Title: destroyer of all things
Warnings: A little blood a guts, a little sex.
Word Count: 594
Summary: Five moments in time between Gabriel and the goddess Kali.
A/N: Completely and utterly inspired by the poem "destroyer of all things" by Daphne Gottlieb.
destroyer of all things
They play this game for centuries and it never seems to get old.
i.
Kali says, when I bring her a bottle of wine,
What? You think you can get me drunk and take advantage of me?
She prefers the taste of virgins, but all he has is the blood of a traitor of a small village by the ocean. Stabbed and dumped back into the sea, his blood turning the water red, attracting the sharks and gulls. Gabriel gathered it in a fine bottle, green, the color of the trees.
And you think this is the way to my heart? She asks, her voice just as deep and velvet colored as the blood she sips on.
He smirks and quirks his eyebrows, clinks glasses. It's a start.
ii.
When I show up with fine Belgian chocolates, she accuses me of trying to kill her, since the chocolates have nuts.
And, she sniffs, it's such a small box.
Almost nothing he does pleases her. She sneers at him, tips up her nose at him though she gladly accepts the blood, the eyeballs of mere mortals. Like a delicacy, she holds them between her forefinger and thumb, chewing and swallowing, washing it away with a wine she's deemed acceptable.
But she allows him to touch her, run his fingers through her black hair, kiss her ruby red lips. The human vessel is constraining against her true form and her extra arms burst out of the skin, grabbing at his hips and back.
Afterward she sews up her skin, pulls back her hair. I hope you don't think this means I like you, she says, not paying him much mind.
He chuckles. Of course not, he agrees.
iii.
I bring her daisies and she snorts that it figures I don't thinking enough of her to bring roses.
She detests the West. Their loud clamoring, their worshiping of a God who long abandoned them for peace and quiet. No more sacrifices, they think they are so important, that her people don't matter.
How can you stand it? She asks as they stand side-by-side on a mountain gazing down at the cities. To be brushed aside as nothing more than a myth, a bedtime story to scare children.
He shrugs and offers her a flower, yellow and small. She accepts, twirling the stem between her palms. Is this supposed to make me feel better? She lets it fall from her hands and blow away on the wind.
iv.
When I bring her roses, she smiles. How beautiful, she says,
these will look on your grave.
She knew of his true form for quite some time. The last time they met and copulated, when he towered over her and she raked her extra hands down his back she felt feathers, saw the outline of great wings against the walls when the lighting flashed.
When she thought she killed him, she felt nothing.
When she came back after those stupid Winchester brothers whisked her away in their crappy car and she finds his body on the ground, she drops to her knees. His wings outlined in ash, blade covered in blood. She touches his cheek.
In her rage she burns down the building, walking out covered in flames, her vessel's skin breaking away in ashes.
v.
One day Gabriel passed through India and Kali stopped him. She was made of fire and ice and as he stopped in awe of her, she winked at him, shook her head, and flickered away. He knew in that instant he would have her.
.end