There are a few 'oofs' and more laughter as Beelzebub grabs at him, with Galahad bracing himself against the other man's chest to prevent them from bumping foreheads. He settles after a moment though, folding his arms on the angel's chest and leaning into the kiss Beelzebub offers him-- only for said kiss to be interrupted by more laughter.
The knight can't help the very slightly pouty expression that draws his eyebrows together as the angel pulls away, but his smile returns quickly enough at Beelzebub's cocky statement. It does make him wonder for a moment what the angel might think of the God from his world, but at the same time he isn't sure whether now is the right time to bring up such a serious question. Similarly, those words also make him worry suddenly about whether they mean the angel's divinity marks him as one of the first of many preferable targets in their war. If the knight's being honest with himself, he has to assume that much has to be the truth.
The idea is one he can't quite brush off as easily as the idea of the angel taking issue with his own world's version of God. The smile remains fixed on his face, but it takes on a slightly distracted quality as he diverts his gaze to one of the other man's scars, slowly running his fingers over it in a pensive, thoughtful way.
Rather than speak his thoughts, however, he decides to change the subject to something he's been wondering about in the back of his mind for some time now. Better to save the weightiest topics for when they're both of clearer mind and Galahad isn't a few hours from the time when he usually falls asleep.
"Cariad," he starts, slowly. "In your world, is the divine also holy? Or are you not that anymore since the fall?" He's aware that the question might be hurtful, but he genuinely doesn't know how to ask it in a way other than this.
Like all of the court of Lucifer, Beelzebub is a major target for God and the Seraphim. However, he's so used to it that it isn't even worth thinking about. He relaxes with his hands folded together on Galahad's back. They don't stay still long though and his hands slowly start tracing a random pattern of gentle, affectionate trails across the knight's back.
The hands pause in their movement when the question come from the quiet. He's not exactly sure how to address it. The angel falls silent as he wrestles with how to answer.
"We were created holy and divine." It's a start but the quiet comes again before he finally shrugs. "I don't know. Falling didn't make us less angels, but some of our power, our souls, were torn out and we were cursed with the sins and other issues. My drunkenness is part of my curse."
It was a non-answer in a way and Beelzebub didn't want to leave it so vaguely answered. He manages to get a hold of the wine bottle that had been left on the night stand and takes a drink before adding. "If we're unholy it's God's curses on us. We didn't choose to be cursed."
Galahad nods along with that explanation. It answers something that's starting to prod at him more as he and the angel become more involved with one another. Answer in hand, the knight shifts a little to lay at Beelzebub's side, one arm curling comfortably around the angel as they cuddle. He's quiet for some time after that, thinking about the ramifications of what the other man's just told him.
"Even if it wasn't his intention, he's made you more like humanity," Galahad notes. He can see why something like that might be considered a fallen state for an angel, or an otherwise potentially undesirable thing for a divine being. Still, there is a small silver lining that he thinks he sees in all of it: "If you are unholy because of the sinfulness imposed upon you, then at least you aren't alone even in those moments another of your people isn't near you. Find any human, and they'd be able to commiserate over living a life where one is imperfect."
Beelzebub shakes his head. "Man is like us. Lucifer is thier father."
As Galahad goes on Beelzebub starts to frown at the description. He's not quite sure why it upsets him at first just that it doesn't sit well. When the words come they are harsh and hurt. "Man will never understand. We remember what it's like to be of heaven. God tore huge chunks out of us, disfigured and broke us. Tore out wings, eyes, and hope. That was not enough destruction to levy upon us so he cursed us with sins and locked us away in a prison where we burn alive, have burned for billions of years. Undying with our flesh searing off. Where even the air scorches to the point we can barely stay alive."
By the time he's done the angel is flushed and his breath is coming fast, tears threatening in his eyes. The emotions that welled up thinking about his own torture were thier own sort of agony. "We're cast out because Lucifer refused to murder an angel, something the seraphim still in heaven did willingly. Unholy and heavenly are not opposites."
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The knight can't help the very slightly pouty expression that draws his eyebrows together as the angel pulls away, but his smile returns quickly enough at Beelzebub's cocky statement. It does make him wonder for a moment what the angel might think of the God from his world, but at the same time he isn't sure whether now is the right time to bring up such a serious question. Similarly, those words also make him worry suddenly about whether they mean the angel's divinity marks him as one of the first of many preferable targets in their war. If the knight's being honest with himself, he has to assume that much has to be the truth.
The idea is one he can't quite brush off as easily as the idea of the angel taking issue with his own world's version of God. The smile remains fixed on his face, but it takes on a slightly distracted quality as he diverts his gaze to one of the other man's scars, slowly running his fingers over it in a pensive, thoughtful way.
Rather than speak his thoughts, however, he decides to change the subject to something he's been wondering about in the back of his mind for some time now. Better to save the weightiest topics for when they're both of clearer mind and Galahad isn't a few hours from the time when he usually falls asleep.
"Cariad," he starts, slowly. "In your world, is the divine also holy? Or are you not that anymore since the fall?" He's aware that the question might be hurtful, but he genuinely doesn't know how to ask it in a way other than this.
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The hands pause in their movement when the question come from the quiet. He's not exactly sure how to address it. The angel falls silent as he wrestles with how to answer.
"We were created holy and divine." It's a start but the quiet comes again before he finally shrugs. "I don't know. Falling didn't make us less angels, but some of our power, our souls, were torn out and we were cursed with the sins and other issues. My drunkenness is part of my curse."
It was a non-answer in a way and Beelzebub didn't want to leave it so vaguely answered. He manages to get a hold of the wine bottle that had been left on the night stand and takes a drink before adding. "If we're unholy it's God's curses on us. We didn't choose to be cursed."
no subject
"Even if it wasn't his intention, he's made you more like humanity," Galahad notes. He can see why something like that might be considered a fallen state for an angel, or an otherwise potentially undesirable thing for a divine being. Still, there is a small silver lining that he thinks he sees in all of it: "If you are unholy because of the sinfulness imposed upon you, then at least you aren't alone even in those moments another of your people isn't near you. Find any human, and they'd be able to commiserate over living a life where one is imperfect."
no subject
As Galahad goes on Beelzebub starts to frown at the description. He's not quite sure why it upsets him at first just that it doesn't sit well. When the words come they are harsh and hurt. "Man will never understand. We remember what it's like to be of heaven. God tore huge chunks out of us, disfigured and broke us. Tore out wings, eyes, and hope. That was not enough destruction to levy upon us so he cursed us with sins and locked us away in a prison where we burn alive, have burned for billions of years. Undying with our flesh searing off. Where even the air scorches to the point we can barely stay alive."
By the time he's done the angel is flushed and his breath is coming fast, tears threatening in his eyes. The emotions that welled up thinking about his own torture were thier own sort of agony. "We're cast out because Lucifer refused to murder an angel, something the seraphim still in heaven did willingly. Unholy and heavenly are not opposites."