impudentsongbird: (i can fly)
Gabriel ([personal profile] impudentsongbird) wrote2012-08-20 08:38 pm

let me be the one you call / if you jump I'll break your fall

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs


The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days

into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil

sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs
skeletonenigma: (just sitting)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-07 12:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Fletcher frowned. "Why aren't Val and I included in that list?"

Valkyrie gently placed her fist against Fletcher's arm in the mock impression of a punch. "Because we're not adorable. Take that as a compliment. We're hot, not adorable." She raised her hand. "But can we actually include you and Dexter in this? Because what you did just now - that was adorable."

Fletcher shrugged and raised his bottle to take a sip. "I'll count it."

Erskine seemed to agree, because he followed suit without saying anything. Ghastly mentally tried to remove the jaded experience of seeing Rover and Dexter like this almost all the time - made a little bit easier by Rover's return from a century dead - and decided that if it wasn't worth a drink, he didn't know what was.

"Good thing Solomon's not awake," remarked Tanith. "He can see souls. He'd be constantly drinking." She shrugged. "Assuming he finds that kind of thing adorable."

Ghastly nearly choked on his whiskey. He wasn't quite sure why.

"Any suggestions for soapies, then?" Erskine spoke up. "Skulduggery? Skulduggery, do you even own a TV?"

"I don't." Room had been made on the sofa for the couples, so Skulduggery and Gabe were already on the left-hand side, with Skulduggery closest to the armrest by coincidence to use it as a counterbalance for Gabe's head on his shoulder. "I never really saw the point."

"You never really saw the point of a car, either," Ghastly reminded him. "We almost had to blackmail you."

"That was different. That was me being stubborn. Cars are useful. What do televisions bring you? You don't gain anything from them. They aren't intellectually challenging."

"You would say that," said Erskine with a smile. He tilted his head to the side. "Then again, I wouldn't put it past you to know everything on TV anyway. Anyone else? Suggestions?"
skeletonenigma: (well i am very impressive)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-07 12:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"Metaphysical screens in Heaven notwithstanding," Skulduggery clarified with a pointed and eyebrow-raised look at Rover. "Questionable research purposes also notwithstanding."

"Well, if you keep changing the rules as you go..." Erskine grumbled.

Ghastly nodded. "Alright. We're all intellectually diminished zombies for the amount of TV we watch. I'll drink to that."

"I never said - "

"But," Ghastly cut Skulduggery off after taking his brief swig from the bottle, "if tonight fuels your interest in any of the aforementioned TV shows enough for you to buy your own, I reserve the right to decide all your major purchases from this point out. No lying, either. We have living lie-detectors."

"Can I object on principle?"

"No."

Skulduggery sighed. "Alright. As long as I can decide the definition of 'major.'"

Tanith, who had happily ended up in between Ghastly and Valkyrie on the other end of the couch, couldn't seem to stop giggling. "Have you tried introducing him to the internet yet, Val?"

"Are you kidding?" Valkyrie's eyes were wide, and her voice was aghast. "I tried showing him Angry Birds the other day. He spent two days trying to learn how to play, announced that it was a pointless game, and then stole my phone for the next week just so he could play it."
skeletonenigma: (really now?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-07 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hey," Skulduggery tried to object. 'Tried,' because even the tone of his objection had a hint of resignation to it. "My phone is for receiving important calls. It is not for playing pointless games. Valkyrie's phone is for playing pointless games."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "Valkyrie's phone is for Valkyrie. You can have fun trying to beat Gabe's high score on your own. Also, I vote for video games, because then I'll actually have something to do when you all fall asleep."

"Me too," Fletcher agreed with a firm nod. "Video games. I can just go to Australia if I want to watch their shows."

Ghastly and Tanith looked at each other. Neither of them found it surprising that the two teenagers in the room had voted for video games, but neither of them had played with consoles much in the past. Much like Skulduggery and TV, Ghastly hadn't seen the point. And Tanith, for her part, enjoyed the odd arcade game but couldn't wrap her head around anything more complicated than that. "Soapies," came their simultaneous reply.

"I'm with them," Erskine spoke up. "And not just because they're adorable. Can't make fools of ourselves if we're watching TV."

"I'm willing to put money on the opposite," Skulduggery grumbled.

"How about both?" Saracen suggested. "I feel like a video game myself, but what's wrong with having two TVs? Or two couches, for that matter?"
vexingshieldbearer: (and swallowed their pride)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-08-08 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
"I've never played a video game before," Rover said thoughtfully, and grinned at Erskine. "And I don't care about making a fool of myself." He pointed accusingly at Saracen. "But with two couches they won't cuddle! Only one couch means cuddles! It's in the rules for having drunken slumber-parties!"

"Who wrote those rules?" Anton asked in the resigned cadence of someone who knew the answer.

"I did, of course."

Dexter was too busy laughing to speak, so he raised his hand without specifying what his vote was, exactly. Corrival looked at Descry. "What about you, Hopeless? Got a stake in this vote? Are you even paying attention?"

"I'm paying attention," Descry assured him, even though his eyes were closed. "I'm paying all the attention. I also think my son has a point. I think it should be both."

"But only one couch!" Rover interjected.

"But only one couch," Descry added in exactly the same moment.

"I think I should be gettin' paid for being the genie in the bottle," Rafe grumbled, but a moment later there was another TV, with about three different consoles attached. Although the sound was clearly up on both, somehow the difference between the video game already playing (Angry Birds) versus the soundtrack of the soapie didn't clash at all.

"I love Heavenly soundwaves," Rover said with an inordinate amount of glee, reaching down to snatch up one of the controllers and toss the rest to Valkyrie, Fletcher and Corrival. "Here, old man. Let's teach you some new tricks."

"What makes you think I've never played this myself?" Corrival asked, one eyebrow raised, as he took the controller.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Rover asked Descry.

"Oh, maybe."

Dexter slouched in his chair, watching. Watching Gabe refuse to let Skulduggery have his phone back. Watching Tanith and Ghastly discreetly not-cuddle on the sofa. Watching Rover sprawl on the floor, and Saracen sit leaning up against his father's armchair, and Corrival roll up his sleeves to show the young upstarts how video-gaming was done. Watching Rafe hover around putting peanuts in Valkyrie and Fletcher's hair. Watching Anton watch Skulduggery at decreasingly frequent intervals, and Erskine put a protective circle of peanuts around Solomon's couch.

For the first time since the war ended, Dexter felt like he was home.

On another plane, another being from another family entirely stepped out of the Cacophony into solid ground, and looked around his new dimension.
skeletonenigma: (noimagination)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-08 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
There was a very warped definition of 'morning' when morning struck several hours later. The sun had been properly up for a while, with the dawn quietly passing over a house where several of the people in it had still been awake and hadn't noticed. That was past now, and judging by the angle of the sun in the sky, it was getting dangerously close to lunchtime.

The living room was, all things considered, not in nearly as much of a shambles as it could have been. There was something to be said for getting drunk with two Archangels. Nothing was broken, and very little aside from the furniture was out of place. A couple of glasses had fallen on the floor, and one had rolled under a couch. Ghastly and Tanith were wrapped up in a curtain that had been pulled down from its curtain rod across the window. A few pillows had been tossed around, but none of them managed to hit any full bottles. Nothing was spilled. Nothing was precariously balanced.

The only person who avoided even a drop of alcohol was, miraculously, Valkyrie. She'd still been one of the first to fall asleep, resting her head in Fletcher's lap. Fletcher took up the rest of the sofa, sprawled as far out as he could get, and someone had belatedly tossed a single blanket over them to keep them warm. Tanith and Ghastly were in their curtain-bed behind the couch, but practically everyone else had found a spot within a sort-of fort made using some of the furniture in the room. Corrival was curled up in the armchair he'd began the night with, a large black Labrador snoring in his lap. Anton - who, for the first time since the inception of the Dead Men, allowed himself to get drunk because the angels could hold back his Gist and because Rover shanghaied him into it - took up most of the floor, with Rover lying on top of him. Dexter was close by, rolled up in two whole sheets someone brought downstairs, and close by him were Descry and Saracen. The father-and-son pair hadn't moved more than a few feet away from each other all night.

Erskine, for his part, had grabbed one of the fresh linens and dragged it over to the couch Solomon was on, wrapping both himself and the ex-Necromancer up as best he could, pulling the teddy-bear blanket over the whole ensemble when he was done. Apparently, not drinking was no excuse not to partake in the cuddling.

Skulduggery was asleep in his own armchair, a small black cat curled in his lap. There was a hand on top of the cat, stopped mid-stroke, and even in the cat's sleep a faint purr could be heard.

The only person awake was Solomon. He hadn't moved, in body or soul, since waking up. There was a silver and bell-like amusement outlined in the edges of his soul, making a beautiful counterpoint to the absolute peace and warmth that radiated from the metaphysical in the rest of the room.

A blonde man stood framed in the doorway of the kitchen. A blonde man wearing flannels, jeans, work boots, and - coincidentally - pink and purple socks. He stood surveying the aftermath, and the tenor of the souls, with a beautifully soft smile before his gaze settled on Solomon. "Are you feeling better?"
peacefullywreathed: (so fragile on the inside)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-08 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
"Much, thank you." Solomon still felt a bit weary, but it was most definitely in the sense of healing, now. He would be tired again in a few hours, but he could have gotten up and moved around a bit--if it weren't for the fact that Erskine was lying on him. Between the metaphysical peace and the lack of people to take pictures, Solomon had opted not to try and get up just yet.

Though he would probably have to, soon.

He didn't ask who the stranger was, mostly because, to Solomon, he didn't look like a man at all. For one, he had a halo. And for another, he had a pair of wings.

There were a number of things that could have been said to Michael. 'How did you get here?' for one. 'When?' for another. 'Are we in danger?' was a good one too. 'Did you know your brother is in love?'

Solomon settled for: "I don't suppose you have a camera handy?"

He couldn't remember exactly when he'd been hijacked into the drunken snugglefest, having been asleep, but however it had begun, Erskine had since stolen the blanket Dexter had made. His soul was wrapped in the light sheen of the construct. Additionally, Solomon could feel the man's head in his shoulder and one hand clutching his shirt. He could only imagine what it actually looked like, but he was certain it was worth being called blackmail material.
skeletonenigma: (intense interest)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-08 11:38 am (UTC)(link)
It was amazing, how much difference Gabriel and Raphael had made in such a short span of time. Michael could track those changes, even with no firsthand knowledge of what this group of friends had been like before. Secrets revealed and accepted cleansed the souls of everyone involved, like a thunderstorm cleared the humidity in the air. And redemption had a colour all its own, a mixture of bright gold and silver, and it could light up a soul like nothing else. Solomon Wreath's soul was bathed in it.

"Not the same way they did," answered Michael, gesturing toward the Labrador and the kitten. It was how he could manage it at all; rather than spend months lost in a Cacophany of noise like Lucifer assumed was necessary, Michael had immediately set about to finding a faster way. And find it, he did. All paths led to Heaven, after all.

"Just now," he added, stepping closer to the makeshift fort. "Yes. Of course. And, again, of course, but..." He smiled, and gave a shrug that might have been casual if he hadn't just told Solomon that they were in danger. "I don't think it's my place to interfere. You'll have to wait for someone with a phone to wake up, and that should be any minute now."
peacefullywreathed: (and you seem to break like time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-08 11:53 am (UTC)(link)
For the first time Solomon was aware how eerie it was to have someone who could read his soul, or possibly his mind, so easily. All those unasked questions, and Michael answered them anyway. The fact that they were in danger was not encouraging, and Solomon should probably ask for clarification on that.

Instead he raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Archangel Raphael can conjure two televisions and a host of game consoles, and his older and, by all accounts, far more powerful brother can't even conjure a camera? I find that difficult to believe."

"I find it difficult to believe how loud you're talking," Corrival groaned. His head rolled against the back of the chair and landed on one hand. His voice was hoarse and quiet. "Bloody Hell. I'm too old to be going on binges like that, and that's the second in two weeks." His eyes slitted open. "Who the Hell're you?"

"Not Hell," Descry murmured without either opening his eyes or otherwise moving from where Saracen was cuddled up to his side. "Try the other direction."

Corrival closed his eyes again and exhaled a sigh. "Not another angel. How many's that now?"

"Four, I'd hazard," Solomon said, making no effort whatsoever to soften his voice, "depending on whether you count one being fallen as an angel. Corrival, do you have a camera? Or in lieu of an actual camera, a phone?"

"No." It took a moment for the estimate to sink in, and this time Corrival managed to open his eyes blearily. "Four?"
skeletonenigma: (just sitting)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-08 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)
There was a muffled groan from over on Solomon's couch, followed by a slight shifting of blankets as the halfway-sleeping Elder buried his face deeper into Solomon's shoulder. "Prophet," he murmured, "shut up."

The sound of quiet and not-so-quiet voices had woken Valkyrie up, too, but without a hangover to nurse she wasn't nearly as grumpy. She sat up and stretched with a happy sleepy smile on her face, displacing Fletcher enough to wake him up, as well.

"What time is it?" he muttered, raising his head enough to be able to rest it on the arm of the couch.

Valkyrie took out her phone. "Oh, close to noon."

Fletcher groaned and rolled over. Valkyrie stared at her phone for a moment, then leaped up in a sudden panic. "I had school today. Oh my god, I had school today and the reflection isn't around to go anymore. My parents are going to kill me." She flipped the phone open and dialed home, unaware of how loud her own voice was, and stepped carefully around the fort of furniture to take the call out into the hallway.

She passed Michael on the way, stopped, turned, gave him an uncertain wave. He waved back. Satisfied for the moment that he wasn't an enemy, Valkyrie stepped out into the hall with her phone.

"There went one option," Michael told Solomon, amused.

"Didn't we get it sorted with her folks before we did this?" Fletcher asked with a slow frown.

His question went unanswered, as most of the people who could actually answer it were still asleep. Or trying to still be asleep. Or pretending to still be asleep for the purposes of making things more comfortable for those who were, such as in Descry's and Solomon's cases.

Solomon's efforts didn't last too long for Erskine, whose voice could be heard still just as muffled through the ex-Necromancer's shirt. "On a scale of one to ten," he asked, almost slurring the words, "just how much of a compromising position am I in?"
peacefullywreathed: (some gold-forged plan)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-08 12:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Supposedly," Corrival mumbled. His eyes were closed again, apparently having decided that the question of angels was too much trouble to ponder with a pounding head. Getting up to make some kind of hangover cure was also too much trouble, especially because he had a quietly whimpering dog in his lap. Blearily he looked down. "Where'd this come from?"

The dog whimpered again and covered his nose with a paw.

"I think you're mocking my urgent need for a camera," Solomon said. "I would have thought such things would be beneath an angel, let alone the eldest, and yet." He sighed through his chest, making Erskine's head rise and fall. "On a scale of one to ten, you're at 'I urgently need pictures for blackmail reasons'. Hopeless?"

"Sorry," Descry said. "I died before phones were invented, and I'm not Dexter."

Dexter groaned, rolled over, and pressed a pillow over his face, his voice coming out muffled. "Give me one good reason."

"I'll give you equal shares in the blackmail."

"Mmrph." His hand slapped to the floor, groped around in the air for a bit, and then he threw a compact digital in Solomon's general direction. "Here."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to at least take the pictures?" Solomon asked Michael with resignation.
skeletonenigma: (sit down and let me tell you a story)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-08 01:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Far be it from an angel not to be able to sympathise, but Michael was having a difficult time of it just then. Rafe had been one of the forefront of his brothers to trick him into drinking too much at the last festival, and one of the only brothers to keep tormenting him even after Michael woke up with his head pounding out a rhythm certain angels could feel from out among the stars.

Seeing Rafe in the same sort of pain now wasn't pleasant, but Michael would be lying if he said a part of him wasn't finding the justice in it.

"Something moved." Erskine's blanket-wrapped body had grown very still after Solomon spoke. "Something... oh, God." He groaned again and slid deeper into the crevasses of the sofa, his voice growing fainter with every word. "You know what? I can't even bring myself to care. Someone shut the curtains, for God's sake..."

"How did people live without phones?" Fletcher wondered quietly, falling off the bandwagon of that particular conversation as he tried to imagine what it might have been like. "Actually, how do people live without Teleporters?"

"Shut up," Erskine mumbled.

Michael could feel the relief from out in the hallway, a nice breath of fresh air in all the pain that now hung stale in the air with everyone waking up. His attention was pulled from that, however, by Erskine's sudden vicious lunge - or, well. Vicious for someone still half-asleep and whose whole body was aching. In other words, the lunge of someone who was surprised by their own sudden inclination towards violence, even if you wouldn't have guessed the surprise existed. Erskine, in this particular instance, had lunged upwards to slap a hand over Solomon's mouth and glare at him. "I said shut up."

Erskine was one of those who drank the most, outstripped only by the angels. Michael took pity on him even through his laughter, and stepped forward to touch the Elder on the forehead. "Here. Let me help."

Pure relief spread over Erskine's face as he slumped back onto Solomon's shoulder. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Could you stay still for a moment?"

"Mmh."

Michael picked up the camera and stepped backwards, winking at Solomon. He might not see the wink the way the others would, but he'd see enough of the intent to understand it. "We can't have anyone mocking Solomon's urgent need for a camera, can we?"

"Mmh."

"I'm glad you understand."

A minute later, and the camera was full. Not just with pictures of Solomon and Erskine, but of everyone else in the room as well, right down to Skulduggery sleeping with the black cat on his lap. There were even a few of the whole layout, capturing the fort along with everyone's sleeping forms. The camera's memory thus blinking that it couldn't hold any more photos or it might malfunction from the excitement, Michael quietly put it on top of a side table in the corner of the room.
peacefullywreathed: (of life so incomplete)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-08 01:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Corrival squinted in the general direction of the curtains. "Bespoke and Low are using 'em. I'd ask exactly what they're doing back there, because I can't quite see, but I'm not sure I want to know. I don't suppose I can request angelic healing too?"

Rafe-the-Labrador lifted his head and whimpered, slitting puppy eyes open at Michael. He didn't even need to talk.

On Skulduggery's lap, the cat's fur ruffled with irritation and Gabe's curled form drew in tighter as if the action would block out the noise. A thin, unhappy mew still rose up from the depths of the bundle of fur.

Solomon found himself with a hand over his mouth and a grumpy order given into his shoulder. He quirked an amused eyebrow up at Michael as the angel approached, and although Erskine's initial movement was almost violent, when he relaxed his hand went slack against Solomon's lips. There was a tickle just behind Solomon's ears; if it hadn't been behind both, he might have thought it was Erskine's breathing, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw a dual ripple as Michael spoke the words of that ridiculous title Erskine and Dex had saddled him with.

Almost certainly a spell.

"Michael, you have rescued me from the frustrating patience of out-waiting the Reveller until he tired of his prank," he said, his words muffled through the hand still over his mouth. "Reveller, if you were so intent on my service, you could have at least waited until I was awake. I may have to demand recompense for emotional damages."
skeletonenigma: (how easy do you think this is?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-08 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"You don't need to ask," Michael assured Corrival as he picked his way carefully over to the armchair. "On either count. I have photographs."

He sounded proud of that. He was proud of that. Angels didn't usually have a need for cameras. They didn't usually have a need to learn anything, either - at least, not 'learn' by the definitions of humans. It wasn't the same sort of accomplishment as if a human learned how to use a camera from scratch. But Michael was proud nonetheless, and that pride fueled his 'angelic healing' as he reached out and touched the Grand Mage's forehead.

"I'm good," said Valkyrie as she came back into the room, holding up her phone. "All good. No classes this morning. My parents are driving over to pick me up so I don't miss the rest. See? I'm being good." She slumped back onto the sofa next to Fletcher. "And, of course, the people who would care are all still asleep."

Fletcher looked at her. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"You dropped out of school. What do you care?"

With Corrival taken care of, Michael reached down and scratched the Labrador between the ears. Rafe's being-wide ache transferred between the two of them, surged, and then quickly dissipated.

"Emotional damages?" Erskine didn't make even the slightest effort to move from his spot. His headache was gone, but that only made his exhaustion all the more obvious, and it showed in his tone. "What emotional damages? Tortured to within an inch of your life and you're dancing through the daises, but when I collapse on top of you in a drunken stupor, you're emotionally damaged?"

Behind the makeshift fort, the black cat was bristling in Skulduggery's lap. Skulduggery, in subconscious reaction to it, started stroking again. He was still fast asleep, didn't have any idea what he was doing, but his whole body had curled deeper into the armchair to form a more protective shell around Gabe.

Michael made them his next stop, tapping Skulduggery gratefully on the forehead and then lingering for an extra moment over Gabe. He'd wanted to follow Raphael over. He'd known it wasn't a good idea, but hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since; hadn't been able to stop from feeling like he'd made a mistake. Now he knew he hadn't, but it didn't make those few months without Gabriel's comforting presence any easier to endure.
peacefullywreathed: (so fragile on the inside)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-08 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm starting to think Merlin was right," Corrival grumbled as the pain-lines of the hangover smoothed into exasperated amusement. "You angels are all children." Raphael lifted his head to give Michael a grateful lick, and then dropped heavily into Corrival's lap. Corrival looked down at him. Raphael looked up, his huge eyes inquiring.

Corrival grunted. "Fine. One minute. Then I'm getting up and you're getting off."

The Archangel's eyes closed with a blissful sigh as Corrival absently stroked his back.

"Of course," Solomon said blithely. "I'm used to pain and torture, but I have no idea what you did while I was sleeping. It's very damaging." He plucked Kian out from the crook of Erskine's elbow, where he'd put it, and then with a hard shove pushed the other Elder off him and, consequently, the sofa. He hit the floor with a hard thud that made Rover sit abruptly upright, blinking and hair in disarray.

"Whazzat not my fault," he mumbled, and yawned. And winced, bringing one hand to his forehead. "Oooooh, that's not fair. I'm dead. I'm not supposed to be able to get hangovers."

"I suppose we deserve it, for running out borrowed vehicles into the ground," Descry pointed out.

One half of Gabe's kitten face poked out from the comforting darkness of his paws, his ear flicking back and eye slitted. He let out another mew, unhappiness radiating from the whole of his being. Then Michael's fingers caressed the area right around the cat's ears, and Gabe purred mightily. He untwisted, rolling to catch Michael's hand in his paws and rubbing his cheek up against the other Archangel's palm.
skeletonenigma: (tender yet smug)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-09 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
"I slept on you while you were sleeping," Erskine shot back with far less blithe from where he lay stunned on the carpet. There wasn't as much confidence in his soul as there was in his words, namely because much of the previous evening was a blur in Erskine's mind. He wasn't completely sure of what he had and hadn't done.

Michael could have assuaged his fears, and meant to eventually, but all of his considerable attention was currently focused on Gabe. He hadn't taken his hand away yet, letting it follow the curves of the cat's body and ruffle the fur on the back of its neck. He'd had faith he would see his brother again, but there was always something different between having faith and seeing the reality.

Gabe was here, and he was alright. He was better than alright. He was experiencing feelings Michael never had. Michael couldn't be happier for him.

"I don't want to be awake," Erskine mumbled to the ceiling.

"Then stop spreading it to the rest of us," said Saracen. He hadn't opened his eyes once, and nor did he intend to. "Think I prefer my American drinking buddies. They treat the morning like the holy period it is." He pointed in what was undoubtedly meant to be Michael's direction. "No offense meant."

"None taken." Michael smiled. "It wouldn't be a very holy place without angels, would it?"

Skulduggery stirred underneath Gabe's purring. "D'we have another angel?"

"I'm sorry I have to drop in on you all like this," said Michael by way of an answer. "I wish I came bearing good news."

"No angel's ever come bearing good news," Erskine continued his conversation with the ceiling. "Don't let it get you down. We handle this all the time."

Skulduggery's eyes flickered open. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't waking up with a hangover supposed to hurt?"

Over on the carpet, Erskine's face blanked. He disentangled himself from the teddy bear blanket he'd been wrapped up in when Solomon shoved him off the couch, pushed himself to his feet, walked over, and draped the blanket over Skulduggery's head. It was just large enough to envelop Gabe and Michael's hand, as well. "Your family-in-law," Erskine told the blanket, "is no excuse for you to gloat."
peacefullywreathed: (just take one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-08-09 12:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Solomon had swung his legs off the couch, sliding a foot out until his toe prodded Erskine's side. The other Elder's soul rippled, his leaves rustling with uncertainty. "It's the part you don't remember that worries me."

Now he had a problem. He needed the bathroom, quite badly in fact, but considering the general state of everyone in the room, Michael aside, there was no way he was going to be able to navigate the debris. That, and he didn't have a clue what Corrival's living-room looked like to begin with. He looked up. "An angel came bearing good news the day Gabe rescued me from the Temple," he said absently, and tilted his head. "I don't suppose my minion is in any condition to act as a guide?"

The only answer he got was a grunt from under where Rover had flopped on top of Dexter.

"Here." Corrival shoved Rafe off his lap. "Have a guide-dog." With a yelp the dog hit the floor, rose, and shook himself, throwing a betrayed expression at the Grand Mage. Then he trotted over to Solomon and nuzzled his hand. Solomon patted him once between the ears and then stood. The Labrador was tall enough that even standing, Solomon's fingers could just barely brush the top of his head. It wouldn't have been enough, except that he could feel the doggish weight against his thigh and the metaphysical presence of the wing across his shoulders. Between the two, Raphael was able to guide him quite expertly between the unseen bodies and furniture.

Gabe's head poked out from under the blanket, shaking his head and body and tilting his head in a remarkably Skulduggery-like fashion. He looked up at Skulduggery, purred, kneaded the detective's leg and then leapt up onto his shoulders. With a bat of the blanket, Gabe settled down across the detective's shoulders like a thick furry scarf, nuzzling the side of his head through the blanket.

"Go on then," Corrival said to Michael with a sigh. "While we've got the cavity-inducing affection to offset the bad news. Break it to us."
skeletonenigma: (landel's standard)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-09 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"Lucifer's here."

Even from underneath the blanket, Skulduggery heard those words clear as day. And even with Gabe's weight on his shoulders, even with the feel of Gabe's wings draped metaphysically and invisibly around him, a cold weight settled into the pit of Skulduggery's stomach.

He wasn't used to waking up, and he wasn't used to physical sensations accompanying his feelings. It was enough to keep Skulduggery quiet while somewhere else in the room, Erskine cursed.

"Sometime last night," Michael added. "Not long before I arrived. I don't know where he came out, and I don't know what he intends to do. But I know that he's here."

"Why don't you know?" asked Valkyrie. Skulduggery could imagine a pale face behind those tremulous words. "I thought you could all sense each other. Or talk to each other. Or something."

"Only when we all want to," Michael told her gently. "Lucifer can hide himself from us, from all of us. He does it so often that I wouldn't be surprised if he's forgotten that a connection can exist. And with my brothers in the state they were in..." Michael shook his head in mock disapproval. "He might even have been reaching out, and they would have been too busy defeating evil pigs with a slingshot to notice."

Skulduggery made a mental note to speak to Ghastly later. He needed to have the final word in their argument about getting drunk simply asking for trouble.
skeletonenigma: (you okay?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-09 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Michael took Gabe's paw and held it, a handshake with a kitten, reinforcing his teasing tone through the touch. Gabriel had always been the one having the most trouble with free will. Before he was gone, after he came back, and even now. He was the first of the angels to understand that free will might mean greater personal choice, but it came with an equal increase in personal responsibility. Unfortunately, it also meant he was the hardest on himself when something went wrong. He'd taken immeasurable risk in striking out to save Skulduggery, and while Michael still wished Gabe had confided in him about that - and wasn't afraid to gently broadcast that wish - he couldn't be prouder of what Gabe had managed to accomplish. He wasn't afraid to broadcast that, either.

Lucifer worked in their blind spots. It was what he did, and what he was so good at.

"I have," Michael confirmed out loud, for the benefit of those who weren't used to other forms of communication. "He's not quite finished yet. He did manage to find some help. I have to say," and here he directed his words at all of the non-angels in the room, "you're very good at finding help in places most people wouldn't think to look. Churches, taxis. Hospitals."

Skulduggery frowned, and pulled the blanket off his head. He was careful not to dislodge the part on his shoulders in the process. "What are you talking about?"

"Paddy Steadfast. Where did you think Merlin would be able to do his spellwork?"

"Ah, Paddy." The frown disappeared, even if the concern did not. "I liked him. He held onto a pair of sunglasses for me."

"He mentioned that."
skeletonenigma: (he can roll his eyes!)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-10 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Ditto over here." Saracen's hand made a hazardous journey up into the air, then flopped back down onto the floor. He still hadn't so much as opened his eyes yet.

Michael lingered for an extra moment over near Gabe, letting one finger get hooked by the younger Archangel's playful claws while the others continued to scratch between his ears. Then, with a touch of reluctance, Michael turned away and tapped everyone else's foreheads in turn, starting with Larrikin's.

Erskine, now properly awake very much against his will, knelt down and rested his chin in his hands on the arm of Skulduggery's chair. "Do I remember something about one of you licking the other one's ear last night?"

"Ask Descry," Skulduggery replied frustratingly evenly. "He's the mind-reader."

"Is my memory accurate?"

This time, Skulduggery shrugged. "If it is, Gabe was a cat, and you're constantly explaining to me how a man can't be held accountable for his actions while under the influence."

"True," agreed Erskine. "But this time is different."

"Oh?"

"This time, it's you."

With a sigh, Skulduggery turned to watch Michael stepping behind the couch so he could heal Ghastly and Tanith while they were still asleep. "I'd argue with you, but it is a very compelling argument."
skeletonenigma: (Gabe-specific smile)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-08-10 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery instinctively reached up and started stroking the cat on his shoulder again. "There there," he murmured dryly. "They're just jealous."

Erskine shook his head. "I don't even need to try. It's no fun if I don't need to try. Are Ghastly and Tanith awake yet? Maybe I can get a reaction out of them."

"Not yet," Michael answered, kneeling down to heal the pair of any hangovers while they were sleeping.

"How are they not awake? Everyone else is awake."

"I'm not." Somehow, Saracen managed to make himself sound even groggier than before.

"Ghastly is naturally a deep sleeper," Michael explained. "Tanith isn't used to blacking out naturally. Their intimacy is mingling the two, and the result is just strong enough to overcome how loud all of you are being. In other words, a part of them is just awake enough to warn the rest not to be."

"You make it sound like it's warning against us." Erskine walked over to where Dexter and Rover were still on the floor and joined them, albeit this time with all the grace and pride of an Elder - he sat on the floor against a chair, and used Dexter's back to put up his feet. "I'm offended."

"Not against you. Against the prospect of interacting with you for longer than a few minutes. If it makes you feel any better," Michael added before Erskine could vocalise his expression of horror, "the pain being numbed should help them wake up faster. Skulduggery?"

"Hm?"

"Would you mind getting up for a minute?"

Curiosity rolled with the sunlight in his soul, but the detective didn't ask before getting to his feet. And the moment he was up, Michael walked over and hugged him.

Skulduggery stiffened. "Um..."

"Thank you," said Michael. "Thank you for everything you've done for Gabe. Thank you for helping him when Rafe and I weren't there."

He let Skulduggery feel the gratitude, as well, radiating out from his being. Gabe would have been close enough to feel it even if he wasn't an Archangel, wasn't Michael's younger brother. The gratitude enveloped all three of them quite effortlessly, and it wasn't long before Skulduggery let himself relax.