/Whilst walking amongst the cotton candy trees, comes across a pair of pants with sharks on them.
What is this place.
Well this is something different…
Other Memory clamored for attention. It was not uncommon for the voices to be demanding, but this time they seemed to express a peculiar urgency. The sharp scent of pine, the ring of joyful laughter; countless memories poured through him. He had seen it before, understood the ancient ritual. But why was it brought before him now?
Paul falls out of a dark shroud of blindness, stumbling into sight. The sensation is like being pushed into an icy river.
Again.
“I’d imagine you see quite a lot.”
His tone is serious; there’s a sense of immense sight that he can feel when his mind brushes against the other’s, visions that you don’t necessarily need eyes to see. His features soften sympathetically.
“Something you learn soon enough is that the paths that lead to the greatest reward tend to lead you through the greatest struggle.”
“I know that your words are true, and I draw comfort from it. Thousands of years of human experience tell me the same, but somehow it is more reassuring to hear it from an angel.”
He continues to look straight ahead, but inwardly surveys their surroundings.
“Why have you come here Gabriel?”
I’m one of the only angels that does, as a matter of fact. Human life is great.
“It is my purpose to preserve it.”
He is silent for a moment.
“I see the Golden Path that we must follow to survive. Walking it is not so easy, however.”
Millions have been slain in my name, already.
I’m the one of tradition, yeah, but in no way am I traditional, trust me.
/tilts his head slightly/
You seem quite important yourself, Paul.
“You could say that. If you find human life important.”
“Do you?”
He can’t help but chuckle.
“What’s your name?”
Gabriel. And yourself?
“Paul. You are the Gabriel of Abrahamic tradition, I imagine. An important figure by all accounts.”
As long as it’s not you calling yourself a god, he wouldn’t have a problem.
Well, either that or he’d flip you off and tell you to get over yourself, but the former’s probably more his style.
He can’t help but chuckle.
“What’s your name?”
My father’s God, not me. I call myself an angel. /dips his head, letting the light glint for a moment off something that wasn’t there before and is not unlike a halo/
Paul gives a wry smile, the gleam over the angel’s head catching his eye.
“Some people call me a god. I wonder what your father would think of that.”
