bakerstreet | Truth or Dare!

[It's a simple enough task. Go tell this general that if he does the attack he's planning, his kingdom will come to ruin. Simple. Right? Except that the general is nowhere to be seen, off in some meeting, and his posh quarters are empty except of a young servant girl.

Who can't see the archangel who's now stretched out in the field of comfortable pillows behind her.]

Looks like we've got some time to burn. [Gabriel grins.] Truth or dare, Ami?

[Sure, he could go chase down the general and tell him now. But Gabriel would really like the guy to have his epiphany while he's napping. It's just smoother that way.]

[Amitiel has one job in existence, and it revolves all around an archangel. What should be a high honor has quickly turned out to be not dissimilar to trying to reign in a natural catastrophe. Except this force of nature has too sharp a mind, and currently too little to keep it occupied with.

She doesn't move from her post by the window, eyes on the horizon.]

Is that meant to be ironic.

[She doesn't really phrase it as a question, because deep down inside she already knows the answer.]

[Gabriel sighs, head flopping back against the cushions.]

No. It's a game. I came up with it one day when I had to spend time with Raphael. [He hadn't really gotten it, either, at first.] Anyway, some day a woman's going to write a song about irony that's all wrong; I don't need to add to the pot.

[The archangel sits up, now, and pouts in an exaggerated manner. An honor indeed.]

Come on. What else do we have to do?

[At least when he makes a face like that, Amitiel can see where he got the idea for that platypus creature. Father, give her patience. It's not like having those thoughts about her superior is even remotely acceptable...

But then so little that has to do with Gabriel, the Messenger, is acceptable per so.]

Our mission.

[Being the angel of truth, Amitiel is well aware that it's useless to remind Gabriel of that now. But she still feels obligated to try.]

[He holds up his hands.]

Hey, we're still gonna do that! But he's gonna be in that meeting for a little while. We've got time. [Gabriel grins.] C'mon. This is one of those moments when we're not under scrutiny that would make hawks blush.

[Ami might be here to keep him on track, but he's just a little off the rails. Just a little. That's not so bad, right?]

I won't tell anybody if you decide to play a game.

[Amitiel isn't so sure that hawks possess the ability to blush - but then she's not been all that involved in learning about all the various creatures Father created. And unlike a few of her siblings, she's not about to be stupid and just blurt out the first thought that crosses her mind. Instead she watches Gabriel, deliberates the situation, and finally turns to face him.]

If I agree to humor you, you'll have to agree to fulfill the rest of the mission the way you know I'd approve of.

[Gabriel resists the urge to sigh. It's a victory - mostly. He'll take it, with such a serious case. With a grin, he flops back against the cushions, nodding.]

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Textbook messenger stuff. You'll be proud of me. Promise.

[How could you doubt a grin like this?]

So. Truth or dare?

Edited 2013-09-24 00:25 (UTC)

[For a moment Amitiel just looks at Gabe, the perfectly neutral expression a stark contrast to his grin. She's not very expressive, or at least not very obviously so.

What's obvious, however, is her reply, and she suspects he also was aware of that from the moment he even thought of playing this game with her. If Amitiel was prone to placing major import on herself and forgetting ranks, she'd wonder if he made up this strange little game just to rile her up - but as it is, she finally replies.]

Truth.

[... Obviously.]

[Predictable. But hey, there are only two options.

It helps that Amitiel, herself, is nowhere near predictable. Gabriel would have thought so, given her generally stiff demeanor, but she's a puzzle where some of their younger siblings are an open book. That's part of why she was assigned to him, he's sure. She can handle him, whereas some of the other angels might get - flustered, perhaps.]

What do you really think about ... [Hm, this is a toughie.] Harems.

[He'll start out small.]

I think most humans, especially not those of polygamous cultures, have overly sexualized ideas of the practice. Polygamy itself, if that's what you're asking... I suppose I have no true supportive or negative opinion of it either way. Humans are a strange race in that they're given freedom to feel love and then start thinking about how many people they can love emotionally, or physically, or how many they can own for their status. But as long as no sins are committed...

[And no, she doesn't consider copulation a sin. Animals do it, and humans, for all their advantages, aren't that much more than all other mammals. But Amitiel can't pretend to truly understand why humans measure the extent of that grand gift of emotion in numbers. She's a being of logical - but even she knows that math and love don't mix well. If a human wants to sleep with several partners and several partners want to sleep with that human, why should that be of note to Amitiel?]

[It's a diplomatic answer. He wasn't expecting any less. But at the same time, he's pleased, because she hadn't wrinkled her face and immediately said something about mud monkeys and how disgusting they are. It's a step up from how angels are starting to feel about their Father's favorite creations.]

Does seem kinda greedy, not gonna lie. Solomon has three hundred ladies ... or so I've heard.

[He wouldn't know that from experience or anything. Anyway, he nods at her.]

Now you go.

[This is the advantage of Truth or Dare. Both parties get to have their say.]

[Part of her had wanted to hope that he'd find her answer so dry he'd give up on this madness. Of course, she knew the truth all along, isn't that such a gift - Gabriel might seem fickle, but he really isn't, or at least really not in the way most of the Host truly thinks.

Amitiel considers asking for just a dare, because as far as she can tell Gabriel isn't necessarily the biggest believer in simple truths. But it's not part of his game.]

Very well.

[She makes a bit of a face. It does take some overcoming the urge to just not lower herself to something this trivial, something with no apparent purpose. But they have an agreement, and at the end of the day, he is her superior.

Hard to believe as it may be.]

Truth or dare, Gabriel?

[She's right, in this case, because Gabriel's starting to feel antsy. The servant girl they're sharing a room with, the human still oblivious to this fact, gets up and leaves, and he kicks his feet a little in the cushions. Now that no one will notice them bouncing a little more than necessary.

They're comfy. It must be good to be a general, when relaxing. Gabriel wouldn't know; Michael's the general.]

Dare.

[He looks pleased that she isn't trying to argue her way out of this agreement.]

[Comfort is a concept for humans to enjoy. Amitiel knows that Michael believes in strict regimen, rules, playing by the books. She can appreciate that. Order, purpose, action. Humans enjoy lazing about, and she doesn't. It says a lot about them, she supposes, that Gabriel is enjoying the pillows while she actually prefers to stand at attention.

The question is, what can she possibly dare someone like Gabriel to? Silence? She has a feeling he wouldn't appreciate that, and despite being tasked with keeping Gabriel in cheek, she's hesitant to make a move that might actually anger him.

He is an arch angel, after all, vast and fierce.

Hard as it is to believe, sometimes...]

I dare you to... go into the Harem and take something from the belt of a Eunuch. [She frowns.] You may remain invisible, but you may not snap your fingers and just take what you wish.

[She has a moment of doubt, then. Amitiel bosses Gabriel around plenty, when she thinks she can get away with it, but somehow giving him rules and limits for his own game feels almost daring.

Is that rush a natural aversion to breaking rank, or exhileration? She'll go with the former. Definitely.]

[He considers for a moment. The extra condition adds a level of difficulty to a task which would normally be a cinch. Finally, only a few seconds later, Gabriel nods his agreement to this dare. It's a good one.]

Knew you had it in you.

[The archangel winks, in all his fierceness, and then spreads his invisible wings to take flight. All six of them. They propel him to where the harem of this particular king is. Honestly, Gabriel hadn't really been paying attention. He could easily check, in less than a second, but he's not here to see the king. He's here to give a message to the guy's general.

Though, he's got to hand it to the king - the guy has an eye for a certain kind of beauty.

He searches out a eunuch who looks slightly interesting, then snaps his fingers - to provide a distraction - before reaching into one of the bags on his belt. Luckily, it isn't the bag that holds a preservation jar. He's really not in the mood to look at preserved genitals, and he's not mean enough to give that to Amitiel.

One more flight, and he's back in the room. On the pillows again, of course. Gabriel holds out his hand to his angelic babysitter.]

Ta da.

[Sitting on his palm is a small carving of a horse, maybe two inches tall at most. Carved out of black stone and polished, the little horse is surprising ornate. It rears for eternity, or at least until broken, head up high and proud.]

[It's one of the few things Amitiel can freely appreciate about humanity - they might be a race of disgusting bodily functions and fast decay, but if they put their mind and soul to it, they can capture the beauty of Father's creation.

It's almost a smile on her face, except not really. A twitch of the corner of her mouth, maybe, and a certain touch of humor in her eyes. Should she be glad or disappointed that he didn't grab a preservation jar?]

Very well. I believe it's your turn.

[In the mean time, she moves - unusual, for her, she can be still as a statue for hours, days, weeks, months if that's what's required of her. Now she moves closer, takes the carving from Gabriel's palm and inspects it more closely.

She remembers, when she was younger, how she'd fly across open plans, matching her speed to that of the first horses. She also remembers the strange, dull ache she unexpectedly experiences when the realization hit her that like all of Father's most prized creations, these beings were meant to fall under human rule and eventually, one day, vanish for good. For a being surrounded by immortality, a more than uncomfortable truth. She remembers how the dull ache inspired her to harden her features and work harder. Truth is a sharp weapon.]

I'll pick truth. You know that.

[He'll take a twitch. He really will. It's a victory, of sorts. And it dulls the impulse to sigh when she makes her addition. Yeah, that was good old Amitiel. Duty and truth to the last. It's not all of her, but it's certainly prevalent. Gabriel thinks maybe she doesn't know herself fully, not yet - sometimes he catches a faint glimpse, in the gleam of her vessel's eyes, that tells him that she's not completely the boring old taskmaster she holds herself to.

It's one of the most fascinating aspects of her - discovering more, as they work together. And it's rare to find in another angel, he has to admit.]

Okay. Truth. Hmmm.

[He considers for a long moment, making a show of it by stroking his cheeks with a hand. Like he's stroking an invisible beard.]

If your wings could be any color, what color would you make 'em? [And because she'd added her own parameters,] Present and lovely color exempted.

[She can't change the color of her wings, and speculating about that seems like an exercise in futility. Father created her with cold wings, platinum, metal. Except they shimmer slightly, barely there hues of violet and rose softening up the color.

Said wings flutter, now. She's not self-conscious about them - in fact Amitiel can't say she's ever spent any prolonged amount of time contemplating the color of her wings - their size, efficiency, how best to move them for speed, strength, agility. But their color? Why should that be of concern?

It must be a strange place, Gabriel's mind.]

I'd trade for yours. Next best option.

[It's not often that she lets him push her into a remark that's almost blasphemous. If he needles and pokes hard enough, she can almost meet him heads on, almost dish out as good as he can, only just reigned in a little by her own instinctual need to remain proper.

It might be why they're partners, essentially, despite her much lower status.

Amitiel wouldn't dare suggest taking any other angel's wings, wouldn't usually dare even think about something as preposterous as changing herself. But if Gabriel wants her to bend her mind against every sense of right like that, well. She'll take the magnificence of his wings.

He basically offered, in this hypothetical scenario, and unlike Michael or Raphael, he won't let her feel his ire if she dared too much.

Or so she hopes.]

Edited 2013-09-25 09:47 (UTC)

[He waits a few seconds to respond, but only to see if she's needling him and about to tell him that, no, his wings are obnoxiously bright, and what kind of truth is that. But that scoff doesn't come, and so Gabriel allows himself to feel pleased.]

Nobody could fault you on your taste.

[He likes his wings. They're flashy and colorful, and they fit him.]

Might put out your back, though.

[Gabriel winks. Vessel backs have nothing to do with the three pairs of wings that he and his older brothers have. But that's the joke, right there.]

Well, it's true. My vessel isn't durable enough to contain anything like an archangel.

[She almost says 'It would look good, though'. However, that's just not... Amitiel would rather be silent sometimes than speak all truths, because some are just not proper. She'd never tell Gabriel she admires his wings much more than his older brothers', because that, too, is a very blasphemous truth for her, no matter how much she aspires to make her platinum colors as cool and collected as those ranking higher than her with... somewhat less wild spirits.

God works in mysterious ways, and Gabriel himself is proof enough of that.

Still, Amitiel can't deny that her vessel's bloodline is a solid one, by human standards for beauty, and that means Gabriel's magnificence would look good on her.

The truth, however, is that is ego is already stroked enough for one day. The joke may or may not have registered with her - sometimes it's hard to tell.]

What about you then? If you could... or had to, change yourself, no matter how odd the hypothetical concept is.

You mean the wings, or anything?

[The archangel sits there for a moment, considering that. But he doesn't consider very long. Grinning, he shakes his head.]

Nah. Contrary to what I hear from, ah, up the grapevine, I don't really care if my vessel's "short." It works for me. I kinda like it.

[And really, nothing anyone else says is going to dissuade that opinion.]

It suits you.

[It's said with such practiced neutrality that it's hard to decipher whether it's compliment, insult, appeasement. The slight glint that sometimes sneaks into Amitiel's eyes suggests it's a jab, but not one with heat behind it.]

Truth or Dare, then?

[Entertaining Gabriel at least keeps him from constructing more chaos for his own amusement. Or so Amitiel hopes. Sometimes it's pure guess work with him, really.]

[It's those glints that give him hope, truly. At least he isn't stuck with one of the younger angels who wouldn't even know what a joke was. Constantly explaining things was tiring.]

Truth.

[Why not mix things up, after all. Gabriel arches a brow and waits.]

If you could choose any other angel to be assigned to your side, who would it and why? And don't say you'd keep me, you know I don't like flattery.

[it's a good question because who's assigned to Gabriel is not up to him, and Amitiel is well aware that the chances of him preferring other company aren't slim. She doesn't begrudge him that either - it's not in her nature to be territorial. Unlike Naomi or Hester, she supposes, with who she was closer before being raised up to this task.]

Hmmm.

[He wouldn't risk the death glare of trying to pull that off. Well, he might, but he'd only be doing it for the death glare. Half the fun of having her around - and yeah, okay, it is fun having her around, sometimes - is those little jabs. It's interesting. It's different.

Maybe Dad knows what he's doing. Maybe.]

You know what? That seraph. Zachariah. Just to annoy him. He's got it coming.

[If Zach thinks that the archangel can't see his eyerolls every time he carries out an order from Gabriel, he's got another thing coming.

But this isn't exactly the truth, and so Gabriel lets out an explosive sigh.]

Or Lucifer, but that would never happen.

[Lucifer has other duties, and different things to focus on. Like yelling at Michael.]

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