Delirium glanced around at the chaos before them, a look of something akin to disgust on her face. Azathoth was her brother-child, a part of her, as much a product of her as she was of him. His penchant for the melodramatic and the obscene had never settled well with her, for she once remembered when there had been balance; when she had been his opposite, more than his equal.
It pained her to watch Michael suffer through this, but she knew better than to step forward, to openly chalange Azathoth in his own realm. She was just barely strong enough to hold the two of them out of his grasp, to let Michael get his answers without becoming lost in the void.
Finally, she decided she couldn't take much more, and approached Michael cautiously, eyes never leaving the throne, and its inhabitant. "We should leave this place." Even as she spoke, her posture was straight, formal; she would not show him fear; this went much beyond that. He was one of the few creatures who held Delirium's actual loathing. The show of strength was simply to spite him.