"The souls of the wrathful. In life they gave themselves over to anger and allowed their passions to consume them. In death, they fight among each other for air, and for passage upon the ferry." It once gave the appearance of peace, if nothing else. The bodies at the surface now roiled and writhed amongst each other, pushing each one down beneath the surface in a desperate, selfish bid to reach land.

"Beneath lies the sullen, those who repressed their rage and never once sought to quell it. They simply sink to the bottom, remaining there for all eternity." It wasn't a kind story, nothing in Hell ever really was, save for Limbo. Even then it was still punishment of a kind though.

How many among them regretted it, he wondered? Gabriel shut out that crying, Vivi's mention of them almost serving to amplify the sound to him.

"Those who have submitted to wrath found no joy in the Father nor their fellow man, choosing violence and hatred over the beauty gifted to them by virtue of being given life. Their lack of gratitude remains, as ever, unforgiven." Even with the Council gone, even with Hell fast approaching it's own destruction. It all felt so... terribly pointless.

"... Perhaps it will see true peace soon enough." And oh, how tired those words sounded. He... needed to sit down for a moment, sinking into a nearby chair beside a long dead fireplace.