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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"Toshiyuki means 'happiness' and also 'genius' where I'm from," and he laughed, a quiet rippling sound, "I could think of less-fitting names. But I could also think of a better one."

Which again, was perhaps an elusive answer, neither overtly confirming or denying that the name had been 'picked' for him, and not quite answering the question as she'd intended it. But then, he'd always been mercurial even at the best of times, in a situation like this where there was so much uncertainty and so little solid ground to work with, it was further exacerbated.

"Do you consider yourself happy, or a genius?" She grinned at him. So careful. On the one hand there was a potentially obvious reason for it, but on the other hand the obvious reasons for things were often not the right ones.

"I can think of a better one too," she added cheerfully. "So I'm using it. I want the last name someone calls me to be my proper one, in the event that we die in some calamity or other. For example, can you see the sky right now? I can't. We could very well be doomed."

"That might be hoping for too much," he muttered. He didn't expect that, assuming that they weren't being sent off to die, that they were free from being watched by people in the shadows. But, he could dream. He could hope that it was actual freedom, and enough time for him to start to reclaim his mind and his identity. "When we get there, I'll need all the help I can get. Are you... are you willing to help me?"

"So I can use you as my patsy, eh?" Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, amusement in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. "That's so good to know."

Gabriel glanced between the two and laughed. "Well, look at me; aren't I popular?"

He chose to go with the dancing-man's help, since the Doctor was, well, physically old and looked about done in. Gabriel kinda knew how he felt. The archangel took Cabanela's hand and tried to hoist himself up, but the moment he tried to move his legs they seared with pain and he gasped, going very still.

"Ugh ... I don't want to know if this is normal or not," he said with a wince, moving his feet very, very carefully. The jabbing sensation was less intense this time, but his legs still prickled wildly and painfully as he used Cabanela to haul himself upright. The odd thing was that the feeling eased once he put his weight on his feet, even if they still felt tender in a weird sort of way.

Not according to the multiple universe theory, which, by the way, I can vouch for.

[He could've vouched for it even before having met Aziraphale. The archangel shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth.]

Little contradiction in terms, there.

She'd find multiple reasons, if there was any way of getting him to talk. The obvious, in as much as he'd prefer not to be caught out and have his memories altered and his 'dream' life slowly eroded away to nothing, but also the deeper reasons, the fact that he'd rarely been open and honest about his own identity even without the added complications of their current situation. Still, he returned her grin with a lazy one of his own.

"It's hard to say. I only have my memory to base my conclusions on after all," and they were supposedly unreliable, despite that he didn't believe that for a moment, "still, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't like to believe I'm both those things."

And he winked, before turning his gaze upwards to the sky she had so recently indicated, seeing nothing but a wall of brownish-grey as the sandstorm continued to whip and rage above them. It was true; from their current perspective it showed no signs of abating.

"It's a fair point. Who knows whether we'll make it there or not, or whether there really is a there for us to get to?"

Mal made a noncommittal noise. "Well, plenty of people would like to think they're clever, but genius, well, that's taking it a bit far. I don't know that I've met a genius before." She made no effort to conceal the fact that she was mocking him. He didn't seem to mind, anyway.

"And even if there is a 'there'," she continued, "it could well be a trap, or something. It all seems almost ridiculously sinister. So I'll be Mal, thank you, and you can be quote-unquote Toshiyuki, and we'll see who's more satisfied on their deathbed."

[White wasn't terribly interested in what Gabriel could or couldn't vouch for. There was one universe (or possibly one that mattered, but wasn't that the same thing?).]

Is it?

The Doctor shot Gabriel an amused look. "Not quite the term I would have used. Come, now, let's be on the move before we get left behind, hmm?"

"'Course," Cabanela said brightly, nodding at the Doctor. He was beginning to remind him of the Professor-- he would probably say the same thing. But he frowned as soon as he saw how much pain Gabriel was in. Of course he knew that it was going to be bad, and this was a very wrong situation to be in for someone to be injured. What if those cats came back, or even worse, what if there was something else lurking just beyond their sight.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to quickly think of something to lighten the mood. "I dooon't think that havin' your legs torn up is a normal feeling, baby. But that's just me."

Eh, probably not to you.

[He smiles humourlessly, sardonically.]

Suppose anything that cheapens the landscape is holy as far as you're concerned.

"Now wouldn't that be a bummer?" Gabriel said sardonically, but did as the Doctor suggested anyway, hitching up his bag as he moved toward the group.

Well, if Gabriel prefered using the younger man for support, the Doctor certainly wasn't going to complain. He did ache more than enough, after all. He watched to make sure Gabriel didn't collapse once he was up, and then turned and started picking a path between the cats, pulling out that compass to make sure they were going in the right direction.

"Only for those who get into such situations on a regular basis, I imagine." And there were those that did, sure, but the majority of people didn't tend to. He paused in his steps to look back at the pair. "Come along, then. We'll take a break once we're away from here, hmm?"

"Oh, they're not leaking from anywhere," Gabriel assured the man, wincing as he limped after the Doctor. "Just had a giant cat on them for ... how long?" They were still prickling as he walked, but the further he went the more the pin and needles faded into a warm sort of semi-numbness which seemed to indicate they were at least getting better.

His injured arm he held tight to his side, because that most certainly wasn't getting better, but with a practised flick of his wrist the knife slid into his other hand. Just in case. "Let's hope we don't become those people," he said with an ironic smile. "But somehow I think we're on the list."

He just laughed and shrugged off the mocking comment in a way that seemed entirely good-natured; providing everything he recalled about his former life was true - and as yet he saw no reason to believe it wasn't despite what they'd been told - he knew himself to possess intelligence that statistically counted as genius-level, if one were to put much stock in standardised tests. Which he did, but he felt no need to enlighten her. "There's always a first time for everything, but hey, maybe you're right."

And he nodded; who really knew what they were heading towards, after all? Some of the Workers he'd spoken to hadn't seemed particularly keen on the Sleepers, and all of them had been both secretive and unforthcoming. Even if they hadn't been sent out into the wilderness to die, there was always the possibility that whatever waited for them would be even less savoury than what they were experiences right now. Still; he was a man well-accustomed to going by an alias, and if he were to die without a single person here knowing his real name, it would make little difference to him.

"I guess we'll just have to hope it won't come to that, hmm?" and his lips once again curled in a smile.

Cabanela was confident enough to keep a look-out while he still keeping Gabriel balanced. "Just don't black out on me," he said in his cheerfully amused voice. He was joking, of course. "You gentlemen should tell me aaall about yourselves," he said. He supposed that it would be a way to keep the one man's mind off of the pain.

"The name's Dillon Hays, or so they tell me. Guess I'll be working security when we arrive at our destination, baby."

"Isn't death supposed to come to all of us eventually?" Shrugging, Mal focused on the storm outside with a neutral expression. It was a strange thing to have to shrug off effective immortality at the instruction of a collection of drones and mysteries. Vampires could die, of course, but they required very special circumstances to do so, and Mal had always hoped that she'd avoid both wooden stakes and beheading for hundreds of years. Now she was allegedly faced with death in perhaps fifty years and a body that tired far more quickly than she felt it should. It was irritating.

"But hope," she continued, "that we can certainly do, if you find that a worthwhile exercise."

He'd have been interested to hear of the past she believed belonged to her, had he known; mortality - or at least, the idea of ceasing to exist - was the one thing he'd like to be able to transcend, to be certain that he could go on watching humans indefinitely. Not that it mattered now, perhaps, with everyone here rendered mortal, but it would have been interesting to hear that such a thing was possible, at least.

"Eventually, sure. But personally I'd like to go on living for a little longer," at least until he'd ascertained exactly what was going on here, preferably finding a way back to his own life in the process, if such a thing was even possible. He wasn't prepared to give up on the possibility that it was, just yet. "And hope can be worthwhile enough, on occasion. Though I've always preferred to deal in facts and certainties myself. Unfortunately it doesn't seem as though that option is available to us, right now."

The abrupt change in his expression sent a chill up Elena's spine. If he had never seemed dangerous before, he sure as hell did right now. It was all she could do to keep herself from flinching away, but she managed to keep her gaze steady.

His next words did nothing to reassure her. "Meaning..."

"If you can't get a meaning out of that, then I'm disappointed in you, really I am," Gabriel said sardonically, laying a hand over his heart without turning to look at her again. Sure, she might not even be human herself, but what did it matter? An archangel was a different league even to an ordinary angel.

To, what, a werewolf? A vampire? Even something like a god, there was no contest. Archangels were absolute ... when they had full access to their Grace.

"Long enough," the Doctor answered. Had hadn't really been paying attention to the time, but the beast had been heavy. He was glad it had been Gabriel the thing had fallen on and not him.

He turned to peer thoughtfully at Gabriel when Cabanela commented on blacking out, gave a faint smirk, and continued forward. If Gabriel blacked out, the Doctor would probably be amused, but he doubted the man was even capable of it. He'd just as soon spend the entire time complaining no matter how seriously he was injured.

"I'm the Doctor," he introduced himself, not looking back as he spoke. "A professor, I suppose. Here, at any rate. Well, professor and scientist." It was the 'scientist' aspect he was more looking forward to. "I suppose once I see how well equipped the labs at the Institute are I'll be able to better determine my abilities in either field."

"Give me a break, I'm not only physically exhausted you know," Elena said, maybe more sharply than she intended.

His condescending tone of voice was grating on her already short nerves, and the fear from just moments ago had all but disappeared. Damon would've probably called her bravado 'idiotic lack of preservation for her own life', but after days of traveling and being stuck in a godforsaken desert, Elena was pretty fed up.

Maybe he'd put her out of her misery, she thought sardonically.

Oh, Gabriel liked this guy. He had personality, even if Gabriel wasn't sure he wanted to talk much about himself. Even still, the archangel's grin widened a little, even as he lifted an eyebrow at the Doctor in response to the look. "Who, faint? Me? Psh."

His legs were definitely better. Well, he was beginning to get proper feeling back in them, anyway. "Just call me--Gabriel, trickster extraordinaire," he said with a slight flourish and a dip which would have been a proper bow if he hadn't risked falling over to perform it. "Sweets baker hereabouts, or so they tell me. Can't complain; I mean, how many people here can claim they've got free access to all kinds of sugar?"

With a sigh Gabriel glanced over at her, and his eyes were still sharp, but this time old. Very old. Ancient. "It doesn't matter, okay? Just suffice to say that there's no damned comparison and my being able to paint a feet or so of sand is pathetic. And if they think my not having access to all my powers means I'm going to keep playing their game when they send us out alone, they're stupid."

They weren't stupid. Probably they knew full well that any power regain would come with abuses. Unless they weren't expecting a regain at all, in which case it would be more prudent to keep them under wraps, but Gabriel had had enough of prudence.

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