The angels were crowded around Raphael. The air was chill and silent, only the occasional wave of excess healing energy hitting Uriel. Michael was standing closer to the healing angels, who were donned in cloth that covered their bodies and eyes and mouths, in case any blood happened to hit them. Raphael was deadly silent. Uriel wasn't sure he would recover from Zadkiel's attack. Uriel had his arms crossed across his chest, his throat tightening and his eyes burning from tears that were being barely held back. He glanced over at Michael. The Archangel had a passive look on his face, he didn't seem concerned at all. It made a small rage burn inside Uriel's chest, but the looming sadness of his friend's possible death extinguished it, causing a hitch in the angel's breath. He couldn't believe what had happened, he should have known better than to send his friend to see Zadkiel. He didn't want to believe what Anthea had implied with her damned silence, but in his heart, nay, in his soul, he knew that it was true. Uriel's cheeks grew redder by the minute, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him and his eyes threatening to begin pouring like a burst dam. Michael's calm reaction to the whole situation did not provide comfort for Uriel in the slightest. He'd lost two of the people who he'd considered close to him. He stared down at Raphael's deathly pale face as poisonous purple veins showed through his skin. Uriel felt useless as he watched the healing take place. The glowing hands of his comrades reflected dully off of Raphael's skin, making it appear discolored. Raphael shallowly breathed, his chest barely moving. Uriel hoped he would live.