Chapter Text
Gabriel could do nothing but wait. So there he was, just sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, and wings tucked tight against his back to discourage himself from running. Hugging a pillow, rocking from side to side, muttering attempts at comforting words to himself. Freaking himself out with imagined scenarios of everything going horribly wrong.
That was what he’d been doing for the past day and half. The Ferryman had checked up on him numerous times, each time attempting to make small-talk, only for him to not respond at all. They didn’t seem to take it personally, though. It was obvious that they weren’t the problem but the two that were set to arrive any minute now.
…It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m still okay.
He was not, in fact, okay. And everyone could tell.
Okay, okay… I’m absolutely f*cked up and going insane. Everything’s going horribly.
The Ferryman was keeping him company as he wallowed in his misery. They were sitting about a metre from him, carving something from a small piece of driftwood. It’d been ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but the sculpture looked nearly finished. It appeared to depict… the machine?
Oh, I suppose making things in my likeness got too boring. I’m not feeling hurt at all.
Their attention to detail was quite impressive. Each joint, each plate of metal, each wire and tube and notch and crevice and-
…Ew. Stop thinking like that. It makes me sound even more f*cked up.
It would never let him out of its sight again, not for a millisecond. He'd never know the relief of solitude again. It would cling to him at all times; while he slept, when he went to scavenge, or even when he’d take a bath. It would analyse his every move and probably make him a schedule he'd have to stick to, just so it wouldn't have to calculate his chances of running away every time they went anywhere.
That scenario didn't sound very fun. What if, instead, it understood his need to get away every now and then? Maybe it'd grow less clingy and dependent on him. Well, dependent on his blood. Not him.
The wooden sculpture of the machine was surprisingly accurate in its details. The Ferryman had met it like once, so it was almost terrifying how well they remembered its intricacies from such a brief encounter. Did they make their first sculpture of him with such accuracy?
“What are you making?” Gabriel decided to start with a question. It'd be better for them to explain their reasoning for making this sculpture.
The Ferryman nearly dropped the sculpture when he suddenly spoke, but quickly scrambled to look like they hadn’t just lost several years off of their seemingly infinite lifespan. Whoops, startled them.
“O-oh, this? It’s… just a chess piece.”
He didn’t know much about chess since he’d never really had the time to learn, and now that he had the time, he lacked any interest in learning about it. He couldn’t force himself. Sure, it would probably be a nice way to pass the time with somebody, but getting annihilated constantly in the beginning would quickly get on his nerves. Though he didn’t need to know how to play chess to think that a specific piece looked like a work of art.
“But… but worry not, for I’ve already made two pieces in your likeness.” The Ferryman took out two identical chess pieces that looked like him. They’d paint them later, probably.
This should've been a great honour, to be immortalised in art for the umpteenth time, but… he just felt bad. Why did they insist on seeing him as his past self? Would the realisation that their saviour wasn't invulnerable crush them? That he was just like anyone else down here? That there was no hope for any of them, that they were doomed to a mundane and pointless rest of eternity? That it was his fa-
Yes, yes. Everything's always my fault. There's nothing I can do about it.
He returned to staring at the door, with knees pulled up to his chest. This was going horribly.
“...I don't get it.”
“Get what, sire?”
“Why are you always so nice to me? There's nothing to gain from it. It’s… quite the opposite, in fact.” While he did regret opening his stupid mouth, the words would not cease flowing. “Like, I’m… I’m miserable and stressed all the time, and I bet that's just radiating off of me and making you feel like sh*t as well, but I just… I can't stop it. I can't stop just spiralling every single time I think of something negative, and that's why I keep ruining every friendship I’ve tried to rebuild, that I’ve tried to mend. It's all in vain, and, and… Any chance of me feeling ‘happy’ again was lost the second I- the second He… I don't know! I-I don't even know what I’m trying to say anymore..!”
The Ferryman was quietly listening to him ramble, inching close enough to maybe pat him on the shoulder, or to gently squeeze his hand- No, they wouldn't do that without asking, and interrupting him mid-ramble would've been rude.
Without looking at them, Gabriel offered them his hand. An invitation, a request for them to please just make everything feel bearable, to somehow ease the agony of this meaningless existence surrounded by reminders of his past that would not stop trying to fix him. As if an act as insignificant as holding a hand would magically cure everything.
They took it anyway, as useless of an action as that was when taking into account the vastness of the turbulent sea that was his inner turmoil.
…It was nice.
“I’m… sorry for offloading this all on you,” he muttered rather awkwardly. “It's been a bit tough lately, and I know that's not really an excuse, but-”
“It's alright, sire.” The Ferryman lightly squeezed his hand. “I understand, even if the troubles of my past… pale in comparison to yours.”
“...Hm? What did you do?”
He would've facepalmed at his social blunder if his other hand wasn't also being held by the Ferryman. One does not simply ask someone to recount all their past sins and mistakes.
“Oh, you know… Murder,” the Ferryman answered, before hurrying to add clarification. “But only once! And I would say it doesn't count, because I had to do it to get this… this job.”
“...That's one hell of a job interview.”
A little joke to lighten the mood. Also so that I won't cry.
It worked to make the Ferryman chuckle a little, so it wasn't a complete bust.
The two sat there in silence for a while. For once, it felt comfortable instead of nerve-wracking, and didn't make him want to shut down until the uncomfortable situation was over. He liked this kind of silence. Oh, and also the handholding.
“Uhm, Charon… If it's not too much to ask, could you help me ‘untangle’ my thoughts a little?”
The Ferryman simply nodded, so he took this as his cue to continue. They wouldn’t tell him he was just overthinking things, right? At least they'd be nice about it.
“So, uh… Minos and the machine will be here any minute now, right? So the thing is, while I’m glad that they at least pretend to care about me, I’m dreading seeing them again. Genuinely dreading.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“...Because I’ve been nothing but a nuisance and cause for concern ever since I moved in with him. He must be tired of it by now, tired of me running away constantly.”
“I see…” The Ferryman paused for a bit. “Have you asked King Minos how he feels about it?”
“Well, no, but I bet it feels horrible, having to worry about whether I get back home in one piece or a dozen. Or if I get home at all. And when he comes looking for me, he probably can't stop thinking about whether he'll find me dead or alive.”
“Mhm… Would you like a word of advice?”
If he was going to ask anyone for advice, it would be the Ferryman. They knew a thing or two about dealing with f*cked up emotions --and he didn’t hate them-- so he was actually willing to listen. Thus, he nodded.
“Alright. So, I know this is going to sound like the most obvious thing in the world, sire, but bear with me,” the Ferryman continued. “Talk to him.”
“What? No, not a ch-”
They squeezed his hand gently. “And please do not say ‘no’. It’s pretty much the only other option you have apart from continuing on like this, and --forgive me if I’m wrong-- I would assume this is not how you’d want to keep on living.”
“...There’s a third option,” Gabriel said under his breath, hoping they wouldn’t catch it.
But they did catch it. The Ferryman sighed and stayed silent for a moment, clearly attempting to figure out a response that wouldn’t make him feel like a freak for thinking like that. It proved to be a difficult task, seeing as a minute had passed already since they fell silent. He was sure they were still thinking about that response.
“It’s not like I would actually do it. It’s just nice to have, uhm… an option that’s always there.” He was digging a deeper hole for himself. They were bound to get very concerned now, he knew it.
They still weren’t responding. Had he broken them? Were they really just trying to figure out how to say he was completely f*cked up and beyond help? No, no, they wouldn’t say that. But what if they would now? Great, he just lost the last person that would bother with him.
Say it. Say you hate me, too. I need you to tell me you hate me.
“Charon..?”
“...I used to think like that as well.” The Ferryman still sounded as kind as always, like they didn’t hate him. How peculiar. “Still do, but only sometimes.”
“How did you… stop thinking like that all the time?”
“It might not work for everyone, but I try to think of things I haven’t gotten to try yet. Sights I haven’t yet seen, paintings and statues I haven’t yet made… and hugs I haven’t yet had, as silly as that sounds. It’s something to look forward to.”
…It’s not silly if it works.
“That’s it?”
How hadn’t he thought of that? Just think of all the things you’d miss out on if you were dead, as simple as that. That wouldn’t help him figure out how to deal with situations that made him want to shrivel up and perish, though. If he followed their advice, he'd only have two options when it came to such occasions. Endure it, or ignore it.
“Would you like to try? If it doesn’t help, we can always figure out something else.”
He wanted to try, but… Why did they, too, want to prolong his suffering? Didn't they know how agonising it was to keep going despite everything, with basically zero hope of salvation? Remembering how much pain he'd caused, while being unable to make up for any of it. Having to face those he'd hurt, while pretending guilt wasn't eating him up inside to the extent that it was. He wasn't allowed to play victim here.
“...This won’t help with the terror I feel at the thought of facing them.”
“We’ll get to that, sire. Don’t worry.” The Ferryman squeezed his hand once more. They seemed to like doing that, and it did work to make him calm down. For now.
● ● ●
It couldn’t wait to see him again.
It had been two days since it'd seen Gabriel, just two days, but it felt like a lifetime. The first day it’d spent with Minos, searching for the angel in Lust, until he'd received a letter. They'd departed for Wrath the next day, and proceeded to spend nearly the entire day in Greed chasing phantoms. But at last, they were here.
V1 would've bolted over to the ferry in the distance, were it not for Minos. While it didn't necessarily consider him to be more important to it than Gabriel was, it didn't want to just ditch him here. Who knows, he could get lost on the singular path that led to the ferry.
It yanked Minos' arm, urging him to move even a little faster. What was he dallying for? Their angel was right there, a few hundred metres away! He should've been as eager to see Gabriel as it was, he'd done nothing but worry about the angel for the past two days. He should've been over there in seconds. It would've been.
He was still moving so damn slowly, and V1 couldn’t stand it. It was practically vibrating with simulated excitement, pulling Minos along as fast as he was willing to go, optic trained on the ferry. What would it do first when it found the angel? Unload its whole arsenal into him? While he could survive that, he’d think it was mad at him, and it didn’t want that. Hug him? Sure, but he might not want that right now. He’d understand why it chose to do that, though. Hugging was a way to show affection and/or compassion, and it was pretty sure it felt affection towards him. Even if that feeling was just simulated and not ‘real’.
…Oh, to hell with Minos. He’d make it there by himself too.
It decided to just go for it. V1 dashed, hopping onto what it recalled to be the Ferryman’s house, and launched itself towards the ferry. It had enough momentum to get to that platform, from where it’d just grapple onto the deck. It’d made some modifications to that arm, so now it could securely attach to even the sturdiest of metals, allowing V1 to reach even more places with relative ease.
In half a minute, it reached the railing. Vaulting over, it-
Minos was there already. Either its optic was failing, or he really was somehow faster than it was. He couldn't teleport, that much it knew. It would've sensed that.
“Ah, it appears I won,” Minos chuckled, lightly patting it on the shoulder. “Better luck next time.”
It wanted to learn his secret. Traversing a few hundred metres in seconds was a very impressive skill, and the last thing it hadn’t yet mastered. To move so fast as to be nearly imperceptible… That would’ve been useful approximately a year ago.
Rolling its eye, V1 continued its task of finding Gabriel in order to hug him so hard he couldn’t breathe. It needed to squeeze any intention of him leaving again out of him. Fetching him whenever he bailed was getting pretty tedious, honestly, and even though it enjoyed the scenery on the way, it was a complete waste of fuel. And though the angel was basically an infinite source of blood, having to ration what it had was stressful. Oh, and the chance of finding him dead… Well, it’d just have to settle for-
No, no. The blood thing was only between it and Gabriel. It was their thing. V1 preferred to think those were their bonding moments, even if they didn’t always bother to exchange words. Those moments gave it an excuse to observe him in greater detail. The soft sound of his breath hitching when its hand brushed up against him, the way he visibly relaxed when the cut was finally made, the increasing number of scars in places that people wouldn’t typically injure by accident… He scarred now, it’d noticed. It’d taken to remembering which scars were its and which weren’t, and there were quite a few of the latter. If and when it found who was inflicting those upon him, it would show them how many ways there was to break a bone.
…If there even was ‘someone else’.
It would cross that bridge when it got there. Right now, its task was to find which area of the ferry Gabriel would be in. Lounges, hallways, cabins, a bar… To its knowledge, he didn’t drink, so there’d be no reason for him to be at the bar. Any of the lounges? It’d checked each and every one in under a minute. The hologram room was empty, too, but it did take note of the centrepiece being muted for once. He’d been here.
Next up, the cabins. It methodically checked each room, peeking under the bed just in case he was somehow there. One never knew with Gabriel. Hell, he could be on the ceiling for all it knew.
It wasn’t long until it got to the last door, hesitating for a nanosecond before busting it open, most likely scaring the everliving sh*t out of the two occupants. Its gaze first fell upon the Ferryman. They were sitting on the floor, surrounded by wood carving tools and a few sculptures. Their demeanour seemed very startled, which was to be expected, but it couldn’t help feeling suspicious. This was a person it didn’t know too well, after all.
V1’s gaze turned to Gabriel, who was seated on the end of the bed. It appeared as if he’d been laying down, maybe asleep, as the duvet had a light imprint on it and his feathers were a little ruffled. His slightly dazed demeanour added to that theory.
Without taking the time to think of the consequences, V1 launched itself across the room, wrapping its legs and all five of its arms around Gabriel upon impact. This had the undesired effect of knocking the wind out of him, which would’ve been kind of funny had it not also gotten a sound reminiscent of a whimper out of him. It loosened its grip on him a little. There was no point in causing him unnecessary pain right now.
“...Hello to you too,” Gabriel managed to say from beneath it, the smile in his voice not escaping its notice.
Oh, he was happy to see it! The truckload of simulated serotonin in its system right now was making it feel… many things. Relief, so it hugged him tighter again. Joy, so it lightly bonked its face against his helmet. Hunger, so-
It ignored that instinct for now. There’d come a time for that, too, and it wasn’t running out of fuel for at least the next hour. Hour and half if it stopped shaking from excitement.
“Gah…” Gabriel managed to wriggle a hand out from beneath V1. “I’m… I’m not going anywhere, machine. You can let go now.”
Despite not really wanting to, it obliged, since his happiness came first. It moved to sit next to him on the bed, and stared at him with its big ol’ optic. Now would probably be a good refuelling time.
“Hm? What is it?”
He should've understood these cues by now. It pointed to his arm, then to itself. Maybe it should've checked him for any signs of head injury.
“O-oh, right, right. You want blood. Sorry.” Gabriel extended an arm towards it, and it barely managed to stop itself from tearing him into shreds. Behaving relatively well was one of the conditions he’d set for it.
One hand moved to grip his wrist, tenderly yet firmly, while the other hovered just a hair away from his skin. He’d normally prefer larger, more obvious wounds. This time they had an observer, though. An observer who might get a little squeamish.
It looked across the room at the Ferryman, who was tightly gripping their cloth, shaking a little from how hard they were doing so. However, instead of being squeamish, they seemed… displeased, to say the least. It’d expected that. They were borderline obsessed with its angel, one only had to take a peek into any room of the ferry to notice that. Paintings, statues, sculptures… And that hologram. How did they even record those lines..?
The Ferryman didn’t matter right now. With well-practised grace, V1 dragged one of its sharper digits along his arm. It was a perfectly straight line, with beads of gorgeous red emerging not long after, holding their shape until he moved a little.
V1 pressed its chest plating against the fresh cut, quickly absorbing each and every drop before his blood had the chance to stain the bedsheets. It chose to ignore the muted gasp from the angel. He was always so dramatic, getting a kick out of bleeding for someone --or something-- else. And it was happy to help him feel some strange new emotions.
With refuelling out of the way, it pulled out a roll of gauze from a secret compartment. There was no way it’d let his wounds get infected, even if it found it kind of fascinating to see him all pathetic and weak in bed, clinging to it for any sort of comfort. That wouldn’t be good for his psyche in the long run.
“So…” The Ferryman fidgeted with their cloth. “Does it… do that often, sire?”
“Absorb my blood? Yes.”
It bandaged his arm a little tighter than necessary, just to be safe. No fuel would go to waste on its watch.
A peculiar thought then occurred to it. It'd found a large sheet of stickers on its way here, and in its opinion, he deserved one. So, it took out the sheet and pondered the various shapes and colours for approximately half a second. The star-shaped ones were pretty cute, as were the heart ones. There were also ones that looked like various… motor vehicles? It'd been a while since it saw those. Unless that was a false memory.
It settled on a light blue star sticker. Before Gabriel had time to react, it stuck the sticker onto his helmet, right where his left cheek would be.
He immediately tensed up, a barely noticeable shade of purplish-pink visible on the tips of his fluffed-up wings. Honestly, it liked this side of him too. All embarrassed and flustered, stunned speechless from something as harmless as a sticker, too busy freaking out to remember to breathe. Maybe it should take a picture.
The sound from the shutter brought the angel back to the present. He instantly turned to look at it, his wings flared out in a way that most would find quite terrifying. It knew it was just instinct to him. He really was bird-coded.
…It'd have to swap those strawberry candies for a bag of sunflower seeds.
“Machine, did you just..?” Gabriel stumbled over the first few words. “Snapping a picture, after daring to place a sticker on my helmet… The audacity!”
There he was, with his dramatic flair. It'd missed this part of him. Despite how ‘offended’ he seemed on the outside, anyone could tell that he felt flattered. The tint of his wings, the tone of his voice, the way he so gently reached up to feel the sticker on his helmet. Had he never felt ‘loved’ before?
“...How’s it look?”
Mission success. He sounded absolutely delighted, which was to say he was happy and thus more likely to return ‘home’ with it. Though that was what it'd thought last time, too. Maybe it'd just have to schedule ‘make Gabriel happy’ for every hour of the day instead of once every 24 hours.
V1 gave him a thumbs up, for no reason other than to prolong this joy he received from a small piece of plastic. He would've looked even better with a dozen of those stars on him.
“Charon, what do you think?”
The Ferryman nearly jumped out of their no-longer-existing skin upon being addressed. It could tell they didn't exactly trust it, but for the sake of not making a scene chose to suppress that feeling. It understood. Who wouldn't be a little distrustful of those around the person they deemed important? Or maybe they were just jealous of its interactions with him.
“H-huh? The sticker?” The Ferryman gathered themselves surprisingly quickly. “It… it looks lovely, sire.”
Gabriel was practically beaming at this point. It sort of wished it could see his smile, which most definitely was plastered on his face, but he apparently was not ready for the ‘removing the helmet’ part. Did that part come after the first kiss or the first night together? It would never know. Though if it bonked him enough times the helmet might break in half.
The Ferryman, as much as they tried to look happy, appeared to be f*cking miserable. Of course they were, some greedy machine was trying to hog their saviour all to itself, and they didn't stand a chance when it came to charm-
No, they didn't look all that bad. Their personality, as ‘bland’ as it outwardly was, had its own charm. They didn't offend anybody with their mere presence. Obviously no one was perfect, and it could tell even they weren't exempt from that rule.
Anyway… Perhaps it would be better for Gabriel's sanity for them to also be happy.
V1 scuttled over to the Ferryman, shoving the sheet of stickers into their hand. It pointed to the stickers, and then towards Gabriel, before scurrying back onto the bed. They were the type to return things. If they wanted to return its sticker sheet, they'd have to come over. And if they did that, it wouldn't accept it before it got them to share in the joy of putting stickers on an archangel.
“I-I couldn't possibly…” The Ferryman let out a nervous chuckle. Back to their regular self, it seemed.
“And if we insist?” Gabriel seemed to have caught onto its plan, as he put an arm around V1. He was… happy. And that was nice.
The Ferryman approached the two hesitantly, taking their sweet time picking out a sticker. Their hand was hovering above the heart-shaped ones, though, so it was pretty clear which one they were going for. A pink heart with an obnoxious amount of glitter… A solid choice, if they wanted to make him look like the cover of a teenage girl’s diary.
Well, it didn’t know whether that’d been an actual thing humans did, as it had only seen such in movies. It’d downloaded some from a terminal ages ago, in return giving it more Gabriel footage. Terminals were big Gabriel fans, it’d deduced. The one that had appeared in the palace’s cellar certainly was, as it would not cease trying to offer V1 a ‘bodypillow’ of him, for the low low price of a dozen pictures of the kind he would not appreciate it taking. It didn’t need a bodypillow anyway, as it had the real Gabriel.
“...May I?”
The Ferryman had finally chosen the sticker, that glitter one. Once Gabriel nodded, they placed it on the right cheek of his helmet, their hands shaking a nigh unnoticeable amount. It chose not to draw attention to that fact.
The purplish-pink tips of his wings shifted to a shade of yellow, a colour which V1 was very familiar with. He was fun like this, beyond happy and probably full of whimsy. It'd been a long while since it'd seen him this delighted.
“Heh…” Gabriel looked as if he'd explode from the sheer amount of concentrated joy within him. He traced the outline of the heart sticker with a finger, specks of glitter sticking to it. Maybe it should one-up them.
It picked a larger star-shaped sticker, white or light grey in colour, and stuck it right next to the first one. While it was a bland one when it came to colour, it did make up for that in size. This sticker took up a significant amount of sticker space on its side of his helmet, reducing the ‘kills’ --if each sticker gave one ‘kill’ (point) regardless of size-- it would get in this to-be competition. If it put smaller stickers on the larger ones, however… No, it’d lose style points.
Spurred on by V1 adding another sticker, the Ferryman did so as well. They placed a purple heart sticker (they were so subtle), after which it stuck a darker blue star to the left of the lighter one to make a gradient, which would grant more style points.
They placed a sticker, it placed a sticker, and so on and so forth, until the white on the front of his helmet was no longer visible. The blush was, though (he was so see-through). Did he even know that it showed?
“And… number 61.” The Ferryman placed the last heart-shaped sticker they could fit.
61… Damn, it'd only managed 60 without completely ruining the gradient it had going from red to green, and from green back to red. Though it did have to admit that theirs looked better.
The Ferryman had somehow managed to make a landscape. They'd managed to make art, with an angel's helmet as their canvas and only heart stickers to paint with. It was kind of ‘sick’, as people would say.
Their ‘painting’ was that of a sunset over an ocean, with no land in sight. A little cliché of a topic, but as it was well-executed, it couldn't complain. It could recognise talent.
“Would you like to see, sire?”
They fetched an ornate handheld mirror from who-knows-where, and offered it to Gabriel, who eagerly took it. V1 quickly snapped a picture, storing it in its ‘Cutebriel’ folder.
…Yes, it was very good at naming subfolders. It had reorganised all the files in the ‘Gabriel’ folder a while back, into a grand total of four subfolders. There was ‘Cutebriel’ for cute and/or silly images and audio clips, which included the softest ‘please?’ it had ever heard him utter.
‘Madbriel’ was pretty self-explanatory, as was ‘Sadbriel’. There was also the fabled ‘Gaybriel’, which --despite the name-- contained only footage of their fights and audio clips of him being weird as f*ck about his own blood. Liking the taste of blood in his mouth and all that, which it knew to not be normal. Maybe he had an iron deficiency.
“I… I think I’m going to cry.” Gabriel definitely sounded like he was going to cry.
“...Is it that bad?”
Of course they'd assume the worst. To V1, he just seemed very happy. There were so many signals pointing in that direction, how couldn't they see? The colour of his wings, the blush, the smile evident in his tone… Just his whole demeanour screamed happiness. Contentedness.
“Huh? No, no, it's lovely. I love it,” he scrambled to respond. “I’m just so… happy? I think I’m happy.”
“Oh. That's… good, then.”
It was good, obviously. Him being happy was the main goal here, wasn't it? His happiness meant routine and stability, and more opportunities for pictures. More simulated serotonin.
“Are you happy?” Gabriel asked, sounding softer than it would have liked him to.
A long pause. Silence, with only the sound of Gabriel’s breathing and the crashing of waves.
“...Mainly, yes.”
More silence. A thin film of tension wrapped itself around them, which it would’ve described as ‘suffocating’ if it had lungs.
“If I may ask, why just ‘mainly’?”
“Ah, it's nothing. This just reminded me of a… time I would rather forget, sire.”
They were lying, it could tell they were lying through their teeth. It knew they were jealous. It kind of was, too.
The Ferryman had real emotions to relate to him with, they had the ability to make art of and for him, they had a voice to whisper soft reassurances with when he was in doubt.
V1 had superior computing power to solve his problems with, it had the ability to let loose around him without shame, it had knowledge of every single weakness of his and just how to make him scream the loudest. It knew the composition of his blood, it knew his clothing size. It knew how to make him happy, how to make him kneel, how to make him beg. It basically knew him inside out, so nothing about him really felt new and exciting anymore.
Though… It hadn't yet seen his internal organs. Oh, it should've done so back when he still could heal in the matter of minutes. These days, smaller wounds took maybe half a day to close, while larger ones could take days. And he had to actually care for them, disinfect and such. He healed faster than humans, still, but that was too slow for its liking. Though that fact didn't make it like him any less.
“That's understandable.”
Ah, so kind and understanding he was to those he liked. It kind of wished he'd start admitting to Minos that he didn't hate the latter’s guts. His tsundere act would get him nowhere at this rate, and they'd be stuck in a slow burn love-hate purgatory for the rest of eternity. As entertaining as that trope was, one or both parties would lose interest eventually, even Minos with his (not so) infinite patience.
“Uhm… Do I just call you ‘machine’? It feels rather… impersonal. Objectifying.” The Ferryman got down on its level. V1 didn't feel like a child, not at all. “...No offence, sire.”
“None taken.”
A moment of awkward silence passed. Well, awkward for them. It didn’t mind the silence as much, as it constantly had some quiet music on in the background. This time it was the song it’d listened to when cleaning up the Library of Babel. It’d been at least an hour of that, on loop, while it powerwashed… books. It’d powerwashed books. A certain somebody wouldn’t be happy if it did that back at ‘home’.
“So, do I call you that, or..?”
V1 shook its head, and pointed to its chest where its initials were. They didn’t get to call it anything other than that.
“Okay, so my actual question was… Did King Minos depart with you?”
It nodded, as Minos had definitely left with V1 in tow.
“Mhm. And he's… not here now. Did you perhaps ditch him along the way?”
It firmly shook its head. He'd come in with it, so he was probably wandering around the ferry. Although… It'd been quite some time now, he should've found his way here at this point.
“So he's… he's here already? Oh, no. Oh dear.” The Ferryman shot up. “I-I should've been there to greet him --and you-- the second you came in. I haven't cleaned anything up, I-”
“I’m… I’m sure he doesn't mind.” Gabriel sounded just as nervous as they did. What was it with these people and being afraid of Minos’ disapproval?
“But what if he does..?”
“Then, uh… Take the machine with you. Everything will go just fine with it around!” Gabriel picked V1 up by the waist --a very rude thing to do to beings of shorter stature-- and set it down right next to the Ferryman.
“Oh, thank… you? That's a great idea.” The Ferryman grabbed its arm. “I’ll come inform you once I’ve finished the preparations, sire.”
…What the hell were they talking about? ‘Preparations’? For what? It was eager to know more, and expected them to discuss the ‘preparations' further.
But before V1 could get answers, the Ferryman had dragged it out of the room. It had half a mind to wriggle free from their grasp and scuttle back, but decided against it, since this had technically been a command from Gabriel. It listening to him would make him happy.
● ● ●
Ugh, curse the glue in these..!
Gabriel was currently standing in front of the bathroom mirror, frantically attempting to scrub and peel off the stickers on his helmet. There were small sticker remnants under his fingernails, glue residue stuck to his helmet, and feelings of guilt gnawing at his heart.
…Sorry, Charon. Sorry, machine.
They'd worked so hard to cheer him up, yet all he could feel now was pure panic. He was supposed to have a serious conversation with Minos in a few minutes, but here he was, with stickers on him like some sort of child. It would not help him look like he was taking this seriously.
Of course, he was taking things really seriously. He did want to at least tell Minos why he kept constantly doing things that made no sense for an amiable and ambitious angel to do. Why he always tried being happy, being around him, just to drift away again when the guilt became too much bear. Why he felt like they were just playing house pretending nothing had ever happened. Why he needed to get beaten to a pulp, maybe even killed, to atone for a mere fraction of what he’d done.
He wasn’t doing this just for his own sake, was he?
…What would Minos even get out of ripping open old wounds? No amount of apologies would make a difference. No amount of sobbing on his knees, no amount of proof of his penance, no amount of scars or fresh-
Now that just makes it sound like I’m saying that I’m the victim in this. I’m not.
What had become of him? He’d shifted from a naive and trusting ‘child’ into a miserable and pessimistic ‘adult’ in the span of what, a day? The day that he met the machine. What would he be doing now if they’d never met? Still blissfully pretending it’d been ‘righteous’ and ‘justified’, that the blood on his hands didn’t mean he was a murderer. That it had all been done in His name.
Ugh. Wake up, Mr. Miserable f*ck. You’ll be late at this rate.
Gabriel scrubbed the last bits of stickers and glue off of his helmet, making sure he looked somewhat presentable. His clothes were fine, his sleeves long enough, and his wings preened and without any visible feather-lacking spots. His overall vibe could use some work, but he didn’t really have time for that. The ‘pathetic wet puppy’ look would have to do. Minos wouldn’t hurt him too much, at least physically.
“Sire?”
A knock at the bathroom door halted his self-loathing session. Well timed, he had to admit.
“...Hm? Yeah, I’m almost ready.” He smoothed out some creases on his shirt, and finally opened the door. “How do I look?”
“Oh, um… Would ‘good’ be enough of a response?”
Good? He looked… good? That was a relief, though the Ferryman's hesitation made him wonder if it was sincere or not. They wouldn't lie to him, would they?
“...I’ll take that,” Gabriel responded with a sigh. “So… How likely is it that this'll go fine? Because I feel like I’m going to royally f*ck this up.”
“Everything will go just fine, sire. And if it doesn't, we can wait a little while and then try again.”
“Are you sure? I don't think he'd want me attempting to apologise over and over again until I get it right. It’ll start feeling insincere.”
“Just… go for it. What's the worst that could happen?”
That I’ll be maimed beyond recognition and won't die. That I’ll incur his wrath by making it all about myself again.
…What if the machine had told Minos about the, y'know, complicated feelings Gabriel was having towards him? This would be very awkward, then. No sane person would kill somebody and lock them away for decades while forcing them to watch their own corpse destroy what they'd built, only to then f*cking fall in love with them. If it even was ‘love’.
“I’ll… Well, I’d get kicked out, at the very least.”
To put it lightly.
“In which case you'd have a place here.”
“...Point taken.” His hands wandered to preen his wings once more. “But-”
“No ifs or buts, sire. You'll survive this, I’m sure.”
Stars, they were really persistent. While yes, he'd told them to force him to do this if he faltered, he hadn't expected them to be this resolute.
He was hesitant to believe them. They hadn't been wrong before, but what if this time was an exception? They'd have to scrape his splattered remains off of the floor and maybe walls, perhaps even the ceiling. If there’d even be anything left.
“...Sire.”
Gabriel looked back up again. They were offering him their hand, to take. So they could drag him into this inevitable catastrophe of a conversation, and maybe also to calm his nerves.
His palms were sweaty, almost off-puttingly so. Surely they wouldn't be able to tell.
“Ah, right.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, and grasped their hand. They wouldn't let him do anything other than endure this situation.
…and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night nor the-
“Um, you… you should perhaps loosen your grip a little. I think I heard something crack.”
“H-huh? Oh, I’m… really sorry.” He was going to let go of their hand entirely, but they wouldn't have any of it. They squeezed his hand lightly.
…nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at mid-
“This is completely unrelated, but what's your favourite flavour of… candy, or something of the like?”
Interruptions, interruptions. Meaningless small talk in an attempt to calm my nerves.
Favourite flavour of candy? He'd never really… liked a specific flavour enough to have a favourite. Not that he'd ever had ‘favourite’ things. Every flavour, every piece of clothing, every pasta shape… He did like all of them, sure, but there was no one thing he liked above the rest.
Wait, no, there was one thing. He did prefer skirts over pants, even if that was just for comfort reasons. And out of habit. Not because of the machine and its hobby of taking (way too many) pictures of him from various angles, and not because he looked good in a skirt. He didn't look good, he looked great in one.
Right, my favourite flavour…
“Strawberry, I guess. Why?”
That was the first one that came to mind. Blueberry, orange, raspberry, pear, redcurrant… That last one was great when made into juice, not so much as candy.
…Also the green variant of the blackcurrant, which he'd tasted exactly once. They weren't too bad.
“Oh, it's nothing, sire. Just curious.”
They were going to use that information for something. Perhaps they were also planning on doing the ‘positive reinforcement’ thing that the machine was doing, like he was a misbehaving dog. He found himself not minding the comparison, though, as he was pretty much just like a dog. Fiercely loyal to his owner, liked scritches, and loved treats.
Oh, and he would use his teeth in a fight if he was allowed to. That had been conditioned out of him, as it wasn’t becoming of an angel to bite people.
Reckon I could bite one of the machine’s arms off.
Before long, they stopped in front of an ornate double door. He could swear he felt his heart sink down to the floor. No, beneath the floor, beneath the waves of the ocean, beneath writhing, waterlogged bodies.
The Ferryman, noticing his demeanour change ever so slightly, squeezed his hand. He tried to squeeze back, but discovered he was frozen in place. Typical.
All he had to do was think of nice things, believe in himself, and trust the Ferryman. And maybe trust Minos, too, not to kill him. Trust himself to say the right words, display the right feelings, do the right things. Trust himself to not lose his patience, his restraint. To not break down bawling when he inevitably would forget every single thing he was going to say.
…Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with-
“So-”
Another interruption. Sure, they weren’t capable of reading his mind, but surely they could tell he wished for a bit of silence?
“For the love of all that is holy, Charon, stop interrupting me mid-prayer.” He stifled the urge to raise his voice. He shouldn’t take his frustrations out on them, he knew. “...Please?”
“...Of course. Whenever you're ready.”
Even after everything, knowing what he knew now, reciting those words still helped. Maybe it reminded him of the days before everything went to sh*t. Back when everything felt like one really long day yet he never got tired, when he had the time and drive to observe things, to marvel at the tiniest wonders of the world. When he had the time to talk to people, to listen to their tales, their joys and woes. When he had friends, when he had… family. Not of blood, but… They'd disowned him already, he reckoned.
…He wasn't ready. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to, he couldn't. He couldn't. But he had to. He had to, even though his limbs would not listen to the command to go forward.
If he was going to die, he had to do it in style. Not like this, cowering, trembling at the mere thought. Like he was afraid to perish. He wasn't, but his body disagreed. That blasted survival instinct would get him nowhere.
“Hey, Charon.” Gabriel steadied his breathing. Everything would be fine, they’d promised. “Please remember that my favourite colour was blue. Red too, I guess.”
“...What for?”
“The funeral.”
And before the Ferryman could respond, Gabriel pushed open the door, which creaked like its hinges had never been oiled. How abnormally negligent of them.
The room was spacious, and the walls filled with paintings not of Gabriel. A large window took up most of the opposite wall. Heavy furniture framed the window, with bookshelves to the right and a fireplace(?) to the left. A rather familiar-looking couch sat in the middle of the room, facing the gnashing waves, with an even more familiar person sitting on it.
That… definitely looks like the couches in the palace.
Now that he thought about it, everything in this room looked like it'd come straight from there, clashing with the decor of the rest of the ferry. Most surfaces had a layer of dust on them, so this change certainly wasn't recent.
It's too calm here. I don't think I should-
Taking a step back, he felt a hand on his back, which gently nudged him forward again. The door then closed, sealing his fate. Well, at least forcing him to commit to this thing.
…I don't want to. I don't think he wants me to. I shouldn't ruin everything by opening my stupid mouth again.
His body took a step forward against his will. He preferred to think of this as his body being a treacherous bastard, not as him wanting to just get this over with as soon as possible. That was a bad thought to have of a serious conversation, right?
Gabriel sat down on the other end of the couch, not even glancing at Minos. The silence was eating him alive.
He tucked his wings against his back, the colour of them having long faded to an ashen white. As white as a sheet, as pale as a ghost. He barely managed to stop them from puffing up in terror.
Okay, okay… So far so good.
After a couple deep breaths, he opened his mouth, only to find that no words came out. He didn't know how to begin a conversation anymore. He didn't know how to look anyone in the eye, how to get the tremble out of his voice.
“...Hi..?” His greeting came out more like a question. Great, he was already starting this off on the wrong foot.
“Hello, Gabriel.”
A simple, calm and collected greeting. He used to be able to do that too, to push emotions into a box and lock them in, not thinking about them at all until it was time to let them out. Now the box was more like a colander, holes punched into every side for emotions to leak out.
…He didn't use a nickname this time. That definitely was a bad omen, wasn't it? He always said ‘angel’ or ‘my angel’, and other sappy stuff like that.
“What was it that thou wished for us to talk about? I was told ‘twas of great importance.”
Right… What was he here for again, besides being a nervous mess? The apology, for one. Also to figure out whether Minos hated him or not, whether he felt anything other than… neutral about him. But the apology was more important.
“O-oh, right, that…” Gabriel muttered, scrambling to remember what he'd rehearsed.
Breathe… I’ll remember soon. Probably.
Silence. Nothing but the sound of crashing waves, creaking hull, his breathing. His wings fluttering nervously.
Silence. Growing panic. Maybe he should've written it all down on paper… No, that would've looked insincere. Sincere words were supposed to come from the heart, not the paper.
…I don't remember anything I rehearsed.
Straight up dying would've been less painful than this. Attempting to swallow the lump in his throat did little to calm the prey animal in his head, instead only serving to make it freak out more. Like a heart beating so fast it was just shaking in place.
How do I… What do I do..?
More silence. He wished his chest didn't ache, and his eyes didn't water. Why couldn't he do anything right? This was supposed to be a simple apology, how did he f*ck it up this bad? All he had to do was say it. Say it and mean it.
“...I-I’m sorry.”
There. Was he apologising for his previous acts or current behaviour? That part remained unclear, and maybe it was for the best to just assume it was both.
“What for?”
Gabriel could sense a hint of sympathy in his tone. Perhaps it was for the better that it wasn't empathy.
● ● ●
It would be a lie to say its intent wasn't to eavesdrop. V1 was currently in a cupboard, sitting folded up like goddamn origami. Its optic was dimmed down to basically nothing, fans set to the quietest setting, and hearing cranked up to the max.
…It was so hot in here. Its internal sensors got a reading of 97.7°C, which certainly wasn't good. As long as it didn't go above a hundred.
Gabriel had been quiet for a minute now. From a crack between the cupboard doors, it could just barely see him sitting on the couch, his wings a ghostly white. It wasn't quite sure what that colour meant, but based on his overall demeanour it was something negative.
“What art thou sorry for, Gabriel?” Minos repeated his previous question. His tone lacked a significant amount of his usual… What was the word? Poise?
*poise¹
*/ˈpoɪz/
* noun
*1. graceful and elegant bearing in a person.
*2. (archaic) balance; equilibrium.
Minos’ tone lacked some of his usual poise. It wasn't enough to be considered blunt or rude, but enough so that everyone could tell. Probably a touchy subject. V1 could recall only one time he'd been this ‘ruffled’, and that'd been when Gabriel had decided to ditch them and they eventually found him in some dingy chapel. Of course, he'd tried to maintain that elegant facade for its sake, but it could tell.
“Gabriel?”
It had picked up on the angel's breathing starting to speed up a quarter minute ago. Did that man not know how to read a person? Gabriel was quite clearly freaking the f*ck out, and that tone was not helping. Surely he was able to tell if an angel was nearly hyperventilating in front of him.
Why couldn't they just make up already? It'd probably make both of them happier, and the terminals would have something new to ‘ship’. It would be so simple if they put all emotion to the side and talked about things.
“...Angel, ‘tis alright. Everything is alright.” There it was, the warmth that he should've shown Gabriel five minutes ago.
“B-but… It's not! It just is not, nothing has been alright ever since I… I..!”
Gabriel sounded positively miserable, like he'd been crying the whole time he'd been here. V1 had to temporarily disconnect its limbs so it wouldn't go ruining their moment. They had to at least try to do it themselves, before it'd be forced to fix things.
It couldn't quite make out what Minos replied, but it did succeed in making Gabriel feel even worse, as it picked up something between a sob and a whimper coming from him. Was it really that difficult to calm somebody down when using words? It could just bonk his helmet with its face and have him beaming in the matter of seconds.
“You… you should hate me,” Gabriel muttered after a moment. “...Do you?”
Some blue had seeped back into his wings. It appeared the overwhelming feeling of terror had passed after that little emotional release, settling down into his usual lingering guilt.
V1 knew what he'd done, but didn't really understand why he still thought about it. Weapons couldn't disobey orders, go against their programming, so it hadn't been his fault but the wielders’.
“To be completely honest… Yes, although significantly less than I should.”
It could see Gabriel’s shoulders drop. That was good, but they still hadn't gone through the actual issue, i.e. the (mass) murder thing. And the ‘crush’ issue Gabriel had going on.
“And considerably less than I did approximately a year ago,” Minos continued.
Oh, the ‘imprisoned for decades if not centuries’ thing. That too.
“...Gets a lot more difficult to kill somebody if you know them, right?” Gabriel sighed. “We should've been friends, maybe then I wouldn't have-”
“I did not put enough effort into befriending thee, to be fair.”
It didn't have enough information to verify the accuracy of that statement. Maybe it should ask them, in detail, how the whole thing went down. Though that may be a bit difficult, considering they had emotions.
“Mh… I wouldn't have listened, anyway.”
That much it had deduced itself. Gabriel had been as hard to get through as a brick, as refined as a diamond, and as set in his ways as V1 was in its. That was, until it’d showed him that there were still enemies stronger than him. Opponents more in touch with the intricacies of combat.
“Thou wouldst be surprised what I can do with a little time and effort.”
Gabriel bristled his feathers, the blue in his wings changing to a shade of yellow. Gold and white… What a colour combination. Anger and fear at once could be a pretty powerful feeling, when channelled into the right thing. Though this seemed more like mild annoyance than anger.
“Even when conversing with the other party is like talking to a brick wall?” Gabriel huffed, crossing his arms. “Listen, Minos, I don't know why you keep trying to convince me that I’m not the one that should be held responsible for my actions. First, you blame the Council, then you blame yourself? What kind of logic even is that?”
Pure gold replaced the ashen white of his wings entirely now. He really couldn't stick to one emotion for five minutes, could he?
“Ah, well-”
“I need you to blame me, Minos! I need you to hate me, I need you to loathe me, I need you to hurt me..!”
Oh, wow. Using anger to mask his vulnerability, how clever. That had worked so well for him last time.
“...Why should I?”
“Why shouldn't you? I-I… I don't get it, I just don't get any of you people!”
Was this how married people fought? V1 wasn't quite sure how much of the things in human movies were factually correct, or if they were just stereotypes, but this seemed very much to be how people united in holy matrimony argued.
…Human children felt scared when they heard their parents argue, right? Maybe it should feel scared too, even if they weren't its ‘parents’.
“Angel-”
“The bad far outweighs the good I’ve done, doesn't it? You shouldn't have any mercy for me.” Gabriel had gotten to his feet, and was now pacing back and forth. “So stop pitying me and get to ending my existence already! I don't have all rest-of-eternity.”
There he was again, thinking that sacrificing himself would be better than not doing so. It wouldn't let anything happen to him if things were to actually come to that.
“Dost thou reckon thy death to change anything? That it would delight me to see thy blood on my hands and thy mangled corpse on the floor beneath me?” Minos finally got a word in, and certainly did not disappoint. “...Thou wouldst be correct about the blood part, but not the rest.”
…Why did Gabriel's wingtips turn pink for half a second just now? Did he seriously like being threatened so much that even words without any action to follow were enough to get him?
“Oh..?” Gabriel stopped pacing, his demeanour having suddenly done a complete 180. “You would… do that? For me?”
Of course he'd be weird about this. He was always weird about blood and getting beaten half to death.
“...For thee?”
“Uhm… Ignore that.” Gabriel sat back down on the couch. “So, you would love nothing more than to spill my blood? In that case… I’m all yours.”
Pardon? His blood was not for someone else to waste. And while yes, he could replenish it in no time at all, watching fuel go to waste was almost painful.
V1 kicked open the cupboard door with no consideration for if it was an antique or not. The sound alone was enough to startle the two, Gabriel's wings changing rapidly from blue and gold to white, then gold, then back to the first one.
It didn't move further, settling on glaring at them both. Sure, it wanted them to get along, but not that well. Getting permission to spill someone's blood was basically a step above marriage.
“M-machine? Wh…” Gabriel seemed completely thrown off guard. “What..?”
Perhaps it shouldn't have done that. While he was pretty harmless when stunned speechless, such an experience could be distressing to him.
*Hamster care guide:
*Much like any other pet, hamsters are startled quite easily. It it important that you-
Wrong guide. One concerning pet birds would be more suitable, it reckoned.
*How to calm down a startled bird:
*1. Approach slowly, making sure not to startle it again.
*2. If the bird knows and trusts you, talking to it will-
Talking… As that wasn't doable either, it would just have to do what felt right.
V1 scuttled over to the couch once it managed to reverse-Tetris its way out of the cupboard, and sat down between the two.
“No bloodshed, then?” Minos had caught on pretty quickly, much to its delight.
It nodded. That was its favourite pastime (besides taking pictures of Gabriel). Committing acts of violence wouldn't look good on Minos, anyway, though that was only its opinion.
“...A shame, truly.”
“I was… really looking forward to that,” Gabriel grumbled, his wings now back to their usual blue.
On second thought, that maybe could've helped them bond. A little fuel wasted was a fair price to pay for his happiness, right?
