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: (closeup)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-20 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery's gaze strayed over onto the space where China had been standing until just a minute ago. He should have been worried over what she might say, that she might not consider a promise to an Archangel sacred enough to keep. Maybe a part of him was. Mostly, Skulduggery looked at the space with anger and something close to pity, both much too hot and bitter to allow much else creeping in. Maybe that was why he felt so sure she wouldn't tell anyone. China was many, many things, but stupid wasn't one of them.

The pity was a surprise. A welcome one, given the circumstances, but still. A surprise. A side effect of Gabe, maybe?

The pain of his wrecked jaw forced him to start wondering what might have happened if Gabe hadn't been there. Skulduggery would have killed China, definitely. Would that have been enough? Would he have been able to reclaim himself, and deal with the inevitable aftermath?

Before Landel's, Skulduggery would have said yes. He'd worked too hard and too long to let every single one of those years go to waste the very first time he was tested, the very first time his anger blew into rage strong enough to tempt him.

But then... then he'd been dragged into the mental institute and, within three days of being there, had the walls between him and Vile broken down. Deliberately, by the doctors there, presumably on Landel's order. At the time, he'd been trying to survive in one piece without killing any of the other patients, and the few times he'd been allowed to slow down and think, he'd blamed Landel. Or that first night, or the increased desire to use Necromancy. It was a while before Skulduggery finally realised all the doctors had really done was remove a thin, single boundary - open his eyes to how close Vile always had been and always would be.

The fact was, if Skulduggery had killed China, that would have been it. Vile would have been in control. And it wasn't because of Landel; it was because no matter how much control Skulduggery built up, no matter how long he went without letting his anger get the best of him, Vile would never stop being there. Even now, Skulduggery could feel how easy it would be to simply give in once, stop trying to be so strong for a single moment, let the craving for revenge drown him again, and it would all be over.

Gabe had become his lifeline back in the Institute. That might be the only reason Skulduggery was still here now, why Ghastly and Valkyrie and Tanith and Fletcher weren't dead.

The thought would have killed Skulduggery if he wasn't almost immediately distracted by the gentle touch of Gabe's hand on his jaw, drawing all the pain into it.

If the intention had been to make Skulduggery feel any better, it backfired horribly. Yes, the physical pain receded, but a different kind of pain took its place when Skulduggery saw Gabriel struggling with the surge himself, driven almost to tears.

'You shouldn't have done that.' Even with the pain receded, Skulduggery didn't try moving his jaw again. The thought he beamed towards Gabe was full of regret, and - for the first time - not phrased as a prayer. In truth, Skulduggery hadn't remembered in time to start it with the name of the Archangel it was for, but he didn't try to correct it. Gabe couldn't think of himself as anyone's guardian angel right now. He was a victim and a patient; he really shouldn't have tried to take on any more pain. If anything, Skulduggery should be the one guiding him.

'If you collapse again in a minute, I will do everything in my power to block you from yours for the next month. Even if that means finding God and defeating Lucifer. Please tell me your brother and nephew aren't nearly as stubborn as you are.'

"Um."

Fletcher had reappeared in the doorway of the church, looking suddenly very sheepishly at the two of them. "Sorry. Am I interrupting something? I can leave."
skeletonenigma: (snap)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-21 12:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Gabe didn't answer. For once, there wasn't even arguing. He'd heard it, because he'd responded to the first one, and because his face... it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what the Archangel was feeling, but by the time Gabe looked away, Skulduggery was left feeling like he'd missed something. Something important. It wasn't exactly a good feeling for a detective to have.

Luckily, this feeling was tempered, and almost immediately, by surprise. Fletcher was back.

Skulduggery hadn't expected any of them to come back. True, Fletcher would have the least amount of context, but even he must have heard of Lord Vile. Must have asked Valkyrie or China. Would have recognised the Necromancy.

At the very least, he should be scared. Why did he come back?

"What, you thought I wouldn't?" Fletcher sounded almost offended as he spoke to Gabe and unwittingly answered Skulduggery's unspoken question. "You're still here, right? I might not understand a lot, or... well, anything, really, about what just happened. But - "

Gabe hugged him and Fletcher's voice cut off abruptly. Skulduggery was forcibly reminded of when the teenager came back, at Aranmore Farm, to reopen the portal for them despite terror he'd probably never felt anything like before in his life. He was an idiot, but... he was certainly a brave idiot, and Skulduggery couldn't hold that against him. Skulduggery himself had been a brave idiot, once upon a time. Every great man had to start somewhere.

With Gabe's warning from earlier playing through his mind, Skulduggery wanted to add in his own 'thank you,' but caught himself a little too late. His jaw had moved a centimetre against itself, and the fresh wave of pain paralysed him for a few seconds. Still trying to cradle the lower half in place, Skulduggery nodded to Fletcher with a small noise of pain and gratitude.

"I came back for a reason," Fletcher mumbled, suddenly and refreshingly self-conscious. "Come on, let's go."

'You probably shouldn't start with that,' Skulduggery warned Gabe as Fletcher carefully led the angel back up to the front of the church. 'He'll be angry enough about treating my jaw before he sees that you've done exactly what he told you not to. It's best if I'm just an afterthought.'

~~

Fletcher had tried to ask about what happened in the church. China, more politely than she'd really intended, turned him away. And he'd accepted it, fortunately; left before China's precarious hold on her emotions cracked again. Adrenaline still pumped through her body, bolstered by the confusion and shock that she was still alive.

The last thing China needed or wanted was a situation where she would have to think. A situation where she would have to play her usual mind games and employ her usual manipulation - especially without the use of her powers. Because for once, she was afraid that holding a basic conversation with someone would be too taxing for her.

So when Solomon pounced on the opportunity to gloat, or question, or God knew whatever else he might want, China didn't even turn, barely even smiled. She was simply not in the mood.

"What happened here?" she asked instead. Directly. Uncertainly. Without answering the Necromancer's question, which would force her to think again. Pure, unadulterated emotional reaction. That was all she could handle at the moment. And her library, the safety of her library, was the immediate priority.
Edited 2012-10-23 12:59 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-21 01:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"But..." Fletcher frowned. "How am I supposed to warn you? It's not like I can send a beacon before I arrive."

The Professor was his usual crotchety self, it was good to see. A small taste of normalcy. It was strange how much Skulduggery suddenly craved that normalcy, to know that the world hadn't ended, that he was still here and no one had died. The rest would work itself out, eventually. The magic of perspective would help him to ignore the pierce every time he thought of Ghastly, of Valkyrie.

Professor Grouse was also, apparently, in a strangely good mood. It would have been difficult to tell, but the fact that he relented and basically agreed to heal both of them, on nothing but Gabe's honest plea for help, was unusual enough that Skulduggery finally noticed a certain extra bounce in the old man's step. Not much, but it was definitely there. What brought that on? The realisation that Archangels existed? That he was healing one? Somehow, Skulduggery doubted it.

He did, at once, object to Professor Grouse's phrasing, however. "He's not my - " The objection was bitten off at once with a frustrated cry of pain, and so Skulduggery settled for aiming an invisible glare in the Professor's direction instead, even as he sat obediently where directed.

~~

Lost entirely.

China didn't try to hide her small cry of dismay; probably wouldn't have tried even if she could think far enough ahead. She hadn't even seen it. The few moments she'd spent in the library before grabbing her gun and leaving, which should have been more than enough time for China to assess the damage, had been completely blank.

This library, this collection, was her life. She'd spent countless years acquiring each item, protecting them with the sigils carefully carved into the walls of the library, so meticulously and elegantly detailed that nobody but China herself could have manipulated them. Could have destroyed them. That was no secret, and any dismayed reaction was only to be expected of her.

She had to wonder if the apparent destruction was because of her, or if it was divine punishment for what she'd tried to do. The thought physically pained her, and China sank into the chair she'd been leaning against with a painful grimace. It would take decades to repair the damage, and that was just the repairable things. If anything truly unique had been lost, China would never be able to recover from that.

"I..." she hesitated, some old part of her resurfacing and debating what to keep from Solomon, what amount of knowledge would best benefit China. She rolled her eyes as the thought crashed uselessly against her mind, and when she spoke again, it was perfectly level with only the barest glimpse of the resignment she felt. "I tried to control Gabriel's true name. I couldn't even find it. The moment he felt what I was doing, he didn't just cast me out. He showed me exactly what I was trying to do."
Edited 2012-10-23 13:22 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-21 02:38 pm (UTC)(link)
The guilt at the Professor's pointed accusation was familiar, well-worn, and barely even sharp anymore. It was always pulsing just under the anger, after all. Skulduggery barely paid it a second thought, not when so much else had gone wrong in the last hour.

He did have to wonder, however. The logic of Kenspeckle's words made sense. And for someone who didn't want to be thinking seriously about Archangels, it only made sense for the Professor to refer to Gabe as Skul's angel. In was, in fact, the most appropriate way to refer to him, given the circumstances.

So then why was Skulduggery's first instinct to object? Odd. Objecting to logic wasn't something he made a habit of.

While the familiar guilt trip wasn't anything for Skulduggery to be surprised over, what happened next certainly managed it. Even with the number of times Gabe had tried to convince him there wasn't a reason to feel guilty - so many by now that Skulduggery had almost stopped hearing it - this particular time was... different. Because Gabe was saying it to someone else. And not just saying it; acting like the Archangel he was, and falling just short of commanding it.

And then - even more shocking - Professor Grouse actually listened. Softened tone, gentle care - gentle care - and dropping the subject.

There was something here. Something Skulduggery felt he should be realising, or recognising, or working out. But it kept slipping just out of his reach, hidden by the guilt and regret and the fresh wounds left by the Necromancy from minutes ago. He'd have to ask Gabe about it later.

The memory of the Necromancy, and the way the lurid darkness washed against Gabe's light... that was one aspect where Landel's was definitely at fault. Skulduggery might not have reached immediately for that dark death magic, if he hadn't dealt with it so often back at the Institute - relied instead on his Elemental powers for seeking revenge. It might not have changed anything, but the fact remained that Skulduggery had failed in what he spent centuries trying to achieve. Landel might have won after all.

~~

It wasn't until she wordlessly accepted the water that China realised how dry her throat was. How thirsty she'd been, since what happened at the safe house. Being faced with two of your most dreaded nightmares in the same moment didn't leave a lot of processing power for assessing her physical needs - especially since there wasn't much processing power to begin with. The ordeal with Gabriel had drained most of it away.

"Everything." She swallowed some water, tried to think of how to explain, and almost immediately gave up. Thinking was still painful. "Everything. The way he sees it. What he is." She paused, and her expression grew protectively blank. "Him."
Edited 2012-10-23 14:27 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-21 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery made a noise somewhere between offense and assent, grudgingly submitting to the order not to move his jaw. He was never an idiot. Occasionally reckless, misled, or mistaken - other times downright dangerous - but never an idiot. He would, however, do his utmost best to make sure nothing punched off the poultice in the next hour. He may have deserved the pain that came along with the break, but that didn't mean he wanted to endure it any longer than necessary.

Skulduggery managed to avoid any physical fights for the rest of their conversation, although his jaw did move a fraction of an inch when he heard that Gabe's wounds hadn't even begun to heal. That was... worrying, to say the least. Had an Archangel ever been injured before? Were they even capable of healing without proper assistance? No offense meant to the Professor, but this was hardly his area of expertise. Maybe Gabe simply wouldn't heal, not until either Raphael arrived or... well. God intervened.

Actually, now that Skulduggery was thinking about it, where was God in all this? Even ignoring the omnipotent and omniscient aspects of His existence, Skulduggery found it difficult to believe that He would really leave one of His sons out in the cold without at least keeping a close eye on things. And if that was the case, why hadn't He helped? Was He here now?

... Had He been in the church?

No. Skulduggery immediately slammed down that train of thought, crashed it, and allowed it to drift away. He'd been through enough crises of faith since reclaiming himself during the war - just because he'd suddenly received the most convincing proof of the man's existence he would ever receive, it didn't mean he could torture himself all over again. Or allow himself the slightest modicum of hope.

~~

Saint Gabriel's Master.

China almost laughed. She was glad she didn't. The laugh would have sounded a little too bitter, a little too psychotic. Even in her current state, China still had standards. That was good to know.

But He was, wasn't He? Gabriel's Master. Gabriel was His creation. Technically, they all were, but the Archangel Gabriel had always been the messenger, every time he was mentioned in a piece of religious script - the connection between God and angel, God and man. God's right-hand man. God's companion.

Saint Gabriel's Master. China had effectively just tried to take that position for herself.

Why, she wondered numbly, am I still alive?

Without the strength to speak, she simply nodded. Wondered if she should feel grateful for all of the second chances she seemed to be receiving. Couldn't come to a decision, and decided on feeling nothing instead. It felt safer. 'Safe' wasn't something China had thought much about before; now it was everything. It was the only way she could protect herself.
Edited 2012-10-23 20:57 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (closeup)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-22 11:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Groom him. Right. Groom an Archangel. That wasn't exactly the first thing Skulduggery would have expected to leave the Professor's mouth, when he got handed a cloth and a holy-water based poultice. What he would have expected, he had no idea, but that definitely wasn't it. Medical jargon, or another barked insult. Not a command that might have been applied to a professional pet handler.

'Groom you?' Skulduggery repeated silently to Gabe, bewildered. He almost chalked this up to another petty attempt of Professor Grouse to embarrass him, like the pink hospital gown with small elephants on it. But Gabe spoke up a moment later to confirm it, and Skulduggery's bewilderment only grew. It helped a little that Fletcher looked just as confused, although his reasons might have been very different.

'It may surprise you to hear this,' Skulduggery tried explaining, more bemused than bewildered now, 'but I've never really groomed anything before. Dogs never seem to take me seriously. They keep trying to pull off my legs and bury them.'

~~

China didn't try to stop Solomon from leaving. She found, when he stood up, that she very suddenly and violently did not want to be alone. Suddenly, every fiber of her being wanted to leap up and invite him to stay, make him tea, tell him everything. Tell him about Vile, and who Vile was, what she'd seen, what Solomon had undoubtedly seen when he encountered the Archangel. Her world was falling apart, and somehow, the only company she wanted was the company of another man whose world was falling apart.

But, with immense difficulty, she pulled herself together. The magic surrounding her promise to the Archangel pulsed gently under her gut reaction, and China used that as a crutch; raised herself up to the point where she could simply smile at Solomon. It was an empty smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Of course. Take care."

She waited until Solomon was almost at the door, and then she did get to her feet. If China was going to keep getting handed second chances for the rest of her life, she may as well start using some of them now. "Solomon, I owe you an apology from earlier today. I confess, I didn't believe a word of what you were saying. I find myself in the unique position of having to eat my words, and..." She hesitated, but the phrase came out much more easily than she thought it would. "I'm sorry."
Edited 2012-10-24 12:38 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-23 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery didn't try to hide a long, apprehensive look at Gabriel's wings. Angled and built for speed they may be, but they still stretched from one side of the room to the other, bent slightly against the walls and ceiling, large and impressive and - most importantly - every inch of them covered in small white feathers.

Gabe wanted him to preen and realign every single one of those. Skulduggery was certainly no stranger to long, repetitive, and menial tasks, but... what Gabe was describing would take a while. Time they didn't have, if they were still hoping to find Dusk or Sanguine or Scarab before they used the Desolation Engine. Caelan wasn't a lead anymore; Skulduggery wasn't going to try and ask Valkyrie for anything at the moment. Maybe later, maybe when she'd had time to think. And even then, he wasn't counting on any real help.

That did, of course, beg the question of what they were going to do next, but that could wait until Skulduggery's jaw was back in working order. Interrogating didn't really work when one couldn't talk. Although, in certain circumstances, being a living skeleton was all the intimidation Skulduggery had needed. It was amazing how many people assumed he was terrifying before he'd so much as spoken a word.

Gabe had the same concerns about time, it seemed. Good. But it was still going to take a while, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Skulduggery got started on everything the Archangel said. 'Some,' he answered the question silently, fighting down a fresh surge of guilt at the sight of the torn down on Gabe's back. 'Not much.'

~~

China was silent as Solomon laughed, though she did catch the humour value at about the same time as the Necromancer. She'd never known a Necromancer to sincerely apologise for anything. She'd never known herself to sincerely apologise for anything. She'd never known any of the mortals' strange ideas about Creation to be accurate, either.

Although she didn't join in the laughter, her parting smile was more like her old self than China had been since she left for the safe house, and she quietly tsked. "Solomon, Solomon, Solomon. Whatever gave you the idea that I could be goaded into anything?"

It was the closest to accepting his apology China would ever get, and had the added benefit of serving as a farewell. She nodded politely to him as he left, and then the silence of her empty apartment closed comfortingly around her.
Edited 2012-10-24 16:33 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-23 12:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery paused as the ripple of uncertainty shook through Gabriel's wings. He didn't need to be a mind or soul-reader to know what that ripple meant, what Gabe was worried about, and he spared the downy feathers one last glance. There was no blood, no red staining the brilliant white, and yet it looked more devastating than it would have if blood covered them. It was more... raw, and open. The wounds were less painfully obvious. Identifying the extent of the definite damage was harder.

It was almost easy, after that, to work on where Skulduggery could at least make some small difference. The feathers were longer than he thought, but he couldn't discount the convenience of that. Running the oil-covered cloth over anything smaller than these feathers would definitely have pained Gabe more than it should have to.

Working carefully over where the Faceless One had left the deep gashes, Skulduggery freed his mind - teetering on the edge of full meditation - and basked in the temporary silence. He didn't live his life very safely, but it wasn't a bad thing to enjoy those safe periods whenever they came along. It was strangely satisfying, too, to immediately see the benefit of each individually straightened feather; it immediately glowed brighter, shone more vividly with the same colorful light that illuminated the angel's surroundings. It reminded Skulduggery of when he first saw Gabe's true form, just after crashing down in the other dimension - how dazzling and sparkling the light was, before the hitchhiking dark god dimmed it so far.

Skulduggery's hands froze when the entire wing quivered, rather than just the surrounding feathers, along with Gabe biting back a startled cry. 'I'm sorry,' Skulduggery thought immediately, waiting until the quiver passed completely before putting his hand against the feathers again. 'This won't be comfortable. Hang on.'

His fingers slid down the vane of the offending feather and into the shaft, which he could already feel wasn't resting as deeply as it should be. Torn out, then. Damn it. With an invisible grimace and a mental steeling, Skulduggery gently took the shaft and tried to squirm it free.

It took a good minute, and Skulduggery only managed it in the end because he blocked out any reaction Gabe might have. He tried not to think about what the damage to the underlying skin might be; Skulduggery wouldn't be able to tell, at least without displacing the entire section of feathers, and there wasn't anything he could have done anyway. The protruding shaft of the feather, sharp and pointed, told him all he needed to know. 'It's out.'
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-23 02:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery might have been able to block out Gabe's immediate reactions. But once he had the feather in his hand, he couldn't help catching a reflection of the Archangel's face off the floor - a floor so startlingly clean that, while the image was fuzzy, Skulduggery still managed to see the furious blinking and the lines of pain. He turned away from the reflection and focused instead on the next feathers, abruptly and not quite surprisingly wishing Gabriel had never tried to cross the dimensional wall. Things would have been better for everyone if he hadn't, including Gabe. Especially Gabe.

Given those sudden feelings, piled on top of what had already been considerable guilt, Skulduggery wasn't surprised when he felt disproportionately irritated at Kenspeckle's personal treatment of the Archangel. What did surprise him, quite thoroughly, was when the irritability didn't pass. Not even when Gabe became so visibly relaxed at the massage that he seemed to forget, for a moment, that there was pain at all. That was a good thing. It should have been a good thing.

Fear gripped him. Was the anger making another show, so soon after nearly spiraling out of control? Skulduggery shoved the inexplicable feeling down as Kenspeckle turned back to his cart, concerned once again for the disturbing lack of control he had since escaping from Landel's. There wasn't even anything to get angry over. Had what happened a few minutes ago opened a door Skulduggery wouldn't be able to close? Even though Gabe stopped him from going too far at the time?

The reflection of Gabe's face vanished from the floor as the Archangel's head tilted back in happiness, but it wasn't particularly hard to tell from the back how much relief the lavender concoction was. Excellent. Kenspeckle's own healing magic might have been boosting it, but the Professor wouldn't be giving them the bottle if he didn't think it would help in some small way.

'Lavender?' Skulduggery questioned. 'There's holy water in that, I assume.'
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-23 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Fortunately, Skulduggery couldn't point out that scaring an entire swimming pool empty might be the best and quickest way to appropriate one. Professor Grouse may not have reacted well to that, and whatever had caused the good mood might not have been enough to counteract Skulduggery. Unfortunately, he also couldn't point out that swimming pools tended to be empty at night. Or that Gabe was...

... not able to pull up a disguise anymore, actually. Skulduggery wouldn't let Gabe use his powers again, especially after Skulduggery himself had been the one to force him into it.

"Sure," Fletcher agreed from where he'd been silently watching. "More holy water. We've got barrels over in the safe house. Just give me a few minutes." He turned and surveyed the empty space in the room with a calculating eye, and then vanished. So eager to be useful, Skulduggery noted. So anxious to help. Despite everything, despite the scare he'd undoubtedly suffered in the church. Despite how wary of Skulduggery he must be feeling.

Although, it was probably difficult to be frightened of a skeleton whose jaw was all bound up the way it was, happily grooming an angel's feathers.

And finally, finally, there was real and visible progress. One small wound, sealed. The earlier irritability had vanished now, and Skulduggery nodded in grim satisfaction as he smoothed out one more feather. Something was finally happening. When Raphael arrived, they'd be able to prove more concern and help for his brother than just a safe house and some quick holy water. Gabe might claim his brothers were just as forgiving as he was, but Skulduggery would believe that when he saw it.
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-23 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
They were lucky. They were, Skulduggery was not too proud to admit, very, very lucky that they had Kenspeckle Grouse. Any other science-magic or medical expert would have worked for the Sanctuary, and they wouldn't have been anywhere near as good as the Professor. Besides, their personalities wouldn't have been nearly as warm or welcoming, and that was saying something.

Time passed, and for Skulduggery, it passed agonisingly slowly. The detective was acutely aware of when it had been an hour. It hadn't even been half that time before the device and various bandages holding his jaw together were starting to ache and poke and prod just a little too much. But Professor Grouse stubbornly pretended not to understand or notice Skulduggery's various attempts at alerting him to the time, and so Skulduggery eventually gave up. It wasn't as if he could be too healed, after all. Or, after what had happened an hour ago, be in too much discomfort.

And yet, once Skulduggery resigned himself to whatever amount of time would be remaining, he found Gabe's influence was stronger than he thought. This, all of this... the place and the people and the simple, pure, healing tasks. It was nice. Almost comforting. The recent memories were still sickening, still forefront in Skulduggery's mind, but they were covered now with a thin layer of peaceful enjoyment. There wasn't a single place, Skulduggery realised, he would rather be than here; not a single living person he would rather be with, under the circumstances. And it wasn't a shaming thought, a shaming conclusion, that spurred Skulduggery into leaping back into whatever investigation he was working on in a shallow attempt to either punish himself or redeem himself for it.

For once, it was okay. He could just relax. Not enjoy the passage of time, exactly, but... disregard it. Fill his mind with each feather slowly illuminating as he preened it, and not feel like he was running from his own thoughts. Just for the next few hours.

~~

In contrast to Skulduggery's newly discovered calm, Ghastly's mind was more of a painful maelstrom than it had been when he left the church.

Everything hurt. There was physical pain, physical nausea. That was an undercurrent of discomfort that ran through all the rest. Ghastly's fist was throbbing where it had cracked against the bone; it even bled a little bit, at first. There was a bandage on it now. Ghastly didn't remember where he got the bandage from; he might have wandered into a pharmacy or a grocer's at some point. Maybe even a doctor's office. It didn't really matter.

Then, there was anger. Rage. It burned on a level Ghastly had only felt a handful of times before, and never at someone he'd considered a friend. Guilt, over breaking Skulduggery's jaw so badly and leaving without a word. Guilt over shutting Tanith down so completely when she offered her help mere moments after he left. Anger at himself for feeling any guilt whatsoever. Confusion. Surrealism. And then more anger again, which only led to further guilt and confusion and denial. The whole tangled mess turned around and around in his mind, growing stronger, more vicious, more violent, until all Ghastly wanted - all he could stand - was a strong, stiff drink.

He had no idea how much time had passed before he wandered into the bar. It wasn't a bar Ghastly recognised; somewhere in Dublin, that was all he knew. His fist was already bandaged up, the illusion-disguise China made for him freshly up and active. Beyond that... it could have been an entire day, and Ghastly probably wouldn't have noticed.

It wasn't a good part of town. The bar wasn't a high-class bar. No televisions, no good alcohol, gloomy and almost empty. It was the type of bar Ghastly wouldn't have entered without a reason - and if he absolutely had to, he would have sat with his back to a wall or corner. As it was, he knew how much he didn't look like anyone you wanted to mess with, especially right now. And so Ghastly's only precaution was to let his empty gaze linger on each person sitting in the bar for a few seconds before making his way up to the bartender.

There was a woman in one corner. She'd been crying, but she looked tough. She'd get through whatever was upsetting her. A couple of men, friends maybe, sitting at one of the few tables together. Another man sitting alone at the bar. Ghastly could have taken every single one of them in a physical fight easily, and so he didn't mind ignoring them. Didn't mind much of anything, right now.

"Run up a tab, please," he said quietly, taking one of the old bar stools for himself. "And give me the strongest thing you have."

The bartender spared him a cursory glance, but complied, and... well. It certainly was strong. One sip, and Ghastly could already feel his legs starting to grow heavy. That was good. Within a few drinks he'd be starting to feel the buzz, and that buzz would hopefully grow strong enough to edge out everything else.
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-24 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)
The peace on Gabe's face, such that Skulduggery hadn't seen since maybe their first meeting at Landel's - and not even then, since Gabe had been worried over his brother throughout the rosary-making - was jarring enough that Skulduggery did what the Professor asked without complaint. That peaceful and happy expression certainly wasn't an expression he'd expected to see right after Vile; and definitely not on Gabriel's face. Gabriel, who abhorred Necromancy with his entire being. Gabe, who was watching the man he'd risked so much to rescue getting healed, even though his own pain wouldn't have vanished completely.

The interesting thing was, Gabe still looked like an Archangel, somehow. Skulduggery couldn't quite put his finger on it, and wasn't sure if he particularly wanted to. Maybe it was the beauty Gabriel still washed everywhere, or the light, or the uncommonly still way he sat, but he radiated a peaceful content that seemed to infect everyone around him. Flecher was smiling for the first time since bringing back the holy water. Even Kenspeckle didn't snap at Skulduggery with quite his usual level of crotchety - though that might also have been a side effect of whatever was causing the good mood.

Skulduggery didn't try answering until he tested his jaw, using both hands to gently rotate it, reflexively wincing despite the entire lack of pain. All to be expected, of course. The day Kenspeckle Grouse couldn't completely heal a broken jaw within an hour was the day the world would end soon after. The day he started demanding payment, on the other hand, couldn't be too far off now.

"Good," Skulduggery finally replied. "Much better. Thank you, Professor." No one could ever accuse him of not being polite. Well, no one except criminals, and Skulduggery didn't care about those. He glanced towards Gabe's wings, already looking much better than they had before Kenspeckle started. Skulduggery couldn't help seeing every small thing still out-of-place, though, every small thing that was probably adding to the angel's discomfort. "I didn't finish the feathers, Gabe," he apologised.

~~

The only other man sitting at the bar was still staring at Ghastly long after the others had lost interest and gone back to their separate activities - drinking, talking, cleaning out vodka glasses with a rag that looked dirtier than the glasses, respectively. Ghastly didn't pay the man any attention at first, but when he'd finished the first drink of many to come and the man spoke, Ghastly's mind wasn't anywhere near the delightful haze he would usually have to be in before engaging strangers in a place or an emotional state like this.

He turned and looked at the man, the only one in the bar who might have given him a run for his money. American? Hard to tell, but maybe. Not Irish. Obviously not a tourist, though. And, judging by the twinkle in his eyes, entirely too happy with life.

The twinkle was a painful reminder.

"Something like that." Everything about Ghastly, from his tone to his face to the way he turned back for his second drink, spoke of wanting solitude. Needing solitude. If the man didn't get the hint, then he had no concept of normal social interaction.