#sdfgh i wish he’d actually stop speaking 😭

[arcserpent]

‘ you confuse not speaking with not listening. ’  michael / @audaciiae​​​​ said.

his irritation is an ugly,    vile thing,    manifesting in the billow of a dark coat sweeping behind his figure,    casting a flock of shadows that disperse like wild birds.     the air all around reeks of storm,    or of smoke.    or perhaps it’s just the tinge of hell he carries with himself,    the acrid scents of ashes that trail his tainted grace.    the animals must know,    for all them have long scattered at the premise of his presence here  —  this swell of land overlooking the surface of a lake,    over which a gust of wailing wind dances and waltzes into the dry bulrush.    the devil’s arms,    which had been linked behind his back,    come to cross across his chest with a huff at having his attention snapped back by michael,    after the effort he’d gone through to tune them out.   it is a metaphorical retrograde of sorts  —  a reversal of time  —  backward  —  and backward into a long gone past.    it is a momentary regression,    spurred by the enormity of their encounter.    he looks at them and it’s like opening a box,    if that box were on fire,    and full of the ghosts of rotting memories.    what he wants is to slam the lid of it and shove it back in the attic of his mind where it belongs,    and forget about it.    instead,    he forces his gaze towards the other archangel,     ❝    pick one,    i can’t do both.    ❞     lucifer remarks,    and it’s halfway between barely suppressed annoyance and the beginnings of a jest.  

❝    i have your holier than thou tirades memorized,    michael,    i’ve heard them often enough.    have you expanded your script in the past millennia,    or is it still ‘ yes, God - no, God - whatever you say, God ’ with you?    ❞     he flops down on a near bench with exaggerated exasperation,    one leg coming to rest over a knee,    hands folded neatly atop,     almost expectantly.