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
neutralcollector: (in action)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-01 01:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"If the chaperone is also a man, that rather defeats the purpose," China pointed out with equal amusement. She'd turned back to the statue by that point, but the people around her were interesting enough that she kept a keen ear on the rest of the conversation while she worked. This last statue was taking a good deal longer than the others for precisely that reason.

"Seriously?" Ravel echoed Vex with quite a bit less volume, but no less surprise. He seemed to struggle with whether or not to ask for a moment, and then eventually settled down with another smile. "Erskine Ravel, in case that wasn't already clear. What is it you're doing down here? Helping with the statues, or have my friends just decided to put you through your paces?"

"Dexter believes they're a little too heavy for him," China responded lightly, if somewhat pointedly. "Elder Wreath is a shadow of his former self. We needed the help."

Erskine shook his head, tsking his disappointment. "Dex, Dex, Dex. Should have been an Elemental. There are many less problems when you have four different ways of tackling them."
peacefullywreathed: (are the sounds in bloom with you?)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-01 01:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Who said she would be a man? I think Valkyrie. I can bribe Valkyrie. And I can tell when she's lying." The answer was bordering on absent, because he was still watching John Doe's soul. It wasn't, he realised, just the earth, or the pond, or the reeds, or even the sense of the sky. The man was all of them. Eminently unnoticeable. Just a single, every-day cog in the greater machine of the world around him. No wonder he'd chosen the name he had.

Only there was something else, too. Something ... odd. Not wrong, exactly, but odd. Unexpected. Solomon couldn't quite tell what it was.

"I like to think I've just been reduced to my most basic parts," he said lightly, "in which case the only thing I'm lacking is the grime and the clutter. I thought you'd appreciate the neatness."

"Everybody's an Elemental," Dexter shot back. "None of you have any imagination whatsoever. It's all wading into a fight shoving people with air and tossing fireballs willy-nilly. Am I right or am I right, John?"

"I'm, uh, an Elemental too, sir. But I'm not much good in a fight." The last was added on hastily, as if he was afraid they'd start throwing him into battles this very instant. "I'm a, er ..." His soul faded as if in the scene was cast into the twilight of embarrassment, and he mumbled the rest so quietly that only Solomon could have heard what he said. "I'm a janitor."

Well, that did explain why Tipstaff had sent him down. Everyone needed someone to do the cleaning, and an Elemental's skills were appropriate for that.

"Finally, a job description appropriate for you, Erskine," he said deadpan. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather janitorial duties once you get tired of ordering people around? It would suit your unique skillset."

The twilight darkened. Solomon couldn't see it, but he suspected Doe's face was red.
neutralcollector: (in the woods)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-01 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're appointing a fifteen-year-old as a chaperone?" China shook her head. "A fifteen-year-old I know well? Tell me, just how much of my reputation did you say you'd been told about?"

As enjoyable as Valkyrie's company was, she was still easily manipulated - as long as she wasn't aware of what you were doing. She had a typical teenage arrogance, believing herself to be a fully mature adult already when she was anything but. Of course, Valkyrie was a rather unique teenager in that when she complained about having the weight of the world on her shoulders, she actually did. But in a way, that just made it easier to manipulate her. She believed she had all the answers.

Erskine threw Solomon a look. Since he was still in a somewhat playful mood, it wasn't a very scathing look, but it was a look nonetheless. He held out his hand, condensed the moisture in the air around his fingers, and tossed it as if it were a full glass of water right into Solomon's face. "I think my resume," he responded evenly, "speaks for itself, Prophet. Besides, I'd probably just rearrange all the furniture in the areas you frequent every week." He glanced toward Dexter. "And I seem to recall you being grateful for Elementals back during the war. Respect your elders, Dex."

China smiled at the play on words, and finished her last circle with a flourish. "Almost done. Doe, if you could - "

She withdrew her hand in surprise when the statue lifted itself, hovered in the air for a moment, and then put itself down with the gentlest of landings. China turned to see Erskine with his hand still out, still grinning. "My magic gets stronger the more I use it, Dex. What does yours do, exactly?"
peacefullywreathed: (tread careful one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-01 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Unfortunately, people of the female persuasion whom I can trust are rather thin upon the ground right now." He smiled, tilting his head at her. "Unless, of course, I ask Gabe. Gabe can count in any circumstance." He knew for a fact, because among Dexter's unending chatter he'd mention something about Raphael turning into a woman the day before and half-formed plots to trick Gabe into doing the same to Skulduggery. That was leaving aside the fact that Gabe was spoken for, of course.

He caught the surge of magic, an odd little rainbow twist in the lifestream, but the only good thing that came out of his automatically lifting his arm to retaliate--and then, of course, being unable to--was that he could at least half shield his face with his arm. He mopped off the rest of the water with his sleeve. "You're very mature, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the Elder Elemental who once came tearing out of the woods screaming, 'Vengeous, there's Vengeous, where's your damn shield Dex he's going to kill me'?"

Solomon laughed outright as the banner snapped wide and he caught an image of the very memory. Even in context, it was amusing--provided you were the type to keep your sense of humour in the middle of a war-zone, which Solomon was.

"And my magic is far more versatile," Dexter went on. "So you can lift statues without touching them. So you can wash floors without a bucket. So what? I can do this." There was another little twist, this one just as smug as Ravel's, and Solomon was for a moment caught by the fact that he could see the small object's basic dimensions if not its details. Then Doe made a choking noise and Vex went on. "By the way, Sol, from all I've heard today I think you're going to need the sometime in the near future."

He tossed the conjuration at Solomon, and because he could see it--sort-of--Solomon reached out and caught it, and turned it over in his fingers. It hummed against his skin, an object that felt real but was made of magic, a small, square package with something thin but round inside.

... Of course it was. The ex-Necromancer glanced at Dex, torn between amusement and exasperation. "You're not subtle at all, are you? Are you sure you're not related to Gabe?"

He clenched his fist, willing his hand to touch the lifestream, and saw/felt the touch of golden light as the condom conjuration broke apart in his palm. He opened it again, letting the fragments of his magic wash it away where the others could see. "Besides, I wouldn't put it past one of your conjurations to vanish at the most inopportune time."

Dexter squawked. "Excuse me? Where's the trust? Some of my conjurations can keep going for days."

"Is that a confession, Dexter Vex?" Solomon asked, straight-faced. "Because if it is, one wonders why you even need condoms at all."

For a moment the Adept made a strangled noise, and then it turned into genuine, loud laughter. "Oh, I like him. Can we keep him, Erskine? Our very own pet Necromancer. He can even do tricks!"
neutralcollector: (resume photo)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-02 03:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Yes," Erskine agreed. "Like running into doors and making sarcastic remarks. Look, I told Corrival that my being an Elder was a bad idea. It's not my fault there was no one else for the job. You're stuck with me, immaturity and all."

China wouldn't have gotten a chance to comment even if she'd wanted to, for which she was quietly grateful. Honestly. With enemies like these, how on Earth did Mevolent ever lose the war? She focussed instead on her statue, finishing off a sigil carved shallowly into its chest and moving on to the last one planned for its forehead. Mevolent lost the war, she reasoned, for the same reason these two Elders would get so much done. They may not have taken themselves seriously, but it meant sacrifice came much more naturally to them. Sacrifice of time, of hobbies, of personal desires, of life. Because they took the important things seriously.

"Of course, you shouldn't have to put up with him." Ravel jabbed a thumb towards Vex, acting for all the world like he hadn't been laughing at their conversation just a few minutes ago. "What happened to your previous guide? Much more qualified. Much less equipped for sex at the drop of a hat. Knows far less about me, and my exploits. You didn't fire him, did you?"

China had the distinct impression that was exactly what happened. Or at the very least, that the man was transferred. "I'd rather Doe didn't strangle himself to death, if it's all the same to you," she murmured, eyeing the man doing his best to disappear into the corner. "He has the potential to be very useful."
peacefullywreathed: (and you seem to break like time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-02 11:00 am (UTC)(link)
"It was your horrible driving that ran me into the door," Solomon pointed out. He wasn't going to let that go. He was going to hold onto it for as long as possible because it amused him greatly to remind Ravel just how bad his driving truly was.

He smiled, a slow smile which he knew for a fact had always unnerved the acolytes. "I did, actually. He wasn't fit for work at such an esteemed establishment as the Sanctuary. And he didn't know nearly as much about you and your exploits. If all I have to do is make sure Skulduggery doesn't drop his hat, then I think the opportunity to blackmail you is worth the exchange."

"Skulduggery, drop his hat?" Dexter laughed. "You never went sailing with him, did you? He'd turn a frigate around to rescue his hat."

"He never told you about the time he destroyed Ghastly's mother's boat, did he?" Solomon asked, and grinned. "He ran it into the dock because the wind took his hat off. What were his words? Oh, yes. 'Quick, Solomon, before it gets blown to China!' Then, of course, he was too busy trying to save it to watch the tiller."

Dexter was already laughing, but there was an oddly incredulous note to his voice. "Since when have you known Skulduggery long enough to go sailing with him?"

"Since he saved my life when I was fifteen," was Solomon's simple reply before he glanced toward Doe. "Take a breath," he advised, "and don't fight it. You'll adjust. But I do agree; apparently I'm going to need someone to haul furniture around when the Reveller over there moves it on me, and I wouldn't dream of forcing Vex to damage his nails."
neutralcollector: (yes?)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-02 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"Blackmail me for what?" Erskine queried. "You're an Elder! Anything you could possibly ask me for, you either already have access to or can get on your own."

And then, he agreed with Dex, Skulduggery would never lose his hat. Erskine had never even seen it happen before, which he still hadn't quite been able to figure out. Even if Skulduggery was constantly manipulating the air around his skull, he'd never be able to keep it up throughout an entire battle. No one could do that. You needed to be able to breathe - which, granted, a skeleton didn't have to - and you needed to be able to focus on, well, the battle. Either Skulduggery's focus had become so narrow that he could manage two complicated things at once, or Ghastly was enchanting his hats for him.

Since Erskine didn't like the idea of anyone surpassing his skill in Elemental magic, he decided to believe Ghastly was just an exceptional tailor. Because he was. And it made the most sense.

He'd known there was some history between Skulduggery and Wreath, as well, so Erskine didn't question that part. It sounded exactly like Skulduggery, anyway, to rescue an impressionable teenager from certain death. It was the next part that left him blinking, and raising an eyebrow. "Vex has nails? You have nails? Since when?"

Behind Dexter, China had just stepped backwards from a statue that, like it had been animated for the last hour and was only just now realising it, turned its head smoothly towards the two Elders in the room. It held a sword, blade down, hands clasped around the handle just like every other angel statue above them. Erskine did his best to ignore it, and the way it almost seemed to observe the people around it with its expressionless face.

"Done," said China, a glitter of unmistakeable pride in her eyes. "The Sanctuary has its new defence force, Elder Wreath. I trust that they meet with your satisfaction?" There was a slight intonation on the last word, implying something that sailed completely over Erskine's head.
peacefullywreathed: (are the sounds in bloom with you?)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-02 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm sure I can come up with something." There was always something. If nothing else, Ravel was sure to have a great many things Solomon would enjoy holding over his head just for the fun of it.

"Since the war ended and I was able to get a manicure that actually lasted instead of dying a quick and sudden death under the grime, sweat and blood of battle?" Dexter asked, and Solomon heard a scrape of something on fabric which he realised, after a moment, was probably Dexter buffing his nails on his shirt. "If you're lucky I'll even give you the number of the woman who did them for me."

China finished before Erskine could answer, and Solomon's lips quirked as he pushed himself off the wall. "China dear, if there was anyone who could come close to satisfying me on the first round, it would be you. Angel, go and relieve the Cleaver at guard in front of my office."

Yes. Going.

Without a verbal word, but with the rasp of stone on stone, the angel stretched its wings and moved off up the stairwell. Solomon tilted his head at Doe. "Now, I have an important question, John. Can you drive?"

He even managed to say it without a trace of the bitterness that momentarily tightened his gut. Solomon couldn't, and wouldn't ever again. Ravel just couldn't, period. China could, but didn't like to. Dexter, Solomon imagined, could, but they were likely going to need two cars by the end of all this. Unless, of course, they rang Fletcher Renn, but that was just lazy.

For a brief moment Solomon missed his shadow-walking skill, and then consoled himself with remembering Erskine's curses every time he was ground into the side of the bumper-car rink.

"Yes, sir?" Doe answered cautiously.

"Good. We'll sign out two of the Sanctuary's cars, then. There's no need to be packed into one like sardines."
neutralcollector: (drawn)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-02 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"Only the first round?" China shook her head, disappointment written all over her features. "I shouldn't expect much in return, then?"

The quiet choking noise that came from somewhere in Ravel's direction was quickly making this whole side trip worthwhile. China hid a short smile, and looked quickly over the remaining stone angels to take note of how she might have to change her original formula in the future. Not by all that much, fortunately. In the end, she might even choose to give herself more work to make the whole endeavour seem like more of a challenge. Making them able to fly was the obvious one; making them indestructible a close second. Elementals, when they used the Earth power, were immune even to the magic of the Cleavers' scythes. There had to be some way to harness that in the Host.

And while those were good ideas that needed to be pondered, China knew why she was really distracting herself. They were on their way to go rescue Bliss now. While she still couldn't sort out her own feelings over that, she preferred not to dwell on it as much as possible.

At least she wouldn't have to drive, assuming Vex could. If only she could change the Host to be able to drive... a little too risky, alas. "Someone knows where this mirror maze is, then?" she asked. "Has anyone been inside it?"
peacefullywreathed: (tread careful one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-03 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah." Solomon threw a mischievous smile in her direction, one that made him look much younger and left a hint of a gleam in his sightless eyes. "I never said how long the first round would last, though, did I?"

"What have I begun?" Dexter asked rhetorically. "Should we leave the two of you alone, or would we run the risk of the Sanctuary shattering under the force of your combined egos?"

"I'll leave that up to your imagination, Vex," was Solomon's only answer as he took out his phone and rang Corrival, leaving it on speakerphone. "The first squad of angels are finished," he said without preamble. "We're headed to the maze now. The Reveller has decided he's bored and wants to come with; we'll be taking a couple of the cars. And John Doe."

There was a brief pause, and then Corrival asked in the amused tone of someone who knew he was walking into some kind of joke, "Who is John Doe?"

"That," Solomon said with a grin, "is for you to find out."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're not more trouble than you're worth, Wreath. Make it up to me by bringing back a gift. Like maybe the newspaper I didn't get a chance to read this morning."

"If Ravel doesn't crash us, I'll see what I can do." He disconnected the call, stowed the phone and courteously held his arm out toward China. "Shall we go?"

"Yessir, yes'm!" The banner snapped with amusement. "And I do. Ghastly and I visited it yesterday, on a dog-hunt. Mirror-mazes are a lot more fun when you're drunk."
neutralcollector: (resume photo)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
"Are they?" asked Erskine, mouth twisted into an uncertain smile. "I'd have thought the headaches would be horrendous. How did you come into work this morning?" He hesitated, glanced at Doe, and his expression flattened. "And if you're about to tell me God gave you a hangover cure, I'll drive you into a door this time."

Ahead of them, China had accepted Solomon's arm with a gracious smile, and they were the first ones up the stairs to the main level. China, to Erskine's considerable surprise, moved slowly and with great care, guiding Wreath along each step with a confidence that said she did this sort of thing every day. In hindsight, maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising; China was nothing if not courteous. He'd just never really thought of her as courteously helpful before.

She spoke to Dex as they walked, throwing the words gracefully back over her shoulder. "How big is it? Anything you can tell me of the layout would be helpful."

Erskine, meanwhile, fell into step beside Doe. "I wasn't going to ask," he assured the man, "but why 'John Doe?' It's bothering me."
vexingshieldbearer: (if everyone loved)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-04-03 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
"Nope," Dexter said cheerfully, bounding up the stairs after Solomon and China, "but Rafe did. And his tastes better than Corrival's, too." He said it almost distractedly, because he was busy eyeing the pair in front of them. They looked, he had to admit, good together. Which wasn't surprising, given they were both born into noble families, with the same sort of unconscious confidence and grace he himself had never been able to master. It still made the Adept grin to himself and wonder who he could rope into laying down a little wager.

"Eh, it's about ..." He measured with his hands, tilting his head as he tried to visualise. "About a block large. I can't tell you much about the layout except that it changed on a dime. Maybe you can make it freeze or something."

John Doe trailed behind them all, at a complete loss. Technically speaking, he did still have some rooms to mop; in fact, Tipstaff had caught him halfway through one and told him he was needed urgently downstairs, on Elder's orders. Part of him said he should mention this and return to work.

The rest of him didn't want to, and not just because it was an Elder's order. Or ... invitation? The fact of the matter was that his routine had been gloriously unsettled. These new Elders were intimidating, and apparently powerful, and completely incomprehensible--and funny. Compelling. John said nothing, because part of him wanted to know what was happening next. He wasn't unaware that he was probably the only one out of their little circle of friends that would see whatever this great secret was.

But he wasn't one of them. He was just a janitor, and these ... these were the greats. The leaders, the heroes of the war John was too young to remember. So he jumped when Elder Ravel dropped back beside him.

"Why Erskine Ravel?" he asked without thinking, a semi-panicked dodge, and then cringed. "I mean, uh ..."
neutralcollector: (forest path)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
Erskine waved a hand dismissively. He wasn't dismissive of Doe, or even of the janitor's question, but more generally dismissive of the answer to that question. "Mine's really not that interesting. Erskine was a Scottish surname at the time I'd always liked, and it sounded a bit like my given name. I was raised a weaver; 'unravel' was one of the words I used constantly, and I decided I'd much rather tangle things up than pull them apart." Tangling things up in order to fix them, or to create something useful. Like a length of thread. It was much easier, and a lot more fun, than trying to fix things by untangling them.

There was more to it, of course. There always was. And like any sorcerer who took their taken name seriously, even Erskine himself didn't realise half of the real meaning behind it until later. A name clicked into place when it felt right. You didn't need to know exactly why it was right.

"The thing is," he continued, a little more slowly now, "there are people who choose ridiculous names in order to seem cool. I get that. You're not one of those people. Then there are the ones who choose names on a whim because they can't really be bothered. You don't strike me as the type. You're quiet. You probably think things through a lot. So why John Doe?"

He was genuinely interested. And possibly a tad worried. Being saddled with an unwanted name for the rest of your life was probably a very terrible thing, but Erskine had the sneaking suspicion Doe chose his deliberately.

"Will Rafe be there, then?" China asked Dex as their little group reached the top of the stairs. "If he created it, I'd like to know some specific details before we start."
vexingshieldbearer: (and swallowed their pride)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-04-03 08:57 am (UTC)(link)
"No idea," Dex said with a shrug, leaping up the last few steps and wavering on the edge. "But it's not like it'll be hard for him to come join us if we need him, is it? And I think M--his nephew had a hand in it too." He grinned. "You've better hope he's not there, Sol, or you might have to duel for China's hand."

"God forbid I be forced to fight such an obviously one-sided battle," Solomon said dryly, pausing for a moment to orient himself in the halls, resting one hand on the wall.

John watched them all for a moment, trying to get control of his thoughts. The thing was ... the thing was that he already knew these people. Sort-of. He hadn't heard of Solomon Wreath before he became Elder, but a Necromancer giving up their magic? No one had ever done that before. John had heard some of the other guys making bets on how long he'd last.

He'd heard of China Sorrows. Everyone had, because of her reputation. But he'd very definitely heard of Erskine Ravel and Dexter Vex, and the Dead Men in general. He heard of them his whole life, in fact, and this ... was nothing like he'd imagined meeting them would be. He was a janitor.

He was a janitor, and Erskine Ravel had been a weaver. That hadn't been in the stories he'd heard. They'd never gone into who the Dead Men had been when they were young--just the heroes they'd been in the war.

So John found he didn't mind explaining. He just wasn't sure how.

"I've heard of you, sir," he said finally without looking across. "I've heard of all of you. My mother--she fought in the war. Said the proudest years of her life were when she was attached as support to your unit. Never stopped talking about you when I was growing up. Still doesn't, really. About how you're all heroes."

He hesitated just a moment, looking down, hunching his shoulders. If he hadn't been walking he might have scuffed his feet. "About how I could be a hero if I just put my mind to it. The thing is--the thing is, sir, I don't want to be a hero. I just want to earn my way and have a good life. Heroes have to deal with the world falling apart, and they have to fix it. The most I have to deal with is some arse ordering me around because he forgets someone has to do the menial jobs."

He shrugged uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his pockets and aware of his burning face, and tried to pretend he hadn't just told one of his mother's personal idols something he couldn't tell her himself. "It's less pressure."
neutralcollector: (librarian)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 11:57 am (UTC)(link)
Erskine had said it before, and he'd likely say it again - it was interesting talking to the overlooked, because they usually saw more than they let on, and they usually got things right. Erskine could never become one of the overlooked himself, partly because he'd grow bored within an hour, but he had the utmost respect for those who did.

He didn't say it now, because there was no real need to. He just nodded with a knowing smile. "That takes a strength of character not many people have. I don't," he admitted freely. "Look at me. Roped into being an Elder, of all things. But that doesn't mean you're not an extraordinary person. Heroes aren't all they're cracked up to be." Just look at Skulduggery, he added silently, but then shook the thought away. Now wasn't the time. "Who was your mother?"

"Now, now." China paused beside Solomon, giving him the chance to rest. "I'm sure Merlin would have a chance against you. Surely Skulduggery's going to be there, too? I can't imagine him missing this."
peacefullywreathed: (like weights strapped around my feet)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-03 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"There's no need for the hollow flattery, China," Solomon said mildly, finding his place amidst the currents within the Sanctuary's walls and following her guidance down the corridor. "I'm already yours, after all. And I haven't called him. I hardly think we need the Prime Detective hovering over our shoulders all the time."

It didn't really involve him, after all. This was a Sanctuary initiative, furthered by the Council of Elders. It wasn't Skulduggery who created the Cleavers. It wasn't Skulduggery who would have to put them back together. And in the event Bliss was insane and attacked for some reason, between them all they should be able to hold him off long enough to break the final reflection.

He could hear the conversation behind him. He pretended not to.

"I, uh--" John stumbled over his words. "Th- thank you? I don't really need to be extraordinary. Extraordinary people get burdened with ... expectations. And her name's Saba. Saba Onrunner. She was a shapeshifter. She served as a scout."
neutralcollector: (blue eyes)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 02:19 pm (UTC)(link)
"Onrunner?" Erskine grinned. "I remember the name. Don't think we were ever introduced, though. Tell her we still appreciate everything support ever did for us. A lot more of us would have died if it wasn't for people like her."

He nearly asked for her number, but decided that might not quite be appropriate. Still, it was nice to be thought of as a hero by someone who actually knew what many of the Dead Men had been forced to do during the war. Erskine didn't know if he'd have made it through without the support of his brothers-in-arms; not just the war itself, but some of the backlash that occurred after the war was over. He missed Larrikin and Hopeless so much that it was a physical ache sometimes.

If Doe didn't want to be extraordinary, or get thrust into extraordinary circumstances, he'd picked the wrong day to show up to work. Not that Erskine was going to give him a choice now - they needed the second driver, for one thing. And Doe certainly didn't seem opposed to anything going on during the drive to the outskirts of Dublin, which was spent partly in silence and partly in conversation initiated by Erskine's eager questions. Erskine briefly wondered if he was allowed to hire a personal assistant.

"They didn't really bother being inconspicuous, did they?" he asked as their car pulled up onto a grassy knoll beside a giant glass building that definitely wouldn't have been there before. It was far enough out of the way that Erskine wasn't too worried, but still. What if Doe overheard something? He wouldn't put it past Rafe to have stopped caring who, in this universe, got let in on the secret.

"Oh, one last question." Erskine had gotten out of the car by then, but he turned to lean on the hood as he spoke. "What are your feelings about God?"

It would be useful to know. For once, Erskine was determined to make sure Doe stayed ignorant, just like Doe himself would have wanted had he known the truth.
peacefullywreathed: (of life so incomplete)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-03 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
"I will, sir." In spite of himself, in spite of everything, John found himself smiling all the way to the garage and as they signed out the cars. He hadn't expected Elder Ravel to remember his mother's name.

There were a lot of things John hadn't expected to happen today, actually. Elder Erskine Ravel actually being curious enough to initiate conversation on his own about John's daily life was very definitely at the bottom of the list. The glow of pride in his mother's work was enough to see him through his reserve at that fact. It wasn't that he'd never been proud of his mother--it was just that it was hard not to take her stories of the war for granted when she told them so often about one group in particular.

"I wouldn't know, sir." He'd heard of that American detective the Grand Mage had temporarily hired, and knew the Elders had been talking about him sometimes. About his brother. John had also thought he heard China Sorrows mention 'Merlin', but then dismissed it as a trick of his hearing. Or maybe someone very, very arrogant.

If this Rafe was the one who'd build this hall with magic, though, he must be powerful. For a moment John looked up at it, in awe, as the others came nearer to them. That question was almost the last thing he expected, and he blinked at Elder Ravel for a moment, at a loss. What kind of a question was that?

"My father was a mortal, sir," he said uncertainly, "and he believed. I lived with him. Mother liked travelling too much to settle down. He used to read me stories from the Bible, sir. I always enjoyed them, if that's what you mean."

"You're not subtle either, Reveller," Elder Wreath said to his colleague, head tilted and sightless gaze nevertheless looking almost directly at the Elemental. "How far into the maze do we need to be, China?"
neutralcollector: (yes?)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Stop with the 'sir' stuff," Erskine told Doe with a furrow of his brow. "We're friends, you and I. Wouldn't you say we're friends? I'd say we're friends."

They were definitely going to have to tread carefully, though. It sounded like Doe didn't quite believe himself, probably due to the existence of magic and his being able to wield it, but he wasn't far off. Privately, Erskine thought about dialing Scrutinous when this was over and asking if he'd racked up any favours. Because while the two Elders and China were perfectly capable of watching their step, Rafe either didn't have the experience to do so, or he just didn't care.

Please let Merlin be here, Erskine pleaded - practically prayed.

He resisted the urge to point out that Solomon wasn't being too careful with his own words either, since that would almost certainly be a tip-off. If Wreath's words were dangerous, though, China was an easy and pleasant distraction less than a moment later. "We should be in the center. A nice open space in the middle, one that all the paths lead to."

When she'd created the Cleavers, they'd used a labyrinth of mirrors, rather than a maze. Different in that labyrinths only had one long and winding path to the end, whereas mazes were intended to confuse. The difference wouldn't mean much in this instance, however, and China even preferred the maze this time around. This wasn't simply reflecting one man many times outward; this was reflecting several beings back inward towards the one prime mirror. Better to have several different paths. "Where are the Cleavers?"
peacefullywreathed: (and you seem to break like time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-03 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"Er--" John stared. Elder Erskine Ravel wanted him to stop being formal. And--why not? He wondered abruptly. Hadn't he said he didn't want to be a hero? Hadn't Ravel approved of that idea? Why couldn't the heroes want to be normal sometimes?

"Okay ... Erskine?" he said tentatively, too off-balanced by the suggestion and the idea that a Dead Man might consider him a friend to notice anything was off about Wreath's comment.

"They're on the other side of the hall," Solomon said, and his mouth twitched. "Can't you hear them?"

Everyone fell silent. At first John couldn't hear anything but the breeze, but then, distantly, he heard a deep voice bellowing, "About face! March! Left, right, left, right, left--"

Dexter Vex let out a long, suspiciously amused snort, and Elder Wreath grinned as he turned to move around the hall. Half in a daze, John followed, and when they reached the other side they found the rest of the meadow and the Cleavers in their ranks, standing at attention and staring with a vague air of disapproving incredulity at the dark-skinned man standing with his hands on his hips in front of them.

The man turned and shrugged, hands upraised. "I think they're broke," he drawled in a vaguely American accent. "They won't do anythin' I say. S'a good thing you're makin' replacements."

"Apparently," Elder Wreath said mildly. "We need a centre room. I don't suppose you could make us one?"

"Oh, sure," said the man with an easy shrug. "My nephew keyed in a few combinations when he built the thing; I can show 'em to you if that makes thing easier. Y'know how he is with complicated constructs like this, the show-off. Hey, man, s'up?"

He waved at John. John hunched his shoulders, half-hiding behind the others, and waved uncertainly back.
neutralcollector: (resume photo)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2013-04-03 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"That's it." Erskine grinned at Doe. "You'll get the hang of it." Corrival; now, Corrival was a sir. And also old. Erskine didn't particularly like feeling old, especially when he wasn't.

The noise coming from around the back of the building was worrying, but Erskine had to admit, Rafe wasn't that bad so far. Comparatively. At least he used 'my nephew' instead of Merlin, which took a moment or two for Erskine to wrap his head around, but Doe wouldn't be any the wiser.

If the Cleavers were all supposed to be reflections of Bliss... Erskine wondered if the army in front of him might have paid more attention to Rafe, if they knew he was actually an Archangel. Then again, would Bliss? Probably not. And the reflections weren't supposed to have any thoughts or abilities that their original wouldn't have. Theoretically, anyway, and there was another worry. If any of the Cleavers had gained true sentience somehow and figured out just what was going to happen, wouldn't they fight back? Wasn't this technically like killing them?

The thought made Erskine uneasy, so he banished it. "John, this is Rafe. He's helped us immeasurably since he arrived in the country. Rafe, John Doe. One of my new underlings. Practically chomping at the bit, as you can see. And you remember Dexter, of course."
comedianhealer: (condo on the milky way)

[personal profile] comedianhealer 2013-04-04 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Roped a poor wild one in, didja?" Rafe asked with a grin. "Not used to the halter? Don't break his spirit now." He clapped a hand to John's back, the sort that looked strong but was oddly warm because of the way Rafe left his hand there as he turned to Dexter, eyes wide with faux innocence.

"No? Who's this? Someone I oughta be rememberin'?"

"Now that's just cruel," Dexter grumbled. "It's a blow to a man's ego, that's what it is. I think I should demand compensation."

"Get in line, pretty-boy," Rafe shot back. "Everybody asks for compensation. You'da think the world owed y'all somethin'."

He didn't sound like he was from the American Midwest, like the cowboy John had once heard talking, but if this was Rafe then he had to be Gabe's brother. Which explained why he was here, if they were helping out the Detective. John stayed quiet, not entirely sure what to do with this new scenario or the teasing, and yet watching with something close to fascination.

"Of course it does," Dexter retorted. "I'm young and handsome. It automatically means I get owed things."

Rafe eyed Dexter critically. "Too pasty," he decided. "I'm handsomer. Right!" He spun on his heel as Dexter spluttered, and pointed at the hall. "Controls're right this way, by the door."

"What door?" John asked uncertainly, and Rafe grinned at him over his shoulder.

"Exactly. Pick a spot, any spot, and let's have some fun."
skeletonenigma: (adjustingthehat)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-04 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
Someone who very much hadn't been having any fun lately, despite a recent visit from the persistent American cowboy and his brother, was Myron Stray.

He'd been taken straight to the healers after what happened at the Sanctuary, and given the option to have his eardrums repaired. Myron refused. For one thing, he may not have been the nicest person around - and he'd be the first to admit that - but he had no desire to be anyone's puppet ever again. He was never going to be controlled into killing a whole group of people ever again.

But for another and more selfish reason, he was fairly sure the Sanctuary would lock him up if he chose to make himself vulnerable to commands again.

Life as a permanently deaf person. It was interesting, to say the least. His life didn't change all that much, because Myron never had very many friends, and those he did have disappeared after what he'd nearly done to the Sanctuary. Not that he blamed them. Most of those so-called 'friends' were just people offering their sympathies, anyway. It was difficult to be sympathetic to someone who had just tried to commit mass murder.

He was also less careful about who came to visit him these days, simply because no one did. There wasn't any point anymore. You couldn't obey commands if you couldn't even hear them. And Myron was constantly reminded of that fact, because even through the silence he could still feel the pain of bursting his own eardrums. A singular pain, like nothing he'd ever felt before, or wanted to feel again. He had nightmares about that pain. Getting a good night's sleep was becoming increasingly difficult, especially since he no longer had a single thing left to wake up to.

Myron had never felt lonely before. But now he was starting to wonder whether or not he'd always been lonely, and was only just now feeling it because it had grown so deep over the last few days.

Whatever the reason, and whatever he was feeling, Myron had simply sat down in front of the TV for hours on end, subtitles on and reveling in the never-ending silence. That... changed, after the brothers visited. Myron still had no idea why they thought visiting him was a good idea, but they did anyway, and it seemed to be because they genuinely wanted to know if he was alright. Myron didn't trust that. He was on edge and alert the entire time they were in the house, and still couldn't quite believe that neither of them had tried to kill him.

More than that, after they answered some of his more pressing questions and left again, something changed. Myron tried sitting in front of the TV, and grew restless after only a few minutes. Eventually he went for a walk, and that cleared his head enough for him to return home and dive straight into cleaning up the living room.

He wasn't sure why. It just felt like something to do. The mess was starting to annoy him. The really interesting thing was, once the room had been scrubbed clean, it felt like an entire weight had somehow been lifted off Myron's back.

That was the main reason he noticed Pleasant, that cowboy, and a teenager who could only be Valkyrie Cain coming up the walk, and didn't immediately start dreading the encounter. He still had a lot of questions, apart from anything else. He pulled open the door before anyone could knock, nodded politely towards Pleasant, and asked Gabe the first question that came to mind. "What happened to your hat?"

The words were a little louder than they had to be, a fact which Myron was completely unaware of.
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-04 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
Ah, right. Sign language. Myron's face fell into a scowl. He barely remembered half of what Gabe tried to teach him - though he did read a bit on his own later. Enough to understand that sign language was usually pretty self-explanatory, anyway. He knew what 'friend' meant, because for some reason that was the first word he'd been taught, and from there it was easy to decode the answer.

"Pity," he muttered. "That was a nice hat."

The skeleton's head tilted to the side, but his jaw didn't start moving. With him here, Myron felt a lot more comfortable than when it was just Gabe and his brother - not because Pleasant inspired that sort of comfort, but because Myron knew what brought Pleasant here. He knew what to expect from this conversation. He was back on familiar ground, and that was a good feeling.

Whatever Gabe signed next, Myron didn't know off the top of his head, but he could guess at what it was. Particularly if the ambidextrous sorcerer's previous priorities were any indication. He shrugged as he stepped back inside, pushing the door wide to let them through. "Been better. Most days are still a struggle. You're after Marr, aren't you?"

The last bit he directed towards the detective, and Pleasant hesitated before nodding and stepping over the threshold. He didn't try to sign anything, and he didn't try to talk. Myron was more grateful for that than he let on. "Anyone want a drink? Don't really have much at the moment, but... well, I guess there's always water."