exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date & Time: January 21, morning
Location:Frozen lake near the creepy castle
Characters: Michael

worth, Kevin

senseandcecilbility , whoever dares put up with Michael.
Summary: Michael on ice
Warning: Michael on ice

[Michael had been in a foul mood for over a week. That was not a particularly healthy behavior. Especially as far as Uriel's health was concerned. Still, Uriel had made sure to bring meals to his former partner's secluded chambers three times a day, dutifully and meekly enduring the ensuing overpowered tantrums, disparaging remarks, very exact kicking and even one or two food plates thrown in his general direction. The problem with Michael, Uriel thought, was that he had way too much energy to spare. Keeping himself cooped up like that would eventually bring the castle down, and that would be Uriel's fault.

He was already falling in deep and dark despair when inspiration struck. It came in the form of a glorious sunset, when, filled with nostalgia, he stopped to watch some adorable children skating on one of the city's many frozen bodies of water.

Persuading Michael to put the funny shoes on was a literally painful experience Uriel would never forget. However, the archangel seemed to change his mind after his tablet informed him about something called "ice hockey". Uriel knew nothing about ice hockey, but Michael's sudden acquiescence - in the midst of squeezing Uriel's larynx with a skate blade - was relieving to say the least, even if somewhat suspicious.

He should know better, of course. Now, watching the tiny archangel skate on the frozen lake near the castle, he feels nothing but unadulterated horror.

He... He created a monster, didn't he?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It has been a long week. For someone whose age rounds out around before time existed, a long week can only be absolutely awful. Michael does not like this city, he has decided he does not much like all the cold, he does not like Uriel's fussing or his stupid food (except the omelets) or his fussing especially, and really - this is terrible and he would like to leave. But since he cannot...

The shoes are a problem. They have blades on, which isn't much of a problem for someone who can fly, but they're hideous. The sweater Uriel has insisted he wear is hideous, too. Truly, the only thing that has gotten him into these skates and out of his chamber is the big, angry-looking hockey stick he has procured from who knows where. It puts a glint in his eye that might be acceptable, if he were really a teenage, sporty schoolboy as he currently appears, but given his true nature... well.

Well. The act of skating itself is remarkably easy, despite the hideous shoes. He discovers the trick to skating backwards very much by accident and decides that's much more exciting than doing it the right way, and has been doing loops for some time before he comes up in front of Uriel and skids to a stop. Probably, he gets ice shavings everywhere, rudely.

At least he seems... happier...? He holds his hand out, for he was at least sensibly convinced to leave the hockey stick on the ground while he figured this out.]

Give me the stick.

[Michael enjoying himself while wearing shoes. It is kind of endearing in its own lion cubs attacking your face way. Uriel would have smiled if he didn't know too well that his was a punic victory. A punic victory that might very likely cost his teeth. This bleak appraisal of his life perspectives is only confirmed when he gets ice all over his trousers, just to be faced with an adorably mirthful Michael.

After some terrible seconds of blatant hesitation, he does exactly as he is told.

This is it, he thinks. This is the moment when God will just call this terrible punishment off and offer him retirement with a proper pension for work injury. He is going to be happy after that, he thinks. Not a single care in the world while he spends the rest of his long existence finding out how life feels with permanently broken kneecaps.]

[Michael, somehow, does not react adversely to the blatant hesitation. Now with a mean hockey stick in his hands, he feels much more like enjoying some friendly sport than throwing a fit.

Plus it would be hard to stomp in these skates. He holds up the stick and scrutinizes it with a tiny grin that is not at all safe, and gives it a few experimental swings. In the air. He did not actually learn how to play ice hockey once he read that it involved whacking things with sticks.

Everyone needs a hobby. At the very least, he is not hitting Uriel with it, although his wild swing might come close.]

I hope you brought your own skates. [He points the stick at Uriel, putting its business end under his chin, you know, habit...] You did, didn't you?

...

[He. He has actually brought skates. Not to play hockey, of course, but to rescue Michael in case he ended up in trouble, for as certainly as Lucifer will never be persuaded of the failings of fishnets, Michael's charming personality will inevitably get him in deadly trouble.]

Y-yes, Michael.

...Yes, I did.

[There is some fussing with an old backpack: hot coffee, delicately wrapped omelets, cute strawberry cakes and finally bladed shoes. His hands are shaking, but that's most likely the cold weather, isn't it? Taking a deep, calming breath, he starts lacing the skates up. ]

Edited 2014-01-22 09:22 (UTC)

[He'd be lying if he said he didn't find the situation itself amusing. He'd insisted to Uriel this kind of arrangement is nonsense, that he's nothing more than a glorified Angel babysitter, and now look at them.

But he doesn't stay watching from too far for too long, considering his presence would probably be difficult to ignore after a short amount of time, especially for two archangels. It's easier just to give himself away, a brief moment in which there's nothing there, but the next time you look there's that well dressed blonde with the mismatched eyes watching from the side of the ice.]

Enjoying yourself?

(no subject)

why would anyone put up with michael

Uriel does. 8(

intervention required

oh well...

no subject