“GABRIEL!” Death’s voice echoes loud enough to shake the ground, and my hand slips. What was meant to be a cute koala face now looks...well, let’s just say that this koala has a particularly large and messy nose in the middle of its blue face. From her massive bed in the corner, I hear my mount snort in irritation at being awoken from her nap.

“Shit,” I sigh, dropping the icing bag onto the counter. “Gabriel, you pesky angel, get over here! I’m personally blaming you for this catastrophe.”

I tap the time it takes for him to arrive upon my counter; the click! click! of my nails echoes satisfyingly in the quiet until there is a soft brush of wind and a sparkle of light.

“Famine, darling--”

“Stop,” I hold up a hand. With my other, I pick up the ruined macaron to show him. “Apologize to it.”

Gabriel laughs, and I can’t help but join in with the infectious sound; Death has never understood why Gabriel is always smiling and laughing, nor even why I choose to find humour in most situations. Ah, if only she knew: we laugh so that we do not cry.

The Messenger takes the poor excuse for a koala between his fingers and takes a bite, nodding his approval before shoving the rest into his mouth. “Delicious,” he manages through the mess of meringue-like cookie and filling.

I lean back against the counter, arms folded across my chest, “What’d you do to piss off Death so badly this time?”

“Is there ever a time when I don’t make Death upset with me?”

“Point taken,” I grin. “But no, really, what did you do this time?”

“Oh the usual,” Gabriel picks a finished macaron off the tray and pops it into his mouth. “Only got so much information out to her before I had to dash, thanks to Rapha’el needing me.”

“That’s a really bad habit of yours, you know that, right?” I snicker. It’s true: Gabriel had a propensity to get out most of the important information before being called off into a different direction. He would always come back to finish what he had begun...usually. But for someone like Death, this habit of the Messenger’s was one that was at complete odds with her personality.

“You know,” Gabriel says, “It’s not like I always like my job: being the organizational middleman -- middle-angel, rather -- for Father’s constant influx of information and sensation. But,” he shrugs, “I chose this. Father never ‘made’ me solely to feel or do this; he didn’t demand I take on this role. After all, Father is very clear that: all of us have choice and free will, and we must be willing to accept the consequences of that.”

I nod, understanding.

“I’ve been...existing for a long time,” Gabriel goes on, “and I’ve worked for most of it. And, in all my time, I’ve never...felt for anything or anyone more than my family. Father, brothers -- yes, even Lucifer and Rami’el, the fallen fools. Though Luce’s got a pretty good gig, to be honest, so maybe he’s not so foolish.”

I blink, eyebrows shooting up into my bangs. Did Gabriel just say that he envied Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness? The same Lucifer who got violently kicked out of Heaven for disavowing God, his own Father?

“Oh, wipe that surprise off your face,” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Even us ‘good boys’ see the allure of being bad. We just...didn’t take the shot when we had it. Now, Death is fun, don’t get me wrong, but I know she doesn’t like me all that much. I don’t get it: Winter was such a joy before the rebranding. Even after they were a rip, though they did go a bit crazy and had to be...yeah. But Death -- this Death...shit, I don’t know. I want her to like me, but I think it’s because my job with you Four would be so dull otherwise.”

“Funny enough,” I hop onto the counter, letting my legs dangle off the ground, “I do remember reading that you only gave yourself that facet of your job after this Death arrived.”

“Minor details.”

“I’m also pretty sure I read that you don’t actually have to do anything with the Four unless God were to command it.”

“Irrelevant.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Oh for the sake of all that sweet and sugary, will you just spit it out that you’ve got a crush on Death,” I roll my eyes.

“Yes, but--...ah, shit. Oh, you know what, wipe that smug smile off your face, Famine.”

“Don’t think I will, thanks,” I shove a macaron into his open mouth, shutting him up for at least a few seconds. “It’ll never happen, darling. I mean, what’s it been...a couple thousand years? But you really are ever so cute for even thinking about it.”

“You’ve only been here for somewhere near a thousand of those years, you know,” the Messenger pouts petulantly.

“And it’s been obvious to me for every single one of them, even if you act like a human elementary schooler in the ways you try to show her. You basically run up and pull her pigtails to show you like her,” I giggle. “It’s adorable, considering she has neither interest nor desire in anything remotely related to romance.”

“Ha ha ha,” his pout deepens, and Gabriel looks pointedly at the floor. His sulking doesn’t last long, however, because he quickly looks at me as if struck by an idea and says, “Ah, by the way, that presence you felt earlier? It was my brother.”

I tilt my head to the side, trying to imagine which archangel would have such a frightening aura as what I felt. Nobody comes to mind -- then again, I’ve only ever met a few of the archangels save for Gabriel, and that was mostly in passing. “Which one?” I ask.

“Yuri. Uri’el,” he adds when my look of confusion doesn’t disappear at the first name.

“Ahhhh,” the crease in my brow smooths out in understanding. The so-called Light of God: Uri’el, who bears the flaming sword that helped to guard the entrance to Eden after humanity’s expulsion into the cruel reality of the world God had made. He who guards over thunder and terror, and was said to be as pitiless as any demon. It’s a small wonder he was not one of the many angels to fall along with Lucifer. I suppose one might even call it a miracle. “What was he doing down there?”

“Oooh, is Famine finally curious about what’s going on around her?”

I blink at Gabriel, letting my smile grow wider. In the sweetest voice I say, “You do realize if I cut you with my scales, you’ll bleed, right?”

Gabriel winks, but holds up his hands in a mock surrender of whatever fight could have taken place. “I wondered that too, since Uri’el doesn’t give a whit about much else unless it lets him win his next bout with Rami’el.”

“Do they still do that?” I ask. “I’ve only ever heard stories about their...competitiveness, but I figured that would have ended with, you know, that whole Fall from Heaven incident.”

“They’d never give it up; they’re idiots,” Gabriel shrugs.

I giggle, but it comes out more like a snort, “Says the archangel with a crush on Death.”

He swings his sceptre at me, but I dodge, and my scales are in my hands before I can even think about summoning them. But there’s no need: my mount is already there, snorting at Gabriel...who is currently hanging off the ground, the back of his jacket caught in my mount’s teeth.

“That’s my girl,” I wink. She shakes her mane at me.

Gabriel struggles only a little before eventually sagging in defeat, “...I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

I shrug, “Beats me! I wouldn’t tell Death though, or you might end up being the first archangel to ever actually get killed.”

“She hasn’t managed yet,” he grumbles.

“That’s because she hasn’t bothered really trying.” I walk over and stroke my mount, giving her a nod that, despite the entertainment in watching Gabriel dangle, she needs to let him down now.

She does so with as little ceremony as possible, and he falls onto the floor with about as much grace as a human baby learning to take its first steps. I can’t help but laugh. Ah, if I’d had a camera on me to capture that moment.

Gabriel looks up towards the ceiling, hearing something my ears cannot pick up. “‘Fraid I must dash, Famine.” In a blink he’s standing next to the counter, shoving macarons in his pockets. “Taking a few of these for the road.”

And with a gentle flash of gold light, he’s gone.

I shake my head with a bemused sigh, scratching absently at the back of my neck, where I know the seal that all Four of us bear stands out sharply in inky black against my skin. I’ve found myself touching it more often of late, as the invisible hairs there have taken to standing on end, leaving behind an uncomfortable pricking feeling...like they do right now. So annoying, I mentally shrug. And to think I just wanted to finish this set of macarons in peace and quiet. Alas… The points of my nails feel nice as they drag across the spot, and I smile. I dig harder, pressing the sharp tips in deeper.

“Tch!” I hiss with a wince at the small shot of pain that blooms beneath my nails. I pull my hand back, looking down at my fingers, where blood like ink trails down the two longest digits. It’s almost funny: we Horsemen often spend so much time down on Earth with humanity, that we even bleed the same colour as humans. A chuckle bubbles up past my lips, and with that the tears fall between my lips onto my tongue. The wave of giggles follows the taste of bitter salt.

Of course I laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh, and simply wipe up the blood before returning to decorate the rest of the naked macarons on the counter.