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: (noimagination)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-29 02:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Barney couldn't really say he hadn't had weird people in his cab before, but something about these three just... took the cake. The whole dang cake. All of it, icing and plate included.

He'd been willing to accept that the poor chump all bundled up in a dress, scarf, hat, and gigantic ridiculous sunglasses either lost a bet, or was trying to win one. Stranger things happened at sea, and it was pretty funny. But then he'd noticed that the curly-haired man was barefoot, on a Dublin street, and something about the way he grinned talked of an endless fascination with life. Which was all very well and good, except Barney hadn't yet met a Dublin local who could be that brightly optimistic.

And yeah, a Dublin local. The man may have had an accent, but it was fairly obvious the three were some sort of family, and he apparently spoke Gaelic perfectly. Even Barney couldn't do that; he was caught off-guard still trying to work out what the bundled-up man had said.

"Oh." Barney glanced down at the coffee he'd bought that morning. There was a Gaelic word for coffee? There was a Gaelic word for decaf? Who were these people!? "Yeah. I don't work many nights."

... Hang on a moment. How did the bundled up man even know it was decaf? There was a hastily drawn word on the side of the cardboard cup, but who noticed things like that?

Ah. Barney relaxed back into driving as the obvious answer suddenly hit him, and everything finally made sense. "You folks part of the carnival in town? Went with my daughter yesterday. Grand fun." He paused, glancing at the curly-haired man in the rearview. "Is the word cabbie?"

~~

The numbness of shock was a quite familiar and welcome feeling by now. Ghastly reveled in it as he followed God down the bus steps, still trying to work out exactly how the route had gotten them here so fast. It shouldn't have worked; they were clear across Dublin. It should have taken half an hour, at least.

It was a sentiment Ghastly suspected he would have many times again before the day was out. 'Shouldn't have' this, and 'should have' that.

"Fun." Ghastly's voice was level as he watched the carnival across the road. He wondered how many people there were in it, how many were Christian and Catholic, Muslim and atheist. How many of them were sorcerers. "Right."

The strange thing was, Ghastly actually didn't doubt it. He didn't doubt it in the same way that he rolled his eyes whenever Skul told him something would be fun, while quietly anticipating it because he knew it would be. There were certain people - and beings - that it was just impossible to be in the company of and not have some sort of fun.

Carnival music was playing, the smell of candyfloss drifted over to them, and - expelling a long, held breath - Ghastly forced everything else from his mind. What the hell, right? It wasn't like he couldn't clear a nonexistent schedule for God, anyway.

"Arcade first?"
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-29 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yes," Skulduggery answered the cabbie - seconds before Gabe spoke.

Well, that was just grand. Skulduggery almost fancied that he could see the perfect cover story the cabbie had just handed them, like a small gift from God, flying by outside the window. How did angels remain under the radar for so long? Did they have any concept of subtlety whatsoever?

Somewhere out in the cosmos, God was shaking His head in disappointment.

"Don't mind him," Skulduggery explained when the cabbie gave him a strange look, reaching out to try and save the cover story from blowing away completely. "He would forget his own head if he could." Probably quite literally. "He also actively tries to get me into trouble with strangers, so he's really not a very good person to listen to."

"Ah." The cabbie nodded knowingly. "Like the wager, right?"

"Exactly," Skulduggery replied without missing a beat. It never failed to fascinate him how mortals actually tried to explain away the evidence of their own senses. Half the time, there wasn't even a need to call in Sanctuary officials. Skulduggery may not quite understand this particular rationalisation, but it satisfied the cabbie, and that was all that mattered.

"Gotcha." The cabbie gave Skulduggery a conspiratorial wink and honked quickly at a stopped car in front of them. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with..." He paused. "T."

~~

Another 'shouldn't have' moment. Main roads in Dublin were never completely empty. Except for right now, for the few moments it took God to cross over and Ghastly, after a short hesitation, to follow.

But of course, what was luck to someone who'd probably invented it?

"The birthday game?" Ghastly asked with a chuckle. "I thought you said you didn't want to know the outcome." He had to fight down the impulse of treating the question like a test, which was perfectly rational, but which Ghastly already knew... wasn't exactly what God intended when he asked questions. He wasn't sure how much of the Bible that already proved obsolete, but Ghastly reckoned it was a pretty good chuck. "Fish-bowls."
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-30 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
Barney blinked. "Yeah. You're... really good at this." Scarily good. Guessing two words on the first try, and one from a total stranger?

The bundled-up man next to him - Pleasant, apparently...? - twisted all the way around in his seat, and even though Barney couldn't see an expression behind the sunglasses, he could well imagine what that expression must have been from the tone of the man's voice. "If you're referring to what I think you're referring to, Gabe, then I hope you remember I'm known for the grudges I hold."

~~

Such a normal conversation, Ghastly marveled. A normal outing. Like they'd known each other for years. Which, technically, was sort of the case, but not in a way that should have been conducive to any sort of a conversation like this. Ghastly had been craving normal ever since what happened this morning, but... this wasn't really what he'd had in mind. Really, seriously, at all. If Ghastly had the time or the inclination when this was all over, he should try to write his own version of the Bible. And the very first chapter would be on fishing.

"I was... never too keen on it," he disagreed carefully. "Skulduggery dragged me out a few times, and I never really saw the draw."

Conversations with omnipotent, all-knowing beings should not be like this. They should be much more one-sided. Much more serious. Not about fishing, and not taking place in the middle of a carnival. They shouldn't have been this easy.

The carnival was crowded, packed with families, and Ghastly had to take a moment to find the booths God was pointing out. "Terms?" The tailor stopped, turned, stared all over again. "You mean like a bet?" Okay, easy up until certain points, when Ghastly had to work to get his mind running again. But he figured that came with the territory.
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-30 01:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, of course the man wasn't cheating. You couldn't cheat. How did you cheat at I Spy? At guessing someone else's word? It wasn't possible.

But it was the latest oddity in a string of things the three of them had said, and Barney had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. Maybe he should surprise his daughter and take her to the carnival again, when he had a day off. Either tomorrow or the day after, he couldn't remember. But it'd be interesting to find these guys and see what their tricks were.

But... oh. Okay. Not brothers, then. Barney shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he maneuvered the cab turned the corner, like he always did when he had to listen to people in his cab flirting. It happened a lot, actually. But hey, it explained why the kid didn't look like either of them. Or, well. Not like the curly-haired man in the back, at least; he could have been the spitting image of the bundled up man and Barney would never have known.

Skull Pleasant. What kind of a name was that? Definitely carnie folk.

"Taxi?" the kid in the back with the crazy hair tried. "Or traffic again?"

~~

Excellent. God liked bad puns. That was part of the world explained right there. How, Ghastly wasn't quite sure, but it must have explained something.

He avoided thinking about the next statement, because he knew exactly where it would lead. Where it did lead, right before Ghastly had the presence of mind to shut it down. The tailor's thoughts had wandered from the well-worn shock to nervous anticipation, and then to the idea that maybe the reason God looked forward to it was because Skul would receive some kind of divine retribution. Which, Ghastly was vaguely surprised to realise, worried him.

"A bet on... what?" Ghastly asked to try and take his mind further off of it. "Who wins?" And, more importantly, what on earth could the terms even be? What could Ghastly possibly provide God with that he - He - didn't already have? Ghastly tried to work out how to phrase these misgivings out loud, before he reluctantly remembered that he didn't have to.
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-30 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, good." Fletcher stared out the window of the taxi, wordlessly repeating the names of things that flashed by as he tried to work out what Gabe's word might be. "Traffic light?" he asked, as they came to a stop at a busy intersection. "Traffic anything? Can it be two words?"

"Tower?" Skulduggery chimed in, looking up at one of the tall buildings on the corner.

"Town." The cabbie pointed at a sign overhead that was centered around the word and the name of a plaza. "As in Dublin town."

~~

It was almost exactly like Ghastly had his father back. Apart from the line of people disappearing just as they arrived, Ghastly could almost imagine that they were out for nothing more than a friendly familial stroll, taking in the sights, trying their hand at some of the carnival games. 'Dad' as a name had seemed strange, at first. When the truth hit Ghastly, that same name seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world. Now, he almost couldn't imagine calling the man anything else. Certainly not 'God.'

It was also convenient, for being in the crowds. It was about the most accurate disguise there was, for how impossible it was to even guess that there was a disguise at all.

"What happens when one of us wins?" Ghastly asked, even as he nodded his agreement. "I don't really know how things like this are supposed to go."

... Hey, look at that. He'd managed to ask a question involving who God really was, without hesitating or stuttering and maintaining the same tone of voice. He was getting better at this.
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-30 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah," Fletcher grinned back, "but it doesn't count unless I can guess it."

There were any number of arguments Skulduggery could have counteracted Gabe's teasing prod with, but they all involved either Gabriel being an Archangel, Gabriel being millions of years old, or the fact that words were his particular branch of magic. Not to mention psychics were under his domain, and - oh yes - he could read souls.

Mortals tended to get a bit excited when you weren't careful, unfortunately.

Gabe knew that, so the word wouldn't be 'Teleporter.' Explaining how that worked at a carnival would have been interesting, to say the least. And the word was cabbie last time, so... "Teenager?" Skulduggery asked - at almost the exact same moment that the cabbie did. They looked at each other in surprise, and the cabbie broke into a smile.

"T'be honest," he said, "I wasn't quite sure how old he was, so glad to see I didn't insult anyone."

~~

Oh.

They were gambling for teddy bears.

Two very important questions crossed Ghastly's mind in the next second. The first was whether or not he was really taking over the place of an Archangel completely, and if Gabe would be jealous - if angels were even capable of jealousy. And the second, which occurred to him belatedly as he watched Dad's perfect pitch thunk smoothly into the glass, was how on earth this constituted a game of chance for God.

Oh well. Ghastly had never really entertained the idea of actually winning, anyway.

It was his turn next, but Ghastly's throw was so badly off the mark that the ping pong ball fell perfectly in between two of the bowls, rolled a few inches, and fell off the table. Ghastly stared at where it had disappeared over the edge, wondering what could be wrong with him. His hands weren't shaking quite that badly anymore.

Maybe it was because he still didn't know where God's surprising warmth and tolerance would end, and pushing your luck with anything was usually a bad idea. Quadruply so here.
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-31 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
"I agree." Fletcher leaned forward with a smile. "I spy something beginning with 's.'"

"No you don't," Skulduggery cut in.

"I don't?"

"Not if it's what I think it is."

Fletcher frowned, staring at the skeleton detective. "What do you mean? It's just a thing. A word. There's nothing wrong with - " Oh, skeleton. Fletcher couldn't help it; he laughed. Did Skulduggery really think he was that stupid, or was the skeleton detective just teasing? "No. It's outside the cab."

"Ah. In that case, I apologise. Sun."

"Nope."

~~

Too simple? Ghastly wanted to say. God could speak for Himself! It felt a little like Ghastly's whole life had been leading up to this point, and he was failing the practical exam with spectacular efficiency.

"Oh, why not?" It would be stupid to say Ghastly didn't have anything to lose, but he had well and truly stopped caring. Since he was already standing at the launching point, he hefted his next ball and threw it before he could second-guess the decision.

It landed perfectly in a bowl with a plastic fish. So did the next one. The guy manning the booth handed Ghastly a new ball each time he needed one without question, and it wasn't until the tailor suddenly realised he'd landed every single one thus far that he faltered.

Protocol. What was the protocol here? He shouldn't be winning. He was playing against God.

Without taking the time to think, Ghastly purposefully missed the next two, and dunked the last one in a fishless bowl.
joyrodecomets: ('don't sweat the small stuff.')

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2012-10-31 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Pardner, I know it's hard to accept," Gabriel said with a straight face nevertheless almost vibrating with the amusement in the Archangel's eyes, "but some people other than you manage to think things through sometimes."

He followed the others' gazes outside the cab, his own falling on the pavement. Gabe suppressed a grin. "You spyin' the sidewalk, Fletch?"

~~~

Calmly and without missing a beat, God removed His hat and whapped Ghastly across the back of the head with it. "If I wanted yes-men," He growled good-naturedly and with both suppressed amusement, and some gentle exasperation, "I'd've paid someone to come with me. Or gone to the game. Ain't any fun at all if people rig somethin' in someone's favour."

"Let's try this again," He said with a wink at Ghastly as He picked up a ball. "This time I reckon you can do better, partner."
Edited 2012-11-01 12:59 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-31 12:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Yep. Definitely a family. It was sort of cute, actually.

"Really?" The man called Skull turned to look out his own window, and all of a sudden, Barney could see where the obvious nickname might have come from. He caught a flash of bone-white skin underneath the hat, and he turned away at once, feeling bad for the curly-haired man's desire to explain what shouldn't have to be explained. "I'd appreciate it if it happened more often, then," Skull said. "Being the smartest one in the group becomes so wearing after a while."

It was strange. 'Skull' didn't really strike Barney as the kind of guy who would want to hide. Maybe not wantonly display his condition, but... not try to cover it up, either. So why was he? Was it part of some carnival contract?

The teenager's grin grew wider. "Nope. Not the sidewalk."

"And Gabe joins us lowly mortals at last," Skull murmured through the scarf. "Sky."

Fletch shook his head. "Guess again!"

~~

Ghastly just couldn't win anywhere.

After a moment's pause - in which he stared at the hat with frustrated puzzlement - Ghastly made his first properly conscious decision since he took the first sip of beer back at the bar. The man's name was 'Dad.' He was an eccentric drinking buddy. Nothing more. Nothing less. He wasn't a man who'd been written and guessed about, fought over since the beginning of time. Because clearly, most - if not all - of those stories and accolades were wrong, and Ghastly didn't particularly feel like getting whapped with the cowboy hat again.

And with that, Ghastly took the ball from Dad without a word, turned back, and tried again. He sank every ball perfectly except for one, and that single failure was an honest mistake. Hopefully.
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-31 02:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"Your dad," Skulduggery replied genially, "must be one hell of a player. Still, I can't say I'm surprised. What kind of a world would we live in if the opposite were true?"

Fletcher leaned back with his arms folded, obviously satisfied in his choice of words. "It's not a streetlight."

"Just street, then?" asked the cabbie.

"Nope."

Street signs flashed by the window as Skulduggery searched for items beginning with 's,' and he tilted his head towards Fletcher. "Sign?"

Fletcher's smirk disappeared. "Okay, fine, but I have the longest streak so far. That means I'm winning, right?"

~~

It was difficult to tell if Ghastly was actually winning or not - if his five teddy bears were truly earned. But Ghastly had a sneaking suspicion that they were. Logic said otherwise; the being who created everything couldn't possibly be losing at certain carnival games in any kind of a fair bet.

But if there was one thing Ghastly was learning, as they ate their hot dogs and walked around drawing stares from passersby thanks to their slowly increasing number of stuffed bears, it was that Dad enjoyed proper company. Not worshippers. Not people standing around in awe. Which, again, negated a lot of what Ghastly had learned over the centuries from various religions, but he was getting better at ignoring those preconceptions. Dad interacted with people around them using the same carefree and upbeat attitude he used with Ghastly, thoroughly enjoying himself - Himself - and Ghastly caught a genuine smile on his own face more than once.

He shouldn't have been surprised when fishing became the next stop on their tour of the arcade. And honestly, Ghastly wasn't surprised. Not really. It was still surreal, observing the crowds watch Dad playing with absolutely no clue of who they were really cheering on - but then again, what about this wasn't surreal?

"Bespoke?"

Ghastly whipped around to come face to face with Thurid Guild, who looked positively stunned to see the tailor - although no more stunned than Ghastly was to see him at a mortal carnival. Speaking of surreal. "What on earth are you doing here?" Guild demanded.

The Grand Mage had a daughter, Ghastly remembered in time. And sure enough, a little girl was clutching Guild's hand and staring up at Ghastly with a childlike curiosity. "Grand Mage," Ghastly answered after a beat. "Just... taking in the sights with a friend." The last time the two of them had been in the same room, Ghastly had been arrested and was being interrogated. He became acutely aware of that fact as he searched for something else to say.

"What happened to your scars?" asked Guild.

"Ah." Ghastly instinctively reached toward the symbol on his neck. It had been more than half an hour since he'd activated the magic, hadn't it? Either China's warning of a necessary time limit was unfounded, or Dad had lent a helping hand in keeping the disguise firmly situated. "China."
skeletonenigma: (snap)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-01 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery gave a sigh meant to be just as theatrical as the stage whisper. "Now that sounds like a world in dire need of saving. I don't suppose there's a way of making a round trip, is there?"

"Do you have a Bentley?" the cabbie asked with immediate interest.

"Indeed, I do," Skulduggery answered slowly, with a ripple of surprise. He'd grown far too used to Valkyrie having no interest in cars whatsoever. "A 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental. One of only 208 ever made. Retrofitted for modern conveniences, naturally."

"Doesn't that cost a fortune?"

"I can go for a while without eating," the detective replied with an offhanded shrug. "Have to, when you work at a carnival. And I'm an excellent driver. I've also seen an 's'." Have at it."

~~

This was a train wreck waiting to happen. This was worse than a train wreck waiting to happen, and Ghastly didn't want to be anywhere nearby when the wreck occurred. But he had to do something. He had to find a way to communicate to Guild the urgency of respecting this man, without giving away why.

... But of course, the moment he so much as thought about it, Dad would have known about it too. So much for that. Sorry, Guild, Ghastly silently apologised, but you're on your own.

"Sort of," the tailor answered Dad, making a conscious effort to hide the dislike in his tone. "This is Thurid Guild, Grand Mage of the Irish Sanctuary. Grand Mage, this is my friend Dad. He's... visiting for a while. Thought I'd show him the carnival."

Guild was eyeing the teddy bear his daughter had happily accepted with a bright "Thank you!" and immediately clutched against her chest. He glanced back up, a calculating look in his eye, and then nodded politely before turning back to Ghastly. "Shouldn't you be with Pleasant?"

"Shouldn't you be working?" Ghastly responded evenly.

Guild's eyes narrowed. "Do I need to remind you of the potential devastation, should Pleasant not solve this particular mystery?"

"He did mention that. I'm sure he's hard at work on it."
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-01 11:51 am (UTC)(link)
Barney was growing confused. Skull owned a Bentley - and a really nice Bentley, too - while at the same time, he... worked at a carnival? Barney was no expert, but he didn't think carnival pay was good enough for that.

"I did most of the retrofits myself," the man objected. "I may as well have built it from scratch. Besides," he added with a slight curl of distaste in his tone, "televisions are useless. What do they do, apart from sit there? How do they enrich your life?"

The teenager in the back - Fletch - looked horrified. "They play TV shows! And movies, and... really really annoying commercials. They tell stories."

"So do books. And they're much cheaper." Skull sat back with an affected sigh. "Not steering-wheel, no. Losing your touch, Gabe?"

~~

"I like the ferris wheel," Guild's daughter answered, pressing herself into her father's leg. "You get to go really high and see the whole carnival."

Looking at Guild now, Ghastly would never have suspected that the man once organised the assassination of Esryn Vanguard. Right now, the Grand Mage was just a father. Even his questioning of Ghastly had lacked its usual biting quality. In fact, the first time he even grew suspicious was when Dad sank to the ground to speak to his daughter, and Ghastly had to bite back a laugh. Guild would have absolutely no idea what to make of him.

They didn't have proof of the staged assassination, but then again, Dad wouldn't need proof to know what Guild was guilty of. Theoretically.

"I like your backpack," the little girl spoke up again with a shy smile.
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-01 02:14 pm (UTC)(link)
"I do tend to have that effect," Skulduggery agreed.

Every so often - even back at the Institute, with their powers bound and identities hidden, even before Skulduggery knew who Gabe really was - the Archangel would say or do something that only further struck home just how old he really was. It wasn't the poem, exactly, although Skulduggery had never heard it before; and it wasn't that the poem was in Gaelic, either. It was mainly the way Gabriel delivered it.

His power was definitely over words, alright. Even the cabbie was awestruck, and Skulduggery would have bet money that their taxi driver didn't know enough Gaelic to understand the words themselves.

When Gabe had finished, a crystalline silence fell over the cab, broken only by the sounds of Dublin traffic outside. Skulduggery let that comfortable silence stretch for a few minutes, and then he shook his head. "None of those were my 's' word. In either language."

~~

Guild's daughter followed Dad's gaze to the aforementioned stall, and she instantly squealed with excitement. "Can we go, Daddy? Please? Pleeeease?"

"In a minute." Guild had returned his attention to Dad, and the look in his eyes... wasn't exactly suspicious anymore. But it wasn't exactly friendly, either. "A friend of Bespoke's. Where are you from?"
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-02 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"No one likes a show-off, Gabe."

Barney, already startled by the delicate nature of the laughter from the back of his cab, risked a quick glance in his rearview mirror once he'd come to a stop at the red light - and had to glance again before he would believe the evidence of his own eyes.

A trick of the light. Right? That had to be it. Just a trick of the light. Barney looked towards the red light for a moment, bit his lip, and then tried very hard not to stare at Gabe in the mirror.

It was kind of like watching Beauty and the Beast all over again, which was the first metaphor to spring to Barney's mind because of the five times he'd watched the Disney film over the past two days with his daughter. Not that there had been a Beast in this scenario, but... there was a transformation, of sorts. Alright, maybe it wasn't the best metaphor. The point was, Gabe was somehow glowing. Not with light, but with beauty. With happiness. It managed to make Barney feel just slightly less hopeless than he'd been feeling in recent weeks.

His throat was a little too dry to talk. Otherwise, Barney might have asked, and probably looked like an idiot. Because it was probably just a trick of the light.

"So the word was sweater?" Fletch asked, completely undeterred by any imagined transformation.

~~

And Guild noticed those similarities, too. His gaze shifted from the cowboy hat down to 'Dad's' sandaled feet, and his eyes widened.

It would, of course, be just like Pleasant to find the reality with all the dimensional Shunters, wouldn't it? And good Shunters, too. Guild hadn't met many here, for the simple reason that none of them ever managed to fixate on anything outside this dimension that was remotely useful. Or, thus far, didn't kill you in horrible ways.

But this was beginning to pose a problem. One Shunter had already brought Pleasant here, and that was worrying enough. Add in that Shunter's father following his son here - perfectly understandably - and who knew how many would follow? What kind of chaos they could bring with them?

Guild was privately grateful that his daughter was staying so close. He'd never wanted his family to be mixed up in any of his work at the Sanctuary. "Then you're a Teleporter, too?"

Bespoke's expression became strangely fixed at the question, but he didn't say anything.