caveofsapphires | smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

WHO: EVERYONE. All PCs thus far will be in this log, through active tagging or implication.
WHAT: THRILLS. SPILLS. Hiking trip toward the Diamond City.
WHERE: The Overworld.
WHEN: Forward-dated to May 1st (Tuesday) through May 7th (Monday).
WARNINGS: May contain violence or other mentions of physical harm. This is not summer camp.
NOTES: More information can be found on the OOC post here. Please read it!

Gathered in the morning haze, Sleepers were brought to the mouth of the Cave with plenty of supplies and equipment. Compasses that would point them toward the City. Backpacks full of clothes and food, medical kits, tents and even weapons. Stun rifles and knives — to fight off any unwanted company, they said. ("Watch out for their bite," Ryan had commented. "Those fuckers are downright feral.") The straight and narrow path would get them there in six days if they kept a good clip. They were sent off just like that. Refusals to leave were met with a wall of guard force officers blocking the entrance back into the cave city. No way to go but forward, unless someone was particularly stalwart about remaining.

From the exterminator's station near the mouth, leaving the Cave was as simple as a short hike upward into the fresh air of the Overworld. Dust and an uncomfortable sort of heat pervaded the atmosphere, light winds stirring up the sand and teasing the meager bits of vegetation that had grown. No matter what direction you looked... it was all wasteland, cracked ground and desolate emptiness. Jutting up from scarred ground were boulders and small spires made entirely of glass and patches of stone; instead of reflecting the harsh sunlight, they seemed to absorb it and only add to the muted loneliness of the atmosphere. As far as the eye could see, there was no life to be found.

With no other option, the Sleepers eventually made their way onward.

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"You're thinking too hard about it." Why do anything? Why feel like you had to do anything? If Balthazar knew anything about Heaven after all this time, it would be the more things changed up there, the more they stayed the same. His family would never change. Hell, even his dear, naive brother Castiel, the one who had ripped all the pages out of the book, burned them, and then stomped on them, had ended up back in the same routine.

It was a little depressing. Too bad there wasn't any alcohol around from him to help chase away the thoughts. "Leave it all be."

His head rolled sideways again so that he could see Balthazar out of the corner of his eye. Exhaustion swept suddenly through his bones, and he slumped further down the wall, probably the least upright he'd been in centuries. He just wanted to sleep and not think about this sort of thing for a while.

"Given the fact that we're trapped in a hole in the rock hiding from a sandstorm, yes, maybe I am," he admitted, and closed his eyes, breathing out slowly.

White hummed, noncommittally, at Gabriel's words — and Gabriel's tone. The other man was frightened, which was much more interesting than anything he tried to put across. "We aren't a full four, if that's what you're reaching for. If the Workers are to be believed, this world started without us." Not that White would object to a gathering, by any means.

The idea of finding the city in an unlivable condition was not at all a happy one. "If it is, I'm still not going back to that cave," Chivy said firmly. "It took way too much to get out here to start with."

After he'd made sure Gabriel was as safe as he could be, Aziraphale had hung around, out of worry and because he wasn't sure how to proceed. Such things as geography had never presented an obstacle to him before, and even if they had, he had been an urban creature for so long that he would be out of practice by now.

On the evening of the sixth day, he was sitting on the edge of the ravine, looking out to the City in the distance. So close. It almost seemed designed on purpose to tantalize them. You've gotten this far, but this is where you're defeated. Sighing, he put his chin in his hands and watched the stars come out.

He'd have to get up and walk soon, he knew he would, but what could five more minutes hurt?

Gabriel gave him a sidelong glance and an ironic smile. "You don't believe me." Of course he didn't. The Doctor was a scientist, and even though angels were actually eminently metaphysical they were considered to be the realm of religion and belief more than something real. He shrugged. "Can't say you're the first. Luckily it's not like my existence depends on it."

Not that it mattered right now anyway either, since his Grace was gone, his wings torn out, his powers vanished. He glanced toward the sky, unaware of the momentary longing that flashed across his face. He'd managed not to think too hard about his wings. "They'll fade," he said, his tone lackluster. "Like the other one. After a few days it settled in and I could see it."

The appearance of the Doctor beside them caught Gabriel's eye and the archangel tried to shift, to shove the gun toward the older man. The motion made the cat lurch and hiss, its ears flattened, and Gabriel eyed the sharp claws bearing down on him, but he felt the weapon being yanked away. The cat's paw shot out toward the Doctor and Gabriel grabbed wildly to deflect it, his arms shaking something fierce, about to buckle.

Next moment there was a flash and the feline went limp, collapsing on him. Gabriel coughed at the sudden weight, though luckily that last-minute reach for the Doctor had shift its weight so it was ... sort of ... to the side.

That didn't mean he could breathe. "Tell me--that's all," he croaked. He couldn't see past the cat's bulk and his legs were going numb already. And his arms? Forget his arms. They could just go lie in the sand somewhere. He'd never known the meaning of the word 'exhaustion' before this moment.

Not afraid. Very, very few things frightened Gabriel, though he was discovering a number of them just on this trip. But concerned? Definitely. He'd just come out on the wrong side of an apocalypse. The last thing he wanted was to walk into another.

"But you're not here alone, either," Gabriel murmured, his eyes sharp on White's soul, searching for evidence as to which brother might be with him and finding none. It was like watching TV through static. He sighed and threw up his hands. "Well, that's just perfect."

Note to self: throw him into a ravine at the first chance.

"And now you're here," Re-l said. He sounded like he believed in the dreams, but she couldn't be sure. Better to give away nothing.

She held out her arm to him, shifting around, and looked away. The desert swallowed them up, expanding to meet the distant horizon. There might be anything here: more beasts, other monster, perhaps even people. She couldn't be sure. A wave of strangeness hit her, the first since the pilgrimage had begun. She was here and Vincent was far away, and she felt terribly uncertain.

She squashed the emotion down inside her and looked at the soldier for a distraction.

"I didn't have time to ask your name," she said.

"Actually, I'm not," Re-l said, irritated at being pigeon-holed. "I was educated in all the natural sciences, but my work was in the investigation of people, not the world."

She couldn't stay annoyed, though, not when the subject was so interesting. And it was easy to let your guard down when all the other person wanted to make was a blanket. It was a shame about the antiseptic cream, but the water had done a lot of good.

Then she made the obvious connection. The gun slipped from her hands.

"That ability is from your dream world." The enormity of the revelation swallowed her up, and she felt dizzy. Her vision clouded over, just for a moment. "They're real."

She raised her fingers to her mouth, a gesture she was totally unaware of. It didn't matter, suddenly, that she didn't know where Vincent and Pino were. It didn't matter that she couldn't see them, that they weren't here for her. It didn't matter that she was alone. They existed somewhere. It was enough.

She steadied herself, breathing slowly to calm her heart, and swallowed.

"I should finish your arm," she said finally, stooping to pick up her gun.

"Uh, duh," Gabriel said, lifting his eyebrow. "What, don't tell me you actually believed all the bullshit they were feeding us? Please. When it comes to the manipulation of memories, I'll grant yah they're pretty good. But the manipulation of time and space?" He snorted. "They should've chosen a better route than the whole 'it's not real' thing. And trust me, I know what I'm talking about. Playing with peoples' heads is what kinda I did."

Well, a job he moonlit with, anyway.

He shrugged again, as if it was a no brainer, and then with a lazy snap of his fingers made a sky-blue blanket fall across her shoulders and drape after her like a cape. "Yes, you should," he said agreeably, presenting his arm to her again. The revelation that he could actually construct things again had made the pain, the exhaustion and the general circumstances infinitely more bearable. He grinned almost wickedly. "Let me know if there's anything you need. Well, anything that's not too complicated, anyway."

Re-l shot him a glance and tugged the bandage on his arm particularly hard.

"I won't apologise for liking proof," she said coldly. The blanket fell heavily around her shoulders, and she was quite proud of not jumping. It was a beautiful blue, almost the same colour as her eyeshadow, and heavy and warm. THen she looked at his face. There was exhaustion there, and beads of sweat on his brow.

"Not that I'm not grateful," she said, "but you shouldn't have done that. Your body is trying to heal you, and it needs all your resources right now. I don't know what you were before, but there's no regeneration in these cells. They have to do things the slow way."

She knotted the bandage one last time, deciding that it was her inevitable fate to be surrounded by total idiots incapable of looking after themselves.

She sat down beside him, folded the blanket over her legs and sighed.

"What I want?" There were two answers to that question, but she was only willing to give one of them. "What I really want is Awakening. My gun. But I guess that falls neatly under complicated."

"Why should you need proof of your own identity?" he asked, his amber eyes glittering. "You'd be amazed at how much reality is defined by what's going on in our own skulls." Or, at least, theirs.

He 'pffft' and waved his now free hand dismissively. Sure, it wasn't as effortless as it had been, but he'd rather play around a bit than conserve his energy right now. Balm for the soul and all that, and he was never ever going to let anyone know he'd thought the phrase. Of course, it would be even better if he could just snap himself healed ...

The archangel smirked, glancing down at the bandage and fingering it consideringly. To heal or not to heal? "That depends on what kind of gun and how advanced you're talking. Most of 'em are really just mechanical objects, you know. They're not that hard to piece together. I can make a mean Colt."

There was a ghost of a grim smile on his face as he said the last in afterthought. Then his eyes snapped up at her. "What's Awakening? I could make some guesses, buuut I doubt you'd appreciate them."

Re-l looked at him sharply.

"I have a lot of experience of reality altering itself. To match my head or otherwise. But this didn't feel like any of the other times. I don't just think I'm here, and I'm not wandering around any kind of illusory landscape. Whatever this place is, it's real. And if it's real, then it has a truth I can uncover." She rolled her shoulders. "I think it might be easier for other people to guess that they were lying though. I haven't confirmed everything, but it seems that everyone's dream worlds were quite different. Mine is enough like this place that I could have constructed it based on the Disaster. I couldn't be sure."

She noticed him fingering his bandage and stopped her train of thought, reaching out to grip his wrist and move it away.

"Don't do stupid things," she said, glaring. "It will heal on its own, and you might mess it up. You're obviously not used to having your power back. And while I might want my gun, I'm not going to compromise your health to get it. Besides, how would I bring it into the city? It doesn't make any sense for you to create it until we're there." She glanced up at the sky, wondering if they would ever get there at this rate.

"It was a lovely gun, though," she admitted. "An R-SCG12 shotgun. With armour-piercing rounds."

[OOC: Just for reference, this is what she's talking about: http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100105092611/ergoproxy/images/4/48/Ergoproxyshotguntt3.jpg]

A risk Izaya was unwilling to take, regardless of how light on his feet he might be, particularly when to the left of him the hallway appeared much more stable. He proceeded along it cautiously, though without much concern; despite the new and confusing environment he still possessed the same self-confidence he'd always known. Or at least, always remembered knowing.

His lips curved into a smile on discovering that the rooms he'd located were, indeed, bedrooms, and he proceeded onwards towards the final doorway, the one that seemed to have sustained the least amount of damage; he saw no reason why he shouldn't claim the best that was available to him after days of poor rest and discomfort. Still, he opened the door with a degree of caution, glancing inside before deciding whether or not to enter.

"If it felt like an illusion, then it was second-rate," Gabriel told her. "The best ones are always real, either because of time or space changes. The problem is these guys' execution. They've proven they can shove memories into our heads; they should've done that right from the start and then told us it was all a dream."

It was a quick, clinical judgement, the sort made by someone who has, indeed, done quite the same. "Unless, of course, the point is just to mess with us," he added thoughtfully. "Then they're going about it okay, what with the whole 'ooooh, been kidnapped' vibe. Not the route I'd have chosen, but whatever, it's working."

He glanced down at her grip with a mixture of surprise and amusement, and then looked at her with a cocked brow. "Why, you do care! I'm touched. Really. And obviously you'd carry it in. How else?"

The archangel noted, however, that she didn't say anything about him not making it once they were in the city, and smirked. He also noted she didn't answer his question about the Awakening, but let it pass for now. "Can't say I'm familiar with that type, so it's probably just as well if I didn't try."

"So you're an expert with illusions as well?" Re-l satisfied herself with an internal eye roll. "I should have assumed, I suppose."

It was irritating, having to pick up fragments of his story from hints and crumbs, but it was better than nothing. Whoever this man had been, he had been powerful. And by the way he was implying things, there were supernatural forces at work in his universe. Were there thousands of other worlds, then? Each of them separate, each of them operating on totally different guidelines? It seemed such an impossible idea.

She tugged her blanket closer around herself, drawing her legs up and wrapping it around them, resting her head on her head on her knees.

"You might be useful," she said, putting as much ice into her voice as she could. "I can't afford to lose useful resources. And if I brought a mysterious, highly powerful gun into a city someone would notice, and then I would be in danger and you probably would too."

His refusal stung a little, but it was an illogical reaction, and she ignored it. She was used to Awakening, and it would be nice to have a weapon she knew perfectly, but it wasn't necessary. She didn't want it for the firepower. She wanted it because she wanted something from home. Something that reminded her of the world (and the people) she had left behind.

She looked up at the sky and sighed, wondering how she had gotten tangled up in this place so quickly.

He waited until he'd been able to create some distance between himself and their current threat, taking cover behind a small outcropping of rock and utilising the distraction created by the other man to reach for his own weapon. He was hardly an expert when it came to firearms - knives had always been his weapon of choice - but in his 'dreamlife' he had at least handled guns once or twice, knew roughly what he was doing with one.

It still seemed ridiculously surreal to find himself in a situation like this, but there was little point in thinking on that now, and he squeezed off a few rounds with the stun gun himself, aiming for the same area he's seen Malcolm shooting for. He'd rather be running, but leaving the group wasn't an option, not when remaining together held the highest percentage of survival.

"Eh, they're amateur work, but they'll do for the minor stuff. Tricks of the trade and all that." Illusions, constructs, alternate timelines and realities ... Sure, that one with the Groundhog Dean Dies Day had been particularly complicated because he'd had to keep stashing Dean's soul somewhere so Hell didn't get it too early, but something like that just had to be made cohesively and it started sustaining itself. His only complaint had been that he'd gotten bored of the same syrup every damned morning.

The archangel glanced down at the bandage one last time, but the adrenaline of his discovery was starting to wear off and the weariness was sinking in. He felt like he couldn't possibly muster the motivation to get up even if he'd wanted to; his whole body was leaden. With a regretful sigh he left the thought of healing himself alone and pulled the blanket up, resting his head back against the stone and staring up at the opening where the sandstorm still raged.

"Don't keep me in suspense, now," he said, amused. "Just go ahead and tell me how you feel." He wondered if she remembered she'd asked for a question in return for her help, and then decided that, whatever, a display of one of his powers was more than enough in trade.

He was now feeling glad of the advice he'd received from one of the other Sleepers the day they'd set out on this unpleasant excursion, that he'd kept his face partially wrapped in cloth; he'd been able to avoid the worst of the damage, and while his skin still stung in all areas the sand had been able to reach, it could have been much worse.

He stood leaning with his back against the wall of the crevasse, his own breathing still just a little shallow and rapid from the bad dash to reach cover. After a moment he glanced in her direction, however, pulling the cloth from around his face in order to offer her a small smile.

"You made it, then. It should be safe enough here until the storm passes," however long that will be...

She appeared to have offended him. Re-l wondered vaguely if she should feel guilty about that, but decided it was for the best. It might stop him flirting with her. And she couldn't afford to get close to anyone here. She was quite sure of that. She was all alone.

But she didn't want him to be huffy and offended either. Huffy and offended people were annoying and sulked at you and didn't talk. And Re-l was still curious. She wondered what the best peace offering would be.

"My name," she said, out of the blue. "They call me Masa, but if no one is listening, then my name is Re-l."

Not offended, but given this chick didn't seem to get the nuances of sarcasm, Gabriel wouldn't have been surprised she thought so. Rather, at the silence he let his eyes close. The stone was cold on his back, but he really couldn't muster the urge to sit up and draw his blanket around him.

Then she spoke again and he stirred, opening his eyes, recalling what she'd told him before. "Does this mean I have permission to flirt with you now?" he asked with impish brightness.

She'd forgotten about that, and kicked herself mentally for having even a moment of sympathy for him. How anyone could combine the worst parts of Vincent and Ergo in a single body without any of their advantages was beyond her.

"It's your time and energy to waste," she said, not looking at him.

The sandstorm couldn't possibly last much longer. And then she could leave.

"Ideally, yes," she managed, gingerly rubbing the skin on her face, already sensitive from the sun and now raw from the assault of sand. Edging away from the entrance, she gave up on style entirely and collapsed onto the ground, leaning her head against the stone.

"Of course, given our luck thus far, it'll last days," she added, and let her head loll to the side so she could give him a sardonic grin.

He wondered if he should say. When he'd first woken up, he ran on the assumption that they'd all just been kidnapped, some perhaps had genetic modification, but now he wasn't so certain. Trip wasn't his Trip. Or at least not as he last knew the man. And he'd left him in the cave with that other, the one with his face, the one in the city he might call 'brother', if he believed in that nonsense.

Probably best to keep things simple and non-specific. Besides, they hardly knew each other. Yet.

Malcolm grabbed a roll of bandages. "You'll have to keep this covered. To keep anymore sand out of the wounds. Wasn't there a larger medical pack or two doled out?" He gingerly wrapped up her arm. "You should see who has one and who might have more medical experience. Might be able to flush everything out and keep infections at bay. We'll just keep it wrapped for now."

Though his professionalism dropped when he considered giving out his name. Might as well give the sort of answer he always tended to give. "And my name depends on who you ask. Seems I've picked up two of them like everyone else."

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smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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6th night

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oh fff i misread that whole awakening bit. orz oops let's just pretend he's tired and misheard.

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I thought he was being perceptive! It's a really important word in canon

oh maybe i didn't misread then. first i thought awakening and her gun were separate entities.

Her gun is called awakening but so is everything else XD

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