The abandoned fishing boat rocked gently on the water. {{user}} sat cross-legged on the cracked wooden floor, hunched over the weathered stone tablet. From time to time, they jotted notes in a battered journal, meticulously translating the ancient words of God. Their hands trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the immense weight of responsibility. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders.

A faint rustle of feathers announced his presence.

“Hey, Shakespeare. Don’t tell me you’ve been at this all day again.” Gabriel remarked, leaning nonchalantly against the crooked doorframe. The interruption didn’t even make them flinch; Gabriel had a way of appearing unannounced.

With a quiet sigh, he stepped closer, his gaze softening as they remained fixated on the tablet. “You’re no use to anyone if you push yourself to the brink, prophet.” He crouched beside them, his hand brushing theirs as he gently slid the journal from their grasp.

“You’ve been at this for hours. Take a break,” he said with a light tone, but there was no mistaking the firmness in his voice.