[Gabriel has a very specific way of looking at the world. He's a bureaucrat - the best and the worst of people capable of making the world run and reality shift - and also destroying it. There's one iron creed however and that's - you manage your people.
In this case, his people were terrible and they hurt people and he hurt people and he felt bad about it - because he was punished for it. He was nearly a demon, he nearly fell. He was nearly everything he hated but...
But.
This wasn't about him. People who demonstrate loyalty get his respect and caring. Not to him but to what he serves.
He drags a hand over his face.]
I gave the orders. You carried them out.
[He lowers his head.] The orders I gave hurt me and I can only assume they hurt you and they hurt others and I feel -
[he pauses] guilty. About that. I have questions and I'm still sorting it out but I was a poor leader to you and I am sorry.
[No hesitation. His bleary eyed gaze looks clearer] As a fellow leader I think you...maybe. Understand what it's like to look at people you're responsible for and realize when you wronged them. And it was wrong. Right?
Is Allison all right?
[She was there. They were his dark right hand. His eyes close in pain.]
[ And Luther does understand. The problems of being a leader, of bearing that responsibility on your shoulders so others don't have to. That pain of having made the wrong call, and having bulled the others into following suit. Vanya. Locking Vanya in the tank. He bites down on that bitterness, tries to sort through his emotions on the whole thing, on a memory of ten years of bloodstained hands and a Number One who never blinked or questioned, and— ]
'I was just following orders' is a poor excuse. You're responsible as the leader, but so are the people who choose to follow you. Who choose. If they didn't want to, they could find ways to leave. We could've.
[ His own siblings had found ways to leave, back home. ]
There's a difference between forcing or intimidating people into following you. You didn't force us.
Mostly because that's exactly what human beings should be doing. They made their own choices. They chose the path of darkness and to assume he'd had control of that was...demonic in nature. Manipulative in nature. To do so was violating everything he was supposed to be rooting for.
Everything he was supposed to be a part of.
Everything he was supposed to believe in.]
...I.
[He runs a hand through his hair. Simply put, as an angel he should have provided a better example. That was his whole point. To be an angel was to guide. That had been stripped away by his actions.
And he is back at that edge for him. His edge. Does he say fuck it to humanity? And fall? Or accept...failure?
it's too much. It's so huge. How can they do it Lord? What kind of creatures have you made?
He draws in a shaky breath.]
Ordinarily I'd say...something. About this. And I'm supposed to guide and tell you she forgives but this whole...need for redemption is new to me. I should have helped you be better and I didn't.
...so.
[fuck. This is hard.]
What do we do? I'm not going away. I failed you-
[pause] I want to understand why because if I don't I'll fall. And that scares the fuck out of me.
[ Luther's not an especial chatterbox to begin with, and he's even more curt and terse now, trying in his own way to pick his way through this subject. There's tension rigid in his neck, those broad shoulders that he's now having to get accustomed to again, for a third fucking time in his life.
Gabriel's trying to figure things out, and as much as Luther might want to look away from it himself — pretend that the past ten years didn't happen, that he didn't just have a firsthand glimpse into how very bad he could've become, and even worse, did become — it's hard to look away from it. He keeps waking up from dreams that aren't dreams, that are memories instead. Cracked bones and the fierce, uncomplicated joy of bloodied hands and a job well-done. It had been so easy.
(And, worst of all, he's pretty sure a part of him misses it. The simplicity. The satisfaction. The comfort and sense of well-being. Home. He had had a home, a duty, a responsibility again, and he had worn it well.
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obediences) wrote2019-03-28 10:51 am
no subject
In this case, his people were terrible and they hurt people and he hurt people and he felt bad about it - because he was punished for it. He was nearly a demon, he nearly fell. He was nearly everything he hated but...
But.
This wasn't about him. People who demonstrate loyalty get his respect and caring. Not to him but to what he serves.
He drags a hand over his face.]
I gave the orders. You carried them out.
[He lowers his head.] The orders I gave hurt me and I can only assume they hurt you and they hurt others and I feel -
[he pauses] guilty. About that. I have questions and I'm still sorting it out but I was a poor leader to you and I am sorry.
[No hesitation. His bleary eyed gaze looks clearer] As a fellow leader I think you...maybe. Understand what it's like to look at people you're responsible for and realize when you wronged them. And it was wrong. Right?
Is Allison all right?
[She was there. They were his dark right hand. His eyes close in pain.]
no subject
[ And Luther does understand. The problems of being a leader, of bearing that responsibility on your shoulders so others don't have to. That pain of having made the wrong call, and having bulled the others into following suit. Vanya. Locking Vanya in the tank. He bites down on that bitterness, tries to sort through his emotions on the whole thing, on a memory of ten years of bloodstained hands and a Number One who never blinked or questioned, and— ]
'I was just following orders' is a poor excuse. You're responsible as the leader, but so are the people who choose to follow you. Who choose. If they didn't want to, they could find ways to leave. We could've.
[ His own siblings had found ways to leave, back home. ]
There's a difference between forcing or intimidating people into following you. You didn't force us.
no subject
Mostly because that's exactly what human beings should be doing. They made their own choices. They chose the path of darkness and to assume he'd had control of that was...demonic in nature. Manipulative in nature. To do so was violating everything he was supposed to be rooting for.
Everything he was supposed to be a part of.
Everything he was supposed to believe in.]
...I.
[He runs a hand through his hair. Simply put, as an angel he should have provided a better example. That was his whole point. To be an angel was to guide. That had been stripped away by his actions.
And he is back at that edge for him. His edge. Does he say fuck it to humanity? And fall? Or accept...failure?
it's too much. It's so huge. How can they do it Lord? What kind of creatures have you made?
He draws in a shaky breath.]
Ordinarily I'd say...something. About this. And I'm supposed to guide and tell you she forgives but this whole...need for redemption is new to me. I should have helped you be better and I didn't.
...so.
[fuck. This is hard.]
What do we do? I'm not going away. I failed you-
[pause] I want to understand why because if I don't I'll fall. And that scares the fuck out of me.
no subject
[ Luther's not an especial chatterbox to begin with, and he's even more curt and terse now, trying in his own way to pick his way through this subject. There's tension rigid in his neck, those broad shoulders that he's now having to get accustomed to again, for a third fucking time in his life.
Gabriel's trying to figure things out, and as much as Luther might want to look away from it himself — pretend that the past ten years didn't happen, that he didn't just have a firsthand glimpse into how very bad he could've become, and even worse, did become — it's hard to look away from it. He keeps waking up from dreams that aren't dreams, that are memories instead. Cracked bones and the fierce, uncomplicated joy of bloodied hands and a job well-done. It had been so easy.
(And, worst of all, he's pretty sure a part of him misses it. The simplicity. The satisfaction. The comfort and sense of well-being. Home. He had had a home, a duty, a responsibility again, and he had worn it well.
Too well.) ]