Gabriel had spent days upon months upon even a year, writing this all down so that he could do this when he saw fit. To be truthful, it had been a few weeks since he thought that he could try this without the actuality of failing. With tonight that had called for the moon to be waiting for renewal, Gabriel knew this was the night he would choose. He simply couldn't wait any longer.

Stepping up to the area he had staked out earlier as the perfect spot, he stopped a moment, checking the pocket to make sure his cigarettes were still there in his black slacks that were rolled at the cuffs. They were obviously too long, even for the man that was over six foot. As the sun lowered and reflected off his hair color that was a golden-y blonde, he settled down. He should have worn a shirt not so thin as this white, non descript, untucked dress shirt. He might be smart if he even buttons the top that were casually left open.

With his items pulled from his bag and splayed before him, he carefully read the instructions. He had crawled around, bent over with the chalk, making the circle and went through, preparing the ingredients, setting the candles around, and whatever else the spell had called for. Now, he simply had to wait.

Night rolled around, and he created the concotion, moving around in the specific direction to light the candles. Picking a clear spot on the ground with no obstructions, he settled himself down, legs tucked neatly under himself. From that, he placed the mortar with the lit candle in front of himself. The candles glowed, casting a warm light on his generally light skin and started to pick little specks in his eyes to sparkle the contained anxiousness as he started to chant.

"Maoth
Maveth
Nephesh te laman
Tsalmaveth
Maoth"

The part he dreaded. He really hated to do this, but it was necessary. Picking up the blade, he pricked his tongue (Much to his disdain that he actually did it) and he aimed carefully, letting it successfully drop into the bowl. He would have killed out of sheer frustration if it missed. And now, he just had to wait to see if it actually worked.

Someone was already standing in the circle as the blood of the blonde haired man fell in to the bowl, which, specifically, shouldn't happen. This someone was wearing faded black denim pants and...Nothing else. The marvellous tanned chest of a young seventeen year-old male was laid bare, even bare feet were seen on the dewy grass inside the circle. He had a lean, athletic physique, not the body builder so many perceived him to be. Black hair so dark it looked blue under bright lights, which at the moment was not the case. A handsome face, unsmiling and neutral, watched the man sitting in front of him. A pair of red eyes, the irises smooth with bright blood, looked on in a determined and focused manner.

This was not Death. This was something different.

Slowly the God of War, Mars, Bellari, Violence, The Bloody Eye or better known as San, stepped forward. Slowly he leaned down, leaning his hands against his knees as he looked at the caster.

"You mispronounced Tsalmaveth," He said, then, after a moment, "Nice blood."

Gabriel snapped his head, and first words were came, "You are so not death. Who the hell are you?" Well, it wasn't his fault, er, well, it was, but he definitely did not intend to be calling the- who is it? Well, whoever it was, he certainly did -not- call him.

Setting the things down in a clatter, he ran a hand through is hair. "Just because of -one- word, and I get you?" Well, not that it was bad. He was a handsome sight, but he has no use for him. Now he'll have to wait a whole month to try this again. Might as well introduce himself. "My name is Gabriel, a mage who obvious can't pronounce by this outcome."

San listened to all of this with a slight tilt to his head and expressionless eyes. He reached his left hand out over the barrier of the white chalk circle, and over the candles, and stroked the young man's blonde hair before whispering in his deep and scratchy voice. "I am not Azrael...But I'll let you call me whatever you like..."

He stood up slowly and looked around not saying a word for a few seconds. "Mispronouncing that one word did not bring me here. I wanted to come and see you." He leaned down again, this time grabbing a fistful of Gabriel's white dress shirt at the neck and pulling him closer roughly. "You should be grateful one of Us came at all..."

"To see me?" Well, that was peculiar. He reached up, placing both hands over Mars' knuckles, pushing lightly. "Yes, I should be grateful, but as much grace as I have to see you, I didn't to see Death. Death and Dreams are my forte of study. Tell me, what is the practicality of this?" He sighed, closing his eyes to mere slits, looking at the ones in front of him.

"Aah, God of War." That being made in a whisper was said more to himself than anyone else. "-Please- let go of me." Well, it's not like he can force -him-. The closest thing he'd be getting from a threat is a nice beheading.

Something tinkles in the background-- a blade of grass, frosted over despite the summer warmth, has broken.

Frost spreads white fingers across the ground, creeping towards the god and the mortal man like winter on the prowl. As it approaches, the white kiss of ice take on the shape of footprints.

The air flickers and then, standing in his own personal patch of chill air, is Death.

It's more accurate to say 'is a tall, gaunt young man in a white business suit,' but it would take a rather thick person not to put two and two together and come up with Azrael. Add in the time, the place, the situation and the silver skulls on his tie pin, signet ring and earring and the answer's obvious.

The god blinks pale eyes and then speaks in a voice that grates against reality like a violin playing in a drumline,

"What's this, then?"

San didn't feel the chill the way mortals did. But he knew who was there. He turned his head, still holding on to the mage's shirt collar tightly. His teeth, which were gritted, were now shown in a perfect smile, all white and even. He gave Death a little wink before slowly letting go of Gabriel. Where Death brought frost and cold with him, War brought heat and fire. Through the chill San's warmth was felt more clearly, eminating from his tanned body.

"Seems you have a pretty visitor," He announced a bit cruely, before grabbing Gabriel from behind the neck and beginning to force him to stand.

Being roughly pulled around like a rag doll left him to stand as straight as a soldier and cursing like a sailor. "Ah, hell, I ask for one- and well, least he came." That's one thing to be happy about. Though, now he had two here, and Gabriel just didn't know what to do.

He threw up a hand in a signal of a wave, "Hello Death. I called you here, and due to this interruption, I had wanted to ask you for understanding on interrupting dreams and a little bit on death. Though, it appears so, this isn't the appropiate time." Since he had a flaming god behind him and a chilly one in front of him.

The white-haired god's pale eyebrows lift at this, and he takes a step closer, as if to inspect Gabriel.

No 'as if' about it, actually. He places a thin finger under Gabriel's chin and lifts, giving him a good once-over with eyes whiter than blank paper. The finger is freezing cold-- as though, if one were to lick Azrael, they'd get their tongue stuck.

Now there's a lovely image.

"You wished to ask my permission?" he enquires of the mortal mage.

San growled slightly. Not a human growl, as some mortals let out in frustration, but a real purring growl. Feline and dreadful. He let go of Gabriel and stood next to Azrael, being only slightly shorter than the other God. He looked over Gabriel.

"Why don't we just play with him?" He asked Death, as if the mage wasn't even there, "I'm bored, and he's so very pretty..."

San might have roared out, but Gabriel let out a frustrated, muffled one against his hand. He started to slip his hand upwards, pressing hard against his forehead to beat off an oncoming headache (these things really rack them up) and shake his head, "Don't I have -any- kind of say in this?" Being ignored like that didn't sit well. Er, nor did the playing deal since it was gods after all.

Azrael withdraws his hand, leaving a patch of delicate white frost where he'd touched, like a fingerprint.

Though his eyes remain fixed on the mortal, he speaks to San.

"I want him to answer my question first. Then you're free to do what you like."

His gaze flicks to his fellow god, then back to Gabriel, and this time, he speaks to the mage.

"You called us. You failed to contain us. Of course you don't have any say. Now then. Permission?" he prompts.

San nodded almost imperceptively to Azrael's response. Tilting his head slightly as he watched the mage, he seemed to be deciding what to do first. A soft smile came over his handsome face. He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, his voice sounded as if he had been yelling at a concert for too long.

"He says you are his forte," This really needn't be said, as Azrael would probably have already known this, but it seemed that San was pushing the mage to answer quickly with this statement. The quicker the answer, the quicker the fun.

This time, Gabriel managed a glare directed towards Death. "Sell me off, why don't you? Well, you are- to him." He scrunched his face up a little bit, "I really would like to delay, so that I could be safe from him." Reaching up, he started to brush off the ice that was under his chin.

He closed his eyes, feeling more or less like he was jumping off a cliff of his doom, "Yes, I wanted to ask you for your permission." Good bye, Cruel world- he screwed himself over now. Oh well, the world keeps spinning anyways so Gabriel just might as well suck it up and walk into whatever he can't avoid with a chin held high.

The frost re-appears where Azrael had touched, apparently of its own accord.

"And what would you like to ask me permission for?" the god asks, sounding amused. The almost-human amusement sounds even more wrong when layered over the uncomfortably unnatural tones of his voice.

San leaned up to Death's ear and whispered something inaudible...To anyone but themselves. He then looked back to the mage. He ran a hand through his black hair, which was a bit longer than how he usually kept it.

"No, no..." He said shaking his head slowly, "You aren't being sold. You're completely free of charge," He grinned before slowly circling behind the mage, standing behind him like a threatening shadow.

"What tells me that I shouldn't believe your words?" He looked over his shoulder at San for a moment before he stepped away from the heat. Sure, it was nice to be warm, but he wasn't feeling all too welcomed with a looming shadow right over his shoulder.

Drawing in a deep breath, he looked back to Azrael, "First of all, I did want to see you face to face. Aside from that, I wanted to ask for permission for better understanding on your, figuratively speaking, trade. I want to understand more and be able to conduct myself better, and to make things progress easier, I am seeking your help."

The white eyes flick over Gabriel's shoulder, giving assent to San, and then back down to the man's face. The god's thin smile parts, showing teeth.

"A mortal who respects us as he should... a rare and beautiful thing in this day and age."

He moves closer to the mage. The air around him radiates chill, as though his very presence kills the warmth.

"You have my permission to continue your studies."

San nods to Azrael, his blood eyes now roaming over Gabriel quite freely. He steps a little closer, the same familiar heat coming off in waves. His breathing is deep, his chest rising and falling peacefully. Although peace if the last thing on his mind. "You have your answer..." He says softly to the mage, glancing quickly to Azrael and offering a smile before looking back to the young man, "Now it's my turn."

With a grimace, Gabriel palms his forehead, muttering, "Like hell I'm not being sold off." Rubbing it a little, he let his hand drop finally from his face, looking at Azrael squarely, "Thank-you then." Hey, least he got what he wanted out of it. A thumbs up for that.

Now to this. He slowly spun on his heel, looking towards the god of War, "And so it is your turn. What is it that you want?" Oh, the joys of this. Gabriel kept eyeing his pack of cigarettes. Good thing he has a lot, he'll be using them.

"Nothing so very challenging, Gabriel," He replied softly, his hoarse voice actually achieving a certain tone of trust. Only for a moment though. A dangerous smile crossed over his lips. "Gabriel, Gabriel..." He rolled the name over his tongue. He slipped his left arm around the young man's waist, holding him securely. He placed his lips to the mage's ear, "Isn't that an angel's name?"

"Don't worry," Azrael murmurs from behind.

"I won't let him kill you."

The chill abruptly leaves the air. On the edge of hearing, possibly, are the words you just will be walking funny for a while but maybe that's just the imagination's whispering.

On the 'whispers' of the wind, Gabriel's eyebrows shot up and he tried to slam his fists against San's chest for whatever good that might do, "Dammit!"

Steeling his face into a thin line, he glanced over at Mars, speaking through clenched teeth, "Yes, it is. What does it have to do with everything right now?" This was so not fun, he was stuck in place. He sure knew, he tried jerking his body back, but it just wasn't happening.

San's other hand rose up to Gabriel's neck, holding it very gently. His lips were still at his ear, and it seemed like he didn't even feel the mage's struggling. "Ever pulled the wings off of a fly?" He asked softly, "It's the same for an angel..."

He stays still for a moment, saying nothing before kissing the corner of Gabriel's lips. "Are you ready?"

If anything, his eyes widened just a fraction, "What do you mean by that? I have never done that before." That would be cruel. Well, and he just hoped he didn't have wings literally and figuratively.

On the second part, he tried pushing more, "What do you mean by am I ready!?" He snapped his eyes shut, trying to twist around in his arms, "Hell no! I'm not ready for whatever you're trying to do!" He's a hostile little worm, isn't it?

San slowly let go of the squirming man, still standing close. He looked honestly confused for a moment. "Ready to get your wings, of course..." He said before laughing as if he had heard the funniest joke in a long time.

"Don't worry, babe," Sudden modern attitude, "It'll feel good."

Slamming his palms flat onto his chest, this mortal distanced himself as much as he could between his arms, "-What- wings!? I don't have wings." Least he- ah, crap. He just hopped he wasn't talking about thewings that was attached to his virginity. That's something that he's glued on very carefully and kept in tact for over twenty years.

San tilted his head to the side. He looked calmly at the mage that was now further away from him. He didn't waste time on words. He wasn't the God of Knowledge. In a flash he was on the mage, his mouth over his. It wasn't a sexual connection...As of yet. He was working his own magic at the moment. In this kiss San was open to the magic in Gabriel's being...He changed the web of power. Fun. This might result in a strange sensation in the young mage, but San was willing to make that sacrifice.

Strange? It felt to him like he was on pins and needles. The kind of pins and needles when any part of your body falls asleep. To that, he did feel slightly numb, like he wasn't there for a flash of a second and he was back towards the prickling, tingly feeling.

His hands came up, wishing there was some kind of fabric to grasp on to. All he had was to cling to San's chest, feeling that if something goes wrong, that he'll just fall into little shards. What the heck -was- this kiss?

San released his hold on the intricate pattern of the mage's potential. But he didn't release his hold on the mage in the existential world that they were now back to. His kiss became heated and demanding, definitely changing tempo. One hand held the back of the mage's head, the other around his waist.

Wings.

He tried his best to yell out 'what are you doing', but he found his tongue more tied up than any riddle could do. Ugh, he didn't want this, but it felt -good-. The heck! A god is -stealing- his first kiss too! Wah- hey! Why is everything just flipping off and changing to something new today? First he gets to summon not one, but ended up to two gods there, and then his first kiss, and his virginity might even be in question there. Darn it. His mind just stopped functioning, and he fell a little slack in his arms, pressing his mouth just a margin closer.

San's kiss was burning with his natural warmth. there was no question in his mind as the mage became slightly more acquiescent in his arms. Slowly the God led him towards the grass, the cool dew a contrast to San's usual fire. The kisses moved down the young man's neck, and a kind of darkening over the surroundings took over. San was smiling. This day turned out to be quite entertaining.

((Curtain call ))

With the next morning, Gabriel awoke, still dressed decently, but a little more disheveled than what he remembered. Sitting up, he felt a not so nice feeling in a region that shouldn't be like that. Managing to stand, when he walked- instead of walking, he waddled. "WHAT THE HELL!? WHAT DID YOU DO!?"

Ah, crud muffins.

He just remembered EXACTLY what San did to him. "I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU!" And he shook his fist, yelling so much that every little forest floor creature and bird ran and flew to get away from the disturbing noises, ie yells.

In a second motion, he stared at his fist, "And what the heck did I start to become this angry?" Then he looked up at the sky, "YOU BASTARD!"

Then back at his hand, "What did he DO!?"