☾ tizenkilenc ☽
Late, late, late. Why did she have such a horrible concept of time? New York was massive, but on the bright side, there were plenty of subway stations to dart into. The one Hebe was heading for in particular was less than a block away, and like a pro people dodger -- this was a skill that took years of running for buses and trains to perfect -- the goddess of youth sped through the crowds and toward the sign leading to the stairs.
Zoom, little goddess.
Samael was strolling down the street in a leisurely fashion. He'd the day to himself, having gone to church in the morning, and he was contemplating how to spend the rest of the day. He was never going to fucking admit that he watched his brothers' interactions. There was something fucking pathetic about caring.
He paused at the corner of the street, just in front of the subway stairs, and stopped to light a cigarette (lighter, burning, Uriel, fuck).
Hebe didn't see him step in front of her. There was no time to stop, no time to think oh crap, very tall person before she slammed into his back, hands flying up to grab his shirt and hold on. Scratch tall person, he was like a wall.
"I'm-- Sorry, I was--" Breathless. And then pressing her palms into Samael's back to catch that breath even if it was totally rude of her. Had to take in some air.
Whatever Samael was expecting today, it wasn't that. He took a heavy step forward and though that wasn't enough to wind him, those palms on his back had an entirely different effect. A wave of dizziness swept over him. He'd've called it fucking transcendent if he could've clung on to his consciousness.
(Fuck)
Everything was cloudy and it was as though he wasn't in New York anymore. Never mind being a wall; he was immense. He was happy. There was laughter. He had brothers and they worshipped together and it was a time before humans and before there were so many partings.
The smaller blonde glanced up, tentatively removing a palm from Samael's back when he said nothing. Was he going to turn around and hit her, was that why he was speechless? And why did he seem familiar? Blonde, smoker, tall.
... Angel. Foul-mouthed, rude angel.
Hebe brought both of her hands back, clasping them against her heaving chest.
Samael shook his head. Shook it again. But. But no. That vivid memory of his Father's presence faded away more quickly than it had hit him. That overwhelming sensation of being of a mind and a heart with his brothers vanished.
He whirled around.
"What did you fucking do to me?" he asked. His voice was shaky, hoarse. What the fuck?
She, on the other hand, couldn't find the words. Samael, that was his name. All she could do was stumble over the possibilities in her head, wonder in which manner to apologize, and finally she settled on one. "I'm sorry, I was in a rush. I didn't... I didn't mean to hit you."
Nothing had been done to him, just a smack into him from behind. What else could it have been? He was talking like she'd zapped him or something.
"No," he said, impatiently. "Not fucking that." Hebe running into him should have had all the effect of a kitten running into him. She was considerably smaller than him, after all. "Your hands - what the fuck?"
He rubbed his head. "Seriously, you're fucking packing a hell of a punch there, little bit."
At the mention of her hands, the goddess glanced down at her palms, not seeing anything. No zappies, no fire. No nothing. "... I'm not packing anything." Her eyes flew back up.
"What are you talking about?"
Samael scowled. He was really fucking fighting to keep his temper under control here which was hard when ill-humour always seethed just under the surface.
"You touched me," he bit out. "And fucked up my head." He faltered, just for a moment. "Don't tell me you didn't feel that shit, no?"
Her fingers curled up into fists, as if they themselves had somehow taken offense to his words. After that one Sunday, Hebe had thought little good of him to begin with, but now he was accusing her of something she didn't do. After just touching his back, when all she'd actually done was bump into him.
She wasn't going to have any of it. No more being spineless.
"No, I didn't 'feel that shit'. I don't know what you're going on about, but I'm sorry, I have to go." With that said, the girl was moving away, and without pausing down the steps, she called out one last thing to Samael.
"And you should be nicer to Gabriel!"
Then Hebe disappeared within the masses.
Samael blinked, utterly taken aback by the sudden spark this girl demonstrated. He was actually a little entertained. He watched her leave, raised his eyebrows at her parting shot and then turned away, inhaling deeply on his cigarette.
His brother, the protector, the defender and the messenger, had his own protector. That was pretty fucking cute. Snorting with amusement, he continued on his way (and, though he'd never fucking admit it, he was glad for Gabriel, that he still inspired such loyalty).
[Filter: Theseus]
Can I ask you something? ... Again.
[Filter: Samael]
................ I didn't do anything to you.
[Filter: Public]
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