11-13-2021, 07:34 PM
selaphiel
(How could someone who loathes themself so desperately bear to look themself in the face?)
But he says nothing, only diverts his gaze so that he will not have to go on looking at himself. Because the boy’s countenance is smoothed, unmarred by the things he has and has not done. (How could his nephew know all of the ways he has failed himself and everyone else? How could he replicate the far-away look in his eye when he does not know the cause of it?)
There is a beat of silence and then the boy speaks again.
And such a tremendous weight settles in the cavern of his chest, crowding itself against his heart, which struggles to beat against it. He does not return his focus to the boy’s face (his own face) and instead goes on studying the horizon, as if he might find the answers there.
(Is there power in being an angel? He had seen power in his mother but he has never once felt it himself. No, it has always been more curse than blessing.)
But he smiles something distant, lopsided, and shakes his head just barely. He draws in a shuddering breath and tells his nephew candidly, “if there is any power in it, I have yet to find it.”
(Could he be powerful, Selaphiel? If he tried, if he learned to want it for himself?
No.
No, certainly not.)
He and Mazikeen had been friends once and he had promised her something that he had not been able to deliver and she had made his failure abundantly clear.
“I served a purpose once,” he says, “or, at least, I tried to.”
The smile returns, edged in a kind of sorrow, “but I’m afraid my weaknesses have always been insurmountable.”
I just bite my tongue a bit harder
@bolder