http://crucifriction.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] crucifriction.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] capeandcowllogs2011-12-09 02:36 pm

there's a fire in your eyes

WHO: Azrael and you.
WHERE: City streets.
WHEN: The night of December 9th.
WARNINGS: Violence; others will be added as they occur.
SUMMARY: His desire has filled and burst. And all Michael wants now is to be the City’s God.
FORMAT: You choose.

I want to be seen as God.

The thought festered within him for years, blasphemous. To even think it, much less let it grace his lips, much less actually believe it. As a pious altar boy, he had brought it up in the confessional multiple times. But the lack of absolution brought him to only stick the desire to the back of his mind, with the knowledge that it would inevitably worsen. Become more tangible.

A thousand voices rise from a chorus of whispers to a cacophony of cries.

Now. One moment, he's sitting watchful on a rooftop, thoughtful. The next, what could only be described as revelation, a breakdown of irrationally built walls, flaring into a bright, pure yearning. Even the recent corruption that had plagued him is ignored, in favor of this. This need for devotion.

I WILL BE SEEN AS GOD HIMSELF.

The concrete should bend under his righteous feet as he dashes across the streets, the roofs, in search of disciples and sinners alike.

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-09 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"Stop." Hands went up, protectively before his chest. Uselessly. "Michael, stop." Eddie knew what Azrael was experiencing -- he had constructed it, the degree, the craving. The god complex. He had thought it was funny, the overwhelming blasphemy. How many times can Michael Lane commit sacrilege, because of people pulling his strings? How many different ways?

"Please, stop."

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-10 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
"You -- are you not a god?" He played the words. He knew them to play, he had coaxed them to exposure. "Do you not have infinite mercy? Even for me?"

The night sky above them darkened. Clouds shifter over the crisp moon. Eddie took a step back, and then another. There was a lack of people on the streets, a lack of throngs due to the chaos earlier in the day. This was quiet, this was dark and lonely.

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-10 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Is it?" He hissed, but stilled his movement. There was an undeniable authority in Azrael's words, a weight that made Eddie uncomfortable. He wondered, again, if Azrael knew. If somehow, some way, he was betrayed by the Threshold in a most unsubtle manner.

"Pride has always been innate to me, hasn't it?" Eddie was stalling, swallowing and staring. "I know that. And so do you, I'm aware. But let me ask you this -- why confront me, here? Isn't it a waste of your time?"

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-10 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
He was about to protest, about to question Lane's logic, about to demand that Azrael look at him, rather than encircle him. He was about to sneer back when something caught his throat.

"Ananias," he said. "He who was struck dead for 'lying to God', or the disciple?" It was a point to prove his smirk. "That's the thing with ambiguity, Azrael. It leads the way to questions." Eddie wrinkled his nose, looking at his own shoes. And then sought to stare into Azrael's eyes. "And you don't want to be questioned, do you?"

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-11 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
He couldn't move away fast enough. He watched, mute, horrified, as Azrael swung that metal boot hard onto his already snapped ankle. Eddie dropped to the concrete, hard, screaming as his knees scrapped the cement, his foot submerged in hellfire.

"God why oh fucking --" Eddie gasped, eyes flooding. "God damn it!"

He couldn't see, his palms clawed blindly at the ground. Whimpering, moaning. A figure cut down by pain.

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-11 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Nngh! Oh God," he groaned, his head dipping. Fear laced his blood, pushing adrenaline through his heart. Fingernails scrapped with dirt and grime of the city street, broken glass and soiled sidewalk. His lips drew to those armored feet, hate and spit hissing between his teeth. He paused, quivering, before looking up at Azrael.

"I did this to you," he whispered. "I confess. I made you feel like this. I did it with Desire. You're not a god. You're just Michael Lane, a man beneath his own blood."

aw anna you let the cat out of the bag

[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com 2011-12-11 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Eddie hazards a glance up, eyes rolling high. He watches Azrael's hesitance, his silence, the cold weakness. And Eddie Nygma smirks. Still on his hands and knees, he smirks.

"You know I'm not lying, Michael. You know you're not a god -- you're just a machine; empty, save for those puppet strings of my own device," he spoke softly, his fingers clawing. "You just want to be it otherwise. You want to be adored, beloved, worshiped. You want it because I made you -- you'd want anything I'd make of you."

His voice was growing louder, bolder.

"I could make you want her -- Lust. I could make that happen."