"None taken, Mister Hero," Gunnar answered with a grin, flicking one of Justin's vertices with his gauntlet-clad fingers. He trained his blue eyes on Scar. "You're right and you're wrong, Teeth," the ShineGreymon said to Scharlach, stuffing a struggling Shoon back into his arms in the process.
"You do raise a good point wolf-man. I may be bright, but my shine is a bright and heroic shine. Sparkles here is more like the aftereffects of a rumble with a neon street sign." Justin then poked Gunnar in the side with his elbow, "No offense."
"Yeah, it's true that girls like some sensitivity. I mean, a lot of girls have been all over Tyr in the past, not that he understood, but there's another thing girls like too... Chicks like men with confidence, charm, and the ability to make them laugh," he explained, leaning his elbow against Scar's shoulder smugly. "So lose the shades, Shades; you want girls laughing with you, not at you."
He then turned his head from Justin to Scar. "And for the last time, this is not pixie dust! It's residual particles from Burst Mode or something! I'm a light dragon!"
Gunnar turned his nose up and placed his arms behind his head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if that Tia girl is taken or not."
He left the two to their discussion and scanned the area, looking for the Persiamon in question. He then saw Tia... who was having a brief scuffle with Hira, who seemed to be pushing her buttons in some way.
"Woah, cat-fight," he said to himself. "Not the hot kind either..."
He watched as Tia stormed off and quickly decided that it would be best not to approch her as she was obviously angry. Instead, Gunnar walked over to Hira. "Yo, Stripes, did you strike out or something?" he said, grinning as he looked at the tiger Deva. "Does that mean she's not taken? Or do her and Kole have a thing?"
The smirking Greymon turned back in the direction Tia walked, scouting her out for future reference. "You must have really rubbed her the wrong way, but then again, you don't exactly have a lot of finesse... which is ironic for a feline digimon."
Barachiel brushed aside Cresil's comments the best that he could. He turned towards the smouldering ruins of his home and took on a look of sorrow. Taking to his thoughts, he ignored the smell of burning wood and tried to surpress the pain.
"The demon has a point..." he thought, feeling slightly disgusted at himself for thinking so. "I let my emotions get the better of me and there's no doubt that Mephistopheles will do the same. He already captured Hadrael... which means he already has leverage over me. If Mephistopheles threatens his life, I don't know if I'd be able to... Urgh. What would Hadrael want me to do?"
He raised his head as the flames lessened, leaving only ashen earth. "One thing is for certain. I will save you, Hadrael. I promise you that."
Barachiel looked over at Michael and stared at him. "I know... I know what Saint Michael says is true," he brooded, tearing his eyes away from the angel and looking back into the dwindling fire. "It would have been a disgrace to leave it, but... that doesn't make the pain of losing it any less devastating."
"Do not lose such faith, Barachiel," Michael said as he continued to watch the fire burn. "To leave Hadrael's mission standing would have been an insult to everything he worked for; it was filled with a wickedness and malevolence that left it as a scar of the face of the world. Two seals were broken in that place, blood was spilled, and the true names of the Demon Lords were whispered without hesitation. It could not be left as it was."
"The Host deals not in destruction," Michael said, feeling as the roots of something pure took hold in the earth. "In the beginning when the universe bloomed all was Chaos, there was no Thing. And God filled it with pure creation, with every thing. That is the nature of the Host, pure Creation, and the safeguarding of its wonder." Something in the earth drew his eye. "Now watch."
"Yes..." Barachiel thought, remembering back to his lessons. "Hadrael told me that many times... Creation..." He looked over to where he attacked Cresil. "Yet why do I keep trying to destroy? Is it because of my past life? Because I am not of their species?"
He began to close his fist, but stopped himself halfway into the action. Instead, he raised his hand and held his pendents. "No. I am not my brother. I will not blame my past. This flaw is my own and I will overcome it because that's what it means to change... I will become an angel, if not in body then in soul. A fair, righteous and just warrior of God."
Barachiel was then pulled from his thoughts as a tree suddenly began to sprout from amidst the dark ashes. He watched in pure awe as the sapling bloomed at an unnatural rate into a fully grown tree. It towered over the others as it continued to grow into a titan of a tree in the place of the ruins of his home.
"Pure creation," Michael repeated, looking over at him. Barachiel turned towards him. He spoke no words to the archange, but his previous look of contempt was replaced with that of gratitude, though the wounds in his heart still ached.
"Thank you..." he thought inwardly. The TigerVespamon took several steps towards the towering tree. As he grew close, a strange sensation of calmness and repose overtook him. He raised a hand and placed his palm gently against the mighty plant's bark. It wasn't his home, but traces of it still existed within this newly created memorial of sorts.
With his hand still placed on the side of the tree, Barachiel bowed his head and prayed. He prayed for his fallen brothers, he prayed for his destroyed home, he prayed for his own fortitude, and he prayed for Hadrael's safety and wellbeing.
Right now, praying was all he could do.
Last edited by Griff4815; 24th January 2011 at 3:48 AM.
Claimed: Grovyle - November 10th, 2013