First Meeting - Gabriel (Patreon)

A/N: This is taking the first meeting of Gabriel and an MC on the flesh pits route.  A little insight into Gabriel's head during this time.

There was a certain smell that lingered around the pits.  A mixture of decaying flesh and waste along with the fishy sea salt brine that washed across this area of the beach come high tide. The moans were drowned out by the crashing of the ocean. The ones who screamed loudest were often silenced if they could be heard from over the gavel of the bail block.  Gabriel stood there, watching the proceedings, and waiting to toss in the newest addition.  They were certainly not an individual that would be conducive to the market. And given their insolence, he was almost positive they had barreled their way into the realm for some sort of nefarious purpose.  The fact that they reportedly came thorough tear was far more concerning than their attitude though. It hadn’t taken much for Gabriel to decide not to bother with whatever was going on there.  They hardly seemed repentant and given the kind of year he was having, he didn’t need to add another problem to his list.

They stood only a few feet away, eyes wild as they looked down at the pit.  Good, Gabriel thought. Perhaps they will think twice about questioning authority.

Solia was busy with Elias so it looked as if he was the one who would do the honors. Really, he didn’t have time for such mundane tasks. He needed to go check out this tear.  Gabriel didn’t believe for an instant that they didn’t remember who they were and he needed to make sure more like them wasn’t about to come crashing through.

Turning to them, he sighed wearily. He used to give some sort of speech before leading them to the edge of their tomb but he found that to be a bit too pretentious.

“I will need your wrists,” he told them.

Their gaze snapped back to his.  There was always fear at this juncture. Some pleading.  Gabriel had become numb to it.  While he didn’t normally escort individuals down to the beach himself, he had heard the cries and the bribes enough not to care.

“Why?” they asked.

“So I can take off your cuffs.” Black marks burned into their skin.  Gabriel had used a bit too much magic on them today.  Better safe than sorry, however. There was something lingering around them that he couldn’t quite discern.  Something that called to him. A siren meant to lead him to his end, he was almost certain.

When they stuck out their wrists he felt a small bit of relief over this particular job almost being done.  There was a way that they looked at him that Gabriel disliked. They had a gaze that brought forth the hollowness in the pit of his stomach.  A nagging voice in the back of his head that said he could be doing better. It was one that he had known quite well after his fall but one he had isolated. This, was different.  This stranger looked at him with such utter fierceness that Gabriel felt his back bending to that will.  Normally, insults and pleas did not get to him. And while he had kept his face passive for most of their discourse, their words were still there. Still ringing in his ears even now.

What happened to you to make you think this is an answer to any situation?

Yes, best he was just done with this.  Whatever sorcery they were using to get under his skin was not something Gabriel was interested in.

Curling his fingers along the black cuffs, he focused, willing them to disappear. Long fingers wrapped around his own wrists with a grip born from panic, yanking him backwards. Gabriel only had enough time to look up, eyes wide, as he was pulled down into a pile of bodies.

They got away from him embarrassingly easily as the mass of souls around him writhed and grabbed, hooking on his belt and his coat.  The roar that went up around him mimicked the ocean as the drowning prisoners realized just who was now among them. They began to lash out. Blood smeared across him, along with sand and other liquids he did not wish to think about, his own skin breaking open from clawed grips.

Gabriel could see them disappearing. Swimming away from him as they pushed their way through the bodies.  Anger bubbled up from within, surfacing from a deep well he had worked hard on locking down through the years. Hands gripped his hair, tearing at his scalp as triumphant screams rang across the beach.

“Just let me go, Warden!”
The call came from somewhere he could not even see, rising up in a mockery of his job. Of his very being.

The cuffs were still there, dragging at his skin now in ways they should not.  They were not supposed to work two ways. They should not have been able to pull him further and further down. But as the prisoners helped, pushing him and gnashing their lips in hopes of tearing him in two, he knew that those damn cuffs were not working the way they should. That whoever this person was had magics that he had not seen before.

Having enough of this, he closed his eyes, gathering on that icy tear that he could feel just against his ribs.  When he opened his eyes again, light swelled within the gray murk, the bodies flung to the sides, pinned to the wet sand walls. Gabriel cut their cries of pain with a curl of his fist, shattering them midair with a pulse of grace. Meanwhile, prisoner 47b scrambled back on their haunches, slipping through silt and bone.

“Enough,” Gabriel snapped, yanking his arms to his side and pulling them forward.  He breathed through his nose as they got up on the platform, rising to the beaches surface. “You are far more irritating than you are worth,” he mumbled. He didn’t know if they heard him.  It didn’t matter.

They had used his magic against him.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

Grabbing them by the forearm, grip bruising, he dragged them away from the pit, uncaring as they stumbled, struggling to keep their feet under them. Covered in sand and mud, hair wet with both the ocean and blood, Gabriel marched forward, watching as the sea of people parted for him until he could get them into a darkened area.

“What are you?” he demanded, done playing games. Their gaze was distant, the lanterns from beyond reflected in their gaze.

“Warden? Are you alright?”

When they broke off into a run, Gabriel felt a roar of irritation rise in his throat. They were easy to catch. Easy to pin down into the sand. And far too easy to subdue.

Flipping them over, he was ready to kill them right there.  Bury their body within the sand and let the Deep take them.

But he froze.

This is barbaric.

You must realize that the punishment does not fit the crime.

You can’t do this. I did nothing wrong.

The warmth of the Knowing’s embrace had been ripped from him leaving him shredded and alone on a desolate beach, screaming to the stars.  He was meant to protect. He was meant to help those in need. It was his calling.

Yet, the years had not shaped up to that.

Somehow, this one person was reminding him of that.

Gabriel knew he shouldn’t listen. He knew he should snuff out the light he saw in their eyes. They were certainly a problem that he did not need.  His fingers flexed, the power to do so burning beneath his gloved hands.

And yet nothing.

He didn’t do it.

Because in the end, Gabriel was nothing but a fallen. A weak excuse for the kind of person he should be.

He grabbed them that night, leading them out of the beach and sending them towards the Albright girl. A place to simply shove them until he could figure out what was wrong with him.  No one person was supposed to affect him like this. He had been beyond that for quite some time and yet tonight, without due reason, something flickered in his gut. A suspicious amount of guilt was creeping in and this stranger, prisoner 47b, was to blame.

When he entered his office, he sat down. Old food having spoiled in the corner of his desk.

He didn’t even know their name.

And yet, their eyes haunted him. Searing into his soul.  Try as he might, he couldn’t erase the look of disappointment they bestowed upon him when he closed his eyes.  Nor could he shake the feeling that they expected more out of the Warden of the market.

Gabriel stared at his desk that night, trying to lose himself in paperwork.  All the while, he could feel the stranger's fingers still curled around his wrists. As if they too had marked him.