not. William is both impressed and irritated at the healing. It's a good thing to know should his own Gabriel wind up injured, but dammit he'd been all proud for managing to hurt this asshole not ten seconds ago. Ribs give a painful twinge, reminding the young mirror that he doesn't have his own feathers to do that. The zippo is taken back without a word, William pocketing it as he watches the wound healing.

"That works for everything?"

"Just about. Obviously if the damage is too extensive it may not help much at all cause it still takes time." He shrugs, lifting his eyes to the Prophet and studying the look of impressed wonderment in his expression.

"It does the trick against Empyrean steel at least. Anything else will heal on it's own. And it's not that we can't heal something from a blade like that it just takes a normal human level of time. Though I'm sure you know that bit."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject