impudentsongbird: (i can fly)
Gabriel ([personal profile] impudentsongbird) wrote2012-08-20 08:38 pm

let me be the one you call / if you jump I'll break your fall

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs


The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days

into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil

sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs
skeletonenigma: (jawfallingoff)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-21 01:26 pm (UTC)(link)
It took Ersine less than a nanosecond after Anton didn't confirm the joke to realise that there was no joke. Anton didn't joke about things like this, and he didn't exaggerate. Those were facts so solid in the Elemental's mind that he actually found the truth of the comments to be a lot more believable than the idea that Anton was joking.

Well. It explained a lot.

But at the same time, nothing. It just didn't make any sense.

He sank back down onto the couch, all the strength suddenly gone from his limbs, and tried to pick apart the words Anton spoke. It didn't work. Half of it was difficult enough without...

... ah. Literal Hell, then.

Why, Erskine wondered as a cold flush of anger threatened to overtake him, didn't Corrival tell me about this himself?

Oh, yes. Very funny. Anger the powerful Adept, and then send Erskine Ravel to try and fix the mistake.

What was he supposed to say? They'd all seen what Lord Vile did during the war. They'd all helped Ghastly back from the brink, when he strayed too far after the loss of his best friend and his mother in such quick succession. They'd spent months planning a suicide mission, before Vile vanished and left the point a very hazy and worrying kind of moot.

Most people assumed Vile had died. Consumed by his own power, or something ridiculous like that. Erskine always wanted to believe them, but he never really had.

Ghastly didn't know. Ghastly couldn't know, or Erskine would have heard about all this a lot sooner, because Skulduggery would be down for the count. Vile would be - no. Skulduggery. No.

"He's a murderer and a traitor, and an Archangel still saw fit to rescue him from Hell."

It was like the plot to some really corny romantic film. Romantic-action. Was there even a word for that? Romaction? Actionce? No, romaction sounded better. A romaction comedy that wouldn't be any fun, because there wouldn't be any more intimate scenes, because how would the logistics for that even work? They wouldn't. One partner was dead, and the other partner was... not. And never would be. Actually, technically, neither of them would ever be. An eternal relationship. Sort of a kind of necrophilia in its most pure form ever.

It was a good thing Erskine caught the note of despair in Anton's voice, however belatedly, because otherwise he suspected he'd have kept on going and watched his thoughts slowly getting sillier and sillier with each passing minute. Instead, he snapped to attention on the couch, all traces of his earlier humour gone.

"Anton. Snap out of it."
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-21 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
One of the first things Erskine and Dexter discovered about Anton, not long after they met him, was that he had a much more perilous control over his Gist than most people believed. The man couldn't even get drunk without his control slipping. Erskine and Dexter discovered that the hard way, and the trust that had to be rebuilt after that was only earned through a long and arduous trek of saving each others' lives.

In the end, though, it was simple. Anton never talked about it, but Erskine knew the basics. All of them did. There would inevitably be a time when Anton Shudder wouldn't be able to rein his Gist back in, no matter how hard he tried. But as the longest-living Adept to choose this particular branch of magic, Erskine had grown used to the idea that Anton would pretty much always be around.

Now, as Anton slid down his mop and collapsed heavily onto his knees, the only thought in Erskine's mind was No. Not again.

Lord Vile will not take away another friend.


Scarcely a second had passed after Anton's attempt to speak before Erskine was right there at his side, kneeling down, a hand firmly on the sorcerer's shoulder. He didn't think; he just reacted, almost like an impulse, aware of some sort of plan brewing without any idea of what that plan was. "How many guests are there?"
skeletonenigma: (closeup)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-22 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
Erskine nodded. "Six. Six guests. All in the hotel, all in their own rooms. Some of them probably stubborn, because people use your hotel to hide from the law. By the time I find their rooms, convince everyone to leave, and we all actually leave, it'll already have been a good fifteen minutes. And this is assuming no one takes the opportunity of you being incapacitated to stab me, or each other, or, God forbid, the furniture you've spent so long getting just right. And then, then we'd all be stuck in Brazil."

Instead of straightening up and moving towards the desk, trusting Anton's words for what they were like he'd always done before, Erskine moved closer. The hand on Anton's shoulder became an arm around both his shoulders. "I don't want to be stuck in Brazil, Anton. It's too hot. I'm not going anywhere, and neither is anyone else here. You lose control, you kill us all."
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-22 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
It was around about the time Anton's hands dug right into the wooden floorboards that Erskine finally and abruptly realised just what he was doing. The image of Anton's Gist seared itself into his mind, and he suddenly had to work very hard to keep his arm right where it was. He couldn't quite help the rest of his body tensing, or his free hand curling into a fist, or - as the noises Anton made grew more strangled and guttural - a small flame from flaring in his closed-off palm.

He knew none of it would do any good, if Anton did change. If Anton changed, Erskine was a dead man, in every sense of the phrase. He was taking the largest gamble he ever had, and would probably ever, take.

But.

But, even with the time to think this through, Erskine would have made the same choice all over again. But, it was what the Dead Men did; they took risks for each other. But, the gut feeling Erskine had, insisting that Anton's ingrained desire to protect people would stop him from losing control, was strong enough that even with fire in his closed fist Erskine didn't move.

But, his trust in Anton was a lot stronger than his fear of the Gist was.

It took a while. It took long enough that Erskine stopped keeping track of time, even when his knees started complaining about the crouch he'd never left. The floor creaked occasionally as Erskine shifted, but he never thought of leaving, and he remained on high alert for most of the time. At least, until the flame eventually petered out. And, slowly, Erskine's tense posture followed that flame into nonexistence. Anton didn't change, didn't say anything, and for what felt like an eternity, nothing changed.

Eventually, it started to rain again, large and frighteningly fat raindrops pattering ceaselessly against the window Anton had closed without a word earlier in the morning. But that was the only sound outside of Anton's ragged breathing, and Erskine took the opportunity to start wondering how the world had spiraled so far out of his control in just a few short minutes.

But he didn't let himself think any further than that. He couldn't, if he was going to keep being here for Anton.

"I am," he agreed with a chuckle. He couldn't deny that an end to the relative silence came as a relief, but he could certainly hide it - and hide it he did. Because it was Anton crouched in front of him, and not his Gist. "And you're an idiot, Anton Shudder. Are you aware that you're coughing up blood?"
skeletonenigma: (skeletondetective)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-22 02:16 pm (UTC)(link)
There was more blood, as if to prove the point. Erskine grimaced, and found himself hoping Anton would submit to leaving the Hotel for a few days to receive proper medical attention. He shook that hope away the instant he realised it was there. Anton was going to receive proper medical attention whether he liked it or not, none the least because he couldn't even stand. Erskine would carry him, and there wasn't a damn thing Anton could say or do to change Erskine's mind. Hope had nothing to do with it.

He did help Anton over to the wall, though, steadying him when he nearly fell and only withdrawing his arm when the wall had completely taken over the task. Once he could straighten up again, Erskine was about to ask how the Hotel moved when the desk phone rang.

Erskine's own eyes closed with a hint more exasperation than Anton's. The existence of Archangels implied some sort of divine intervention, and he resolved to have Words with whoever was making this happen when they met. More business was the last thing Anton needed.

"You're still not going to be the one answering," Erskine pointed out as he finally got to his feet and stepped over. "Hiring extra help could be seen as a weakness. Any chance I'll get paid for this, by the way? Hello, welcome to the Midnight Hotel. You've reached a prerecorded answering machine. Please leave your name and number at the - "

"Erskine?"

Erskine paused, glancing towards the phone in his hand like it had done some great wrong in surprising him. "Ghastly?"

"You found Anton, then."

"Well, yes." In the overheated deserts of Syria, he refrained from adding. With no pre-mission information that might have helped me avoid a breakdown like this.

"How is he?"

"Peachy." And not at all currently sprawled against a wall, coughing up blood. "Doesn't particularly want anything more to do with any of you, though, and I have to say, I can't really blame him."

Another pause, this time on Ghastly's end. "How much did he tell you?"

All of it. "Enough. Look, I hate to rush this along, but I really don't think I'm going to get paid for answering phones." And Anton needs help. Right now. Know any incredible doctors in the Brazilian vicinity? "Why did you call?"

"Has anyone appeared in the Hotel within the last hour?"

"Appeared?" Erskine asked skeptically. "Like a Teleporter? Nope."

"No. Not like a Teleporter. He'd probably be collapsed. Black curly hair, looks vaguely Middle Eastern, he... well, if he's talking, it might be with a Southern American accent. It might be with an Irish one. He'd be wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals."

Erskine nodded, almost patronisingly, as if Ghastly would be able to see it from halfway across the world. "Is that what Archangels look like nowadays?"

Ghastly paused again, and Erskine was half-afraid the tailor might try to deny everything before he sighed. "Yes. Apparently. It's Gabriel. Davina Marr rigged a Desolation Engine to go off in the Sanctuary, but Gabriel disappeared with it before it could work, and now we have no idea where he is. He hasn't appeared in the Hotel, has he?"

Erskine blinked. "No. Not unless he snuck quietly into one of the rooms."

"Can you check?"

"Of course I can check." Erskine hesitated, realising for the first time that if Anton was right - if Skulduggery and... and Gabriel... were truly together - then it easily explained the note of urgency in Ghastly's voice. Especially if Ghastly did know about Vile. Erskine was half a world away, and he was already getting goosebumps. "Have you tried praying?" he asked, half-jokingly.

"Not working. He isn't answering."

"Right." A tingle ran along Erskine's arm, and he shivered slightly. "And... I don't know, general praying? Have you tried that?"

"We're inside a church right now."

We. Skulduggery. Skulduggery was there. Suddenly, Erskine didn't want to spend another second on the phone. "Right. Good for you. I'm sure He'll answer, if, you know. He exists. Good luck. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Erskine put the phone back down in its cradle before Ghastly could respond, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "They've lost an Archangel."

It was, without a doubt, the strangest serious thing he'd ever said. And there were some close runners-up.
skeletonenigma: (necromancy)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-22 04:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Back in the aforementioned church in Ireland - Paddy Steadfast's church - Skulduggery was almost at the front of the pews when Ghastly slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Skulduggery, I think Erskine knows."

Of course he did. They'd all known it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Dead Men knew. The only person left was Dexter Vex, and the only reason he didn't already know was because no one knew how to contact him. The instant someone could, he would know as well.

It wasn't that Skulduggery couldn't bring himself to care. He did care. Far too much. He just couldn't afford to let that in at the moment, because his control was already frighteningly perilous as it was. He never realised just how much he'd grown to rely on Gabe over the last few days. With that presence suddenly and inexplicably gone, Skulduggery was working harder to stay level and coherent than even Ghastly or Valkyrie could realise.

Valkyrie, Fletcher, and Tanith were checking Skulduggery's house, and then the Hibernian. Skulduggery had vague plans of leaving them to start tracking down Davina Marr, but Ghastly - who immediately suspected something of the sort - went with him. Fletcher dropped them off in front of the church, Ghastly decided to call Anton just to be sure, and Skulduggery decided that he wasn't above praying. Not now.

But Hell itself would freeze over before he begged for help from someone he didn't know, had never met, and wasn't stepping in to help His own son even now.

'Raphael.'

Raphael, at least, was on his way. And even if the Archangel was still stuck in the Cacophany, there was a chance - there was always a chance - that he would hear. And right now, that chance was almost all Skulduggery had.

'Raphael. Gabriel is missing. He was injured when he got here, never gave himself the chance to recover, then spirited away with a magical bomb. He's not answering prayers. You need to get here right now.'

He followed the basic procedure as far as he remembered it. Sitting in the pew, eyes - in theory - closed. But he didn't do anything with his hands, because on top of feeling ridiculously overdramatic, there was something wrong with the image of a skeleton putting his hands together in prayer. But Skulduggery pulled his hat, scarf, and sunglasses off halfway through the prayer, laying each item neatly on the pew beside him, and wasn't particularly surprised when he didn't get a response from Raphael.

Ghastly appeared by his elbow when a door back behind the altar opened, and Paddy appeared. They'd all met a couple of times after getting Solomon out of the hospital, which was why Paddy nodded when he saw Ghastly and didn't comment on the ridged scars covering his whole head. It did not explain why his eyes froze on Skulduggery and his mouth fell open - at least, not until Skulduggery realised he hadn't taken his disguise off in front of Paddy before now.

Despite everything, Ghastly chuckled. "You'll get used to it. Eventually, you won't be able to imagine him with a face, and then Gabe will give him one again. You'll have to keep adjusting."

Paddy opened and closed his mouth a little like a codfish, then snapped it shut, squeezed his eyes tightly closed, and nodded. He looked a little too tight-lipped to speak, so Skulduggery didn't give him the opportunity.

"Gabriel is missing. You haven't seen him, have you?"

Paddy's eyes snapped back open, but his voice once again failed him, and he simply shook his head.

"What happens when an Archangel is injured? Is it possible for them to die?"

After a long few moments, Paddy swallowed hard. "I... wouldn't think so."

"Gabe didn't either. What does happen?"

"I don't..."

"Do they stop existing? Do they Fall? Does their entire nature change?"

Paddy's voice grew more steady. "I don't know. If it's ever happened before, I've never heard of it. What happened?"

"He disappeared with a magical bomb called a Desolation Engine." Skulduggery looked away, staring into a distance somewhere beyond the altar at the front of the church. "It was a second away from detonating, and Gabe isn't as fast as he normally is. He isn't answering prayers, and..."

And he feels gone.

But since Skulduggery didn't know how to say that out loud, much less explain it silently to himself, he didn't. "And he hasn't shown up anywhere else."

There was a black fury seething just under his perilous control, and the only thing stopping Skulduggery from giving in to it was Ghastly. Ghastly, standing right next to him, and the reminder that the tailor knew about Vile now. Knew, but was still here. The very least Skulduggery could do was pretend he was worthy of that level of trust.
comedianhealer: (pic#4887061)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-22 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Raphael had been in prisons before. Actually, this prison was veritably comfortable in comparison to some places he'd posed as a prisoner before. The part that made this particular experience both frustrating and relieving was that Rafe wasn't quite posing. He'd spent the whole of the first day on his tiny cot, the one far too small to hold his frame, and edged his meagre reserves of magic around his body to help rebuild his strength.

Now, though, he had a baseball in hand which he was tossing easily against the far wall--the one which he shared with Merlin. The guards had double-taked at the sight of it, but he told them, totally straight-faced, that it was a boomerang-ball. It came back to him no matter where they went or how they were separated.

Since the guards had been arrogantly confident in their magic-suppressing wards, bless them, they'd believed him.

"You do realise," came Merlin's voice wafting through from next door, sounding mild with an undercurrent of grumpiness. Rafe grinned. "That it is exceedingly difficult to examine wards when you have a never-ending drum sounding in your ears."

"Hearing music already, nephew?" Rafe asked, nodding to himself and speaking, as Merlin had, in a dialect of Gaelic that had been old back when the Ancients were known as Tuatha de Danaan. "Yep, you're round the twist." He tossed the ball. It rebounded easily off the ceiling, wall and floor before back into his hand with a thwack of skin that sounded like it should've hurt. Merlin grumbled wordlessly.

In point of fact, the music had never really left. Not for Rafe, at least. He'd grown used to it, managed ways he could shift around his thin wards to keep off the strain, and then set himself a closed-circuit energy-cycle to build his strength for him. Which was why the Archangel hadn't moved, except for his hand and his mouth, for over a day.

"How are they?"

"Not bad," Merlin returned after a moment, slow like he was still studying, approving and disapproving in equal amounts. "But not perfect. I could get around them with relative ease, if given the time and preparation. Their side-effects are less-than-pleasant, but I'm beyond their touch, thankfully."

He was talking about the magical-ageing thing. Sorcerers here, apparently, aged faster when they lacked magic. It made sense and was chilling at once.

"That's good. You're already an--"

'Raphael. Gabriel is missing. He was injured when he got here, never gave himself the chance to recover, then spirited away with a magical bomb. He's not answering prayers. You need to get here right now.'

The prayer didn't explode so much as washed inexorably through Raphael's aching mind, cast up by urgency and fear and his brother's full name all at once. The ball rebounded off the floor and Rafe missed the catch, cursing at the sudden pound in his temples at the words both.

Automatically he tried to reach out and was almost floored by the constant, regulated eeeeeeeer of the dimensional Cacophony. Of course, he thought bitterly, he'd have trouble replying when he really needed to. Whoever'd spoken the prayer didn't have a magical compatibility and Rafe was in a dead zone--as well as injured himself. Gabe could have broken through, angel to human, but Rafe? Not now.

There was someone else he could reach, though. He could always reach his brothers. Which was why he timed the dimensional shifts and then cast his mind out for Gabriel.

The Archangel didn't expect to slam headlong pain so intense it sent his consciousness rolling in every direction. It was so unexpected that Rafe couldn't even do anything about it; one moment he was collected, if pained, and the next he was looking at the inside of the universe and the whole thing was radiating a kind of shrieking agony which--

Something nudged him and Rafe snapped back to his body with a gasp. He found himself sprawled on the cot, shaking, his wings half-unfolded in spite of their ache.

"Rafe?! What's wrong?!"

Rafe groaned and buried his head in the blankets without answering. His focus was on Someone else. 'Master--'

Not yet, Rafe.

His Master's voice didn't well up so much as speak simply and plainly as if they were next to each other. Not yet. Gabriel was in such pain that it sent Rafe's own being sprawled in all directions, and 'not yet'. That made it bad. That made it really, really bad.

And all Rafe could do was wait.

He decided he hated waiting.

~~~

Pain was all that existed in him. That's what it felt like. Gabe wasn't even sure just when he started to be aware of things other than it, to be aware that he had some kind of form and substance. He wouldn't have believed it, if he had the mind to do so.

He had awareness, but no control. He didn't even want to begin feeling out the confines of his body. It all hurt too much.

But at least he knew it was there.

He was vaguely aware that something else was there too, but wasn't sure what. Something which was both inside and outside him; something which was an anchor at his core, but which seemed to be giving that form of his some kind of definition from without as well. Something he could trust, though, so he let it get on with that while he tried to seduce the ability to think back into his grasp.

Hurts.

Yes, it does. That's what happens when you get in the way of a magical explosion.

Really hurts.

Yes. Because that's also what happens when you get in the way of a magical explosion while already injured.

Safe.

Well, the Sanctuary is, anyway. You got the Engine away in time.

Skulduggery.

Worried, probably.

Skulduggery.

He's a bit of a worry-wart, really.

Find Skulduggery.

It'd probably be easier to get him to find you. You're sort-of in space right now, you know.

Sanctuary.

Which one? There's a few ...

Gabe had to find Skulduggery. He had to find Skulduggery somewhere he'd be safe. A safehouse. A hidden place.

Thought. Definition. Intent. Gabe wasn't sure where the line between them was, except that his thoughts told him he needed to be somewhere, to be with someone, and to do that he needed to be elsewhere, and since he could feel his definition now his wings flapped and then--

The Archangel crashed through the ceiling of the safehouse with a quake of the structure and an eruption of dust and debris, hitting the floor with enough force to leave a two-foot-deep crater. The ceiling fell in, missing half of itself, but not breaking through to the roof proper. One of the walls collapsed in as well, leaving sigils sparking magic into the room, the wards damaged but not broken completely.

For some time Gabe lay at the bottom of that crater, propped up on half of a wall. The whole of his being was wracked with pain too great to feel anything else. He wasn't even aware that he was whimpering, over and over, unstoppably, a deep resonance that combined with his light until he radiated his own agony.

It took time, but eventually his thoughts came back. Only he couldn't speak. He could only feel.

It was enough. He tailored in himself a place, a location--his location--and whispered a name.
Edited 2013-01-22 17:02 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (headtilt)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-22 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery heard it.

He wasn't sure what he heard, exactly, but he heard it. Felt it. Felt something, anyway, like a strong ripple through his soul, and heard it in a way that made it feel like he'd always known. Less like receiving new information, and more like remembering something he couldn't have ever known before.

They weren't words. They weren't anything explainable. Just a thought. An understanding. Skulduggery's entire being snapped to attention, causing the bones of his frame to stiffen. While Ghastly said something else to Paddy, maybe explaining further, maybe asking a question, maybe answering a question, Skulduggery tuned them both out and pulled out his phone.

Valkyrie answered after one ring. "We're just about to go to the Hibernian," she told him. "He's not - "

"I know where he is. Meet us at Paddy's church. Now."

He hung up the instant Valkyrie agreed, audibly startled but acting with the urgency of Skulduggery's tone, thankfully. Ghastly and Paddy were both looking at him, and Skulduggery nodded as he put the phone back into his breast pocket. "I know where he is," Skulduggery repeated, and this time a measure of relief settled beside the urgency. "The safehouse."

"We've already been there," Ghastly reminded him.

"Hours ago, yes. This just happened."

"What just happened?"

Skulduggery wrapped the scarf back around his lower jaw, pulled his hat back on, and picked up the sunglasses. "I don't know. I just know. A little like when you remember something you've forgotten for years. He's there. He's in that same living room."

Ghastly frowned. "Is that something else Archangels can do?"

"Not to my knowledge." It was a mystery, but it was one mystery Skulduggery had absolutely no qualms about setting aside for the time being. "Right now, it doesn't matter. Sorry to bother you, Paddy. If you could hold on to these for me, I'd be ever so grateful." Without another word, Skulduggery carefully placed the sunglasses squarely on Paddy's face, and the priest didn't even have time to question the gesture before Fletcher popped into existence just behind him, Valkyrie and Tanith in tow.

"Fletcher, the safehouse please." Skulduggery put one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on Ghastly's. "That same living room as before."



It was, without a doubt, the most agonising Teleport any of them had ever gone through. Skulduggery was expecting himself and Valkyrie to be the only ones immediately able to walk with all their balance intact, although he wouldn't have been surprised if Ghastly and Tanith had enough experience by now that they'd barely stumble.

Instead, Fletcher pitched to the floor the moment he was solid enough, taking Valkyrie down with him. Tanith stepped forward to help them both up and nearly keeled over herself, stumbling back against the wall to keep from doing so, her breath coming out in a strangled gasp. Ghastly tried to do the same thing against the other wall, realised too late that there wasn't one because it had collapsed, and almost fell through into the other room.

Agony filled the air. Pure, unadulterated agony. It wasn't physical, but that almost made it worse; pain pounded through Skulduggery's head and raced through the bones of his limbs, making him feel for a split second like he was being torn apart all over again. Torn apart by a Faceless One. A Fallen angel. Terror gripped him, and even though it was impossible for Skulduggery not to sink to his knees with the fiery and burning haze, he let an ounce of his control slip. Enough to clear his head, clear his thoughts, make them sharp and reasonable and, above all, possible. And it was in that moment that he had two very separate and very distinct recognitions.

Gabriel used his true name.

Gabriel was emitting the same kind of piercing, aching agony that the Faceless Ones made a habit of inducing in Skulduggery for countless months. It meant that Gabriel was close to Falling himself.

The pain in the air didn't last. It wasn't a physical thing, and so it was possible to adjust to - and fairly quickly. The others managed to get to their feet, managed to think again, to make sense of their observations again. But by the time they did, Skulduggery had already managed to crawl into the crater Gabriel made. And as his pain slowly cleared, as Gabe's whimpering became the only thing Skulduggery could focus on, even Skulduggery himself wasn't aware of just how tightly his arms were wrapped around the Archangel.

He didn't know how any of this worked, why Gabe found his soul soothing, or why it worked as an anchor. But if it meant he couldn't move from this spot until Raphael finally arrived, then it was a very good thing Skulduggery had trained Valkyrie to be such a capable detective herself.
skeletonenigma: (tie)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-23 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
The pain lessened. And then, all at once, it swelled, up to and beyond the level the rest of the room had just been at. The noise Skulduggery made was of someone trying to scream, but physically unable to, the scream dying almost immediately as it passed by his teeth. His bones shuddered, his jaw rattled, the perceived source of it all clinging tightly to him, and all it did was cement the belief that he should have been here sooner. Somehow, someway, this should have been Skulduggery's burden to take, not Gabe's. Not an angel's. Not Gabe's.

Something scraped. Hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop!

It scraped hard, and it forced Skulduggery to be dimly aware that while something wracked his bones, his mind felt terrifyingly loose. Not his consciousness, which was still angrily and painfully attached to his skeleton, but his mind. He could feel it cascading out, crashing against something nearby, pouring in the pain and the thoughts of someone who wasn't him, of Gabe.

He instinctively shied away from the contact, but it followed him. It couldn't be shaken. This wasn't a physical contact, and it couldn't be shaken. Moreover, Skulduggery didn't want to shake it. This was just like when Gabe took on the pain of his broken jaw, and Skulduggery was determined to return the favour. This was worse, of course, so much worse, but it was only a portion of what Gabriel felt. Every little bit taken away from the Archangel's suffering would bolster him through this.

Skulduggery's entire frame spasmed, and his grip on Gabe grew tighter until the sharp spike passed.

Only it didn't just pass, this time. It lessened again, very suddenly and without warning, leaving Skulduggery with the curious need to gasp for breath.

His mind was so much more open than he could previously feel through that pain. But it wasn't, as he'd imagined, some side effect of being near such a powerfully injured being. He wasn't leaking into Gabe's consciousness, or vice versa. It couldn't be called leaking, because there was something very magnetic and firm about the connection. They were aligned, somehow, on some far deeper level, and the only reason Skulduggery knew that was because when something else connected with Gabe, it collided with him as well.

A swirl of something went by so fast Skulduggery couldn't make out anything in it. It seemed to crash somewhere high over his head, but he didn't try to reach for it because however this was happening, he wasn't used to it, and the mental strength he had for it was close to nothing. Immensely powerful floods were right next to him, and a yawning emptiness beyond them that terrified Skulduggery to his very core. There were vague presences behind him, tiny washes of emotions he thought he recognised. Skulduggery didn't get the chance to find out, as whatever connected with Gabe turned its attention to him.

Raphael.

Relief spun somewhere remote. For the moment, Skulduggery ignored it. Relief, in this strange and terrifying state, would only get in the way. He had no idea how to answer, barely knew how to understand. The only way he could think of was by letting Raphael in to his own consciousness, and the idea of that towering presence searching through him was one Skulduggery thrust as far away from himself as possible. He could do this. His thoughts were spinning out of control, but he shouldn't need thoughts for this. He concentrated all of his energy, all of his concentration, into a single point - as simple as he could make it - and then just beamed.

Acknowledgment. His name. A mixture of confusion, friendship, and a touch of something more. As much knowledge of the safe house as he could muster. And, most importantly, an assent. Because he recognised the name floating around within the knowledge of the prison.

"Valkyrie." The sound of Skulduggery's own voice, loud and clear and almost deafening, penetrated through the murk of that knowledge. "Hammer Lane Gaol. Oscillates between dimensions, I think. Raphael and Merlin need help getting out."

He didn't hear any response, but something in the presences behind him showed a slow turn of determination. With a painful jolt, Skulduggery realised it was their souls. Their souls as only Gabe could see them, trapped and hurting and faded as he was. Skulduggery consciously drew away from them. It was a trespass he didn't intend to take; he wasn't an angel.
comedianhealer: (pic#4887074)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-23 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
This soul, this person, this Skulduggery Pleasant was strong. Even with his and Gabe's presences linked as they were, boundaries blurring in Gabe's pain and need for an anchor--possibly even because of that--Raphael could feel that clearly. More than Skulduggery might have wanted him to, in fact.

Raphael absorbed that inexperienced beam of pure existence and turned it over to gain a sense of the most important things in it, storing away the nuances for later.

But he felt relieved. Relieved, curious, an odd sort of protective. 'A friend', Gabriel had said. He'd been understating.

'Continue', Rafe broadcast to Skulduggery, assurance and approval, and a glimpse of the way the hard core of Skulduggery's strength was tethering Gabe to some manner of angelic consciousness. That was followed by a directive to pray to him when whoever he had sent got close enough that he and Merlin had to be ready. The very last thing he let Skulduggery feel was deep gratitude.

Then, pouring assurance into Gabe's being to help solidify him further in the interim, Raphael withdrew entirely to his own body, and awoke shaken and with Merlin demanding what was happening from next door.
Edited 2013-01-23 11:21 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (noimagination)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-23 12:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Hammer Lane Gaol. Ghastly had heard of it, but he'd never been here before.

It was, as Valkyrie immediately pointed out, not very impressive-looking. A small, one-level and rather dilapidated house, standing with its front door wide open. There was nothing but dead trees out front, growing out of mud instead of soil, if they could be said to be growing at all. The whole house shimmered slightly, like it was caught in a heat haze - the only indication anything about it might be more than what it seemed. Ghastly knew that shimmer existed. Until Skulduggery gave them details, he'd never known just what that shimmer was.

When Fletcher asked where the prison was, Ghastly shrugged. "Underground, probably. Makes the most sense."

"Deep levels," Tanith reminded them. "Skulduggery said deep levels. That has to mean underground."

"Does that mean we could be standing over an Archangel right now?" Valkyrie asked, eyes wide. "And Merlin?"

No one answered her. An old man walked up, and smiled cheerfully at them. "Hi there. Lost, are you?"

"Actually, no." Ghastly stepped forward and touched the sigils on his collarbones, retracting the false skin off his head. "We're here to see the prison. Is there someone who might be able to give us a quick tour?"

The man shook his head, never losing the smile. "Neat trick, that. Stay right here, I'll put the call through. What'd you say your names were?"

The introductions were quick, and the man disappeared into the garage at the back of the house - where he probably came from at their arrival without them noticing. Ghastly couldn't help Valkyrie's comment swimming around his head, and he started shifting uncomfortably against the pavement beneath his feet. Somewhere below them, apparently oscillating through eight dimensions a second, was another Archangel and Merlin. Being kept prisoner because the Warden didn't know what to make of them, and the Warden would probably never know just what kind of power he was trying to lock up.

It wasn't long before the old man was back, another cheerful smile in place. "The Warden is ready for you. You ever been to Hammer Lane before? The only tricky bit is getting through that front door there. The important thing is not to touch the sides as you walk through. For slender people such as yourselves, this should pose no particular problem. But for other people..." He shook his head.

"What happens if we touch the sides?" Valkyrie asked, but he was already walking away. She turned back to the others, biting her lip. "What happens?"

Ghastly shrugged again. "You'll probably be touching something going through eight dimensions a second. Can't imagine that's any fun."

Valkyrie and Fletcher both stared at him. It wasn't surprising that after seeing, in full and vivid detail, what crossing through the inter-dimensional space had done to an Archangel, they were both far less eager to enter the prison. Ghastly sighed and went through the doorway first. He was not torn apart.

There was only one room, one armchair, sitting on top of a tattered rug and scraping against a section of peeling wallpaper. It was actually nicer than Ghastly had been expecting. He turned around, waiting for the others to join him. Tanith came second, slightly hesitant, but overall completely fine. She was followed by Fletcher - who, with a quick warning from Ghastly, didn't try to Teleport in and just walked reluctantly through. Valkyrie brought up the rear, turning sideways and inching her way right through the exact middle of the open doorway.

The instant they were all in, something beeped and the floor started to descend.

"Cool," Valkyrie whispered.

Ghastly closed his eyes. 'Raphael, we're nearly there. Just entering the prison now. Few more minutes.'
comedianhealer: (pic#4887045)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-23 01:26 pm (UTC)(link)
'Raphael, we're nearly there. Just entering the prison now. Few more minutes.'

The prayer, from another person, this time came loud and clear, uninterrupted by the flit of the dimensional wards. Rafe's relief was such that it wasn't all that terribly difficult to find a response.

'Aw, but Merl and I haven't had time for the tea-party yet!' he whined mentally, broadcasting loud enough so that his technical-nephew could overhear.

'Call me that again and we'll find out how hot a fire has to be to chargrill an angel's wings,' Merlin threatened on cue. His mental voice wasn't quite as smooth, faintly staticky only because of the wards around him that tried to latch onto his human blood. It didn't quite work--not enough to truly keep Merlin from using magic, at least. It tired him more quickly to resist it, but mental speech was a metaphysical skill. The wards were just a bit of interference.

'Barbecue angelwings, eh? Wonder if Old Sulfur Stacks has come up with that one yet.' As lighthearted as the banter was on the surface, there was a grim undercurrent which the pray-er would be able to hear. Rafe and Merlin were ready--more than ready. The Archangel was still seated on his cot, pounding the wall with his baseball with a sort of intense focus, not a smile in sight. Merlin, he could sense, was pacing, pacing and touching certain wards and letting their magic seep into him. Borrowing it.

Rafe wished he could spare the concentration to extend his awareness outward, but he didn't dare even do that. Gabriel needed him too much to waste himself like that. Instead Rafe could only wait, counting off the seconds, for the rescuers to be rescued.


Warden Delafonte Mien had, for the last two days, been in a state of confusion, apprehension and giddiness. Confusion, because it shouldn't have been possible for two men to appear in the basement of Hammer Lane Gaol. Apprehension, because two men had appeared in the basement of Hammer Lane Gaol. Giddiness, because he couldn't help but entertain thoughts of just how they had appeared in the basement of Hammer Lane Gaol.

One of them had been quite obviously hurt, so Delafonte had willingly left him alone, for the most part, to recover while focussing on the old man. Said old man had turned out to be somewhat insane. Or sane enough to pretend to be rather genuinely. Delafonte wasn't sure which.

After two eminently unsuccessful interviews and trying to confiscate a baseball which returned to the black man's hand the moment their eyes were taken off it, Delafonte had turned to simple observation.

The problem was that they kept speaking something that sounded like Gaelic, but wasn't, because the warden was old enough to remember Gaelic and he didn't understand anything more than the odd word or construction. This far, they had discovered ... absolutely nothing.

Which brought them to now, when Delafonte was striding through the halls of his domain to meet a group of people who may or may not have discovered the prisoners he was trying to keep secret, and not sure if he wanted the help or not. He waited with restrained impatience for the room to stop moving, pasting a smile on to greet his visitors. He motioned at the table and the glasses on it. "Hello, all. Welcome to Hammer Lane Gaol. Lemonade?"
skeletonenigma: (greenfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-23 01:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Ghastly stumbled just as the floor came to a halt underground, which Tanith found odd because the ride down had been as smooth as anything she'd ever experienced. Even Valkyrie and Fletcher kept their balance perfectly well. She steadied Ghastly with a concerned hand on his elbow. "You okay?"

He opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Remember how we hoped Gabe's older brother would be mature and reasonable?"

"Uh, no."

"He's not."

Tanith couldn't help it; she laughed. "Really?"

They didn't have a chance to say much else before the Warden drew their attention to the lemonade, and while Tanith would normally have gratefully accepted - her throat, on the way here, had become abnormally dry - she also normally made it a point not to accept free food or beverages from people she didn't know and couldn't trust. So she politely declined, as did everyone else.

"Are you the Warden?" Valkyrie asked. "I'm Valkyrie Cain, and I'm a detective with the Sanctuary. We understand that you have a pair of prisoners here you don't know the origins of?"

"Are they alright, at least?" Tanith whispered to Ghastly.

His mouth twitched, and he nodded. "I think Raphael just called Lucifer 'Old Sulfur Stacks.'"

Tanith raised an eyebrow.

"And Merlin threatened to barbecue his wings. It was very strange."

Tanith had to struggle not to smile herself. "This should be interesting, then."
comedianhealer: (pic#4887064)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-23 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
'Wouldn't that be cannibalism?' Merlin pointed out, continuing the conversation without missing a beat. 'Even for Lucifer, that's low.'

Only this time, the sorcerer's voice radiated not just in Ghastly's mind, but in all the visitors'. Gabriel wasn't the only one with a talent for words, after all, and if they were going to make an escape attempt, it was only logical for everyone involved to be able to hear each other.

'You're implyin' that my brother has standards." Raphael's words came with the implication of a delicate shudder. 'Still annoyed you didn't let me see that body you forced him into at the wager's end, by the way.'

Merlin chuckled. 'Oh, I was proud of that. He didn't think it was nearly as funny.'

'What, that overgrown bat, finding something funny? He'd miss a sense of humour if it bit him in the ass in the shower while wearing a tea-cosy.'

This 'detective' was a little girl. Delafonte had heard, but never really believed it--until now, when she was standing there in front of him, looking him in the eye as if they were equals. And the others actually let her! Luckily. Because Delaftone wasn't sure he'd have been able to contain the sudden pang of fear in his gut if not for that indignation. He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Miss Valkyrie."

'Harry Potter, Rafe? Really?"

'What can I say? There's ... Certain References that amuse me.'

'They wouldn't happen to include certain phrases which include my name, would they?'

'Y'know, they might just.'

"Come, now." Delafonte half turned toward the exit, holding out an arm. "Let me give you all the grand tour."

'You are a CHILD, Raphael.'

'Thanks. Achieved Goal Number One on the free-will list, then.'
skeletonenigma: (jawfallingoff)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-24 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
Fletcher burst out laughing. Valkyrie, to try and disguise the fact that she'd been about to do the exact same thing, turned around and punched him on the arm.

"Don't mind him," she told the Warden. "He saw the Faceless Ones last year. He's never been quite the same since."

Which gave Fletcher the perfect excuse to keep laughing, but now Valkyrie couldn't so much as crack a smile. Fletcher owed her for this, he really did. It wasn't easy to tell how well Ghastly and Tanith were faring behind her, but it probably wasn't much better. Before the situation could get too dire, Valkyrie tried to focus on how they were hearing this conversation - because one of the people involved was an Archangel, and another one was Merlin - in the hopes that it would help her grow more serious.

It didn't. Raphael read Harry Potter. Raphael found Harry Potter funny.

Still, Valkyrie spoke again before the Warden could get too suspicious, pointedly ignoring his proffered arm. "We're not interested in a grand tour. I'm sure your prison is top-notch, really. We just want to talk to the people who appeared out of the blue here two days ago. Ten minutes, that's all."

Behind her, Tanith was gripping Ghastly's arm, the warrior's mouth a firm and determined straight line. "I think I can see what you mean," she murmured.

'Neither of you,' Ghastly broadcast as best he could, 'are making this any easier.'
Edited 2013-01-24 00:53 (UTC)
comedianhealer: (pic#4887045)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-24 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
"I ... see." Delafonte stared at the boy with the silly hair for a few moments longer, trying to ignore the way he was making his skin crawl. It wasn't easy. He was insane.

'You mean we were meant to be?'

'It's usually good manners when you get captured while on a rescue mission and need rescuing yourself,'
Merlin observed with asperity.

'It is? Oh, good. Something I can do, seein' as I forgot the fruit basket.'

And now Delafonte had a problem. Did he want to continue to insist he didn't know what they meant, or give in and hope this ... child and her enablers could get something more out of them?

The choice only took a moment, really. He dropped his arm. "I assure you, Valkyrie, that nothing can get in or out through my wards. No one has escaped since I became warden. No one has broken in since I became warden."

'Making things easier is the very last thing of which you're capable, Raphael.'

'You're just jealous of my youth and good looks.'


The mental sound Merlin made then was a cross between strangled incredulity and polite disbelief.
Edited 2013-01-24 01:14 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (welltailoredsuit)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-01-24 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
"And yet," said Valkyrie, "Two people did. Break in, I mean. Probably appeared out of nowhere. We're not asking if that's true, because we know it is. We're asking to - "

She cut off abruptly, and even though she had her back towards Ghastly, he was fairly sure he knew why. Experience had taught him that you could usually count on Valkyrie to be able to keep a straight face when the circumstances were important enough. Then again, experience had never really included a bickering Archangel telling Merlin he was jealous.

In a decision Ghastly would defend for years to come, he stepped forward in Valkyrie's silence and pulled out his phone. "There isn't really a Grand Mage at the moment," he spoke up, "as I'm sure you know. However, Corrival Deuce is in charge of things for the time being, and I think you'll find that we have his full backing to be here. Just give me a moment."

Corrival's number had become one of Ghastly's speed dials in the last few days, so it really was only a moment before he got an answer. "Corrival. Sorry to bother you. Our missing person problem from a few hours ago has a potential solution in Hammer Lane Gaol, but the Warden isn't letting us in. Would you mind talking to him?"
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[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-01-24 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
When Ghastly had first turned up at his door two days ago, the very last thing Corrival had expected was that he'd wind up not only covering up for Lord Vile (which he didn't mind nearly as much as he should have) but essentially taking over the Sanctuary in the wake of the attack and Guild's arrest (which he very, very much did). So when Ghastly's phone call came in, he found himself viciously delighted that he got someone to yell at. At this rate he might even forgive Ghastly before Christmas.

'Missing person problem' was Gabriel, of course. And the only solution to finding an Archangel caught in a magical explosion was another Archangel. Therefore ...

"Hand me over," he told Ghastly, and waited a beat for the phone to change hands. Or rather, for the speakerphone to clunk on. He heard the in-drawn breath of someone preparing to talk and cut in before they could. "Delafonte Mien. Ghastly tells me that not only are you refusing to cooperate, you're lying through your teeth. Two men appeared in the basement of your Gaol."

"Sir--"

"I'm not asking if that's right or not, Mien, I know it is. You are going to let Valkyrie and the others meet with those two men. And then you are going to let them escort those men out of that Gaol."

"But--"

"That was not a request, Mien. Did Guild know about these men?"

"I--"

"No? I figured as much. You've always been interested in shunting ever since that idiot during the war who tried to yank Mevolent into another dimension. Yes, I remember that. I'm the one who had to do the paperwork when he exploded."

"You're--"

"Right now I'm close enough to the boss of you to order you to wear a damned tea-cosy and nothing else if I wanted to, Mien. And when whoever becomes Grand Mage becomes Grand Mage, if you don't obey me this very minute, I will make very sure they know how many rules you broke to keep this secret. Have I made myself clear?"

Delafonte swallowed, aware that he was sweating and unable to help it. Corrival Deuce had always been a terrifying son of a bitch, back then. Apparently he still was. Even over the phone. "Yes sir."

"Good. Now let me get back to my God-damned work of holding the Irish Sanctuary together." The phone clicked off. For a moment there was silence in which Delafonte didn't look anyone in the eyes. Then:

'Saucer of milk, table two. Mreow.'