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
joyrodecomets: (cunningly truthful)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-17 12:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not as much as he used to be," Micah admitted with a sad smile. "Sometimes I miss how open he used to be. His brother's actions--they changed a lot of things. But he's still like that. He'd still much rather give someone a hug than be sharp with them. It's just that now he knows it doesn't always work."

Especially not with certain of his brothers. They hadn't always fought, although on the elder's side, he'd always been ... jealous of the younger.

Micah glanced over, and although He looked that age where telling actual age was impossible, there was something especially timeless in His eyes now. "What makes you think there hasn't been one? A warning? A hint? A time-frame?"
skeletonenigma: (smug)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-17 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Erskine surprised himself with a short thread of anger. It probably shouldn't have been surprising, because being angry at someone who was renowned for their evil and manipulative ways was perfectly normal, and sort of expected. It was just that the anger felt different, now. More personal. Because until now, Lucifer hadn't been any more than a horned face shrouded in shadow; now, he was the reason that a younger brother Erskine knew and respected was hardened to the harsh realities of life. Lost his innocence, in as much as an angel could.

Weird, how that was what made it personal.

Erskine rolled his eyes before he could quite check himself, and then decided he didn't really care. "The warning, I'll concede. Fine. We have that now. And..." He sighed. "I guess the whole point of a hint is that you don't really know it's a hint, but come on. None of us know anything about a time frame. Skulduggery didn't know."

Some small part of Erskine was staring at him in slowly increasing horror the longer he kept on talking, and it reeled at what the Elder was going to say next; Erskine ignored it. This was important. Assuming their reality even had a version of hell, since they apparently didn't have the Devil. "Skulduggery isn't... damned, is he?"
joyrodecomets: (the love you bear me is truly perfected)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-17 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"You should probably take another look at your calendar," Micah observed. "That's the best way to tell timeframes, really. It can be hard finding a good one nowadays, I'll grant you, but if you find one, stick with it."

There was a small smile on his lips and around his eyes as he looked at Erskine. It hardly seemed as if he was paying any attention to the traffic at all anymore, but they still moved smoothly through it. "No," he said simply, and then looked back to the road. "But you already knew that."
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-17 10:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"My calendar?" Erskine was genuinely confused, but he was pretty sure he'd just been handed a hint, and he had absolutely no clue what to make of it. Hence the note of disbelief in his voice, a tone that asked all on its own 'You're kidding, right?'

He was going to have to ask Gabe and Rafe later. Hints weren't hints if they were easy to figure out, and Erskine had the funny feeling Micah wasn't going to explain himself. Or, well. Himself. Capital H. Wasn't that how it was supposed to go?

Upon reflection, Erskine decided he really preferred the charade. Bad enough when he dropped it, even though he couldn't really care less at the moment. But when Micah did... he could feel his whole body slowly seizing up in the seat, and before he knew it, he was asking much too simple a question. "Why not?"

The answer was obvious. Erskine still wanted to hear it from Micah.
joyrodecomets: (i couldn't be happier about what you are)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-17 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Note of disbelief or not, Micah didn't seem to notice it in the least. Or that Erskine said anything at all, really. He was looking through the car-window, not in a way that meant he was ignoring Erskine, but more as if to give Erskine some much-needed space.

"Because," Micah said in a tone of gentle reflection, almost as if he was quoting something said to someone else, not all that long ago, "he's sorry."

The car pulled up along the docks and came to a smooth and silent halt. Micah turned off the engine and turned to Erskine with that little smile lurking around his mouth. "We're here. Want some fresh air? I think I do."

So saying, he opened the door and stepped out with a stretch.
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-17 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
"Because - " Erskine didn't try to step out of the car just yet, because he was still sitting numbly and still trying to work out what just happened. "Because he's sorry?"

He wasn't angry. That was the weird thing. He felt like he should have been, because things were not that simple, they never had been, Skulduggery had murdered people, and if it was anyone else...

But it wasn't anyone else. And it wasn't that simple. Not really. Solomon was currently going through hell to try and get to where Skulduggery was, but Skulduggery had been through hell too. Just because none of the Dead Men realised it at the time didn't mean it didn't happen. Skulduggery was sorry, and that was why he worked so hard to make up for it. He was still falling short, but he knew that, and he'd never actually get anywhere if he didn't have people to help him out.

Erskine forced himself up and out of the cab, let any other thoughts sail by him, and breathed in the fresh harbour air. "I'm not paying for this, am I?"
joyrodecomets: (my patience doesn't extend past infinity)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-17 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Like Hell you're not," Micah retorted, turning around. "I've got mouths to feed, y'know." He pointed at the taxi's fare-counter. "Of course, we're not really going anywhere at the moment, and we haven't really got you to your destination, unless you changed your mind about going all the way home."

He rested his forearms on the top of the taxi. "So I've told you all about my family, now. Wanna tell me more about yours? I figure we've known each other for long enough to start getting personal." He shrugged. "Or we could just talk about the fishing."
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-18 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Mouths to feed? Erskine wanted to know. Where exactly does the money go? Where has every single penny I've ever given you as a tip gone?

But he knew what the answer likely was. The principle of the thing. He wasn't paying God, he was paying Micah. Micah had mouths to feed. Fair enough.

Erskine shrugged lightly. "I might just walk home, actually, if that's alright."

But not yet. Not yet. Right now, they were standing at the docks, and the breeze felt nice against Erskine's face, and he was talking with a friend he'd known for a little over a year. That was all he really wanted to do for the rest of the day. "You have always liked fishing," he agreed with a chuckle, then shrugged again. "One's lied to us for years, one's a boxing tailor, one runs a Hotel and has breathtaking anger management issues, and one's spent the entire last century pretending to be someone else. Oh, and two are dead. Not much to tell, really."
joyrodecomets: (cunningly truthful)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-18 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
"If that's what you like. And hey, what can I say?" Micah grinned unrepentantly. "There isn't much more soothing than sitting on a dock with a rod in your hands. No cares in the world, no worries. You don't even have to wonder if you're going to catch any fish."

At Erskine's downplay Micah just laughed. "You've got an interesting sense of what's interesting, Erskine. Then again, you always have." He pointed a finger at the sorcerer. "Tell you what. I enjoy stories, so you tell me about one of them every time I pick you up, until we get through all of them. We can even take each one over a few trips, if you like. I'm easy, and there's no rush."

He dropped his hand, still smiling. "So, who're you going to start with?"
skeletonenigma: (journalwriting)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-18 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
Erskine blinked. "You're going to keep picking me up?"

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. An enigmatic disappearance, maybe? He'd been resigning himself to the loss of his friend Micah after today. In retrospect, that didn't make much sense, but wasn't that the sort of thing divine beings did? Sorcerers usually made themselves scarce when mortals discovered some element of the truth, after all.

But he knew who he wanted to start with. "The first time I ever heard Skulduggery laugh," he said, "was after those five years. Dexter said something stupid. He laughed. Struck us all speechless, because a skeleton laughing is deeply unsettling, let me tell you."
joyrodecomets: (you doubtin' me?)

[personal profile] joyrodecomets 2013-04-18 03:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, sure, why wouldn't I?" Micah said with an easy shrug. "You're fun to talk to. And a lot more amiable than a lot of fares."

He resettled his position against the car, resting his chin on his arms and watching Erskine with a steady gaze. He chuckled. "I can imagine that," he said. "What was it he was laughing at?"

'Easy' seemed to be the theme of the evening. Micah didn't drop his pretence again that night, but he kept Erskine talking, encouraging and nudging and asking little questions just like any friend who was curious about what was going on. Before long the sky had darkened, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead.

Eventually the conversation ran down. Eventually, in the wake of the comfortable silence, Erskine decided to go home, and Micah said he needed to go find more paying fares, and they parted ways.

If Erskine turned to look back around the corner after passing it, he'd see no trace of taxi or Micah at all.
skeletonenigma: (thinking)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-18 01:04 pm (UTC)(link)
The walk home was by far one of the strangest times in Erskine's life - even taking into account the past few hours. Because now he could think again. Now, all of the relevant questions were running on loop through his head, as well as some completely irrelevant ones. The taxi, for example. How did it exist? He wished he'd had the presence of mind to get the licence plate number, although he suspected it wouldn't have gotten him anywhere. And would he want to know, anyway? Probably not. This was one of those times where knowing the truth would ruin the magic.

Well, one thing was for sure. Erskine pretty much had a guaranteed ride home, no matter where he was. The thought made him grin.

It took over three hours to get home, after which Erskine was mentally and physically exhausted. He fell into bed without ritual or fanfare, slept a blissfully dreamless sleep, and didn't wake up again until it was almost lunchtime the next day. The very first thing he did, when he looked at the clock, was fumble for his mobile and call Skulduggery.

"I don't know where you are," he said the instant he heard the click of his call being answered, "and I don't know what you're doing, but chances are, Gabe's with you. If the pair of you could meet me at the Sanctuary, please, that would be great. Bring Rafe. And possibly Merlin."

"Erskine?" Skulduggery's surprised tone of voice deepened a moment later. "Did you just wake up?"

"Absolutely not. I've been working hard all morning. Will you come to the Sanctuary, please?"

"We're a little busy at the moment."

"Skulduggery, unless you are fighting the Devil himself, it can wait."

"Erskine, unless you want Gabe to strain himself further, it's going to take us at least an hour just to get back to my Bentley."

"At least an hour?" Erskine asked incredulously. "Where are - hang on. What's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"That one, there. In the background. What is that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Are those seagulls?"

"No."

"Are you guys down at the beach again?"

"No."

Erskine hesitated. Did he want to know? No, probably not. He just mentally added a couple of hours to their arrival time, and nodded to himself. "Just... get there as soon as you can."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Don't want to?" Erskine spluttered, sure he'd heard wrong.

"Exactly. It would take far too long, and I doubt anyone there's going to be happy to see me. I'm mildly surprised you're even calling me."

"Why wouldn't I - " Erskine cut himself off with a low curse. Right. Because the very last thing he said to Skulduggery before taking off yesterday was that he could finally see the Vile resemblance. Damn it.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but then cut himself off again before the first word even reached his vocal cords. No. He wasn't sorry. He'd meant every word then, and he stood by them even now. He wasn't going to apologise for the truth. He would, however, apologise for the phrasing of it, once they weren't busy trying to figure out how to stop the Devil. "Don't make me pull rank on you, Skulduggery."

"Rank? You're going to order me back to the Sanctuary?"

"If I have to." Erskine rolled off the bed and stumbled over to his wardrobe. "Look, it concerns Lucifer. I may have a clue about exactly when he'll show up, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is, and I'm hoping the four of you might be able to help."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, but if it was followed by anything other than the positive, Erskine would have been seriously questioning his friend's mental health. Fortunately, it was, and less than half an hour after Erskine hung up, he was back in the Sanctuary foyer, striding purposefully towards the Grand Mage's office.

There was a new sign on the door. It read 'Beware of Eels.'

Erskine stifled a laugh as he pushed the door open with a flourish. "Good morning! Yes, I know, I'm late, but I have been working. Sort of. I have news!"
peacefullywreathed: (cos you seem like an orchard of mines)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-18 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Where the Hell have you been?!" Corrival barked the very instant Erskine walked in the door, before he'd even really finished his sentence. Solomon covered his eyes and sighed, half with relief and half just in the hope that it would relieve some of the pressure in his temples.

Ghastly had talked him down to calm. No one had done the same for Corrival. As controlled as he was on the outside, the man's soul was snapping far worse than it had ever threatened during the election. Several times, Solomon could almost feel teeth when the eels lashed out at him. Dexter was standing, shoulders hunched, behind his chair, staying very carefully out of Corrival's way. He'd gotten the worst of it.

Which was why they were both going to make very sure that no one ever found out who had put the sign outside Corrival's office. He'd already ripped it down twice, but both Solomon and Dexter felt the warning was only polite for everyone else, and so far it had seemed to work. (That, or Tipstaff had, well, tipped everyone off.)

The only good thing about Ravel's coming in late was that, apparently, he'd had some therapy himself. His soul was practically gleeful.

"Please tell me this news comes with food," he said. "I haven't eaten all day, because someone wasn't answering his phone and I haven't had a chance to leave the Sanctuary yet. Which means my minion there--" He waved behind him toward Dexter. "--hasn't left either." Though they had managed to finish nearly all the remaining interviews.

"When," Corrival said in a low voice, "you're all quite done acting the fools, would you mind if we got some work done around here?"

All of the eels were turned toward them and snapping. Some of them actually shot forward, over the desk, and latched themselves onto Solomon's arm. He shook them off impatiently. In spite of his words, his tone had been edged with frustration.

"Actually, yes," he said, and flicked at a particularly persistent eel with a flash of quite deliberately gold light that made it recoil. "Corrival, if you don't take a breath and calm down, I'm going to have Ravel lock the door while I perform some kind of exorcism."

"You'll what." It was said flatly and without any humour at all.

"Or I'll just calm you down directly," Solomon said. "And by directly I mean with direct application to the soul."

"You can't do that."

"I can and I will." Even though he left note of the fact that it had been difficult to practice last night when the only person on whom he had to practice was himself. Well, no, that wasn't true. He'd spent the night in the Sanctuary, because Dexter didn't have a house and Merlin was still finding him an apartment, and Solomon had wanted to spend some time with the Host. Just in case. To see how they fit in with the wards.

So while Dexter had slept Solomon had experimented on one of the statues instead. The results had been quite interesting, to say the least, and now he knew for sure that he could do exactly what he said. Just ... not that the results would be completely what he meant them to be.

Either way, the threat made Corrival take a breath and exhale slowly, and his eels flocked close in. When he spoke next his tone was even--but the eels had their eyes fixed on Ravel. He'd better have a good excuse, or he was toast.

"What news is this, Ravel?"
Edited 2013-04-18 13:47 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (greenfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-18 02:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, Corrival was still upset. Erskine couldn't exactly blame him. But he'd learned long ago how to handle the former general, and so rather than backtalk or make a joke or even descend into the same seriousness, Erskine kept his smile stubbornly in place and leaned back against the closed door with his arms folded.

"There's a cab driver I met about a year ago called Micah. I never did get a last name. His route took him past all the places I frequent, so seven times out of ten, he was the cab I flagged down. We talk. He's fun to talk to. He was the one who drove me home yesterday, during which I found out his name isn't actually Micah. In Latin, it's Deus. In Spanish, Dios. And I believe in Welsh, it's Duw. Also Allah, in Arabic, but that's the easy one. You would not believe how fascinating he is."

Ordinarily, Erskine might have kept being facetious until he was stopped. Corrival liked to pretend it annoyed him, but anyone who knew the man well could see what a calming effect humour had on him when it was done right. In this instance, though, Erskine ended it himself. When Solomon flicked what Erskine could only assume was one of Corrival's soul-eels, there was a small trickle of familiar golden light, and that light... illuminated what could only have been an eel.

It was creepy. Creepy enough that Erskine couldn't help treading carefully.

"He gave me what I think is a hint about when Lucifer gets here. I just can't figure it out. I don't think I'm meant to, either. Which is why - " He froze, but only for a moment, and then recovered almost perfectly. "Which is why Gabe and Rafe are on their way here now. They may have an idea."
peacefullywreathed: (are the sounds in bloom with you?)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-18 02:34 pm (UTC)(link)
The eels were still staring. Still staring, but there was a looseness now about how they held themselves which seemed to indicate disbelief more than anything else. Tense disbelief, yes, but enough to calm him down somewhat. Although granted, Solomon was only noticing this peripherally.

He shook his head. "And now we're up to four. Five if we want to include China's attempt to invade Gabriel's being."

"You've known him for a year?" Dexter asked incredulously. "And you didn't notice?"

"I assume he's fairly good at maintaining his cover," Solomon said dryly.

Corrival ignored them both, and yet, somehow, the conversation seemed to calm him further. In a way Solomon wasn't sure he liked. Sort-of like a loaded crossbow was calm. "You talked to God, and he gave you a hint about when the Devil is going to arrive."

For a moment Solomon was certain an explosion was imminent. Then Corrival sighed, there was a thud like a forehead hitting timber, and Solomon watched with startled interest as the eels uncoiled and resettled more like they were at rest. "I give in. I'm a simple man. I'm not cut out to fight gods and angels. At least He's more subtle than His kids. And no, Ravel, we are absolutely not asking Gabe and Rafe for help."

"We're not?" Dexter asked without thinking.

"No," Corrival said, his voice no longer muffled. He must have raised his head. "We're not. You missed the part where they promised not to interfere with big bad stuff."

"But this is Lucifer," Solomon pointed out. "If they can't be involved with Lucifer, what can they be involved in?"

"And you'll notice that it was Erskine who got the hint, not Gabe or Rafe," Corrival said flatly. "We've had demons in this universe before. We handled them without the benefit of angels sitting on our shoulders. What's the clue, Ravel? Maybe we won't need them."

Solomon narrowed his eyes at the man. His eels were at rest, and yet ... defensive. Ah. Naturally. Gabe wasn't going to be coming alone.

"Don't look at me like that, Wreath," Corrival growled.

"Like what?"

"Like you're reading me."

"I am reading you," Solomon said, "and you just don't want to involve the angels because you don't want to see Skulduggery."

There came a thud, as if Corrival had shot to his feet and his chair had hit something or he'd slammed his hands down on the desk. "No. I don't want to see him. I don't want to pull him off the job he's meant to be doing so he can follow his boyfriend and come in to play God with ours. The clue, Ravel."
Edited 2013-04-18 14:40 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-18 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Erskine glanced between Corrival and Solomon, torn between obeying that all-too-familiar tone, and agreeing with his fellow Elder. In the end, he decided that if he was ever going to serve as Elder alongside Corrival, he was going to have to get used to making his disagreements known. "Corrival, the last time we dealt with demons in this universe on our own, Bliss died, Gallow escaped, and Skulduggery was trapped in a hell dimension for a year. And that was when we had the Sceptre, and neither of us were actually involved in it. If the angels are willing to help, we really should let them."

Erskine was willing to bet money that it was Gabe's fault Lucifer was even coming here in the first place. That didn't just make it their problem; that made it everyone's problem. God could have had any number of reasons for not talking to His sons directly, and with Skulduggery as the only viable option for the Sanctuary's Prime Detective, Corrival was going to have to get over his anger sooner or later. With Corrival, sooner was always better; his anger festered.

"I already called," Erskine said quietly. "They're on their way. I asked Him why he wasn't at least giving us a time frame, and He said I should take another look at my calendar. It's the best way to tell timeframes, apparently. He said it can be hard to find a good one, but when you do, stick with it."
peacefullywreathed: (just take one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-19 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
Solomon wasn't sure what he saw then. A mixture of anger and frustration in the way the eels shuffled, but none of them attacked. There was something else there that was at least positive, even if Solomon couldn't quite tell what it was. Judging by the way they were regarding Ravel, Solomon wondered if it wasn't pride.

Either way, the old man's tone was still sharp, but less caustic than before. "Usually when someone tells you to look at a calendar, you look at a calendar, Ravel. There's one on the door just over your shoulder; bring it here, will you?"

"Would he really be meaning the calendar in the Grand Mage's office?" Dexter wondered.

"Would it really matter?" Solomon returned, not moving as Ravel came up to the desk because it wasn't like he could see it anyway. And he couldn't. It was just a normal calendar. "He said to look at one. He didn't specify which. Just to find a good one." He frowned in thought. "That's an interesting phrase, actually. Most people would assume a calendar is a calendar. So what makes a good one?"

"One," Corrival said, "which records all the relevant important dates."

Solomon wasn't sure if it was the suspicion in Corrival or whether he figured it out on his own, but something clicked. "The seasonal festivals."

He heard a rustle of pages under Corrival's voice. "Most calendars have holidays and festival days on them. A lot of them are just modern gimmicks, but back in the day we kept a closer eye on the seasonal changes. Or the lunar changes, as the case may be, which someone might remember from their childhood as rather important."

The snap toward Ravel then was at least as teasing as it was pointed, but Solomon let the obvious inside joke pass by. Werewolves were extinct anyway, so very few sorcerers bothered to keep lunar track anymore. Keeping an eye on the daylight was more important in vampire country.

"A lot of those festivals were considered good or evil, too," he said quietly. "Samhain used to be an important Necromantic date, and All Hallow's Eve was about magic at play, until Halloween turned into being a day to eat chocolate. So we're looking at old festival dates and equinoxes, which not all calendars nowadays have. The only question is which one."
Edited 2013-04-19 00:21 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-19 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
"That wasn't my fault," Erskine grumbled. "I was young, and naive, and trying to impress a pretty lady. And it's really not fair that you can still use that against me."

It was back when Erskine met Corrival, back when he was young and determined and brimming with magic he didn't understand, tracking down what he thought was a werewolf because... well, because he was stupid. The werewolf turned out to be a vampire, one that Corrival was tracking, and the reason Erskine didn't pursue the issue now was that he still couldn't really think about what happened after that meeting.

Calendars were easier to focus on. Calendars were simple. Erskine only half-listened to what the others were saying, old festivals and equinoxes running through his head, and it all seemed so laughably simple now that the others were logically talking through the statement. Erskine just wasn't cut out for that type of thing. He didn't solve mysteries. He didn't silently work things out, like Skulduggery did.

"Not all physical calendars, no," he murmured. "You can find anything on the internet these days, though. Solomon, don't you have a computer in your office, or has that been hooked up yet?"
peacefullywreathed: (and you seem to break like time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-19 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
"... Yes," Solomon said after a moment. "Yes, I believe it has. Loyal minion?"

"I have to get myself a better name," Dexter grumbled, taking Solomon's hand and helping him up, and then guiding him toward the door. The Elders' offices were just down the hall on either side, so it wasn't a long walk; within a minute Solomon was unlocking the door.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Minion, if you don't mind ..."

"Oh, yes Mister Prophet Sah, at once, Mister Prophet Sah." From the bob of the banner Solomon got the distinct impression he was getting a mocking bow. Vex delivered him behind the desk and then took the chair, loading up the computer. "So old festivals and things, right?"

"That's right," Corrival said, coming around with them. "In fact, Wreath had a good point about Samhain. Look that one up first. And then Beltane. They're the big ones. I can't imagine the Devil settling for anything less than the biggest."

There was a wry lilt to his voice which made Solomon snort.

"Ooooohkay then." There was a pause. "You know I don't actually know all that much about computers besides finding the 'on' button ..."
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-19 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
It was a mark of just how daggered Corrival had been over the day that Solomon and Dexter were bantering as easily as any of the Dead Men did. It made Erskine laugh as they entered Solomon's office, where a computer was indeed set up and looked like it could do a whole lot more than just surfing the internet.

It didn't take long at all for Erskine to lean over Dexter's shoulder and take over the keyboard, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Honestly, Dex, you are a total loss. Samhain, Samhain... Solomon, aren't you supposed to have voice-activated technology? Oh, wait, here we go." The Google search page came up, and without clicking any of the links, Erskine was already reading off information.

"Okay, Samhain is a Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, or the "darker half," of the year. Usually around the 31st of October, surprise surprise. It has its beginnings in an ancient, pre-Christian Celtic festival of the dead. Sometimes called Day of the Dead, the origin of Halloween... Samhain's a special type of demon that reigned on Earth during that day, it looks like. Oh, and it's also an American rock band formed in 1983."
peacefullywreathed: (some gold-forged plan)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-19 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
"The joys of travelling the world includes going places where technology doesn't exist, Reveller," Dexter shot back. "You'd know it if you could tear your face out of your cups for more than, I don't know, maybe an hour?"

"Don't make me take one of you out to the wood-shed," Corrival warned.

"Samhain's over six months away," Solomon pointed out, utterly ignoring the Grand Mage. He was getting caught up in little details far too much this morning. "While that would be nice, which of us actually believes it would take him that long? Beltane's just over two weeks. Beltane." He raised his voice at the computer.

"Why do you need me, exactly, when you can just shout at your computer to make it work?" Dexter wondered.

"Because the computer doesn't shout back. It's somewhat anticlimactic."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm going to have to build a wood-shed first, I think," Corrival muttered.
skeletonenigma: (tie)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-19 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
Erskine turned specifically to raise an eyebrow at Dexter. "Are you suggesting I'm on the computer when my face is in said cups? I think I'm offended." And with a glance spared at Corrival, he added quietly, "Dexter's the one married to someone named Rover. I think he's the one you should take."

Too late, Erskine realised bringing Larrikin up so soon after Dexter gave up the disguise of Saracen Rue probably wasn't the best of ideas. But he couldn't exactly take it back, so he moved smoothly on without missing a beat. "Skulduggery said it took him and Gabe months to get here." Then again, it probably took Rafe and Merlin the same, and they'd only gotten here a week or so after Gabe did. They couldn't take any chances. "But," he conceded, "it's the Devil. Okay. Beltane. Ancient Gaelic festival held on the first of May. Exactly six months away from Samhain. Beltane and Samhain were the leading terminal dates of the civil year in medieval ages."

It made sense. Like Samhain, Beltane was supposed to be a festival celebrating a day when the Otherworld was particularly close at hand. But something didn't really sit quite right, and Erskine's brow creased. "Beltane's a celebration of rebirth. It's the beginning of the summer season. If that's what we're supposed to be watching out for, someone has a horrible sense of irony." He hesitated. "Or a really ironic sense of timing."
peacefullywreathed: (like weights strapped around my feet)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-19 09:49 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm implying you might need the distance of the computer to convince anyone to let you near enough to see the cups," Dexter retorted, and he sounded like he was going to go on when he ... didn't. Ravel's soul withered just a little, as if in shame, and Dexter's banner was blown back, tangling in the pole. Withdrawing.

But Ravel went on, and the moment passed easily, and Solomon declined to draw attention to it in favour of turning this new enigma over in his head. Over the past century the Temple had stopped revolving its workings so much around those two dates nearly as much, though admittedly they still had some influence on their liturgical year. The Passage was meant to happen on one of them.

But this wasn't just about old pagan festivals. Lucifer was the source of a Christian belief. Solomon tapped his fingers idly against his arm. "Look for associated holidays," he said finally. "Beltane is a Gaelic festival. We're looking for Christian ones. Catholic, probably. If we don't find any for Beltane we can look for ones related to Samhain."

And if nothing showed up for that they would have to broaden their search.
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-04-19 11:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Catholic. Right." Erskine was about to type, but then decided that would take much too long, and the voice-activated technology was cool. "Beltane Catholic holidays," he told the computer, and allowed himself a short time to marvel at how the page actually came up at his command.

"'Walpurgis Night - the other Beltane.' Well, that sounds promising." Erskine clicked on the first link. "'Walpurgisnacht' is a popular Germanic holiday celebrated at the same time as Beltane. Named after St. Walburga, who was a woman who grew up in England but moved to modern-day Germany to convert the heathens... nice. One of the world's first female authors, first educated woman, performed miracles like stopping storms. May 1st is the day of her canonisation, but the night of April 30th is actually Walpurgisnacht. Fun word to pronounce," he muttered, pretty sure he'd gotten it wrong for a second time. "Well, good for her, but I don't see anything here about - "

He stopped as he scanned the next paragraph. "Oh. Uh. Catholic saint’s holiday that, by the 1600's, was associated with the Christian version of witchcraft. It was said that on this night, witches met at Bracken mountain to 'dance with the devil.'"

Great.

"Typical," he muttered as he stepped back. "A holiday celebrating an educated and powerful woman becomes a holiday about witchcraft. I'm ashamed of my race."
peacefullywreathed: (tread careful one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-04-19 12:11 pm (UTC)(link)
"It is a pity, isn't it? I say we go find some educated and powerful women and help them feel empowered, what do you say, Reveller? Can your Minion get time off, Prophet Sah?"

"That depends," Solomon said, tilting his head toward the mischievous flutter of Dexter's banner. "If you're thinking of China Sorrows, I want to be there to overhear it when she laughs at you for thinking she needs men to feel empowered."

"Vex, Ravel, you've been a bad influence on this man," Corrival grumbled, and then moved on briskly to the topic at hand. "So Satan's going to arrive on Walpugisnacht. Or before it, which means any time in the next two weeks. Well, it's a timeframe all right, but it doesn't help us much if he gets here in the next few hours."

"I wonder if we can get one of the angels put an alarm on the universe," Dexter mused.

"'Neener neener neener, the Devil is imminent?'" Solomon asked, amused, and the banner rippled.

"Did you just imitate an alarm, Prophet Wreath? Are you sure you're as dignified as you look? I'd hate for your subordinates to get an inaccurate impression of you."

"I'm practising relating to my minions on their level," Solomon said with a straight face. "Now, if we're done sweet-talking my computer, are we going to figure out what we're going to do about this imminently arriving Devil or are we going to let the Reveller continue to be an exhibitionist with robotics?"