Seeds of the profane (It was never just us)
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Strands of broken wire and fuel lines remain limply connected to the infant's body, likely the stand-in for what would've been a human umbilical cord in new-borns. No matter how he looks at the situation, no matter how much he trembles and shakes, it does not change the reality.
It is his son. It is V1's son.
This awful profanity the two of them had, was supposed to remain that, isolated. Between them. Instead, Gabriel's son opens it's eyes and sees his father weep, reaching out still tiny, naturally armoured hands to grasp and whine.
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Gabriel’s world had been taken from his unknowing hands, freed from the lies that bound him, yes, but also forced to stand on his own. Like all mortals, he had been given the right of freedom; to which he used to do something awful. Held close, lest the countless eyes and teeth find purchase in it’s newborn flesh, Gabriel’s son squirmed.
“ Temper yourself. “ He had faced the wrath of the sinful, the council- but never a child. “ We will be rid of this place soon enough. “
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