"Little angel."

Lips curved upwards at the corners Tsalmaveth twisted, rippling and coalescence into a vaguely serpentine shape, relishing the sudden apprehension the archangel radiated at the sliding of scales upon scales.

"I am known as a Deceiver and the Trickster. I am a darkness that many tried to mold and control, some succeeded more than others in their manipulations, but no longer am I that naive being. Shall you try your favor and seek to control me?"

Honestly Tsalmaveth did not have a high opinion of the celestial messengers of the Almighty Father, the Creator. He owed little to nothing to the entity, being neither a son nor a creation of His. Tsalmaveth lived for himself and his own, but at the moment, he had a choice, the choice he made would depend on what the celestial entity's answer was however.

The archangel seemed to almost chitter to itself, in a manner that was slightly endearing. Tsalmaveth was suddenly reminded of Hela as a young child, innocent and curious, not yet aware of the world and all its hidden cruelties.

"All that I seek is a reprieve from the senses bloodshed that stains my home."

Tsalmaveth admired a small light wing before it shifted into waves of energy. Fascinating. The being sensed no lie.

"I believe that I like you little angel." He found it an oddly honest statement, one of the truest things he could remember ever speaking at the moment. Perhaps it was due to eons of isolation, or the possibility of finally leaving the confines that held him for so long.

Gavri'el shifted, necks arching in an almost hesitant movement. Tsalmaveth would imagine it was a silent inquire for permission. Again he was reminded of the better times in the past. Regardless of the angel's continued openness, treachery at this point meant little.

The ones he had existed so long to protect were safe, the archangel at least had made sure of that. There was no need of him, and after so many eons of vigilance despite the cold emptiness that yawned were once existed a constant warmth, Tslamaveth was simply put tiered.

the flares of fire sputtered as the charred wood crumbled

"Yes."

smoldering coals cooled in and empty hearth.

"That was a Yes."

The amber red coals turned dark.