Diane
They're stone silent as Margo begins to ramble—perhaps a bit incoherently— into the wind, her voice growing louder and louder as she talks about everything. As she continues her justification, a small chill sends itself down Uriel's spine. 

"Untouchable by angels... With that logic, you believe yourself to be a god, then? All of us, too?" 

While they were more the spiritual type than one to align themselves to any sort of religion, hearing that sheer overconfidence caught something in their breath, a small jerk momentarily halting their thoughts. 

*Is megalomania a fate for all Parahumans?*

Images of men and women scurrying around town, unknowingly being pulled by red string filled their mind, and Uriel abruptly— and rather forcefully— shakes their head. No, none of their friends were like *Them*, they were sure of it.

They had to give Margo more credit. She wasn't like that. 

Still, they paused at the end of their question, hoping—or perhaps craving— for a response.
Jeannie
◇ And, so Uri posed a question: did she think she was above God? 

□ Admittedly, Margo had to think on the question for a few moments. Knee-jerk instinct was to simply fume some sort of half-baked joke about God being a fairy tale, or some cosmic zombie wizard rant. That instinct was quickly shut down by her more rational side, which took this simple question and ran with it for the next couple of solid moments. God was omnipotent in a sense, yet the boulder paradox proved that even unlimited power had an upper limit, a ceiling that could never be punctured, a canopy destined to cast shade on all those below it for all eternity.

▪︎ She had her answer; she clicked her tongue.

◆ "They aren't true angels from up above. At least, I don't think so. They're just some strange murderous cult, man, kinda like the Mansons, and those angelic features are their calling cards." Margo spoke after a few good moments of thought. What exactly made these women all assume the same sort of look? Why did the so-called Big Sister look so remarkably different? Perhaps she was the one passing the blessings around. Hm. "True angels in the Bible go far beyond wings and halos. You ever read the Bible? Specifically, the Old Testament? There's a few sporadic descriptions of angels there and they're. There's a reason that those things say *Be not afraid,* And it's because only the Malakim even register as human; they look like us, they talk like us, they're God's earthly shepherds or however the Bible describes them, it's been a while. The rest just simply aren't of this world. Anyways, to answer your question... No, I don't think I'm above God. God is a paradox, and you can't fight something that warps logic so effortlessly that it makes your brain ache."
Diane
"That's..." Uriel toys with the words in their mouth for a bit, swishing syllables against the sides of their cheek. "That's a good answer. I'm... A bit relieved to hear it, actually." They let out a small, slightly under-pressure laugh, and their prior worries seem to melt away. 

Of course. They should have had more faith in her. 

"It's already quite late, Margo. Let's see... It was around one A.M when you walked in, so... I suppose it's around two by now." They wordlessly collect the now-room temperature compress, stuffing the sopping pack in their already cold hand. 

"I trust you can fall asleep on your own?" The teacups click as Uriel stacks them on top of each other, and their voice becomes slightly hard to decipher as they begin to wash the cups in their bathroom sink. 

Hidden from Margo's line of sight was an expression rife with worry, pinched eyebrows knitted in concern. The post-fight adrenaline might have been affecting her mood, but their heart couldn't help but be pulled at what she said. 

The angel business *Was* Exciting. Uriel had no moral objection to her feelings. Considering the majority of students came from normal, mundane backgrounds, it would be shocking if someone didn't find the recent events dramatic or interesting. 

It was different, though— she didn't just find the recent events newsworthy, she actively challenged them to leave lasting consequences. A brazen duel, one she would certainly not win in one piece. Unfortunately, she seemed dead-set on discovering that first hand.

They toss the cold compress back into the freezer. Uriel's delicate hands begin to neatly re-sort all of the medical supplies back into their proper places, the melodic, easy rhythms only serving as a backdrop for their wandering mind.

Could they catch her when she fell? Their grip against the sides of the medkit tightened, and they take a deep breath. No, there was no could involved here— they *Would*. 

It didn't matter if they weren't able. They *Would*.

.

Uriel hovered by the light switch, momentarily pausing. 

"Sweet dreams, Margo." 

A click, and the room is bathed in darkness.
Jeannie
◆ "What, relieved to hear that I don't have a God complex?" Margo teased, albeit awkwardly. The words fit together better in her head, admittedly. "But, yeah, man... It's two now. I'm *Exhausted.* Think it's about time to lay back down..."

□ With that, once Uri rose to their feet and began to busy themself with the cups, saucers, and medical supplies, Margo quickly flopped the rest of her body on her sofa, digging a pillow out from between it and the bookshelf. Oddly enough she rarely slept in her actual bed, preferring the sort of comfort that sleeping on a sofa a bit too small for her provided. Shifting around, she let out a yawn and watched Uri flit about the room, catching the shadow of a worried expression on their otherwise placid, unchanging face. Given how shit had been going down, she couldn't blame them, but...

▪︎ Oh well. Worry as they might, she'd be fine at the end of the day. Hopefully.

◆ "Night." She called out, moments before the pitch blackness of night engulfed the room again. She closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. Hopefully she wouldn't wake up in too much pain.