InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Don't mock the princess!"

Michael (_agape_) wrote,
@ 2011-10-15 04:20:00

It could not have been any more innocent.

The holiest of holies trapped in the embodiment of sin, head bowed in the shower, water peltering onto his skin, dripping off his hair. The shower is a ritual more so than a necessity, for the body lost its 'human-ness', the moment Michael took its place. Michael himself had no real recollection of humanity and what it entailed.

The shower was a place and time to be quiet and still, to be attuned to and wait on God. Sacred, quiet spaces could be found in a church, it could be a bed - he cannot remember the last time he slept but he does lie down from time to time - it could be anywhere really. But the sound of the water drowned out everything else around him.

Maybe it was drowning out the voice of God as well.

He was far from being disconcerted by the persistent absence of word. He was not impatient and there were many around him - he could sense them, faintly, for Lucifer overpowered everything - who were working, and could easily send word if it did not come from Lucifer himself.

The maid is confronted by a man without clothes emerging from the bathroom and, while she could appreciate the view, her first instinct was to drop the laundry basket in her hands and scream.

It could not have been any more disturbing. And wrong. And, oh my god - was Mr. Preston gay?

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ispirare
2011-10-14 07:58 pm UTC (link)

As shocking as that thought was, it would make sense if Mr Preston were... like that, wouldn't it? It'd explain why he was unmarried and still single at his age - approaching fifty, she believed. Though, she remembered that one woman, haughty and dismissive with cold blue eyes and a sneer that made the poor maid feel like she was worth less than dirt on that woman's shoes. Come to think of it, Mr Preston did that to her, too, sometimes. Usually when she interrupted him doing, well. Nothing.

She was staring. She shouldn't be staring. She was. Staring. Clutching the basket a little tighter, the maid backed away - still staring by the way - and bumped into her employer.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"
"Oh! Mister Preston, I wasn't... He... I just wanted to... I..."

Heart hammering against her ribcage, all the maid wanted was to leave but found herself unable to get her legs to move. Mr Preston was warm against her back and he was only half dressed - oh this was so embarrassing - and his guest didn't seem in a hurry to make himself more... presentable. And, yes, her eyes were still fixated on him. So, so embarrassing.

"Mister Preston-"
"No need to be ashamed for being caught looking. You don't mind, do you, Michael? Have you met Constance by the way?"

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_agape_
2011-10-15 02:15 am UTC (link)

'Mister Preston'? Michael's head tilted but he otherwise said nothing to interrupt their disjointed exchange.

"No," was his response when he was being cued into the conversation, and it was a response to both questions. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to mind - her presence? Why would he mind that?

"Constance. Hello." Said with a smile and for some reason while Mr. Preston could unsettle and unnerve her in too many ways, this 'Michael' had a way of putting her at ease. Even if he was standing there butt-naked and- god, she felt ashamed enough for the three of them.

"I uhm... I..." Her throat had gone dry and she was still struggling to find the words. But they were patient and they waited for her to finish.

"Would- Would you... Sh-Should I... get... some clothes?"

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ispirare
2011-10-17 07:52 pm UTC (link)

Mortals. They had a tendency to miss the significance of moments, choosing to latch onto trivialities - like clothing - instead. Most of them walked through their lives with their eyes wide open without seeing. The ones who did, more often than not went mad or died in solitude. But hey, they were rewarded with being admitted through the pearly gates in the end or were they?

Constance here could go one way or the other but Lucifer doubted she'd be able to appreciate going upstairs and spending eternity in the company of his perfect, obedient, unsympathetic and dispassionate brethren.

He smiled then, the Morningstar, over the maid's head when she finally managed to string a few words together semi-coherently. Not the words that were on her mind but they sufficed for now.

"Go on," Lucifer told the mortal, his voice soft with just a hint of amusement hidden underneath, "if you can bear to look away that is."

The woman fled the room.

"Making pretty eyes at the house servants, brother?"

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_agape_
2011-10-18 07:45 am UTC (link)

"No. I was not aware of her presence when I opened the door," he confessed, averting his gaze. Yes, he should be paying more attention, and yes he will endeavour to be more vigilant in the future.

To be honest they made him uncomfortable. He should be the one serving them. And yet they almost seemed afraid of him - they reacted much like Constance did, albeit with a little less staring and shock - even during the occasions where he had been fully clothed.

He must be doing something wrong, but he can't quite figure out what it is.

"I had been... distracted. I apologise."

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ispirare
2011-10-23 12:37 am UTC (link)

The Fallen no longer hear the words of their Lord Maker and Lucifer is not sure whether He is attempting to speak to His general. If He is, however, He will find himself out of luck.

The rooms within these walls are Lucifer's domain. His rule may not be as absolute as it is in Hell but Heaven's grasp on Earth is not what it used to be, and no servant of Heaven, not even the ruler of Heaven himself can gain access without the Lightbringer's permission.

And it is only here that a mere mortal can escape being detected by the Dragonslayer and catch him by surprise.

"She will survive it." They were sturdy and resilient, the Lord's favoured ones, weren't they?

"Distracted by what?" he asked, curious to hear Michael's answer. A long time ago, he used to take all his question to his brother, the only one who would listen, fearless, and never tried to cut him off mid-sentence.

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YOU CAN NEVER OVERUSE SHIRTLESS ICONS.

_agape_
2011-10-25 08:57 am UTC (link)

For the first time in a long time, Michael had trouble articulating himself. He was not unsure - it was just that his mind had been on everything. On Heaven and Earth, God and the Host, on the mortals walking around of whom he was obliquely aware of, and of course...

"You."

The lady Constance stumbled in moments later, carrying a clean, ironed set of Mister Preston's clothes. They were roughly the same size. No, that's not what she meant. What she meant was that their bodies were roughly the same size. Their builds. And... stuff. You know.

She looked slightly awkward handing them over and the fact that Michael accepted the offering and then just stood there probably wasn't helping.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. They could play this smiling game for as many centuries as she wanted to. He wasn't sure what she was thinking - there was something wrong with him and it was beginning to bother him - but the fact that she didn't look afraid or unsettled put the angel at ease.

She excused herself again when she caught herself staring. Mister Preston would probably roast her alive if he knew what she was thinking.

"I believe these are yours," he said after she left, and Michael held out the clothes Constance had handed him, offering them to Lucifer.

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ispirare
2011-11-12 02:24 am UTC (link)

Oh, Mister Preston knew whether he wanted to or not, she was projecting her thoughts loud enough for the whole world to hear. An existence as small and insignificant as hers, however, could easily be ignored once she removed herself from the room.

"They are," Lucifer confirmed as he approached Michael, showing absolutely no interest in the pieces of clothing the angel was offering.

"But they were meant for you." He reached out as if to take them but closed his fingers around Michael's wrist instead and yanked hard, sending the clothes fluttering to the ground. "I don't think you'll need them here, though."

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_agape_
2011-11-14 03:09 am UTC (link)

"Oh." Michael didn't see why he needed them, but if he was instructed to put some on, or felt as if the mortals would find him less intimidating if he did, he would. Except, of course, Lucifer didn't seem to mind either way.

"Alright." His voice was resolute even though his wavering gaze gave away his uncertainty. He did not move - not when Lucifer had him by the wrist.

"What will I need?"

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