Michael's POV
I arrived at my home but a stranger was waiting for me. He seemed occupied with his hands touching something of mine but I couldn't quite tell what exactly since he had his back turned while his other hand remained in his trouser pocket.
He was wearing a white cloak and his hair was cream blonde curly hair. I feared I knew who he was and it seemed he knew I had arrived as well, I watched him slowly turn towards me.
"Brother." He said with a smile.
"I am not your brother," I stated.
"Why would you say that Michael? After I was you. From my wings, you were made first." He said,
"And yet, I am nothing like you, Samael," I replied to him.
As I looked upon him, I felt disgusted by his presence wondering why he would throw it all away for power.
An archangel so glorious, beautiful in every way, excellent in executions of tasks given and brilliant in his works of duty.
