THE GENTLE WIND.

“th-they don’t love me. they’ll 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 me.”

the messenger looked up. his brothers hadn’t said a word to him or each other since they started their trek. “archangel remuiel,” anauel said, looking up. “why are you and brother hashmal so quiet?”

“th-they don’t love me. they’ll 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 me.”

there’s no room for reassurance now. he’s certain of it: 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.

“we are no longer acquaintances.”

there’s no room for reassurance now. he’s certain of it: 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.

“we are no longer acquaintances.”

You Want To Shield Your Dick? For Fun?

it’s still behind them. they can feel its bones circling around the back of their neck. the pressure in the air rises significantly.

it’s over. gabriel’s alive. he did something 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, right? he 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥.

You Want To Shield Your Dick? For Fun?

“we are no longer acquaintances.”

a monster of this size stood like a giant compared to them. impenetrable. insurmountable. bloodthirsty. a wall of raging flesh.

anauel stood up straight. “i know,” they croaked. “but isn’t it worth it, knowing what my end may be?”

it’s still behind them. they can feel its bones circling around the back of their neck. the pressure in the air rises significantly.

you made it this far. you have to get up.

anauel stood up straight. “i know,” they croaked. “but isn’t it worth it, knowing what my end may be?”

you’re not going to die.

for a moment, he can see through the artificial intelligence’s eyes. it’s deafening. too many sensations and thoughts and words and numbers. but he pushes a series of letters, and loops the phrase: S.O.S.

a monster of this size stood like a giant compared to them. impenetrable. insurmountable. bloodthirsty. a wall of raging flesh.

the messenger looked up. his brothers hadn’t said a word to him or each other since they started their trek. “archangel remuiel,” anauel said, looking up. “why are you and brother hashmal so quiet?”

there’s no room for reassurance now. he’s certain of it: 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.

it’s over. gabriel’s alive. he did something 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, right? he 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥.

for a moment, he can see through the artificial intelligence’s eyes. it’s deafening. too many sensations and thoughts and words and numbers. but he pushes a series of letters, and loops the phrase: S.O.S.

it’s still behind them. they can feel its bones circling around the back of their neck. the pressure in the air rises significantly.

“humanity’s creations have always fascinated me. it’s like— it’s like watching a school of fish make shapes from a whale’s-eye view. there’s just something so... pleasant about the act that i don’t fully understand.”

you made it this far. you have to get up.

“th-they don’t love me. they’ll 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 me.”

it’s still behind them. they can feel its bones circling around the back of their neck. the pressure in the air rises significantly.

you’re burning. you’re on fire in a world built of ice.