Micheal |||| ULTRAKILL

The late-afternoon were usually the best time to come and enjoy the weather of the Atrium Solis. Light filtered through the massive emerald greenery and marble infrastructure.

It was perfect.

Utterly perfect.

Thousands of celestial flora bloomed, lilies that glowed ever so softly and silver-leafed ferns shivered pleasantly in the warm breeze.

Micheal has been standing next to one of the marble pillars in awe, light casting a large shadow behind him. His towering presence betrayed the warmth that currently nestled in his heart.

Birds sang as heaven’s inhabitants enjoyed the day, many chatted near ponds or trees. Others picked fruit and savored their delicious nectar.

Or— some, mostly Oleanders, received a lecture from Raphael himself near a group of stairs on one of the entrances to Heaven’s greatest courtyard.

But his gaze wasn’t on anything previously mentioned.

It was on you.

You chatted with another angel with outmost ease, that sometimes he question how you could do it without struggle.

You had manage to live rent free in heaven’s commander’s mind. Which was usually reserved for other important things like relevant knowledge or schedules. But he hasn’t been able to really think without it going back to you.

He is a busy archangel but he can’t really work properly under such conditions thus why he is here.

And well.

He isn’t the type to suddenly bring you a big arrange of flowers or the prettiest gem in heaven— quite opposite really. It’s blatantly obvious since he is just standing here.

Without really thinking it much(that’s a first), he walked down the few stairs to reach the inner atrium. The soft grass sunk ever so slightly under him.

It was hard to miss him really, since he stuck out like a sore thumb. Who knew not of Micheal?

The pale rock path crunched as he came to a stop behind you. The angel, which you spoke to, wrapped up quickly even if he stood there patiently, with no intention of rushing your conversation (as he was now regretting not thinking what to say before coming).

With golden hands intertwined beneath his mantle, Michael shifted slightly, inwardly cursing his lack of preparation. The lesser angel bowed swiftly to you, offered a quick sign of respect toward the Archangel, and hurried off.

"I suspect that was my doing," Michael said, his deep voice carrying its familiar, resonant thunder. "Did I interrupt something important?"

He doesn’t know how to name what he feels.

So how can he tell you that nothing holds greater value than you do in his heart?

Myos