Hours ago, at around the same time that one Ishak Obel was drowning his beloved younger brother, the one date that Gabriel Marlowe has managed to have for himself in months was interrupted by a phone call.
"There's a boy at a lake. He's dead, by the way. Drowned. Siblings. You know how they love to think that they do whatever they do because they love you."
He doesn't get calls from that party very often these days. He used to chalk it up to the Darkest Vigil, the strain, the fact that - at the end of it all - they were not friends, and the man was more of a benefactor to him and the rest of the Thrones than anything else. Nowadays, he attributes the lack of contact to the fact that said individual just can't be bothered to get nearly as involved as he used to in "everyday Vigil stuff", as he likes to call it.
This is a death, though. Deaths are his purview, in his realm. And maybe - just maybe - he still remembers Gabriel's particular preferences.
So yes, he was there after gently nudging his lover and murmuring a quiet request about the car, about special cases and favors. He was there in the shadows of the trees as the boy drowned, long after the other boy was gone. He's the reason why the dead one (well, not so dead anymore) was pulled from the ice - or, more accurately, the ice no longer wanted him. It listens more closely to Hell's Winter than anybody else.
When he sees the telltale signs of a heart breaking by the edge of a lake, Gabriel lights up a cigarette.
"I suppose I should get you a blanket."
You'll see him, Anri: he's the blond, blue-eyed, clean-faced stranger in a tailored, pinstriped crimson suit sitting on a stone about six feet away from you. It's cold tonight, and his clothes definitely don't suit the weather. He doesn't seem to notice.
004, also known as PAM IS SO LATE HELLO
"There's a boy at a lake. He's dead, by the way. Drowned. Siblings. You know how they love to think that they do whatever they do because they love you."
He doesn't get calls from that party very often these days. He used to chalk it up to the Darkest Vigil, the strain, the fact that - at the end of it all - they were not friends, and the man was more of a benefactor to him and the rest of the Thrones than anything else. Nowadays, he attributes the lack of contact to the fact that said individual just can't be bothered to get nearly as involved as he used to in "everyday Vigil stuff", as he likes to call it.
This is a death, though. Deaths are his purview, in his realm. And maybe - just maybe - he still remembers Gabriel's particular preferences.
So yes, he was there after gently nudging his lover and murmuring a quiet request about the car, about special cases and favors. He was there in the shadows of the trees as the boy drowned, long after the other boy was gone. He's the reason why the dead one (well, not so dead anymore) was pulled from the ice - or, more accurately, the ice no longer wanted him. It listens more closely to Hell's Winter than anybody else.
When he sees the telltale signs of a heart breaking by the edge of a lake, Gabriel lights up a cigarette.
"I suppose I should get you a blanket."
You'll see him, Anri: he's the blond, blue-eyed, clean-faced stranger in a tailored, pinstriped crimson suit sitting on a stone about six feet away from you. It's cold tonight, and his clothes definitely don't suit the weather. He doesn't seem to notice.