"Akhu." As though from the trees themselves came the ancient tongue, a somber whisper floating along the night itself. Brother.
Disregarding the call, however, Markus watched instead as the girl hastened back to his castle, her heartbeats swift and surprisingly hardy, her slippers soft against the old stone pathway. The enticing warmth of her scent still lingered in the air, vinous and sweet. Hawthorn or no, it had taken every ounce of constraint to keep himself in check. To keep his teeth from sinking into her fragrant neck.
"Akhu," came Gabriel's dour voice once more. The night was humid and not a breeze stirred the air, yet the leaves thrashed violently of a sudden and Markus' domino billowed and snapped beneath the force of his brothers great swarthy wings as Gabriel alighted beside him. The hushed shifting of wings being tucked beneath a cape was, for the moment, the only sound his brother made. Then, watching as Emma disappeared behind the stone arch that would take her back to the front entrance, Gabriel spoke again. "Ana harrani sa alaktasa la tarat, akhu."
"Perhaps," was all Markus answered, features stony. When Gabriel made to continue his haranguing in Enochian, Markus turned to face him, withering stare locked to withering stare. "How like you to use an archaic tongue for your stunted views, but I much prefer the flexibility of English." It was as dynamic and resilient as the people that spoke it. Besides which, one could express oneself so much more colorfully in English.
"I hope you know what you're doing, brother." Gabriel chose, instead, to continue in Latin.
"This doesn't concern you, brother."
"Everything you do affects the triad! Even one misstep ripples through eternity."
"I am well aware of the effect." And the only reason they were a triad at all was because of Gadreel, the hypocritical wretch!
"Are you? Because it seems to me as though you would have things turn out exactly as they did in Alexandria? Or have you forgotten so soon?"
"I have not," he growled through clenched teeth, his canines still protracted. Until her scent faded from his nostrils, his fangs would not retract. "This is nothing like that. And she is nothing like Cleopatra." Leastwise, not in essentials.
"But you underestimated your little queen, and you continue now in the same vein you did then; only your taste has shifted from royalty to commoner, I see." Gabriel's teeth snapped irritably. "There is always a recoil to this continued fascination you harbor for them — every fragile, fleeting mortal. You were too proud to listen at Antirhodos and you are to proud to heed me now."
"It is only because I cannot stand the monotony of your voice." He turned his head imperceptibly to face his brother. "Have you considered taking a vow of silence?"
Gabriel laughed cruelly. "It seems you need reminding, again, that it was lust that enkindled your fall from grace!"
"And pride, lest you forget, precipitated yours!" The root of Gadreel's downfall (and, admittedly, Markus' everlasting ruination) had, in truth, been love—that most coveted and mortal emotion—though neither brother chose to dwell on what was forbidden them even now. "I say your propensity to think yourself even above evolution is prideful too! My God, you're as much a bloody relict as the the Hypogeum!"—then with a derisory snort—"only far less cheerful." Before Gabriel could parry with a cool retort, Markus continued, "At all events, what else am I to do per aeternitatem? Shall I lock myself away in some necropolis the way you do, brooding in the same stupid manner you have for millennia?"
"The Irin! You can help me find—"
"Don't be a bore, akhu!" he jeered. "Nicholas and I—" knowing full well that it irked Gabriel that he and Nicholas so determinedly used their mortal names "—can both entertain ourselves and be of use at the same time; that is after all what it means to be industrializing."
"Not at the risk of despoiling the girl," said Gabriel. "I heard what you proposed to her! Well, she seems to have more sense than you at least."
"She isn't the Chalice," he gritted out.
"Bah!" Gabriel threw his head back, infuriated. "You don't know that for certain! You're behaving dangerously, Kassiel."
"You weren't eavesdropping long enough to know what lies between she and I, so how could you possibly—"
"You have that same useless look about you now that you did back then," Gabriel said, voice low and derisive. "There is no going back from this path, brother."
"Ay, you said that already; and it sounds just as ridiculous in English as it did in that dead language you keep spouting off in." He felt his hackles rise, the way only Gabriel could nettle him, thoughts blackening as Cleopatra's dark eyes flashed before him as of a bygone dream — the only mortal to have ever gotten the best of a god; to have gotten so thoroughly beneath his skin. And what a woman she had been. It had almost been worth it. Almost. "That won't happen again."
"Then—"
"Gadreel, enough! I have neither the patience nor the inclination to entertain your caveats tonight or any other night hereafter." He felt his wings ruffle threateningly beneath his itching skin. "Or have I too a need to dredge up ancient history? Lilith of Babylon perhaps?"
"You may be sure that on that score, brother, my memory serves me better than yours." Gabriel took a step forward to face the castle, giving his back to Markus. "As to the girl, I see you'll please yourself no matter my opinion."
"I always do..."
🌟Surprise surprise! Not only is it another chapter update (granted it's very short, but consider that the last one was very long) but it's from the POV of Markus himself! Here's a question for you (stellina79 and I were discussing which Shakespearean villain Winterly most resembled): do you agree with him being an Iago or do you have a better suggestion? If so then please share your answer and your reason/thoughts? Thanks!🌟