2010-12-14 11:38![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: Sylar and the Angel Gabriel
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 500+
Rating: R - violence and swearing
Prompts: On the Eleventh Day of Sylar, My True Love Gave to Me - 11 Angel feathers - for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
heroes_sylar
038. The partition of an inheritance. for100_fairytales 39/100
Notes: The Angel Gabriel isn't too happy with Sylar's choices in life.
Dedicated to:graylikeme who likes Angels even more than I do.
Red. It was everywhere. Glistening, warm, red, blood is spreading in a pool beneath me. My fingers are covered in it, and my clothes are sodden. I hear the dry rustle of feathers before he strikes me once more. I’m already on my knees when the blade bursts through my chest. His sword follows the opposite path of Hiro’s as he yanks upward on the blade. My back arches and screams are torn from my throat.
“You’re asking yourself. Why hasn’t he killed me, aren’t you, Gabriel?” He asks, as he leans over me. His breath is cool on my neck as he twists the blade again.
“My name is Sylar,” I force the words out from between teeth that are clenched in pain. My upper lip is caught on my teeth in a snarl. “Gabriel is dead. He died with his mother.”
“I don’t think so, Gabriel,” he said quietly. “I’m disappointed in you. You were given so much potential, and you used it for evil. You used it for yourself to glorify yourself when you should have been helping others, when you should have been serving God.”
His fingers twisted in my hair, pulling my head back, so I was forced to look up his nostrils as more blood gushed from the gaping hole in my chest. I couldn’t heal fast enough, couldn’t concentrate to use my powers at all. The last damage I did was to get a fistful of fucking feathers from one of his black wings. A few of them are still clinging to the blood on my fingers and sleeves.
“Fuck you!” I tried to get away from him, but every move made the cavernous wound larger. My flesh tried to close around it, but each time I’d stop bleeding he would cut me again. “I’m no one’s servant. That’s your life. It isn’t mine.”
“Wrong answer.” He shoved me away from him and sent my body crashing thirty feet across the rooftop. The angel’s wings spread out, blocking the sun as he flicked my blood from his sword. “You are named for me, and you will stop shaming me. You will stop shaming God, or I will kill you myself.”
I skidded to a stop, my skin bruised and scraped raw on the tarpaper and gravel. I didn’t move a muscle. I laid there, praying that my bones and flesh would knit together before the next round in our battle. I prayed harder that my powers would start to work.
“Yeah, some angel you are, Gabriel,” I spat out along with a gob of blood and snot from the back of my throat. “Beating the shit out of me, and keeping me powerless while you do it. Who’s the bad guy now?”
“Silly human.” His wings sent a shower of the loose gravel at me as he swooped down, landing beside me. This time when he touched me, it wasn’t to hurt me. “Don’t you hear your heart? You are praying that I don’t kill you. Who do you think you’re praying to?”
12 Days of Sylar
100 Fairytales
Author:
thewatchmaker Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 500+
Rating: R - violence and swearing
Prompts: On the Eleventh Day of Sylar, My True Love Gave to Me - 11 Angel feathers - for
heroes_sylar038. The partition of an inheritance. for
100_fairytales 39/100Notes: The Angel Gabriel isn't too happy with Sylar's choices in life.
Dedicated to:
graylikeme who likes Angels even more than I do. Red. It was everywhere. Glistening, warm, red, blood is spreading in a pool beneath me. My fingers are covered in it, and my clothes are sodden. I hear the dry rustle of feathers before he strikes me once more. I’m already on my knees when the blade bursts through my chest. His sword follows the opposite path of Hiro’s as he yanks upward on the blade. My back arches and screams are torn from my throat.
“You’re asking yourself. Why hasn’t he killed me, aren’t you, Gabriel?” He asks, as he leans over me. His breath is cool on my neck as he twists the blade again.
“My name is Sylar,” I force the words out from between teeth that are clenched in pain. My upper lip is caught on my teeth in a snarl. “Gabriel is dead. He died with his mother.”
“I don’t think so, Gabriel,” he said quietly. “I’m disappointed in you. You were given so much potential, and you used it for evil. You used it for yourself to glorify yourself when you should have been helping others, when you should have been serving God.”
His fingers twisted in my hair, pulling my head back, so I was forced to look up his nostrils as more blood gushed from the gaping hole in my chest. I couldn’t heal fast enough, couldn’t concentrate to use my powers at all. The last damage I did was to get a fistful of fucking feathers from one of his black wings. A few of them are still clinging to the blood on my fingers and sleeves.
“Fuck you!” I tried to get away from him, but every move made the cavernous wound larger. My flesh tried to close around it, but each time I’d stop bleeding he would cut me again. “I’m no one’s servant. That’s your life. It isn’t mine.”
“Wrong answer.” He shoved me away from him and sent my body crashing thirty feet across the rooftop. The angel’s wings spread out, blocking the sun as he flicked my blood from his sword. “You are named for me, and you will stop shaming me. You will stop shaming God, or I will kill you myself.”
I skidded to a stop, my skin bruised and scraped raw on the tarpaper and gravel. I didn’t move a muscle. I laid there, praying that my bones and flesh would knit together before the next round in our battle. I prayed harder that my powers would start to work.
“Yeah, some angel you are, Gabriel,” I spat out along with a gob of blood and snot from the back of my throat. “Beating the shit out of me, and keeping me powerless while you do it. Who’s the bad guy now?”
“Silly human.” His wings sent a shower of the loose gravel at me as he swooped down, landing beside me. This time when he touched me, it wasn’t to hurt me. “Don’t you hear your heart? You are praying that I don’t kill you. Who do you think you’re praying to?”
12 Days of Sylar
100 Fairytales
