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: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-19 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Billy-Ray had pretty much figured the guy wasn't an Elemental. That much was obvious. Trouble was, Billy-Ray wasn't really sold on the idea of him being a Sensitive, either. He wasn't sure why; it just didn't really feel right. Sensitives had a vibe, a sort of holier-than-thou attitude of cosmic importance that Gabe just didn't have. Oh, he was snarky, and more than a little egotistical, right on the same level as Pleasant. But knowing things out of the blue didn't specifically mean Gabe was psychic.

He'd sorta been hoping Gabe would go on to explain what kind of magic he had specialised in, but the fake cowboy was evidently going to make this as stubbornly difficult as he could.

Billy-Ray was focusing on his own ragged breathing as well, trying to conserve as much of the air as possible while still giving himself the room to rest. It was harder than he'd hoped; he could feel his head growing light much too quickly. Sweat was beginning to bead on Billy-Ray's forehead as the remaining air thickened with heat. He fought the urge to laugh at Gabe's question, which would have done nothing but use up more oxygen. "Cuz any place the Faceless Ones had the run of for millenia like that ain't gonna have any other kind of life left. 'Cept maybe cockroaches. Stubborn little buggers."

But the more Billy-Ray thought about it... the idea was funny at first, but what fun would it be for the Faceless Ones if they killed absolutely everything? They hadn't killed all the Ancients; just demanded worship, mostly. What was to stop them from starting all over again in another dimension?

When Billy-Ray looked back down at Gabe again, he couldn't stop a measure of awe from creeping into his expression. Good thing it was too dark for anyone other than him to see. "You saying you grew up with those things as your evil overlords? What was that like?" He couldn't deny being genuinely curious, after all.

~~

"No," Fletcher answered uncertainly with a glance at Father O'Reilly. So much for trying to avoid the topic, then. "Well, he lost the hat. But otherwise, yeah. He and Sanguine were... having a competition, I think."

Should he have said that? Probably not. But now that he was out of the immediate situation, Fletcher couldn't help a short chuckle. It had been pretty funny. "Sanguine thinks Gabe is a psychic. Kind of makes sense, when you think about it. But they were in the middle of a..." What did Sanguine call it, when Fletcher first met Valkyrie? "... 'good old-fashioned stand-off.' I don't know how long it's going to take."

Fletcher belatedly realised that he probably shouldn't have said any of that either, when Father O'Reilly made a noise halfway between clearing his throat and a strangled cry. "Is this... really a conversation I should be a part of?" the priest asked, voice and tone a lot more level than they maybe should have been.

Fletcher shifted his weight back and forth uncomfortably. If only Teleporting could solve every single one of his problems, like it used to a year ago. "Well, yeah. You were the one Gabe - Gabriel, sorry - wanted me to talk to."

A moment slid by in pregnant silence. "I see," Father O'Reilly eventually said. "And... he will be coming here? Soon?"

"That's what he said."

Father O'Reilly nodded. "I need to sit down," he murmured, apparently completely unaware of the fact that he already was.
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-20 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"So did you save Pleasant, or did he save you?" Billy-Ray asked. He'd always secretly thought that it was only a matter of time before the skeleton reappeared, never mind the hopelessness or that he was declared officially dead by the Sanctuary. Pleasant just wasn't the kind of guy who would let one ruined Isthmus Anchor stop him, and Cain wasn't the kind of gal who would give up even in the face of overwhelming odds. Of course, Billy-Ray had also thought it would take a lot longer. If he'd known Pleasant would be here to try and foil their plans again, he might have thought twice about telling Scarab that now was a good time to get started.

And it really wasn't a surprise that he'd brought someone back with him, when Billy-Ray thought about it. It was a surprise anyone else existed over in that reality, but it made sense that upon discovering it, Pleasant would do everything he could to rescue them as well. Do-gooder good guys. They just couldn't pass up opportunities to be stupidly heroic. The question, then, was how come only one other person made it over?

Unless...

Billy-Ray's eyes widened beneath his sunglasses. For a moment he forgot all about the thinning air, or the fact that his head was starting to spin. "You guys ain't..." He paused, frowning. "Y'know. Savin' each other. Are you?"

Hey, the Faceless Ones were supposed to turn you insane with a single glance. And who was Billy-Ray to judge?

~~

Father O'Reilly nodded again and slowly rose to his feet, one hand on his knee and one on the arm of the pew, before promptly sitting back down again. His eyes never left Fletcher's face, although he didn't seem to actually be using them anymore, glazed over as they were.

Fletcher couldn't really say the same as Solomon. He didn't know much about religion, didn't know the feeling or the awe most everyone else had seemed to experience. When he first met Gabe, being told the strange barefoot man was an Archangel had about the same effect on him as finding out that a living, talking skeleton existed. Less, even, because he was growing used to magic being everywhere and angels just felt like another facet of that world he'd barely stepped into. For Fletcher, the much more awe-inspiring moment was when Gabe first showed his wings in Kenspeckle's lab, because that was when the reality of the situation hit him.

Either way, he wasn't going to be much more help here. "Yep," he answered Solomon. With the investigation, and with pretty much everything else, Fletcher added silently, remembering the Necromantic shadows that rose off Skulduggery back in that church. "And they're making good headway, too. Do you guys need me for anything else?"

Not that he was much more help in front of the cinema, but at least there he wasn't a hindrance. It didn't look like Father O'Reilly was going to get any better with Fletcher still standing there.
Edited 2012-11-20 13:01 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-20 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)
What the hell kind of an answer was that?

Well, whatever. It wasn't like Billy-Ray really needed to know, or was really all that interested. He managed to shrug, sending greater cascades of dirt raining down into the bottom of the small space they were in. "Fair enough. Hey, let me help welcome you to our reality. Hope you enjoy your stay here!"

Wait a minute. If Gabe came from another dimension, wasn't it possible he wasn't a sorcerer? Or a different kind of sorcerer? Maybe he could do things Billy-Ray had never even heard of. The thought made him grin. "If you don't know Pleasant all that well yet, let me be the first to tell you that he'll probably come for you pretty quick. Likes to paint himself as unpredictable, but come on. Certain situations, you just know. You probably don't have anythin' to worry about."

And with that, Billy-Ray gathered his strength and started off again, traveling diagonally up towards the castle. Fast enough to make conversation annoying as hell over the roaring, but much too slow for Billy-Ray's liking. Slow enough that even with the fresh air rolling over them and letting him breathe again, the trickling dirt was still liable to trip him up. Billy-Ray had to focus all his energy on sticking to the right course, and it was only a minute before the pain began radiating again, seizing up his limbs and begging him to stop. Billy-Ray fought it tooth and nail for one more minute, even sped up by a few kilometres per hour, before his own vision had grown so black that he could no longer see.

Billy-Ray stopped for another rest, heaving for breath. It took him another few seconds to remember that he needed to keep that breathing under control nowadays, needed to calm down and try to take deep, slow breaths. It didn't work so well this time.

~~

"Soul-catcher?" The boy frowned, clearly just as confused by the phrase as Father O'Reilly himself was. But in Fletcher Renn's case, he would at least have some measure of context. Father O'Reilly was beginning to suspect a huge chunk of the world had eluded his understanding for years, and would continue to elude his understanding for the rest of his life. "Okay," Fletcher continued, albeit slowly and still with that frown. "I will. See you guys later, then."

And then, once again, he disappeared into thin air.

Trying to accept that sorcery - and good sorcery - existed had, ironically, been easier when all Father O'Reilly had to deal with was the problem of Necromancy right in front of him. Necromancy had never been quite so literal in his mindset before, but at least it was something the priest could halfway understand. He knew it was wrong. Now, he simply had no idea what to think or how to feel, and no one seemed to be telling him.

Now, it seemed he would actually be meeting Saint Gabriel before too long.

"He doesn't wear shoes?" Father O'Reilly asked, mildly stunned to find himself grasping for the last thing that had made sense. He had never minded becoming the student to his wards before, never minded admitting someone younger than him knew more than he did. Now, however, it felt... it felt a little like he'd failed at something, and he wasn't sure what.
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-24 03:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Gabe was right; it was much less of an insult than it would have been just five minutes ago, surprising even Billy-Ray. But he decided, after a moment, that he didn't particularly enjoy being compared to the Faceless Ones. Underwhelmin', by their standards, was perfectly fine by the Texan. Turning people insane by your very presence wouldn't be any fun, especially when they began worshipping you. Ruining Gabe's trans-reality vacation - by the guy's own admission - was more than enough for Billy-Ray, thank you very much.

But... Gabe didn't seem insane. Nor did he act like he worshipped the so-called dark gods. If anything, his brief description of them sounded almost pitying. There was still something very wrong here, and Billy-Ray was beginning to suspect that he should be a lot more wary of the barefoot stranger with the Southern accent. Unfortunately, as with most things in life, he was much more fascinated with the danger than he was cautious. How often did he get to speak to people from other realities?

"Was there, like... a resistance?" he asked between more deep breaths. "Bunch of you fightin' back? How many of you were sorcerers?" Because in a world like that, Billy-Ray could believe that the existence of magic wasn't exactly a secret, and even he had to admit mortals could, on occasion, be useful.

~~

An angel. An Archangel. Pretending to be a cowboy.

That... was likely one of the more interesting thoughts that had ever crossed his mind.

Father O'Reilly was numbly reminded of his nephew several years ago, asked to draw one of his favourite scenes from the Bible during Sunday school. The boy had come back with a picture of a blue car, being driven by a man with a beard and a couple looking unhappy in the back seat. The confused teacher had asked him what scene from the Bible he was trying to portray, and the boy had come back with a haughty "Isn't it obvious? It's God driving Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden."

When shown the picture, Father O'Reilly had roared with laughter. He still had it, somewhere; it had taken pride of place on his fridge for a year and then likely gotten buried at the bottom of a closet. Very suddenly, he wished he still had it in his hands, because that would have made it easier to imagine his nephew going "Isn't it obvious? It's Saint Gabriel pretending to be a cowboy."

Which, inexplicably, would have made this whole thing easier to accept. The simplicity of a child's understanding. You didn't need to explain the important things to them; you just had to set the example yourself and they understood, faster than the credit you inevitably gave them. If only Father O'Reilly could manage that right now.

But then there was something he could focus on, something he did understand, and he turned to Solomon. The tone of the man's voice - the disbelief implied, especially - reminded him that Solomon was far from helped, and there... in that area, there was something Father O'Reilly could do. "You didn't believe he would?" he asked quietly. "Or you didn't believe he should?"
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-24 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Billy-Ray nodded knowingly, even though he had no hope of really understanding. A world where sorcerers were few and scattered far between. He actually wouldn't mind living in a world like that, where the people who hired him didn't fully understand his abilities. The threats and implied punishments for his failure got old after a while. Course, those would probably only increase with laughably underprepared mortals, but at least then Billy-Ray could just kill them.

He hadn't been missing any of Gabe's shifts and winces, though. Honestly, they were probably all that was giving Billy-Ray the energy to keep going. There was a certain kind of motivation in the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how tough someone was talking, they weren't enjoying the ride one bit. No matter how injured Billy-Ray was, or how powerful the mysterious magic of a stranger might be, no one could rival him down here. The thought kept him comforted as dirt continued to rain down into his boots.

"You kiddin'?" he asked as his muscles tensed, ready for another few minutes of strain. "I always loved the idea of a resistance. Been a few here over the centuries, tryin' to overthrow kings and whatnot. Main difference is I don't really pay attention to who I'm killin.' Riles folks up after a while. Ready for more?"

~~

"And who are you," Father O'Reilly replied with a smile, "to decide who our God is?"

He let out a long breath he wasn't fully aware he'd been holding - not a physical breath, but a mental one. He released it all as physical air from his lungs, however, allowing all the confusion and shock and even fear to flow away like so much water. Whatever happened from here on out would happen, regardless of whatever he thought or did, and so there was no point in worrying. Certainly not when there were other things to claim his attention.

"Wait." He sat up a little straighter, and the smile disappeared in favour of an expression that was serious, but almost fatherly in its regard. "Here's a better question. Disregarding any evidence you think you might have, or what you believe of yourself - in fact, ignoring everything you've ever believed about Christianity, up to and including meeting Saint Gabriel - tell me, Solomon. Do you want to be forgiven?"

It was a simple question, but Father O'Reilly knew how difficult it was to answer, even without what most people thought they believed about the Church - and separating those preconceptions was hard enough. Society, nowadays, taught people to be ashamed of themselves. Ashamed of their actions, their bodies, their innermost thoughts. That was a difficult enough habit to break, without the addition of magic or centuries of experience.
peacefullywreathed: (like weights strapped around my feet)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2012-11-24 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
"Been ready," Gabe said promptly. "You needa work on your stamina, Billy-Ray." He didn't exactly make his tone sardonic on purpose--it just came out like that. Gabe still found he didn't really care. The roll of smugness and superiority, memories of people Sanguine had killed, was prodding his last nerve.

"Why the Hell is that, anyway," he grumbled, more for something to say. "Someone's gonna come for you sooner or later, Billy-Ray. Someone to stop you killin'. Why tempt 'em?"

Why was he even asking this sociopath to explain himself? His head must hurt.

~~~

Solomon didn't answer that. He didn't really have an answer to that. He just thought of China Sorrows, of the look on her face, in her eyes; of her words and brokenness as she said she had seen Him. And then he looked away. He'd met an Archangel dressed as a cowboy. An Archangel who had refused to smite him. Drawing conclusions was probably unwise, and yet it hadn't occurred to him that, on this fact, anything might be contrary to what he thought he knew.

The tone of O'Reilly's voice made Solomon turn back again in vague surprise. It had been a very long time since that sort of tone, or expression, had been directed at him unironically and without condescension.

Then he blinked, and his brow furrowed, and he wondered how long it had been since he had given a question like that due consideration. Did he want to be forgiven?

It was almost absurd. How could he want to be forgiven when he didn't really even believe? He had no faith with which to request such a thing, even if he thought it would be offered. Which wasn't the point. The question was merely 'did he want it'.

Did he?

Did he want God's forgiveness? The forgiveness of a God he hadn't believed in, still didn't quite believe in, still wasn't sure about?

"I don't want to suffer for all eternity, if that's what you mean," he said at last. "God's forgiveness, as I understand it, is a requirement for not being burdened by such a fate. However ..." He lapsed into silence again, and this time he did look back up at the crucifix, examining Jesus' face and remembered the look of raw anguish upon it in those moments he had seen through to the lifestream. "However," he murmured, "I don't believe it's a thing for which I'm ready, yet."

Not because he felt guilty. Not exactly. More because he felt faithless, and that was of more importance. How could he ask forgiveness of a God for which he had no faith at all? It would be ... disrespectful. And at this point, Solomon had no intention of disrespecting God.
Edited 2013-03-09 13:35 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-25 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
"Backseat drivin'," Billy-Ray muttered. That was all he needed. The Texan's next words held the kind of frustrated annoyance anyone adopted at being told what to do by someone less adept at it than they were. "If you think you can take over, be my guest. Hell, if you can take over, I'll even let you decide where we go. S'long as it's not a Gaol." The pair began moving, slowly at first, then steadily picking up speed; and just before the strain of traveling so quickly overtook him again, the Texan managed to shoot over his shoulder, "and I got plenty of stamina."

Some things, apparently, never changed. Even across alternate realities. That was encouraging.

~~

Father O'Reilly nodded solemnly, following Solomon's gaze to the crucifix in front of the altar. He knew this might not even have anything to do with God. Forgiving other people was an act nearly everyone found almost impossible to achieve, but for some, the difficulty doubled when it came to forgiving themselves. Solomon was clearly a man who didn't forgive easily. Why should he expect any different from the people and beings around him?

It would take time. But Father O'Reilly had faith that, in time, the forgiveness would come. Because, for one thing, Solomon had belatedly added the word 'yet' - perhaps without even realising it.

Unfortunately, Father O'Reilly had been using this opportunity to help himself just as much as Solomon. Now that the distraction was over, he couldn't help his thoughts wandering back to the meeting that now seemed more inevitable than ever. And he couldn't quite stop himself asking a question that would likely leave him feeling even more apprehensive than before, no matter what the answer. "How long do you believe this... stand-off will take?"

Maybe it would help distract Solomon, instead. That could be some good.
peacefullywreathed: (just take one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2012-11-25 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
Despite the fact he'd asked it in the first place, Gabriel found himself glad when the Texan didn't take him up on his question. "Better your wounds than mine," he said instead, "but if this is what you call 'plenty' of stamina then I've gotta say I'm worried 'bout the sorcerers here, Billy-Ray."

No reason not to let the man underestimate him some more by thinking he was vulnerable. True, he couldn't use his magic--that didn't mean he was helpless in a pinch. Or could even really be hurt.

~~~

"I haven't the faintest," Solomon admitted, thinking back on his own meeting with Saint Gabriel. "Saint Gabriel didn't strike me as the sort to keep people waiting unless he had to." Couldn't they be in two places at once? How else would they be able to service everyone on Earth who was calling for them?

Were there even other angels here?

Or maybe Saint Gabriel wasn't on the peak of health. Given how many Faceless Ones Solomon wondered whether he fought, it wasn't, perhaps, surprising. Maybe that was the reason for the delay.

The sorcerer's stomach didn't growl, but only because it was past that point. One thing he was not going to do, Solomon felt, was to sit around waiting for an angel who may or may not visit in the near future. Cautiously the man rose, and although he still felt weak, at this point it was more from hunger than anything else. "Well," he said, "I believe this is where I should leave you. I need to eat and figure out where to go next."

He didn't want to go back to his apartment, but ... he had weapons there. Mundane weapons he kept 'just in case' and would now need. Thinking on it, he didn't have much choice. He'd just have to be as quick about it as possible.
Edited 2013-03-09 13:37 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-25 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, well." Billy-Ray slowed their pace a little so the roaring sound wasn't quite so bad, and the decreased strain on his muscles definitely didn't go unnoticed, or go without his gratitude. "This ain't my best. Your friend's partner stabbed me a while back, and the guy who stitched me up did a piss-poor job of it."

He tilted his head towards Gabe as the roaring picked up again, but decided not to ask if that phrasing meant the man was injured himself - partly because they were now moving too fast to be audible, and Billy-Ray was worried that the next time he slowed to a stop would be his last for several days to come. But he didn't let the comment go without a wide grin, even though Gabe probably wouldn't be able to see it.

The castle wasn't too far off now - if he didn't stop, they could make it. If he stopped thinking about the journey and the pain and the slow, steady sap of his magic, then the trek might even pass in the blink of an eye. Murder. Think about murder. Murder always helped calm Billy-Ray right down; something about taking another man's life had simply been soothing and invigorating since Billy-Ray first understood the concept. Like when he killed that man who stitched him up wrong. Ambushed him a few days later and slit his throat with the razor. That had felt good, though he'd remembered later that killing the only man possibly able to fix the mistake wasn't exactly the wisest move to make.

And then Cain, of course. Billy-Ray couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Her death had been a favourite fantasy of his ever since the girl first stole his razor. The instant anyone hired him to kill her....

Without much warning, the dirt gave way to solid stone. Billy-Ray grunted as the magic he was using to travel tried cracking through the stone floor while it was still metres ahead of them, yelled out in pain as he and Gabe came up against the unshaken stone themselves; and then with one last agonising burst of effort, they were through and in one of the castle's basement dungeon rooms, nothing left in the stone behind them but a few dull cracks to indicate their passing. Praying that the door to this particular room was locked, Billy-Ray collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, shaking violently as the adrenaline wore off. He was in no shape to stop Gabe from doing anything, although he could probably call for back-up if he was given a few minutes. Would Dusk even be back with the Professor yet? Probably. With the rate Billy-Ray had been going, he wouldn't be surprised.

Without even the strength to talk, Billy-Ray just lay there and tried to remember how to stay alive.

~~

Father O'Reilly glanced up as Solomon stood, and a part of him immediately rebelled against the idea of the former Necromancer leaving his church so soon. Upon closer inspection, however, he realised that this initial gut reaction was much more because he suddenly did not want to be left alone, rather than any further ability to help Solomon. And that wouldn't do. "Of course," he answered, rising himself. "You'll always be welcome here, if you need to come back."

But what if Saint Gabriel came and Solomon wasn't there?

Then, Father O'Reilly told himself sternly, he would face the angel himself and explain what had happened. If, of course, Saint Gabriel didn't already know, which was doubtful. Honestly, he was being anxious and worried over nothing.

But just in case. "I don't suppose sorcerers use cell phones?" he asked.
skeletonenigma: (snap)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-26 01:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Very slowly, the world slid back into focus - a world consisting of pretty much stone and nothing else, anyway. Not the world Billy-Ray was used to. It reminded him far too much of being in prison; and even though no magically bound cell had ever been able to hold him, the memory of rescuing others from prison was enough to put a sour taste in Billy-Ray's mouth.

That might have just been the dirt, though. God damn it, this was so much harder than it should be. Even now, the thought of trying to burrow back underground again left his limbs in a strange sort of painful vacuum.

Once the stone room had stopped spinning, Billy-Ray carefully summoned his strength and pushed himself up onto his knees. The images were still cartwheeling around his own head, but on him, they had a calming effect. Murder always did. Money, too, now that he had the higher functioning required to think of that complicated concept. Murder for money. Plucking his razor back from the cold, dead hands of Valkyrie Cain. Never mind that he had his razor back, or that the only thing stopping him from having killed Cain already was Pleasant, and her other powerful friends he would then have to contend with. No one could be faulted for their fantasies.

A minute or so later, and Billy-Ray had his breathing back under control. He managed to rise shakily to his feet and glance back at Gabe, who - for some strange reason - was having what looked like a mental breakdown against the wall.

Come on. Not even Cain had taken her journey this hard. Sure, he'd needed to let her rest afterwards as she gulped in lungfuls of air, but she didn't start crying. The hell was this? How was he supposed to handle someone crying when he hadn't caused it? Or at least, hadn't directly caused it?

Billy-Ray took a step, stumbled and almost fell. The foul taste of dirt and the faint claustrophobia that had gripped him underground swam back into his mind, and he did fall again, suddenly dizzy as the room blurred around him. He took another few moments to steady himself, then crawled the last couple of steps he'd been meaning to take toward Gabe.

"S' not that bad," he muttered as he got closer, as much to himself as to Gabe. "You allergic to magic, or what?"

~~

The matter-of-fact tone did disturb Father O'Reilly slightly, but he managed to look past it. The amount of practice he'd had looking past the disturbing in the last hour alone made the feat rather easy. Almost too easy, a small part of him noted with trepidation, but he ignored it. He would have plenty of time to think everything through later.

"Here?" He paused to consider, but it didn't take long. Here was another reason not to let Solomon leave the church, and one that was concerned with helping him. "There is a kitchen in the back. I'm not sure what the church currently has, but you're welcome to it."

Not that Father O'Reilly was going to stop Solomon from doing what he thought was best, and if that meant heading back into a potential danger, then all Father O'Reilly could do was offer his help before and afterwards. He might have offered to accompany Solomon back to his apartment, if he thought his presence there might do an ounce of good. As it was, Father O'Reilly was fairly sure he'd just get in the way. And he was equally sure that any advice he had to give on the matter would be completely ignored.
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-26 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Billy-Ray stopped, stunned. He wasn't quite sure why; it wasn't as if he'd never heard those words directed at him before, and this wouldn't even be the first time he'd seen such a visceral reaction to being pulled underground. But that was it, wasn't it? The reaction wasn't to being pulled underground. Gabe obviously hadn't enjoyed it, not with the way his expression twisted every so often during the journey, but he'd stayed rational. Coherent. Annoyingly so, in fact. Nor could the reaction have been to Billy-Ray himself, for those exact same reasons.

Billy-Ray was more stunned because of how sudden the behaviour was. Like Gabe was reacting to the stone room, instead of anything that had just happened to him. That was insulting, that was.

But the revulsion in his voice was very real, and very much there, and after a few moments, it abruptly clicked in Billy-Ray's mind. The only thing, he realised, that had changed between their last conversation - if you could call it that - and collapsing here was that Billy-Ray had essentially needed to go on a mental killing spree just to stay conscious.

And if there was one thing experience had taught him, it was that most folks were repulsed by the idea of murder. Surely anyone who hung around with Pleasant would feel the same way - even though anyone who hung around with Pleasant should really also be used to it, in more ways than one.

... Well, shit. Billy-Ray had just brought home a mind-reader. That was just perfect.

Then again... it did mean that he had directly caused the crying, inadvertently though it might have been. And that put the situation squarely back into Billy-Ray's comfort zone. Now it made sense. Now he knew exactly how to handle it.

And he was already getting an idea - a perfect way to control a man whose power level and abilities remained mysterious. Honestly, if the guy got like this every time Billy-Ray needed to center himself, it would be so easy. Even now, Billy-Ray couldn't quite prevent more images flooding his mind as the real pain finally began to settle into his stomach - not that he would want to, even if he could.

The Texan raised his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender and backed off, an intention that might have seemed completely genuine were it not for the wide grin. Or his deliberate thoughts, if his guess was right. "Mind of a sociopath a little much?" he asked, a measure of glee creeping into his tone. "I get that. Well, not really, but I've been told time and time again I'm a bit of a handful. You ain't gonna pass out on me, are ya?" he added thoughtfully. That wouldn't be any fun at all.

~~

The tea had been left over from a church event several weeks ago, although Father O'Reilly didn't object when Solomon found it. If tea even had an expiration date, he was sure this one hadn't passed it. And as far as the priest knew, no one else was going to be drinking it.

And he didn't even know where the fruitcake came from. Church donation, perhaps? Filling, though, and that would be what Solomon needed.

He couldn't help a small smile when he saw the sorcerer automatically setting places for two, moving around the kitchen as confidently as if it was his own. Manners, it seemed, were not sacrificed along with the faith, and could be prevalent even in a world of people who took magic for granted. Father O'Reilly wasn't quite sure why they wouldn't be, but the sight was heartening all the same.

He knew all too well the feeling of needing to occupy one's hands, as well, and so he didn't interfere. He simply sat down and watched, expression unchanging until he saw the way Solomon was looking at the knife, and then he frowned. Not with disapproval, exactly, but with pity.

His first and most surprising feeling was amusement; amusement at the idea of a sorcerer having nothing to rely on but a breadknife. The thought quickly faded, however, and was replaced by a certain kind of practicality. Someone managing to kill Solomon Wreath was obviously to be avoided at all costs, and to that end, he could understand the desire for any kind of tool to use in self-defense. But there had to be a better way. A more peaceful way.

After a moment, Father O'Reilly spoke. "Do you really think that will help?"
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-27 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
Well, Gabe didn't pass out. That was something.

What he did do, however, was even less fun than that.

Billy-Ray's arms slowly dropped to his sides as the man chanted what sounded disturbingly like Bible verses. Bible verses. Of all the... Billy-Ray's arms hung loosely for a moment in disbelief, and then settled into a folded and exasperated position across his chest.

Really? Calling on God for help? Billy-Ray didn't even think it was possible for a sorcerer to be Christian. Or Jewish. Or Muslim, or whatever other religions believed in God; Billy-Ray had to admit he didn't know much about them, and he didn't care. Any sorcerer worth his salt nowadays was either completely atheist, or knew that the Faceless Ones existed.

And actually, that was another good point. Alternate reality or no, Gabe had apparently grown up with the dark gods. Why the hell did he believe in a greater and benevolent being? That was just... stupid. Stupid and pointless and suicidal and just plain wrong. Unless... well, unless Christianity as a religion hadn't existed over in that reality and the faith was a fairly recent thing, like some sort of post traumatic stress. But no; Gabe wasn't pulling those Bible verses out of thin air. He knew them. He'd known them for a while.

The frown that had grown on Billy-Ray's face was one of disappointment mixed with confusion. It didn't make any sense. A lot of things about Gabe didn't make any sense.

"Thought you were smarter than that," he muttered, feeling a little cheated. "Even if you ain't a sorcerer, exactly. Honestly. The skeleton lets you get away with that? For shame."

A different idea occurred to Billy-Ray, and the frown slid easily into his trademark wicked grin. He took another few steps toward Gabe, casually acting as if he hadn't noticed the decrease in distance. "Got a question for ya. All the killin' that's been done in God's name. You have a reaction like that to all of 'em, too, or am I just special?" He debated hunkering down to get even closer, but decided that the strength in his legs wasn't quite restored enough for that. "I always wanted to go into the church at some point. Have my own congregation, teach 'em things every Sunday, but I always figured I'd just get bored one week and kill everyone. Easier to skip all that and tunnel into the Vatican to wreak some havoc, but I ain't doin' that until I get paid for it. Think anyone wants the Pope dead?"

Oh, he was lying, and as a mind-reader, Gabe would probably know that. But Billy-Ray was beginning to get the hang of this; it wasn't the lie that mattered, it was the murder. The thought of it, the images, the fantasies. That was what struck him so hard. Hopefully, tying it all up with something Gabe clearly cared about would make this even more fun.

And then Billy-Ray remembered that Pleasant had been wearing what looked like a priest's robes outside the Hibernian, and he blinked.

... They really were both insane, weren't they? Poor bastards.

~~

Father O'Reilly managed not to sigh, but just barely. Judgment, even wrongly perceived judgment, was not what Solomon needed at the moment. The sorcerer was certainly taking all of this very seriously, and Father O'Reilly knew that anything he would have to say was more than likely already running through Solomon's head.

Besides which, the gap in his knowledge regarding magic and sorcery was becoming more obvious to him with every passing moment. Who was he to pass judgment at all without the proper context? He had no idea what Solomon's 'Temple' had been like, or what sort of danger the man would need to be vigilant for. These weren't people who could be reasoned with - at least in a religious manner - or relied upon to see the error of their ways, any more than Solomon had been before meeting Saint Gabriel. If any sorcerer was currently Christian, Father O'Reilly would have liked to meet them.

He became abruptly aware that Solomon was sitting down again, finally meeting his gaze, and Father O'Reilly shook the thoughts away. He had no context. Perhaps it was time he searched for it.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to know more about this world," he began slowly. "How many of you are there?"
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-27 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
Billy-Ray raised an eyebrow. "See, I don't go 'round killin' in the Lord's name. I'm not even sure how to do that. S'that mean I'm doin' it right?"

He paused. "And I'm not overestimatin' anything," he added, disgruntled. "You ain't seen me at my best, when I don't have a hole in my gut. I could have tunneled to China and back. And I mean the country, not the library."

This was a good change of pace, though. Not shattered and crying on the point of passing out, but not ridiculously calm and stoic either. This was something Gabe got angry over, something that meant a lot to him, and Billy-Ray could use that. Needle him, provoke a response, just for the hell of it. Just for the fun. Maybe not right now, because there were much more important things to do (and he didn't even start thinking about what those things were), but definitely soon. It wasn't like they could ever release a mind-reader who just happened to be friends with Pleasant, after all. Billy-Ray couldn't keep censoring his own thoughts forever.

'Course, theoretically, once Scarab's plan worked, he wouldn't have to.

~~

Father O'Reilly took a sip of the tea that was placed in front of him, already feeling a little out of his depth after just the one explanation. And not even an explanation related to the question he'd asked. What Solomon was describing seemed absurd, impossible, and yet there was no choice but to believe every word.

"I don't understand." Father O'Reilly put the tea down, and looked at the fruitcake without taking any. "Even if I could have my name legally changed by next week, how would that help? Anyone who came only has to ask someone from the church to learn my... given name."

Don't think about it too hard, he advised himself silently. It was easy to say now, of course; but Father O'Reilly knew that he would be more than a little paranoid in the coming weeks, once he'd had time to think things over. And all of the courage the Lord could possibly grant him, which had never been in question before, suddenly didn't feel like it would be enough.
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-11-27 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Now that was a mighty interestin' sound. It took a moment, but then Billy-Ray laughed, suddenly put in mind of a large and very indignant cat. The growl almost didn't sound human, but that wasn't unsettling in the least. On anyone else, it might have been, but since Billy-Ray knew Gabe wasn't from this reality? For all he knew, everyone over there spoke whatever cats speak. The thought made him laugh again, absentmindedly clutching his sides in anticipation of the pain that began very shortly thereafter.

He vaguely wondered if he could get Gabe to make that sound again. Laughing physically hurt, but it was something that Billy-Ray needed a lot more of right now.

Especially with the unsubtle reminder of just how screwed he was. The surge of bitterness was enough to silence Billy-Ray as he watched Gabe straighten up and head over to the door, but he didn't try to shove the guy back. First of all, because that would definitely be unnecessary pain and bother he didn't want. And second of all, because they were in the absolute lowest reaches of the huge castle. It didn't really matter if the door was unlocked; Billy-Ray knew the way, but Gabe would probably get lost in the maze of corridors and dungeons down here for days.

Billy-Ray almost wanted that to happen. It would certainly give him a few more laughs while he searched for reception to be able to call Scarab. Would the same images from before disguise his knowledge of the castle's layout? He certainly hoped so.

"This won't be a problem forever," Billy-Ray couldn't quite stop himself from saying. "The Professor'd be able to fix it up, right? Good as new." There were plenty of things Kenspeckle Grouse was going to do for them by the time they were through, and while Billy-Ray didn't particularly mind his thoughts lingering on them, he did immediately decide to forget the means of coercion. Easy enough, when you'd lived as long as Billy-Ray had and knew how to banish unwelcome memories. "And then, my friend - then you'll have something to worry about. 'Till the master plan, that is. Then everyone will have something to worry about."

~~

Ah. Right. Solomon Wreath was a taken name. That did make quite a bit more sense. What didn't, however, was the whole concept, and Father O'Reilly's head was beginning to pound with the effort of understanding. "How does that work?" he finally asked. "How ingrained does the name need to be? Do I just have to think of one, or... do a certain number of people have to use it?"

Father O'Reilly was well aware of how ridiculous he probably sounded to anyone who knew the answers to those questions, but he didn't much care just then. The idea of anyone being able to control him through his name was not a pleasant one, and he was determined to learn all he could.