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Kirsten McLain

"I'm not a cynic, I'm a disappointed idealist who's f**kin' sick of people's sh*t."

0 · 484 views · located in Los Angeles

a character in “A City of Fallen Angels”, as played by Moonstruck

Description

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From Eden | Hozier || Ain't It Fun | Paramore





{"If God only gives us much as we can handle He must think I'm a badass."}






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{ Misnomer }
Kirsten McLain

{ Gender }
Female

{ Beliefs }
Kirsten is lazy when it comes to spiritual matters. She went to church on Sunday as a kid but all she remembers from those days is how much she hated being dressed in frou-frou dresses by her mother. She doesn’t give much thought to God or deep philosophical matters, being more focused on the here and now.





{ "I am not the type of person you put on speaker phone."}





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{ Personality }

Raised in a family of three older brothers, Kirsten became tough at a young age and gravitated towards more masculine activities. She's casual, likes to be treated like “one of the guys” and as a police officer can’t stand when she is treated incapable because of her gender. She is vocally creative, conjugating many different cusswords and phrases to create a brand of vulgarity all her own (It’s a talent, really.)

While her personal life (what little she has) is generally a total mess, she has had a stellar career as an officer, the only part of her life she takes pride in. Kirsten is dedicated to serving in the same neighborhood she grew up in. “To serve and protect” are the words she lives by and she has a strong sense of justice. She won’t stop until she’s caught the bad guy. She is as tough as nails but deep down she has a big heart that is more fragile than she leads on.






{ "Story of my Life Chapter 1: Fuck Fuckity Fuck I threw my brother in jail."}





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{ History }

Kirsten was born and raised in LA by two working class parents and three older brothers. Her mother always wanted a girl but to her dismay Kirsten was no less rowdy and crude than the rest of her sons. Her brothers were known miscreants of the neighborhood and their house was frequently visited by the local authorities looking for them. For the most part her brothers grew out of their mischief except one who became a regular delinquent. Like many people in her neighborhood, her family harbored a deep mistrust of the authorities, but Kirsten was in absolute awe of their bravery and respect. (The latter was something she didn't really have being the youngest of four.)

After high school she entered into the police academy and become a part of the LAPD. With her street smarts and hard work ethic Kirsten became a stellar officer. Her family was dubious of her career path and she lost nearly all their support when she arrested her oldest brother in a drug transaction and threw him in jail.Things have never been quite the same between her and her family since, but she does not regret making the decision to arrest him because she believes she did it for the right reasons; because she cares for his safety and hopefully he will have learned a lesson.





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{ Face Claim }
Jennifer Carpenter

So begins...

Kirsten McLain's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Morgenstern Character Portrait: Hael the Kind Character Portrait: The Archangel Michael Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Zachariah Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God

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The angels had fallen for days.
An entire population plummeting to the dirt as a silent rain of light.
They descended: a thousand rending voices howling in terror.
They bore the agony of every single angelic atom tearing itself apart,
changing it's fundamental properties,
and then swallowing itself whole; making darkness out of light.
The destruction of heaven did not end in a roarous battle,
but rather a muted cry as angel wings were torn and cast aside,
pouring out of the sky like shooting stars.







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Earth was cold.

Michael had always imagined that the world would be unbearably warm. To be on such a rock, constantly beset by the light of stars and the wild heat of the sun, to be filled with roiling molecules and energy and heat all your own? Surely it was stifling, surely it was fire like that of Hell. He had since discovered, among other follies of his own, how skewed his conceptions of earth were. For it was winter; constant and interminable, winter seeping through the flesh of his newfound body, winter in his lungs and his nose; always winter. This was worse, so much worse than Hell. The stars, from a view at level with the crust and the dirt, were much farther away than they appeared from Heaven. And the inner heat, the boiling internal burn of his breathing flesh, only made the cold all that much colder. It was, Michael learned, through dissonance that human bodies measured temperature. And the void between blood and ice was wide.

Earth was cold.

The Archangel was older than mortal minds could comprehend; ageless - his existence was not bound to a linear timeline, like the earth and the trees and the sky. His infinity compared to that of an individual mortal life, was immense. It was unbelievably disparate. ‘Everything’ was an abstract for mankind. Forever was impossible. A grand notion that could not possibly leave impressions behind because its feet were imaginary. But Michael had known every single footprint. The rise of Rome. The occupation of Jerusalem. The floods of the Nile. Venice carved of marble. Constantinople built. The dynasties of China. He saw the plagues. The Crusades. Stalingrad. He had stood at the brink of creation when the angels were once legion and were alone save for the deafening noise of the birth of the universe and the destruction of the void that crashed around them. He was a seraph, a leader for the entire duration of his imeasurably long existance. He was a burning, massive star, and still was to an extent, but now that grace was shoved into a nearly mortal body that barely contained the enormous power he had, he was. He could still feel the crackle of that electricity humming in his veins, beneath alien skin.

He may have looked human, but Michael did not have humanity. He was inertia. Ions in the atmosphere. Crackling white light in the sky and fires on the ground. Would God ask for him to be naught but a man? This was a test, a test of his loyalty, he was sure of it. Surely God would not cast out his faithful son without divine plan? They were told they had failed, not recognized man's worth. They had forgotten the greatness of Adam over an eternity. They needed to be reminded, He said. So they fell. Michael felt he had no lesson to garner from this, he always did as his father told. He was infallible. He must have been cast out to protect his siblings from going astray. That must have been it. He would suffer until they learned the errors of their ways, bare the unbareable and in the mean time, Michael would protect them from the temptaion of sin. He would establish the Silver City on another plane of existance and guard them from the very train of thought that lead to the end of the morning star. He would be a triumphant hero yet again for returning his family home safely, and he would bask in the Lord's pride...or so he believed.

The thing about angels was that God had built them with the design to live forever, and minds to conceive of the passing of time. And to keep them alive, He had to balance the disjunction. Nothing could exist in a single state very long without self-destructing. So God had to make the angels variable, He had to put everything into them so that they could be everything, and persist. He put in the light of Eden, the dark of creation, and the ruthless heart of all the empty spaces in between in this universe. They weren't heartless. They were simply filled to the brim with motion and collision and impunity. And none were so hardened as Michael, he was one of the oldest and unknowingly and unintentionally one of the greatest offenders. Even now, as he sat at the center of this angelic city hidden in the depths of Los Angeles, commanding the fallen, he could not see the error of his own ways. He was no closer to returning to Heaven than his bretheren.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Morgenstern Character Portrait: Hael the Kind Character Portrait: The Archangel Michael Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Zachariah Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God

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"So I can either bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute?" Noah asked on the other end of the phone line as Emma wove her way through the sidewalk traffic. She very nearly choked on the exasperation directed at her twin whom she would have throttled had he been currently in her presence and not back at home. "NOAH. No. Stop." She heard his full bellied, throaty laugh resound in reply. "So you're saying I should go for it?" Her eyes nervously combed the street clotted by a swarm of cranky Angelites, searching for a familiar mischevious face that she hoped was just around the corner cruely teasing her instead of committing accidental arson. "How about 4,000,000 degrees for one second?!" he pushed, the sound of the oven groaning open followed by the dull thud of the cookie tray. "Noah, you are going to burn the house down!" She derided as he repeated his increasingly annoying laugh. "Brick doesn't burn, I'm going to harness the fucking sun to make these cookies."

"Noah, P L E A S E." She whined, stomping her foot on the ground though she knew he couldn't see the gesture. "Oh, fine Captain kill joy. Calm yourself. I'm just messing around. The cookies will be unburnt and ready for the creepy stepford book club, I solemly swear." Emma rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you insist on joining this nerdy crap when you could be out having a social life like normal people." he finished lamely.

"Ugh, just because it isn't your idea of a good time, doesn't mean it's not one. It is social and I didn't just join a club, I'm it's founder. You might try expanding your knowledge through literature instead of rotting your brain with booze and video games. We aren't meant to be mindless sheep, following the herd. We're individuals, capable of independent thought. We wouldn't be born with the ability to absorb information and learn and grow, if we weren't meant to utilize our brains and think for ourselves. Why don't you try stepping out of the conformist box, and not worry what your friends think. Come to the meeting. You might surprize yourself and have a good time." Emma ignored the dejected sigh on the other end. "Em, please. I'm doing you a favor. Spare me the life lesson. I'll stick to being cool, you can be the smart, well adjusted one."

It was Emma's turn to sigh, she could never change her brother just as he could never change her. They were twins, and thick as thieves, but as different as night and day. In truth, she hadn't invited him because she thought he might have a good time-she knew he wouldn't have. She did because she was worried if he didn't show, she'd be the only one there, left sitting by herself clutching a book and a tin charred of cookies looking to the world like a fool. "Anyways, I'm there now, I'll see you when I get home. Love you. "

She hung up after he drug out his faux, soppy goodbye and entered the Los Angeles Central Library, after all, where better to post flyers for the book club than the library? She was approaching this first meeting with same intensity as an Apocalyptic event…The thing about Em was that she didn’t really have a barometer…To her, everything was important. So she had done the works; supplied books, had her brother making snacks, continuously passed out flyers on that side of town all week, and was continuing to do so now.

ImageIt was pleasantly warm inside, a reprieve from the bitter bite of autum's chill, the wind having nipped at her nose until it was tinged pink. She stood quietly among shelves of decrepit magazines and microfilm, willing herself to drop off the flyers for her meeting tonight at the help desk instead of grabbing the nearest tome and taking a seat. There was a shaft of dirty sunlight, beamed down from a small window above her head, that broke through the dry air. One elongated corner of it, bronze and gold, fell on the toe of one of her brown leather boots. The floor tiles were the color of teeth and the walls smelled like newspaper. These things were all familiar to her senses. This place was comfortable, this place was home, it was her idea of Heaven. It brought a small satisfied smile to her face.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Emma Morgenstern Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael Character Portrait: Zachariah Character Portrait: Anael (הניאל) Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God

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If there's one thing Anael would have preferred to come off as, it would be dignified. Dignified was not realising at the last moment that something was very wrong with Heaven. Dignified was not crashing thousands of miles downward to crash land in a body of water (angel or not, inhaling water was not a pleasant sensation. Granted, she probably couldn't die if she didn't want to, but that didn't mean she was going to carve her heart out for fun.) Dignified was not sitting up, spluttering, realising that she was among the most baffling of their Father's creations.

She adapted to the Silver City pretty well, learning fast that it was on a different existing plane than the city the humans lived in. She preferred to stay in the Silver City, holed up in her flat, attempting to communicate with their Father or using up paper and canvases. At least the art supplies shop at the corner of the street was making a living off her.

She sat around in her flat for a while, staring out the window at the sky, unresponsive as ever. "Father," she murmured, "why here? What have we done to deserve this? If it is Lucifer's fault - we had no part, I swear. All I need is a sign, please."

There was no reply.

Anael, tired and frustrated, got up and drifted down the stairs, wanting to be somewhere other than the little apartment. Angels had all the space they needed in Heaven, and the flat was getting claustrophobic. It seemed she was gradually gaining humanity.

Standing on the empty street, Anael spotted Zachariah coming towards her. Zachariah was annoying, and she had no desire to speak to him. Quickly, she travelled to the real world, finding herself still on the street, only it was much more crowded. Trying to avoid the crowd, Anael turned to duck into the nearest shop, but instead crashed into a girl passing by.

"Sorry!" Anael gasped, her shoulder banging against the wall. She grabbed the girl's arm in an attempt to stop her from falling. She remained in place for a moment, swaying uncertainly, shoulder stinging painfully. "My apologies," she finally managed. "I was unaware of my surroundings, and I am not used to such crowds of people, I am afraid. Are you alright?" She glanced down at the girl, checking her for injuries. "Truly I am apologetic."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God

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It was five AM and Kirsten was getting through her last hour on patrol when dispatch radioed to her reports of gun shots on her patrol route. She kicked it into high gear to where the shots were reported. Another officer had already arrived on scene where a fifteen year old boy laid sprawled out on the pavement laying in a pool of his own blood. His brown skin glistened with specks of blood splattered from a bullet wound in his chest. The shot had been delivered at almost point blank range, execution style, his hands bound behind his back with a belt. Underneath torn flesh where he had been shot a local gang symbol was written, leading the officers to come to the obvious conclusion of gang violence.

Officer McLain found this didn’t change her perspective on the death. It was just as senseless. And she knew his eyes would haunt her forever as every victim’s did. They stared vacantly into the heavens, blue and red lights reflecting off their glass-like surface, hopefully headed to wherever his gaze was pointed into the sky. The words that he was headed to a better place didn’t provide the jaded officer any consolation for the countless deaths she’d seen, and she found it didn’t do much good for the victim’s families either. Because the right place would have been back in his mother’s arms, but she knew she could not deliver on that. The best she could do was deliver justice, which she knew would also be unlikely.
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The locals were tight-lipped as to who they suspected had done it and after a few frustrating hours of canvasing the neighborhood with no leads Kirsten was forced by her commanding officer to finally go home and get some rest. But even though she had been up for the past twenty four hours Kirsten knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, at least not peacefully. Not with the fresh images of a corpse haunting her just behind her eyes. Unlike some of the officers, Kirsten had no children or significant other to go home to and fill her mind with more innocent thoughts. Home was a retched place where her mind stewed over the day.

So instead, after changing out of her uniform at the station she headed out to get some coffee. The sun had risen at this point but there was still a little morning left. She didn’t care if she looked like she had just rolled out of bed with her wrinkled plaid shirt and jeans and her long brown hair crinkled from having it pulled back in a tight bun while she was on duty. At the coffee shop she ordered a tall double Americano and added sugar to it. This would keep her awake at least for a couple more hours so she would not be forced to face her nightmares right away.

Heading out the door in a hurry for no particular reason, she was bumped into by a lady trying to duck into the coffee shop. Her Americano was crushed between them as their bodies collided and the coffee spilled down the front side of her before she dropped the cup in a delayed reaction.

“Mother of FUCK! What the HELL?!” she burst, hissing in pain as the hot liquid seared the exposed skin on her forearm, “Watch where you’re fucking going lady! Jesus Christ!”

"Sorry!" the woman gasped, grabbing her arm to keep Kirsten steady. Kirsten yanked her arm away, squatting down to pick up the spilled coffee cup. The woman continued to apologize profusely to her as she grumpily picked up the mess. "My apologies. I was unaware of my surroundings, and I am not used to such crowds of people, I am afraid. Are you alright?"

“Well FYI not being aware of your surroundings is a big fuckin’ mistake around here you know that? That’s a perfect way to get your ass robbed or worse, not paying attention! ” she fumed.

“Truly I am apologetic.”

Kirsten took a deep calming breath, trying to cool herself down. She knew she was misplacing her anger on this poor woman. Sure she was miffed about spilling her caffeine fix all over the pavement but her reaction was uncalled for. She finally looked up after a second, still squatting on the ground. The sun hid directly behind the stranger’s head, creating a misty halo around her out of the wisps of her fine gold hair and she was paler than any Los Angeles resident she knew, her skin practically aglow in the morning sun. Kirsten’s breath was caught for a moment, the woman’s big blue eyes disarming her with their gentleness. Now she felt really bad for yelling at the seemingly harmless woman.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Jesus. Look, I totally overreacted.” She stood up, “It’s.. just been one of those shitty days, you know?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel

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#, as written by iCakez
Gabriel


It was too noisy. But he had no intention of going back to the Silver City just yet. He would have to deal with his brothers and sisters and that would just annoy him more. It was as if everyone stared at him constantly, eyes on him all the time. Maybe that was just something he thought, but it still annoyed him. The mere thought of it bothered him. Being an angel on earth was strange. At least, Gabriel thought so. 'I suppose humans would describe it as..Uncomfortable.' To him, it felt as though his skin didn't fit or his true form didn't fit in this shell he'd been confined to. As if what he really was floated around inside this body like molten lava. It helped if he didn't think about it so much and occupied his mind with something else.

The inhuman, violet-colored orbs that were set in his skull were fixed on the pavement below him. Meanwhile, his mind attempted to block out all the noise and all the impressions of every soul around him. Angels could sort of sense each other when they were near, or at least see it instantly. Even in this form. It was harder for Gabriel, though. All the human interference made it hard to focus.
So far, Gabriel had wasted his time among these mortals. He couldn't sit down and imbibe alcohol as these humans did frequently. Hunger didn't encumber him in any way. Sure, he could eat but it had no effect on Gabriel. When you had tasted manna, the bread of heaven, nothing on earth compared. There was one thing he had taken a liking to. A great liking to. "Iced coffee", humans called it. Gabriel drank copious amounts of this savory drink.


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Due to his deep concentration and attempts to block out the noises and the interference around him, he did not notice the accident to his right. Only when one of the two females started swearing and shouting did he stop and look. His eyes travelled first to the ground where the angry one's coffee now was, studying her as she picked up the coffee cup. The other one was apologizing profusely. Even to Gabriel, who had not spent very much time among humans, sensed that her behavior was a little strange. He'd never heard anyone apologize that much or so politely in his time there.
The angel tilted his head and studied the two. The angry woman was the one who was being sorry now. His eyes moved back to the original excuser and they lingered. He wasn't standing very far from them - and was possibly looking quite odd in the middle of the street, staring - and that tingling sensation whenever one of his siblings were near slowly crawled up his spine. I know you... He thought, trying to get a better look at her face.

"If that was iced coffee, I'm terribly sorry." Gabriel stepped forward and looked at the angry woman. Why he started off with that, he didn't know. Conversations with humans were so different than conversations with other angels. "I beg you excuse the both of us, we are not locals."

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel

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Image"If that was iced coffee, I'm terribly sorry. I beg you excuse the both of us, we are not locals." A tall equally attractive blond man to the woman walked up and joined the conversation as Kirsten was wiping herself off with some napkins off an outdoor table. Fuuuck. It must have been the woman's boyfriend, great. Kirsten had a knack for pissing off everyone and their mother with her vulgar mouth. The man had a much more serious demeanor than his girlfriend with an intense gaze that bore into her eyes through to the back of her skull. She couldn't decide what color the man's eyes were, but they appeared unnaturally fluorescent as if he were wearing contacts. As a police officer she didn't get chills that often, was never intimidated, but she unconsciously found herself taking a step back. Either this man was being completely sarcastic in his apology or the couple was Canadian.

"It definitely wasn't iced coffee." she retorted unable to keep the snark out of her voice as she looked at her now splotchy red wrist, "But it's okay! I didn't mean to yell at your girlfriend here, I was just telling her it's been one Hell of a shitty day for me."

Their quiet stares were disconcerting, looking at her expectantly. She crumpled the dirty napkins in her hand, putting them in her cup and setting them on the table to be picked up by someone else."Oh well, this coffee shop is shit anyway. If you're not from around here I suggest you walk down four blocks and turn left and go to a little place called The Beanery. Best fuckin' cup of joe in LA. I just came here because it's closest to my work." No immediate answer. "Do you.. want me to take you guys there?" Why she was being so nice to these more than strange strangers was beyond her, maybe to relieve some of her guilt for being such a bitch, but most likely it was a subconscious ploy to keep herself outside a little longer so she didn't have to go back to her empty apartment.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel

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Anael blinked, the woman's profanities washing over her like the water she'd fallen into. Perhaps she'd deserved it, she thought - her beverage was burning. The girl pulled away, leaving Anael standing awkwardly, trying to ignore the stares of people passing by. People had such an effect on her.

She turned her gaze away when the girl glanced up at her, unaware of how her position made her look. Surely if she could have had such a violent reaction, she was unhurt, Anael reasoned. "I'm… I'm sorry. Jesus. Look, I totally overreacted. It's.. just been one of those shitty days, you know?" Anael forced herself to bite back the words that leapt to mind at the mention of her half brother. "I understand," she replied carefully. "I hope you are not hurt."

A bolt of lightning leaped up her spine, and Anael jerked on the spot, the unfamiliar feeling striking her hard. What was that? Before she could investigate further, though, a new arrival absorbed her attention.

"If that was iced coffee, I'm terribly sorry. I beg you excuse the both of us, we are not locals." Anael felt rather than saw the man join her. The crowd passing by forced them closer, and as her arm brushed his she felt that same lightning. She turned to crane her head up to look at him. Familiar, but then again, not quite. Who...?

Anael considered the woman's offer for a moment. She was not disturbed by the man - as a matter of fact, he was almost calming. "I think I would like that," she finally accepted. "Perhaps I can buy you another cup of - coffee? As an apology? And we can have a look at that burn..." If it was coffee, Anael didn't know, but coffee was something these people seemed to enjoy, and as long as she was down here it would work to try and fit in.

Shifting, she took in the man beside her, eyes lingering on his face. Those eyes were so familiar.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel

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#, as written by iCakez
There was a pause before she said anything. Apparently his appearance had made her loose her tongue. That hadn't been his intention. Interacting with humans was difficult. How they would react if they could see his true form was something he didn't even want to think about. It would be impossible for them to comprehend.
Millenia ago, when Gabriel conveyed his Father's messages to those it concerned, he'd appeared to them as "The Man In White.", a form that didn't reveal the radiance he and his siblings were born with. Still, their awe was apparent. When he'd delivered the message to Mary telling her how she would give birth to his half brother, she had nearly fainted. These thoughts reminded Gabriel of how old he was. To humans at least. For an angel it was not the same. Their perception of time was much different.
By the time his train of thought had ended, he found himself staring at the cursing woman who opened her mouth and spoke before he could.


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Girlfriend? His human form took on a confused expression and he looked to his left at Anael for a moment, but didn't answer the woman. Judging by his first impression of this woman, he decided that it was better to wait and make sure that she wasn't going to speak again. That proved wise. She didn't talk like the few other human's he'd recently encountered did. She swore much, much more and Gabriel found it strangely amusing. A second before he opened his mouth to reply to the woman's questions, his arm brushed the original excuser (who he assumed wasn't entirely human, for she was familiar to him), and he withdrew his hand as if he'd burned his skin.

"I'm afraid we do not have the...Time." That was a lie. They had plenty of time. Gabriel tried to look apologetic and sighed. "We can do it another time if you'd like?" That was polite, right? He turned his head to his left and let his eyes linger on the woman who was staring back at him already.

"You and I must talk." Gabriel stated simply and tilted his head. A crooked smirk started to tug at the corner of his mouth. Has he taken my memories as well? Something twisted and swirled within him. A flash of anger that briefly made his violet eyes flare, causing them to glow more intensely and vibrantly for a second or two. Gabriel could not remember who she was, this angel in front of him. It must have been a long time since they had seen each other, but now he was certain that she was indeed and angel. It also saddened him. They could sense each other and he used to be able to recognize his brothers and sisters, even when they took on other forms.
Gabriel seized the other angel by the wrist and felt that jolt shoot up his spine once more. He took a few steps along the street, away from the vulgar caffeine-addict. "Who are you?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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#, as written by veve
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Image Raphael took in his appearance once again. He ran his fingers across his skin, hair, and lips while staring into the mirror that adorned the wall of his bathroom. A feeling of slight familiarity filled him as he looked into his bright blue eyes. The almost ethereal glow in them was a slight reminder of what he was. He’d had the same eyes before, from the first time he’d been human, but things were different then. Mankind wasn’t like it was now. Sighing, he rinsed his face. Remember, why you were sent here again Raphael. Mankind deserves the same love that you have for the father. He constantly reminded himself of this, but it was easier said than done.

Going about his normal early morning ritual, Raphael washed himself and reluctantly got dressed. Having a human form was already a bit strange, but having to put clothes on it as well was the equivalent of putting on a rubber suit then pulling on leather over it. Nonetheless, it was necessary to humans, so he obliged. Now that he was dressed, Raphael headed to the world meant for mankind.

When he arrived, the streets were busy with morning traffic and people rushing to wherever they felt they needed to be. This, of all things, intrigued him. People would rush even when they had nothing to do, and it was ridiculous. He turned behind him, spotting a small shop with a vending machine outside of it. He inserted a small amount of money and got back a very cold bottle of water. He found that holding a beverage helped him to look more normal, considering his movements were still a bit stiff.

Raphael sat on a bench, water in hand, and observed his surroundings. In a taxi, a man hung out the window and yelled obscenities at another man who was also hanging out his window. Slightly wincing at the foul language, Raphael sat back and looked toward the sky, and suddenly he felt very homesick.

He turned to his right as he heard a very loud, very long stream of cursing to see a woman, covered in coffee and another one apologizing profusely. The first woman shouted at the second while she was squatting on the ground.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Jesus. Look, I totally overreacted.” She stood up, “It’s.. just been one of those shitty days, you know?”

Well at least that one apologized for the profanity she used. As he caught a glimpse of her face, Raphael recognized the second woman. Oh Anael… He knew it was Anael the moment he saw her face. Her eyes gave it away; that gentel glow could be no one but Anael. Smiling slightly to himself, Raphael continued to observe the scene as another person approached. He spoke in a strange way as well, not completely blending into the conversation like a normal human would. Figuring it was another angel looked on even more curious.

"Perhaps I can buy you another cup of - coffee? As an apology? And we can have a look at that burn..."

Raphael sat up a slight bit as an instinct triggered within him. A burn? Squinting his eyes at the woman, he tensed. As an angel of healing, he automatically wanted to help her.

”I’m afraid we do not have the…Time.

Raphael barely heard the male angel speak to the woman as he was craning his neck to observe the woman’s injury. As the angels stepped away, Raphael got a full look at the woman’s burn. Her wrist was turning red from the scalding liquid. Gripping his bottle of water, he stood up and stiffly walked over to the woman, now being able to see the reddened skin on the woman’s wrist. He walked directly to her and gently pressed the cold bottle to her wrist while holding her hand palm up with the other.

“Cold objects work well to help minor burns. Here."

As he did so he glanced over his shoulder and saw Anael and the man. Once again, the eyes gave away the angel’s identity. As Raphael realized he was looking at Gabriel, he also realized how strange his actions had been. Raphael put the woman’s other hand onto the bottle and stepped back, embarrassed and smiling slightly to possibly help the situation. Humans feel more at ease with smiling…right? Or does it just make it worse?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Anael - Joy of God Character Portrait: Gabriel

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"I'm afraid we do not have the... time." Anael hid her surprise - who was he to tell her what to do? Still, she smiled, playing along. "Another day, then, I'm afraid, if we have the fortune to meet again," she spoke smoothly, reaching out for Kirsten's shoulder, this time squeezing it comfortingly, mentally projecting warm and calm feelings to the woman, all earlier quarrel forgotten.

She turned and met the man's gaze steadily, unintimidated. She was Anael, angel of God, and no man, mortal or otherwise, would push her around without good reason. "You and I must talk." She turned to flash another apologetic smile at Kirsten, then was propelled away from her by the man, wrist all but sparking with lightning from where he was holding her.

"Who are you?" Anael shook him off angrily, pulling her wrist free. "Perhaps I should be asking you that," she hissed. "Have you no respect? Petty and insignificant that exchange may have seemed, but surely you would allow me a little dignity and will of my own?" He was much taller than she was, but she turned her whole body to him, pulling herself up as tall as she could muster, shoulders straight and pushed back, eyes fixed on his. Still no recognition, no sign as to who he was, but she plowed on anyway.

"Maybe I am no longer as powerful as I once was in Heaven, but I believe I deserve your respect, a basic human decency as these people have found," she continued frostily. "But if you must know, I am Anael. Pray tell your identity."

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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The woman was ready to oblige her request when the man intervened, pulling his companion away lightly. "I'm afraid we do not have the... time." he told Kirsten, "we can do it another time if you like?" the man did not care to stay and set said time and moved away from her slowly to talk with his girlfriend out of earshot. Whatever. Kirsten thought unaffectedly to herself, although subconsciously it chapped her ass just a little to have her offer rejected. At least she wouldn't be buying coffee for three now.

She rubbed her inflamed wrist agitatedly, not helping the burn to get any better. Kirsten found she was good at inflicting pain but not very good at tending to what she damaged. At the same time, she peered at the coffee stain down the front of her button plaid shirt. "Fanfuckintastic." This day sure wasn't getting any better being outside. Maybe she should just retire indoors for the rest of the day after all. Try to forget glass eyes staring into the heavens and stare into a glass bottle of whiskey..

Right then, she felt her arm being pulled from her and a chill bottle of water placed on her wrist, raising goosebumps over her whole body. "What the fu--" Kirsten was about to let loose a new string of obscenities before she laid eyes on the handsome man gently caressing her arm, keeping her from instinctually karate chopping anyone who dared to touch her without her permission. Oddly enough she felt okay with this man touching her, allowing him to take her other hand and put it over the bottle to hold it in place. It wasn't until he let go of her that she seemed to snap back to reality, blinking twice rapidly.

“Cold objects work well to help minor burns. Here."

The stranger smiled sheepishly at her perhaps realizing the wherewithal his own actions took. "Uhh. Th-thank you." Did I just fucking stutter like some teenage girl? She internally chastised herself. She cleared her throat and rolled back her shoulders, gathering her bearings,"I mean, thanks. My arm feels a lot better already." She said in a more collected manner. The Canadian couple was quickly forgotten, everything really, even those empty glass eyes. Looking into the tranquil blue-green eyes of the stranger was more soothing than staring down at the bottom of any old whiskey glass.

Neither of them moved or said anything for a moment, he standing rigid and smiling, she pressing the bottle to her arm in silence. Perhaps he was waiting for her to hand the bottle back she thought. "Umm. Here, you can have this back.." She removed the cool bottle from her arm and offered the bottle back to him.

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain

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"Umm. Here, you can have this back.."

Raphael frowned a little as the woman attempted to hand the cold bottle back. He put a hand out and gently nudged it back to her. He smiled again, this time more genuine.

“No, you should keep it. It will probably prove to be helpful later, if the pain should start again.”

Now that the woman was no longer in so much pain, he quickly observed her. She dressed in garments that looked much more comfortable compared to the tighter things he saw many women adorn here. She also had a very large stain on the front of her shirt from the previously wasted drink. She had to be quite upset by that. Many people seemed to care greatly for their clothing, and hers were soiled by the liquid Anael spilled.

“My sincerest apologies for your wrist and clothing. Sometimes others tend to not pay enough attention to their surroundings.”

Raphael was careful with his wording. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the woman to know that he knew the angels she’d just come in contact with. This might incite more questioning, which he was not prepared for. Besides he felt that more apology was needed, especially for the rash and sudden movements he’d made earlier. He could tell they were a bit uncalled for considering she almost let loose another string of profanity when he took hold of her hand. Raphael bowed his head down slightly to show he was truly regretful for the events that’d transpired.

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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Image“No, you should keep it. It will probably prove to be helpful later, if the pain should start again.” She awkwardly took the bottle back and held it to her wrist again. “Thanks..” she mumbled, scoping him up and down real fast with her eyes. It was in her nature as a law enforcement officer to hold some sort of suspicion of motive, but she was not getting a good read on this man. Perhaps because she wasn’t used to seeing sincerity she didn’t know how to recognize it. ”My sincerest apologies for your wrist and clothing. Sometimes others tend to not pay enough attention to their surroundings.” he apologized, gaze faltering from hers to the ground.

She blew a short breath of air through her nose in amusement. “Why should you apologize for somebody else’s mistake? But really, thanks for the concern, not many people tend to give a shit about one another either..” She smiled a lopsided smile at him. Why would someone as imposing as this man behave so humbly towards her? He didn't seem the type that had any reason to act bashfully around women, it was more likely the other way around. “So are you just an anonymous good Samaritan or do you have a name? I’m Kirsten.” She introduced herself removing the bottle from her wrist and thrusting a hand forward to shake.

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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“Why should you apologize for somebody else’s mistake? But really, thanks for the concern, not many people tend to give a shit about one another either..”

Raphael stood straight as she said this. Though her statement of insight was sprinkled with a small amount of profanity, it made him smile. At least more than just the angels realize that empathy among mankind is quite rare. Day in and out Raphael saw homeless men and women on the streets and others wouldn’t cast them so much as a sideways glance. It sometimes made him wonder how Father could expect them to show love to mankind even when they didn’t extend each other the same courtesy.

“So are you just an anonymous good Samaritan or do you have a name? I’m Kirsten.”

My name? This is the first time a human from this time had requested to know his name. The inquiry startled him and for a second he faltered. He stared at her hand as he finally snapped out of his slight daze. Carefully taking it and shaking it (as he remembered seeing other people do), Raphael smiled, both at the Samaritan reference and at her polite gesture.

“I’m known as Raphael.”

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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ImageKirsten smiled even wider at the way he introduced himself in an almost mechanical fashion. Perhaps he was a foreigner and English was not his first language. His hand had a firm grasp, strong, his whole arm was sinew and muscle, perhaps he worked doing physical labor like unloading trucks, his hands were not callused though.. Maybe he just worked out a lot. She internally chastised herself for analyzing the stranger and commanded herself to reserve judgment. Kirsten found she only had two settings in a relationship though, detective or hapless lover, either finding everything wrong with the person in the outset and walking away, or discovering he was married with two children and the one being walked away from.

“Raphael.. It’s nice to meet you.” Kirsten tested the name out on her lips thoughtfully before moving on. “Well, maybe I’ll see you again when I’m a little less of a mess.” She glanced down at her soiled shirt with a half-laugh and took back her hand. “How about a beer sometime? I have a friend who owns a taqueria that serves cervezas. It’s nothing wild, just a quiet little place to eat some good tacos. First drinks on me.” she offered nonchalantly. She may have been being forward having just met him, but that was her nature, and for some people, especially men, it was off putting. She hoped he wasn’t one of those men. Having grown up with three older siblings she learned to speak up and not shy around what she wanted lest she end up in a fork fight with one of them for the last morsel of a meal.

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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“Raphael.. It’s nice to meet you.”

It surprised him to hear his name spoken by a human. Normally he didn’t hear it aside from his Father and his fellow angels. Raphael smiled and nodded his head toward her in acknowledgement.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Truly, it was great to meet a human that had the capacity to be kind. For once a human had an actual conversation and didn’t seem to regret it. Though she was a little brusque and a tad obscene, Kirsten was a “good” human. Maybe if Raphael had run into more people like this one, he wouldn’t find it as hard to learn to love them.
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“How about a beer sometime? I have a friend who owns a taqueria that serves cervezas. It’s nothing wild, just a quiet little place to eat some good tacos. First drinks on me.”

Raphael got slightly rigid. A…beer? Just the word tasted a bit sour on his tongue. He knew that humans regularly indulged in alcohol and drunkenness, but that was a sin… However, having the drink wasn’t a sin; only the the state of being drunk was a sin. Besides, mankind used this as a way to further acquaint themselves with others, to make friends. Finding solace in the reasoning, Raphael flashed a smile, nodding his head.

“It sounds like a fine idea. Thank you.”

The thought of making friends with a human made him well up with hope. Father, your lesson will not be wasted. I will learn. I will...

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Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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ImageKirsten's face instantly brightened at his answer. "Great! How about tonight? 8 o' clock?" She didn't wait for him to reply, putting the water bottle under her arm in order to dig in her purse in search of something to write with. The sound of a can of mace and loose change clinked around in the bottom until she procured a pen. "Ah-ha!" She exclaimed excitedly as if she had found a treasure, proud that she was able to find anything in the abyss that was her purse. "I don't really have paper so.." She grabbed his wrist and began writing with the blue ball point pen on the inside of his hand. "The place is on the corner of 12th and Liberty, it's called Gallo's. If you can't find it, this is my cell number."

The writing left on his hand when she backed away was poorly written but legible, her name and number in the smudgy blue ink across his tanned skin. She felt more hopeful than usual in this acquaintance and was happy that she would have a pleasant distraction to look forward to later on. For now she would need to go home, take a shower and a nap if she were to be at all presentable tonight. "So I'll see you later.. Can't wait." She said. She walked backwards a little bit, waving and keeping her eyes locked on him until she spun around and headed down the street away from him.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kirsten McLain Character Portrait: Raphael: The Healer

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As soon as he accepted her invitation, Kirsten’s face lit up. It made something deep inside Raphael stir. He always felt like this when he could sense happiness and joy in the air, especially when it came from a being that his father created. Raphael instinctively smiled broadly at her.

"Great! How about tonight? 8 o' clock?"

That seemed like a good enough amount of time for Raphael to gather any information he needed. After all, Raphael hadn’t accompanied any human in this time anywhere. As the woman dug through the bag she carried, Raphael gazed at her quite intrigued. Lots of women carried those things around with them, though it wasn’t appropriate for a man to carry one as well. He found this out the hard way while attempting to explore.

Once Raphael wandered into a boutique in search of clothing. He got many strange looks as he put on different purses in a mirror, mimicking someone else. As far as he knew, a purse was merely a bag to carry things in, but he was corrected rather quickly.

When Kirsten took his hand, Raphael snapped out of his reverie. He watched as she wrote some numbers on his hand with a pen. The numbers were a bit hard to read, but he could still tell what they were supposed to be.

"The place is on the corner of 12th and Liberty, it's called Gallo's. If you can't find it, this is my cell number."

Raphael thought back to the phone he’d bought shortly after arriving. It intrigued him how people carried phones around with them all day, and he’d wished to see what the fuss was all about. Though the phone did prove to assist in providing entertainment, he’d not decided to take it with him everywhere. It was always left in his room.

"So I'll see you later.. Can't wait."

Raphael smiled broadly and watched her leave. When she turned around, he looked back down at the number and name scrawled on his hand.

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He then turned around, wandering back in the Silver City as he observed the number and went over things in his head he’d have to research. The last thing he wanted was to do something strange to make the encounter go awry.