Chapter Text
"I’m a nihilist for myself. I’m a Christian for other people."
— 4 —
Gabriel was not one to be surprised, and he did not like being subjected to it.
There were comforts, reassurances, and facts Gabriel found solace in. From the little to the irrefutable. Constants that would never change. The stars aligned when he met their gaze; the world whispered tiny secrets meant for only his ears; once a sword is drawn, it must be used; and light must be balanced with equal amounts of darkness. Truths written into the universal fabrics.
Yet, not all held equality.
The spaces between where Creation's Light did not fully reach. Yawning nights that blinked with black stars, half-light reflecting off shrewd dimensions. It remained forever a question whether the Outside was filled with waiting maws, or if it was just one, or there were none. Perhaps all of it was true at the same time. Universal constants fell apart when one stepped outside the Gate. He held no, and still doesn't, desire to venture beyond those outer gates. Few did. Why leave perfect creation for a realm of embryonic atoms and discordant concepts? Nothing but madness lurked behind them.
And for a moment, Gabriel wondered if God had thrown him across that immaterial outside. The highest and knowledgeable of Angels knew frighteningly little and God, when He had spoken, acknowledged it's existence just once. There were only two ways to reach the Oldest Gate: Venture far past any starlight, away from the filaments weight and search endlessly for that elusive gate. A fool's errand. One he was sure God designed on purpose. But one path remained. The abyss underneath Hell, beyond Earth, and far from Heaven. The Apeiron. More fathomless than the womb holding Abaddon, awaiting for a trumpet that will never sing. Far beneath Helel's frozen corpse and further than where Wormwood hung as the rotting heart, poised to emerge when everything came to an end.
A shifting void and mouth and blister. The censor to creation's singularity.
The pit Gabriel had fallen into.
He stared at the woman before him, at the entrance hall where both stood. A twinge echoed inside his mind, some vague sense that she was important, and following the trail left behind led him to gaze more deeply than he would’ve. Past the skin, viscera, tangled nerves, bones. Nestled in the center of her being. There. Gabriel narrowed his mind, breaths slowing. A soul almost blinding in its radiancy, vivacious with joviality. Fire was not new to him. This Hell's denizens did not hold the basalt and obsidian minerals that hardened their souls. Gwen's soul one a bright one, aglow and dancing. Tiny when next to a sun, but that was merely reality. Some souls burned brighter than others.
Even a mortal's soul could eclipse an angel, given time and will.
However, this stranger before him. A woman who should not be here. Some daimon he could not pin down intentions or origins. Those eyes that tugged at his soul, leaving him grasping for answers. Why was it when he looked at her, did the flash of Helel's smile and ageless zeal flash through his mind? This 'Charlie' as she named herself looked nothing like his older brother. Granted, nothing here looked familiar. Alone, Gabriel could have and already was internalizing the differences. Dividing pieces between what he knew to be fact away from the new reality.
It was a lesson taught early on by Michael, one he later imparted onto the younger Virtues before they were sent on their first and many duties into Hell's awaiting maws, for the only thing consistent about it was the inconsistency. Layers remained static, yes, but pathways shifted and tunnels crumbled. New floors birthed, old ones discarded. As if it was a living organism, toying with its invaders, or defending itself.
Perhaps both.
Another lesson drilled into prospecting, promising young souls was never to listen to the voice.
— 4 —
"What voice?" A soul asked him, crystalline wings fluttering in their confusion. "There are so many voices down below. Should we not listen to their cries?"
So naive. He almost envied such ignorance.
"They have all deserved their torment," he declared, arms crossed, "That is where they belong. No matter how they mewl and whimper, remember every inch of misery was self-inflicted." Barely hidden distain lined his voice, kept separate from the soul next to him."But that is not what I am warning of. If you wish to learn empathy for those damned souls, go listen to Raphael preach love thy neighbor and recite gospel. No, what I am speaking of is something that will keep you say though I pray it does not find you."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Down in the deepest guts of that infernal thing, far from where you are authorized to go, between blood and howls from the accursed, where silence lurks when violence falls behind," Gabriel said, a voice more heavy than steel and as forewarning as birds scattering before an disaster, "It wil whisper."
"What will? A demon?"
"All things come from somewhere, little light. Do you remember where you came from?"
"My… my mother."
"A mother can be quite the terrifying thing, can it not?"
"Are you saying…?" The tiny light struggled, angelic mind struggling to comprehend something antithetical.
"Never swear to anything, child. Close your ears down below and trust not what you see, but only what the Lord's light guides you towards. The voice may coo, it may sound like someone you love." Gabriel turned. "Yet if there is one thing you are to take away from this, remember that evil will appear to you as love and familiarity, for those hide the teeth."
"Now, follow. We must speak with the Council about disquiet within Lust."
— 4 —
The eyes could lie. The ears can be overwhelmed. The mind, deceived, but a soul revealed the truth.
However, alone, a truth meant nothing if one did not understand what came before.
"-um, hellooo?" A hand blurred in front of his helmet, dragging his helmet to the owner. His hands did not twitch towards their swords like they should've when an unknown stood this close. It seemed his instincts finally remembered who was in control. "Are you there? I didn't overwhelm you, did I? Sorry, force of habit-"
"I am listening. I merely never saw a need to speak during your… introduction." Gabriel said.
A grin of achievement broke apart the frown on Charlie's smile. She clicked her tongue and gave him a nod, moving on without so much of a question. "Great. Anyways, it's wonderful for you to be here and come here yourself. How was the walk over? Is it your first time down in Hell?"
"It reeks." He said, no hesitation to the truth. "Bodies litter the street like trash and the residents don't seem to value their own existence." His words visibly weighed on the woman, shoulders wincing at each criticism and the joyous smile strained into a sheepish one.
"Sounds like home." Charlie kept her smile up, even as she sighed. "But you just caught it at a bad time, promise. Things aren't usually this… messy, well not to this extent. The Extermination just ended an hour ago so people are still a bit restless. Loads of anger to vent. It'll quiet down."
The Extermination. An event that caught his attention and it seemed to be recurring enough it was spoken with relative ease but no less trepidation than how 'Overlord' had been whispered underneath breaths and in comparison to evil. The name left little to the imagination. Only questions and Gabriel had those in vast quantities. A diabolic celebration, some unholy battle royal conducted by grinning minds as heedless fools murdered their fellow fools, or a crusade declared with zeal?
"I presumed this was Hell's nature state of being. Blood, discontent, and death. Ignoring the stench, perhaps I am wrong and you are right. More likely, reality will prove me right again in its twisted enjoyment." Gabriel remarked, unamused by how much of this realm played on his previous knowledge. He'll rather novelty be willing to take the risk of complete originality, than be faced with similarity warped into facsimiles. Were that he was thrown into a dreadful, hopeless world, thick in gore and insanity, overrun with wicked foes, old habits and routines could be fallen into freely. Descend into the hordes. Lose himself in blood and the rush as bloody dances became all there is.
Yet, Fate was a cruel mistress. One he had learned cared not for the woes of either the lowest peasant or highest king. It did not chain him like divinity had. No, it laid choices before all and presented paths that led to ruin. All-according to a story scripted by an Author who had long abandoned the world He forged with light and dreams.
Which was he, an actor or a puppet?
Never a puppet. Actor? Insulting. He was so much more than some dimwit who could only follow a script.
His script was one of improvisation. Free from any director or plot.
"Is that a challenge?" Charlie's eyes brightened, shoulders straightening. "That sounds like a challenge. I'll show you just how fantastic it is down here."
"Fantastic." Gabriel repeated.
"Amazing."
"Bizarre."
"Jolly!"
He paused. "It is not Nativity's Feast." It could be. Time within Hell did not run parallel to Earth, not always. Did the same apply here?
Charlie tilted her head. "It was, two weeks ago. More of a Krampus thing. Old Man Winter isn't really liked down here. On the account of being a Saint and all." She explained, before adding. "I like it but what comes after really puts a whole damper on the jovial mood."
Gabriel took in his surroundings, voices heard beyond the entrance hall. "The Extermination, I presume."
"Yeaaah, that thing." Charlie winced. "But with you here, that's a problem of the past. New year, new us, and all that jazz. Hopefully. I'm positive we can reach a conclusion for our greatest problem!"
'Our greatest problem.' Gabriel repeated inside his head. Did she suffer from a lack of belonging as well? The feeling that one had nowhere to aim for even whilst surrounded by infinite targets? That with every step taken, the more loss compounded, until the awe of novelty crashed and only longing ashes will remain?
Looking at her, at that expression. Clear and full of passion, pure like a star.
His chestplate ached, ever so slightly, brief like a heartbeat. Like an old scar. A memory tried to resurface but failed to reach the mind's surface.
He shook his head. 'Lasting burns from that ill-fated reunion. They will soothe in time.' He reasoned to himself.
"Indeed, now that I am here, things can actually get done." He'll play along for now. There were advantages to playing the fool. Helel still had to be found and this woman had a connection to his estranged brother, even if it was only in name. While yes, he could merely ask her, tear down any preconceptions Charlie might have had about him, there were reasons as for why that was unwise and unpleasant. Daimon she may be, Gabriel prided himself on having some manners.
It just mattered on whether she wronged him first. Always a possibility with Hell's inhabitants, a likely-hood, all things considered. If she did, there would not be a second granted for regret. Only annoyance at having to find another lead on his brother.
"See!" The smile given, as was seemingly normal for this woman, was wide and shone as brightly as her eyes. Emotions worn clear for all to see. So genuine it almost looped back around to being suspicious. "When we put our differences to the side, we're just people. Angel, Sinner, Imp, Hellhound, Serpentins, Infernus, Medusian-"
Gabriel, for the sake of sanity, tuned out her voice for a minute.
When his mind returned to reality, Charlie was nearly at the end of her ramble.
"-Hellions, Neverborn," Charlie listed off, taking in a deep breath, "Ah! and rephaims."
"Is that all?" Gabriel's voice was flat.
"No but you know the rest, yeah? Being the leader of the angel army and all." Charlie shrugged, moving on like she had just said the truth, and in a way she did. Gabriel had led armies, ones gleaming radiance and armed with noble steels enough to cast nation-wide shadows as they marched, flew, to his words. The blessed symphony of a hundred blades leaving sheathes, divine winds howled as wings unfurled.
He saw no need to correct her, not fully.
"My duties were long and arduous. Heaven never dims and evil never rests. Always a warlord to smite. Ever believers to guide. Messages that needed authority. Innocents to shield." Gabriel recounted, wings neatly folded against his back. "Scarcely can I recall moments of learning. Hell is a cage, bustling with an protean inferno. Not a plane suited to concrete knowledge. And it has not been graced with my presence in some time, to this extent."
"So the Exterminations-"
"Heaven held many war angels. Countless commanders and leaders." Gabriel answered before she could voice the question. "These 'Exterminations' were not of my own volition."
"Oh." Charlie blurted out. "So you aren't the, THE, leader of the Exterminations." She pointed, then made gestures attempt to resemble a hierarchy. It looked like a child waving their hands around. "But you are one of the big guys in charge."
"I am an Archangel."
"So just a teensy bit smaller than big…?"
"If I may, does my position concern this conversation?" Gabriel interjected.
Charlie pursed her lips together, thinking, hand on chin, before shrugging and smiling. "Nope. Can't say I understand Heaven's whole bureaucracy thing but what matters is what you're here and we're talking. Like when was the last time an Angel came down to chat instead of cutting off heads? This is a once in ten lifetimes chance – thank you dad! – so this is going to work!"
How optimistic.
''Dad'? Morningstar… no, can't be. She must be a distant scion whose progenitors took up Helel's title.' Gabriel rationalized. It made sense why a lineage would brand themselves with the first fallen's name, as long as they can keep it away from jealous claws.
His mind twinged as it felt another presence step into his range. Before they rounded the corner, Gabriel's helmet was tilted towards them.
"Charlie? I thought you left-" A jaw snapped shut with the clack of teeth.
A woman of dusty skin, like the ashen flakes that rained endlessly in the Violence Layer. White locks covering one eye, a decorative eyepatch tied where the right eye would be. Her eyes…
It was something Gabriel would, far later, curse himself for not paying attention towards. Eyes, of the fleshly variety, were something denied to the residents of Hell. Gouged empty sockets as punishment for Husks, particularly of the Lust Layer. The sin of leering. Demons, on the other claw, carved themselves eyes, sculpting mockery of God's sight on their stone visages. Though lacking what would one think necessary for sight, they all could see perfectly. Some might consider it a blessing, but Gabriel thought it merely another cruelty cast upon Husks. If they had been blinded then perhaps freedom could be offered, to run and turn away from the past.
Husks were not even afforded such a luxury.
As with many changes this new inferno held, Sinners, as these husks were called here, held fully formed eyes. Ranging from the normal to infernal and it was simple to gleam the depths of their sins. His titular predecessor King Minos could, drawing from the wisdom and precision of a King and judged his subjects with kindness and empathy. Gabriel was no different, albeit different in method. Not a unique skill belonging to a Judge of Hell but merely one learnt by those who could gain that exalted title.
Each sin held its own look, a certain despair and woe unique to the being that held it. A mark. A scar.
"Vaggie!" Charlie perked up, waving with one hand, her offhand gesturing to Gabriel. "Turns out I didn't need to go after all! Looks who here."
An ivory eye, wide and still. Past the predictable shock at seeing an Angel, a reaction Gabriel was already beginning to get accustomed with, a dark blemish shone within her eye, mixing together with fallen light.
It was a stain Gabriel had witnessed in the most deepest pits, where fire and brimstone could not reach. A realm where ice and only ice reigned as a glacial king.
A stain he bore himself.
'Treachery.' Even some distance away, Gabriel could feel the ice surrounding her. A chill that crept past the physical and into the spiritual. Cold waters submerging her soul in its frozen depths. 'And what severity too…' It clung to her like a brand on flesh.
Like she had been personally condemned by an Angel.
A fallen angel, he guessed.
Vaggie snapped out of her stupor, shocked expression drifting away and hidden behind a smile crossed between suspicion and worry. "That's-" She glanced between Charlie and Gabriel. "Amazing." She mustered out. Breaths taken through slightly clenched teeth.
"Greetings, grigori."
Vaggie twitched, hard, but kept it hidden that Gabriel was the only one who saw it. Her eye glanced to Charlie, who did not react to the word.
So, he was right.
'I suppose,' Gabriel thought, 'Hell was always full with beings of every likeness. A fallen Ishim is nothing exceptional. Even so, some familiarity in a foreign sulfuric lake is preferable to none.'
"This year is off to a good one." Charlie, either out of blissful or willful ignorance, was a bundle of joy. She spun and patted Vaggie on the shoulder, walking past. "Finally we get to use the meeting room. Who came up with that? We did! Oh, and Alastor too."
Like an archaic radio, the air's tune, that slight hum and buzz of the world, shifted. Symbols drew themselves around empty space, framing a silhouette with spiraled limbs, gnarly tree-like lengths that reeked of blood and earth. Some crawled across the room, others twisted into vermilion knots. In a zip, akin to an derelict television ending a program, the distortion passed and everything was normal.
All within less than a blink.
"Architecture is more valuable of a skill than most people think, dear." Twin crimson eyes stared with unblinking focus. "The first impression of a guest is the room's motif, is it not? To carve that first glimpse into their minds so it stays put like a good sinful jingle! Banality is the worst sin of all and…" Those eyes slowly slid to gaze at Gabriel. "You are positively a sight to behold." Knifelike teeth flashed, untouched by purity and stained a sharp yellow.
Gabriel stared back into the crimson depths, unflinching at how death throes clung to this demon, how the shadows seemed to twist and coil around his form as if to get away but gripped by a malevolent will and made slaves to it. "And who would you be?"
"Alastor, delighted to make your acquaintance." The demon's eyes racked over him, like a predator gauging a foreign presence. "Must say, I did not anticipate an gilded guest and one without even a smidgen of notice? Talk about a eucatastrophe!"
"Haven't heard that one before…" Charlie mumbled, brow raised.
"If you desire to emulate me, I would be thrilled to show you more."
"I love the fancy words." Charlie shrugged. "It's just… everything around that is the," her expression shifted like trying to find a gentler word, "issue."
Alastor gave something between a laugh and a scoff.
Recognition clicked in Gabriel's mind as meaning was put to demeanor. Sin onto form. Gwen had described Overlords as the de-facto rulers of the Pride Ring, nightmarish beings who played with souls as a merchant would flip coins between fingers. They settled on thrones grafted from bone and suffering, displaying the most dangerous aspect of humanity. Ambition. Kings and Queens, lords and baronnesses, murderers and deceivers. Their machinations did not end on the Earthly plane and when cast down to eternal damnnation, these Overlords wrought their malign zeal onto fellow fools.
Gwen had not used quite the same wording, but he understood what she had meant by 'evil fucks that makes me glad I wasn't born a human.'
"And I did not foresee encountering an Overlord so soon into my visit." Gabriel crossed his arms, eyeless helmet meeting Alastor's grin. "Moths to a flame, no doubt. It was misguided to think an angel's presence wouldn't attract the curious."
"Oh," Alastor leaned forward, head tilted at an odd angle, "you've heard of me, then." He seemed delighted at the prospect.
"Merely the faux royalty your ilk crown yourselves with." The words could be no flatter than the great plains of Wrath. "I do not have the time nor want to learn of delusory husks."
"Hmph." Alastor sighed dramatically, taking it in stride. "Is a visit not to indulge yourself in the culture of your chosen resort? Awfully wasteful, hm?"
Gabriel shook his head. "What culture is there to witness? I see nothing but vain indulgence and transgression."
"Maybe, however, if Heaven desired Hell to be dry and drab, they would not have sent me down here." Alastor did not hold his laugh. It grated like the static erupting from machines as Gabriel carved them asunder. "But I am rather glad they did."
"It is clear to see why damnnation suits you." It did not take angelic insight to see how this man wore his sins. Tight and smugly, like the sharp clothes upon his lithe frame.
Not all sinners were the same despite their mutual damnnation. Not all were hopeless. Some truly, and with genuine regret, held goodness in their souls. Faith in something other than themselves. Be it a cause, an ideal, someone else, or even a silent and absent God. A light in their darkness. Devotion to be tempered into something worthy of salvation.
"I would hope so! It was tailored just for me." Alastor proudly grinned, smoothing out his jacket's collar.
He tsked.
Pride. The most archetypal of sins.
Charlie, in a brave show of authority for a daimon, stepped between them, hands held in a pacifying gesture. "Okay, you two, let's tone that down just a bit. We're all friends here and friends don't insult each other." In a manner like a stern teacher, she held up a finger.
Friends. With them?
Yes, that was possible. Just as it was possible for him to be forgiven.
Not something he desired nor was likely to occur.
"My apologies," he bowed his helmet in the facsimile of a gentleman, though he was anything but one, "it is unbecoming to lower myself to these standards."
Charile waved him off with casual ease. "Nah, it's fine. Don't apologize. New environment, all kind of nervys."
Alastor grin never leaves, though it did falter. Losing a glint of the theatrical and sharpened as it took in Gabriel. His eyebrow rose, a look that resemble vague recognition. The red-clad sinner opened his mouth-
A tiny blur darted between their forms, and in a blink Gabriel was face to face(or rathet helm to eye) with a dainty thing. A single, enlarged unblinking eye took him in like he was the most awe-inspiring thing she had ever seen. Unlike many of Hell's inhabitants reactions upon seeing him, she squealed and it scratched at his helmet's metal. The… sinner was short, far too small to meet Gabriel's gaze on even footing.
So she stood on Charlie's head, leaning down.
The daimon didn't react, as though this was normal, only tilting her eyes upwards with an air of bemusement.
"Oooo, so polished, so clean, so smooth!" Without so much as an attempt to regain breath lost in her squeal, the danity sinner continued to examine Gabriel like he did his swords. "No bugs, no grime, no dirt! Perfect! Spotless! Sterile, like my lovely!" An equally tiny knife was pulled out from Lord knows where, shaped more like a needle. The one-eyed sinner giggled, shrill and frenzied.
"If anything lives on me, it only does so by my will." Gabriel said.
"Are all budgies like this? Those nasties are all red!" She questioned, grinning with needle-like teeth.
'What she just call me?' Gabriel thought in confusion. What was a 'budgie'? Was that some type of angel here? Shaking his head, he steadied himself. Before an answer could leave, the Archangel paused. The answer was one of tradition and scripture, of lies. Angels were not exempt from being smeared. The color of deceit and hypocrisy marred the soul like no other, for it was the mark of treachery. Beyond that, Gabriel could remember in recent memory that he had been coated in enough crimson to obscure any divinity. Just blood and gore. Wrath and freedom. Darwinism versus fatalism.
Thinking on his last moments, Gabriel supposed he failed that test. The Machine proved stronger, faster, and more determined than a Supreme Angel, broken yet sharpened as he was.
'I wonder what it is doing now?' Hell certainly have been wiped clean by now. What else is there to feed it?'
The answer left a visceral thrum inside his chest.
'Ha, I wish you luck, Machine.'
With Michael's pilgrimage to find God and now Gabriel gone, Heaven was borderline defenseless.
"No, they are not and those who claim so spit nothing but gaff." Nothing was pure. Everything had a shadow and the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. Not even God, thought infallible and absolute, was immune to that truth.
"Shucks…" The odd lady grumbled. Her eyes dimmed and she slumped over, being caught by Charlie.
"Huh, never saw her that disappointed." Charlie commented, holding her in her hands. "Don't worry, Nifty! I'm sure Gabe will stick around long enough for your… cleaning needs." She passed Nifty to Alastor who held her the same way a neglectful father would hold a daughter. By the scuff.
"Do not call me that."
"Sorry. Biel?"
"No."
"Gabi?"
Creation preserve him. "Gabriel. That is my name. I did not live for epochs to be nicknamed."
"Wow, that's oooold." Charlie blurted out. "Shit, sorry! I don't mean that in a bad way. That's actually really cool, I think. Epochs. That's like as long as my dad lived and he's… really cool too." Her voice strained near the end.
Again, that mention of a father. Either she was exaggerating or her father matched the ages of the Archangels and Seraphims. Gabriel did not know if age held that much importance in this realm but he did know age came with power and experience, especially in a prison such as Hell. Beware the souls who thrived, ruled, survived in a cage where the young were consumed.
Whoever Charlie's father was, he was ancient, powerful enough to covet Helel's title, and survived long enough to have a legitimate spawn.
'Daimon is the right title for her.' Gabriel thought. 'Yet… what is the daughter of this Devil doing in a hotel, surrounded by miscreants?' Though demonic royalty ceased to exist in Hell after the Silent War with the only remains being Lesser, Greater, and Supreme Demons, he still remembered the way those Devils had carried themselves. Both in Hell and the few who escaped onto the Earthly plane.
Charlie did not feel anything like they did.
Merely another oddity in these strange lands.
"Charlie." Gabriel glanced at the Ishim. Her body was still, even as she moved, placing herself subtly between him and Charlie. It was plain to see through the mask she wore, how the smile she gave the Daimon was one of concern. "Can, can we speak- The two of us. Alone."
"Sure," Charlie nodded. She frowned a moment after. "Why though? Is everything alright?"
Vaggie sneaked a glance at Gabriel, never letting him out of her sight. Poised like a spear ready to strike at a moment's notice.
His fingers, gentle and slow, slid over his sword handle.
She breathed. Her eyes snapped about, head kept in place. An audience.
In the corner of his vision, Gabriel noticed Alastor looming like an animal sensing weakness. 'Barbaric.'
"Fuck. Fine." Vaggie hissed out a sigh. "Okay, meeting an angel at the Embassy? Cool, nice, really proud of you. Of this opportunity. But there's a difference between one of us going there and one of them coming here."
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.
"It's- it's the implication." Vaggie vaguely gestured to Gabriel. "A massive, fucking implication. It's bad enough he's around," another directed at Alastor, who waved back, "but at least he belongs down here. Him though? People will talk. A lot of people will."
"That's good though." Charlie shook her head. Not unkindly. "That means people will actually take us seriously. First it was Alastor, who admittedly has brought some… special kind of attention, but an angel coming down personally, here, and not murdering anyone? That means we're something right. We have a chance. Hope!"
"Angels," Vaggie whispered, "don't bring hope."
Gabriel had to agree.
They delivered it. Whether it was wanted or not.
Someone rounded the corner, the clink of bottles rang out, and all turned to face the noise.
Best Gabriel could describe the sinner as was an ancient chimeric cat. Tall as a man, bipedal, and with gray fur lining his body. Two red-bordered wings protruded from his back.
He smelt of sand.
And spirit.
The cat-man met their collective gazes. Yellow eyes hazily roamed over Alastor, Nifty, Charlie, Vaggie, then finally landing on Gabriel.
A languid blink.
In a deceptively swift spin, a bottle was risen to his mouth and he turned around. "Don't even get paid for this shit." He grumbled.
"Is excitement like this not enough payment?" Alastor remarked.
"Go fuck a tree."
"I prefer to love. It has more of a sting."
Gabriel looked between these hellish inhabitants and sighed.
'The things I do to find you, Helel. The suffering I must withstand.'