Don't go asking him what's up with it. He wouldn't know.
It should be obvious enough what's with Michael, though: he's angry, and it consumes him. This has always been his weak point, the part of him most obviously shaped by their Father's hand. Not unable to feel as advertised, just unable to process his negative emotions into anything other than white-hot fury.
He hurts, so he fights.
One of Lucifer's arms presents itself to him as an enemy, the wound his claws dig into becoming a focus for his rage, and Michael snaps his head to the side. He latches onto Lucifer's wrist with more ferocity than that mutant hellhound ever saw from him, blood and ichor dripping between where wrist and mouth meet. There's a creaking of something ready to give way beneath his teeth.
The taste of grace on his tongue wakes something hungry in him, something that's not him, and Michael swallows down a mouthful before he can think better of it.
It's weird. It surprises him enough that he lets go before whatever it is takes hold and compels him to take another bite.
It's not enough to shake him out of his fit of temper.
"There's nothing under the disloyalty! No integrity, no sincerity, only layer after layer of lies around an ego so massive you think the galaxy revolves around you!"
Lucifer destroys everything around him just like a black hole does, too. Takes all the good and the beauty he can get hold of and crushes it into nothing.
Of course he feels Lucifer's betrayal above any blows he inflicted. They all feel their own wounds more acutely than anyone else's. What drives him into an angry spiral is the way Lucifer pretends his betrayal wasn't so bad, as if all he'd done was be a little different, just a little rebellious, only a little bit opinionated. As if he'd given Michael any other option than to be his enemy or to kneel at his feet.
(Truthfully, if it hadn't been for their Father, Michael wouldn't have been able to come up with anything but continuing the argument. Round and round for the next several eons until the whole of Heaven got tired of the yelling and up and left.)
"What else was I supposed to do? Kill you on the spot? I had orders! You wouldn't listen, and you wouldn't stop, you just kept making everything worse. All to prove a point that never mattered in the first place, because here you are—playing at family with the same creatures you so loathed you were willing to rip ours apart."
His claws dig deep into Lucifer's shoulders and Michael bears down with the full weight of his grace. Imagine what he could do if he really wanted him dead. Imagination's always been Lucifer's strong suit, hasn't it?
cw: gore, some mauling, Just Another Tuesday archangel violence
Don't go asking him what's up with it. He wouldn't know.
It should be obvious enough what's with Michael, though: he's angry, and it consumes him. This has always been his weak point, the part of him most obviously shaped by their Father's hand. Not unable to feel as advertised, just unable to process his negative emotions into anything other than white-hot fury.
He hurts, so he fights.
One of Lucifer's arms presents itself to him as an enemy, the wound his claws dig into becoming a focus for his rage, and Michael snaps his head to the side. He latches onto Lucifer's wrist with more ferocity than that mutant hellhound ever saw from him, blood and ichor dripping between where wrist and mouth meet. There's a creaking of something ready to give way beneath his teeth.
The taste of grace on his tongue wakes something hungry in him, something that's not him, and Michael swallows down a mouthful before he can think better of it.
It's weird. It surprises him enough that he lets go before whatever it is takes hold and compels him to take another bite.
It's not enough to shake him out of his fit of temper.
"There's nothing under the disloyalty! No integrity, no sincerity, only layer after layer of lies around an ego so massive you think the galaxy revolves around you!"
Lucifer destroys everything around him just like a black hole does, too. Takes all the good and the beauty he can get hold of and crushes it into nothing.
Of course he feels Lucifer's betrayal above any blows he inflicted. They all feel their own wounds more acutely than anyone else's. What drives him into an angry spiral is the way Lucifer pretends his betrayal wasn't so bad, as if all he'd done was be a little different, just a little rebellious, only a little bit opinionated. As if he'd given Michael any other option than to be his enemy or to kneel at his feet.
(Truthfully, if it hadn't been for their Father, Michael wouldn't have been able to come up with anything but continuing the argument. Round and round for the next several eons until the whole of Heaven got tired of the yelling and up and left.)
"What else was I supposed to do? Kill you on the spot? I had orders! You wouldn't listen, and you wouldn't stop, you just kept making everything worse. All to prove a point that never mattered in the first place, because here you are—playing at family with the same creatures you so loathed you were willing to rip ours apart."
His claws dig deep into Lucifer's shoulders and Michael bears down with the full weight of his grace. Imagine what he could do if he really wanted him dead. Imagination's always been Lucifer's strong suit, hasn't it?