Saint Michael the Archangel | Dt. Michael Angel (the_sacred_fire) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-06-06 08:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | famine, michael |
Who: Famine & Michael
What: Checking in (Originally posted by Famine)
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: NYC cafe
Famine made her way to the cafe with a sense of trepidation. Sure, Michael had said he wasn't there to scold her, but seeing as how he was the general of Heaven's armies, he put her a little on edge anyway. But it had been her idea, and she was no coward. She would be there.
But it was still really weird, him asking to speak to her, to "check in", whatever that meant. And that totally wasn't weird, or anything. But she'd seen weirder things in her long life. So she ordered coffee and a sandwich, and sat picking at it while she waited for him to arrive
Michael showed up on time as always. He was rarely early and never late. He made his way into the cafe, locating Famine easily. He didn't want to scold her, though he did expect to know why she had been messing with a saint. Patrick had mentioned she was bored. If that was the case, he could think of plenty for her to do beyond bothering the saints.
"Famine," he said, inclining his head to her in a nod. He was living with Famine's sister, which tended to give Michael more of a soft spot for the rest of the Horsepeople in general. He sat and proceeded to seek out the most sugary drink available on the menu. "So you seem to have been finding some dubious entertainment lately," he said without even looking up from his menu skimming.
Famine did not jump when Michael addressed her, but it was a near thing.
"Michael," she replied, giving him the same two-finger salute she'd given Patrick.
She hoped he didn't ask straight up why it had been Patrick, because beyond being bored (and wow, there was some awesome alliteration), she couldn't really say it had been at the prompting of Satan and Lucifer. There was a reason she spent part of her time being annoyed with them.
"You might say that," she said easily, taking a big bite of sandwich. Apparently they were playing the 'state the obvious in a roundabout and cryptic kind of way' game. Alrighty then.
Michael found what he was looking for and he ordered before threading his fingers together and peering at Famine over them. "Patrick tells me you targeted him because you were bored? Surely you could find something to occupy yourself that doesn't involve torturing saints?" Then he held up his hand. "Like I said, I didn't come to scold, as long as you have stopped interfering with Patrick. I am merely concerned."
She watched as he settled in to speak to her, feeling like a child in front of the principal.
"Well, yes," she replied. "But like I was telling Patrick, I'm a Horseman sitting around with nothing to do. I feel useless. Until the End, I feel pretty much decorative. And I don't really have a lot of other marketable skills. I was created to do one thing, and that's my purpose."
She sighed. "Yes, I've stopped. When you see him next, tell him to eat a lot of protein. And carbs. He'll need to gain weight. Lots of calories." She tore off another piece of sandwich and chewed and swallowed it.
"Concerned about him or me?" she asked, somewhat ironically.
"I'll tell him," Michael nodded, wondering if Patrick would listen or if he would be ridiculous and refuse her advice. "And you are not useless. You were created to do one thing, yes. But so was I, and I have found ways to...occupy myself."
Michael looked down at the table and then back up at her. "I am concerned for both of you. Patrick is human and silly and I worry for him. And I don't like knowing people who are supposedly on the same side are in opposition with each other."
She shrugged. "If he doesn't listen, I'm going to sign him up for the steak of the month club," she replied. "And maybe send him some potatoes. One of the best meals for getting a lot of calories in at once."
She fidgeting, wishing she could light a cigarette, then jerked her head up when he mentioned occupying himself. Then she raised an eyebrow with a tiny smirk. "And what does the Archangel Michael 'occupy' himself with?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Alright, maybe not entirely useless," she conceded. "I've done the college thing at least a dozen times, there's just the whole problem where I don't age."
She couldn't help but snort. "He is a little silly, I'll give you that," she replied. "He gave me a hug when we talked last. Anyone else probably would have probably reacted worse."
"I think that's why I need a vacation," she said at last. "Staying in one place too long drives me a little batty. I wiped out about three square miles of cornfields in Kansas way back when. It was really bad, I had to get the hell out of dodge after that."
"I've never really apologized to anyone in my life...you think I should?" she asked, quietly musing.
"I think Patrick would enjoy being signed up for a steak of the month club," Michael said, amused. George had given him a subscription to a cookie of the month club, and he loved it.
"The Archangel Michael is going to casually avoid your question," he said with a slight smirk. He had a feeling Pestilence probably told her sisters what they got up to anyway.
"I understand that it can be frustrating sometimes. It is for me too. We all have to find something to occupy ourselves. Things that don't harm our comrades. Patrick is a good man. I am not surprised he hugged you. He has a great deal of compassion in him and, in a way, you did show him strength he wasn't aware he had."
"I think a vacation will give you time to think. I have been considering one for myself as well."
Michael studied her when she asked if she should apologise. "I don't know if I can answer that, but I can say that I know Patrick well enough to know he would accept it with grace and he would appreciate the gesture. Do you want to apologise?"
She huffed out a quiet laugh. "I may just do it, then."
She snorted and grinned at that. "In that case, I don't want to know." Then she tilted her head, still grinning. "Does the Archangel Michael also enjoy referring to himself in the third person?"
"He really is," she said softly. "He still talks to me, after two famines and now this, and he was still polite and friendly." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Did I? Well that's news to me. But good for him, I suppose."
"I'm thinking of Puerto Rico," she replied. "Patrick told me about a nice hotel, and lying on a beach, drinking out of a coconut and trying and failing to tan, sounds like heaven right now. Just need to get away from the drama."
She got really quiet then. "I don't know," she said softly. "I mean, he's probably the closest thing I have to a friend, and like you said, he'd probably appreciate it." She sighed. "Everything's so weird," she said. "I kind of want to go thump some Hellspawn now."
"The Archangel Michael might just get a kick out of referring to himself in the third person, yes," Michael nodded. It made him feel important.
"Patrick stood up to me when I informed him he should have spoken to me earlier about this. Patrick has never stood up to me before. He insisted he was not weak and he is absolutely correct. I think, without you, it would have taken him much longer to realise that," Michael said, though he wasn't praising Famine's interference even if she took it that way.
"I remember when John and Patrick went to Puerto Rico. They did seem to have a nice time. I think time away from the drama would do us all some good."
Michael smiled softly at her, an expression that often didn't find itself upon Michael's face. "Patrick is a good friend to have. And I do believe he wouldn't take your apology lightly. Though I am not certain thumping anyone will do much good, other than turning the Hellspawn on you. They do tend to hold grudges."
"Well I'm just so pleased for the Archangel Michael," she replied, trying for seriousness and unable to keep a snicker from slipping out.
She knew it wasn't praise, but sometimes you just needed an unorthodox push to make things happen. "He's definitely not," she said firmly. "He argues with me, and he stands up to you. He's a good person."
She cracked a small smile. "Ten days on a beach, I can't wait. Hopefully it'll help the headache that's been building behind my eyes go the fuck away." She finished her coffee in a long drink.
His expression was...a little strange, but it made him seem less scary. And she was able to relax a little bit. "Hopefully we can talk after I'm back," she replied. "I plan on texting him randomly from the hotel, telling him to put down the tea and eat something fattening." She laughed.
She fake-pouted and sighed. "They do, but I really don't care," she replied. "I don't work for them, they can hate me all they want. Plus it might make me feel a little better."
"The Archangel Michael might be pleased for himself as well," Michael said with a smirk.
"He is one of the best," Michael agreed. He had always known that, even if Patrick hadn't. It was why he was so tough on him at times.
"I hope the beach does you good. And I am sure your text messages will help Patrick as well, since he does tend to drink a lot of tea, that one."
"I can't stop you, I suppose," Michael said, since Famine didn't work for him either. "Just take care, won't you? I believe they incite enough wrath with their actions."
"Famine is getting a headache from referring to the Archangel Michael in the third person," she replied, smirking in return.
She said nothing, merely nodded in agreement, lost in her thoughts. This whole conversation was a little surreal, but at least it hadn't gone past a 5 out of 10 on her Odd Meter.
"I think it will," she responded. "He'll probably think I'm spying on him, when in reality, educated guesses are almost as good." She smirked.
"Then again, that would require going out and hunting them down, and I'd hate to leave for vacation all bloody and bruised," he said, drumming her fingers on the table. "Although I may kick Lucifer in the balls next time I see him, just because."
"Then Famine is perfectly welcome to stop," Michael smiled at her.
"Sometimes the saints can be predictable, but then sometimes they surprise you. Humans are strange that way." Michael looked like he was lost in his own musing for a second, and then he smiled at Famine again.
"I can't say I don't agree that my brother deserves a good kick in the balls." It wasn't often Michael said the word 'balls' at all when not referring to the things people played basketball with.
She snickered quietly. "Then Famine shall," she replied with a tiny grin.
"They really are," she agreed. "When I met Patrick-no wait, that would've been Padraig that time, I think-anyway, during the Great Famine, I told him I didn't really understand him, and he said that was because I wasn't human. And he's right, I guess. Although sometimes they do things that make me shake my head and grin. They're kind of fun like that."
"Your brother pisses me off," she said, a little bitterly. "He's like a child sometimes, I swear."