Semjaša's cheek pressed into the dirt, his knees wedged into the soft soil and all the weight of Michael pressed into his back, pinning him. For all the furious pressure of a maddened archangel restraining him, Semjaša maintained an expression of apathy that I could only interpret as shock. Past mourning and madness, he was empty now. His world, his daughter and now his life, all lost to the turbulance of war, piety and morality. Other men's morality. I was tired, I was in pain and I lacked tact.
"Were there no beautiful women in Eden Semjaša?" I sneered, all spite and petty self righteousness.
His empty eyes slowly found me. They lacked recognition and I saw the abyss inside him. The chasm of loss and loneliness so alien from what I thought possible. Then he smiled in a manner both quaint and sad, for it lacked sincerity, aching instead with wistful detachment.
"You are children. So young and naive'. So exciting and eager to please. Quick to love and simple to please." He spoke.
I was incensed beyond reason. "We're not here for amusement!" I threw myself at his prone shape, screaming the words, but Uriel held me back. I don't know where he came from. Maybe he had been in the palace the whole time. His grip was undeniable and I hung mid-flight with impotent rage. "We're human beings! We feel! We bleed! You took and took and used us and threw us aside!" I was hysterical and I didn't care. Neither archangel said a word, with Michael concentrating on restraining the villain and Uriel... well, I couldn't bring myself to check his expression, but his grip remained firm. But I wanted Semjaša to react. I wanted to see remorse, or guilt or defiance. Anything to put passion to the magnitude of his actions. But he remained infuriatingly becalmed in the mire of his near-catatonia.
He looked up at me again and blinked. And something of the old self returned as I saw recognition flicker in his dark eyes. "You." He sampled a thought in that inhuman mind before continuing. "You should know, you should understand. That's why you loved her and why she hurt you."
This new approach disarmed me, diffused me.
"We're older. All of us in this chamber." He seemed to notice the two angels for the first time. "We are of a different kin to the children outside of Eden. It hurt too much to Love our own."
Bile rose in my throat at the awful realisation. At my heinous collusion with this beast and all his kind. My self inflicted agony, the product of haughty exclusivity. While he could not bear the ambivalence and taxing requirements of such a romance, I had thrown my whole self into the pursuit. The only difference was our circumstance. He had been surrounded by it, by that calibre of partner, and seen something gentler and simpler and easier beyond Eden's gate. While I was surrounded by that gentle, foolish, immature passion and drew inwards to the dark heart of Eden. Both choices with immortal consequence, and neither refuted, even in our shared tragedy. How inhuman I had become.
