Work Text:
”Only Wish for Yesterday”
Michael’s hand, clutching the match burning with holy flame, slowly lowered to the candle until it ignited with brilliant, vibrant colors, shimmering a bright gold. He hummed to himself as he shook the match until it distinguished, tossing it carelessly behind him (earning a look from Raphael in the process who went to go pick it up) and picking up the candle in order to transfer the flame to another.
Black wick met lit wick, and one after another, Michael lit up the main living room for the day, candlelight slowly enveloping the room.
“Do you plan to lead troops, too?” Michael asked as he set down the last candle, stretching out his wings to where his feathers puffed out. His halo flushed with bright reds and golds, shrouding him and Raphael in an amber glow for a few moments before he relaxed his muscles with a sigh, wings and tail feathers twitching.
Raphael glanced down at himself for a beat before looking back at Michael, who had his back turned to him. “Do I look in any condition to be leading troops?” He asked.
“Whenever you get your weapons, of course,” he chuckled. “I need someone to spar with, after all. Can’t just throw Uriel a shield and expect him to withstand the blows of a longsword. He’ll trip over himself before the first move!”
Raphael hummed, his thumb playing with the hem of the thick, shawl-like blanket that lay over his shoulders. “I am interested in other matters,” he murmured, mostly to himself than anyone else.
“Pray tell,” Michael chirped as he picked up Revelation, holding the flat end of its tip between two fingers and flipping it around. Its silver blade shimmered in the fiery light from the candles and his halo, Michael picking up its sheath and sliding it back in with ease. On the scabbard, the words REVELATION BY ORDER in scarlet met his gaze, reflecting the warm and vibrant colors that flickered and danced in Heaven’s early morning light.
Raphael rested his hand on a fist, his gaze settling on nothing in particular. “Gardening, philanthropy, anthropology, journalism, psychology, caretaking… And politics, too,” he mused.
“You could take care of other angels,” Michael said.
Raphael narrowed his eyes at his brother beneath his helm. “I think I know what you are about to say,” he mumbled.
“...You could mentor them to become soldiers—”
“No thank you.”
Michael squawked out a laugh. “Worth a shot,” he giggled. “I head out in a few, anyway. Make sure to babysit Gabriel, by the way—if that’s your idea of caretaking, haha.”
“Duly noted.”
“Yeah, note what I said duly. Whatever that means,” Michael chuckled. “I wonder what unduly noting looks like.”
Raphael didn’t laugh.
“...I’ll be out,” Michael mumbled, taking his fur-lined cape off a hook, throwing it over his back (fitting his wings through the slits made for them) and clipping it to the front of his cuirass. He picked up Revelation, buckling its sheath to his belt before he teleported away with brilliant, blood red lights that danced in the air for a few moments after.
Raphael sat for a few moments, staring into the distance while still playing with the ends of his blanket, before he stood up and began to walk upstairs.
Uriel rounded the corner, his paws thumping against the floor in rapid succession before he skidded to a halt in front of Raphael, his tail wagging.
“Hi, Raphael,” he panted.
Raphael took a knee in front of his younger brother.
“Great to see you, Uriel,” he hummed. “Say, you would not mind looking after Gabriel for a moment, would you?”
Uriel nodded. “Yeah,” he huffed. “I’m old enough.”
“Indeed you are. It is just that I have a few errands I need to run,” Raphael explained. “Your cooperation is most appreciated, Uriel.” The archangel reached out a hand, rubbing the top of his brother’s head. He slowly rose back to his feet, summoning his verdant green halo and wings before he teleported away as well.
Uriel stood there for a few moments, idly turning his heel back and forth, before he retreated into Gabriel’s room and began to do what he did best.
Michael’s first talon hit the concrete of a high-rising building in Lust, then another, his white hawk wings held high in the air as they flapped cautiously in order to slow him at just the right rate. He put his hands to his hips, one thumb feeling up the sheathe of Revelation as he turned heel to face the eternally night skyline.
Following him came his fellow troops of Powers and Seraphs, the black and white figures descending from the sky in groups of four as they all took their perfectly aligned stances to Michael’s right with little to no words exchanged.
”Good morning,” he mumbled to the soldiers as they flitted by, nodding his head towards a power who raised one of their four arms in a kind greeting. As the last of the Powers filed behind the Seraphim, and he finally turned to face his troops, taking out Revelation and holding the tip of the blade to the ground, resting his arms over the pommel’s end as he raised his head towards survey the soldiers.
”Blessed morning,” Michael hummed, his echoing voice just loud enough to hear over the howling, freezing winds that swept over the skyscraper that the angels stood on. “I am assuming that we were all able to make it? Our numbers look pretty fair, I’m sure I have everyone I called for this morning, lest you all are hiding an empty spot in the middle of your huddle.” He chuckled, though the stiff soldiers only stood silently.
”Right,” he muttered. “Now, we’ve got a lot of things to do today, and we’re going to be doing things a little differently, alright?” He gestured towards the crowd, pointing two fingers towards the troops before raising his forearm. The angels immediately understood the gesture, a group consisting of two Powers and two Seraphim filing to the front and taking their places before him.
He gestured to the Seraph on the far left.
”Seraph Cylles,” he greeted. The angel nodded back to him, both their hands resting on a lowered greatsword. “The row of Powers and the two Seraphim behind you? Yours to order.”
”Yes, sir.” Cylles walked off with the group of Seraphs and Powers, Michael’s ears picking up on the sound of given orders.
“Seraph Yamin,” he called, pointing to the Seraph and flicking his hand towards the troops that stood behind the seasoned angels. “Same goes for you, the row of Powers and the two Seraphs behind you, mhm. We have some new angels in that group, just ascended from Virtues, so teach them well.”
A sheer wind blew his cape to the side.
”Power Naritel,” he greeted, moving his finger towards the white-clad angel. “Same as the rest. I trust your judgement.”
”Yes, sir.”
The last Power turned his gaze from the empty ground behind him to Michael, and spoke before the archangel could.
”There appears to be nobody remaining, sir. I sincerely apologize, but was this intended—or an error?”
”Power Trakel,” Michael began, crossing his arms with his greatsword still tucked beneath his elbows. “I’d like you to fight alongside me, actually."
Trakel visibly flinched, and though a pointed jet black helmet covered the ground of his head, the archangel could pick up on the surprise—and excitement—radiating from the Power.
“...I trust your judgement, sir,” he mumbled after a few moments of tense silence, taking a few paces forward to where he stood only a few feet away from the archangel, before taking a deep bow.
“Rise,” Michael ordered, and the Power did. “Heaven’s recently been asking the troops to deal with the forces of Lust, since the Virtues have been speaking of rebellion on the rise,” he explained, putting a hand to the tip of his beak as he spoke. “We won’t attack immediately. If anything, we’re just here to check up on the citizens, and maybe King Minos if we get the chance. The city here’s expansive, though, so I doubt it.”
Trakel nodded.
“We report back here within an hour or two, so that gives us about enough time, assuming we don’t loiter or slack off. I trust you, though. Keep me on the right track, will you?” Michael chuckled to Trakel.
“I will not disappoint you, Archangel Michael,” the Power grunted, pressing a fist to his armored chest.
“Great to hear,” Michael hummed. He beckoned Trakel forward with two fingers, turning towards the building's ledge and spreading his white hawk wings against the sheer winds. He canted his head towards the Power, and over the howling gusts that swept across the urban landscape, squawked, “are you ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let’s go, then!” Michael shouted, releasing one talon off the ledge and tipping over. He plummeted for a few moments before he transitioned into a smooth glide, the archangel glancing to the left to see the Power flapping their wings in an attempt to match his elevation, but managing to keep up with him just fine.
“Nice,” Michael huffed. “I’m actually surprised you could keep up. Everyone complains I’m always too fast.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
The two flew across the lower rising buildings for another minute or so before Michael whistled and pointed to a taller building on the horizon, each window refracting with bright pinks and magentas that fit perfectly with Lust’s purple skyline.
“We’re scheduled to land somewhere around here,” Michael hummed. “Follow my lead, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Archangel folded his wings slightly, taking a leisurely dive towards the streets below. He flapped his wings as he finally touched down upon the cold pavement, tucking his wings back to his sides and adjusting his cape as Trakel landed beside him.
Michael put his hands to his hips, turning to Trakel. The Power only stood perfectly still, silently awaiting the next order. “Come on, work with me. You’re here to bounce ideas off of, not be a yes-man. Never liked those,” the Archangel groaned.
He didn’t say anything.
“...A-At ease,” Michael stammered out, waving a hand dismissively. “Rise, be calm, don’t be like that, whatever.” Finally remembering, he snapped his fingers before holding two up and lowering his hand noticeably, (a gesture for higher-ranking soldiers to relax while still tending to duties. Thank the Father for teaching him such signs.)
Trakel’s posture visibly slumped, though the look he gave Michael through his helm and his general aura still seemed to radiate with unconditional respect.
“Where do we begin?” Trakel finally asked, his baritone voice echoing with such tranquility and calmness, like Michael was a life-long friend.
“Huh,” Michael hummed, his voice going up an octave as he put his hands to his hips and twisted around to survey the streets. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the general, Power Trakel,” he prompted, emphasizing the angel’s name as he eyed him down with a sharp turn on his head.
“You’re the Archangel,” Trakel rebutted.
Michael laughed and waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, you can have this. I’m fresh outta ideas, anyways,” he sighed.
“Such a way you talk for the Chief of Angels,” the Power commented. Michael braced himself for some sort of jeer, but he was met with comfortable silence from Trakel.
“Yagh, and such a brown-noser you are for a Power.”
“I am not—!”
“Spin around,” Michael ordered.
Trakel did a full three-sixty without another word.
“...Wow,” the Archangel chortled. “I was right.”
The Power’s head wings twitched, and suddenly, Trakel looked so, so flustered.
“You’re looking a little still,” Michael chuckled. “Y’need me to do that motion again? I thought I told you ‘at ease’ and all that.”
…
To answer the silence that Trakel gave, Michael snapped his fingers, held two up, and slowly lowered his arm once more, giggling to himself while he did it.
“At-ease-but-still-in-service, or whatever,” the Archangel ordered, unable to stop himself from snickering at the situation.
“...May I say something, Archangel Michael?” Trakel asked after a few moments of doing nothing besides looking totally unbothered by his commands.
“Just Michael’s fine,” the Archangel hummed, flicking his hand dismissively.
“I prefer a more respectful term,” the Power responded. “But I believe that is besides the point. If you’d be kind enough to let me ask, sir, may I inquire what your definition of ‘at ease’ is? Because—”
Michael’s head snapped towards a stray exiting a building who turned to stare the two down, the archangel pointing and crowing, “Husk! Trakel, it’s a Husk!”
The stray pivoted their head towards the two angels, Trakel turning heel to face the Husk as they stared them down like a deer in headlights.
“We need to do some questioning,” Michael whispered to Trakel. “Let me handle this, alright?” The Power nodded, whispering a ‘yes sir’ as the archangel strided towards the Husk.
“Be not afraid, sinner!” Michael crowed, his cape fluttering dramatically in the wind behind him as another sheer gust tore through the urban landscape.
The Husk looked up at Michael’s towering figure and began to take a step back.
“I said be not afraid!” He squawked.
“I think they’re afraid.”
“Yeah, and let me see you try, Trakel! I’m gonna do the interrogating, I said I would, didn’t I?”
The Power only dipped their head, letting Michael continue.
“Now as Supreme Archangel Michael, Chief of Angels,” he began in a bellowing voice, “I would like to initiate with you an interrogation regarding the state of the Lust layer, your motives as well as others, and the politics surrounding the layer!”
The Stray blinked at him, starting to shake with fear.
“Now, to begin, regarding the state of the Lust layer and the motives that you citizens have, is it true that—”
The Husk ran off.
Michael stood still for a few moments, soaking in the silence that followed.
“You did your best, Michael,” Trakel hummed. “But maybe you should be less loud the next time you wish to converse with a sinner. Your position is scary to them, after all.”
“...Huh,” he mumbled.
“Most sinners know that Heaven is unhappy with the state of Lust, after all. Angels in Hell is never a good thing,” Trakel explained. “Your actions do not help either, I fear.”
“This is why I have you around, Trakel,” Michael murmured. “I can see why I promoted you.”
“Why?”
“You keep me down to Earth,” he mused.
Trakel chuckled. “We’re not even on Earth.”
Michael squawked out a laugh. “You don’t know where I’ve been,” he joked.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Michael couldn’t contain the stupid smile plastered on his beak.
Trakel crossed his arms. “If you have any subterranean affairs, I may have to report that to the Father, Michael,” the Power coerced sarcastically.
Michael laughed. “I’m not, I’m not, don’t worry about it,” he sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s go find someone we can actually talk to.”
“How much time do we have left?” Trakel asked as he began to trail behind the Archangel once more.
“About an hour, that didn’t take much time, anyways.”
Trakel hummed in agreement.
“...I like when I get to talk with you,” Michael said. “And like… Not as an inferior. A friend, y’know.”
And with a smile in his voice, Trakel mumbled, “thank you, sir.”
“No problem,” Michael replied, his voice going up an octave.