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resetbutton) wrote in
caveofsapphires2012-04-29 03:56 pm
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Entry tags:
- !pilgrimage,
- aziraphale (john gates),
- balthazar (alexander wilton),
- cabanela (dillon hays),
- chivy darrell (trevor kirby),
- elena gilbert (chloe taylor),
- gabriel (sylvester wilton),
- izaya orihara (toshiyuki kaneko),
- jonas quinn (john hamilton),
- liam mcnally (owen bates),
- maladicta von borogravia (milena tichý),
- malcolm reed (gavin stark),
- pollution (neil mathis),
- re-l mayer (masako hart),
- the doctor (william harris olsen),
- william flemming (allen grant),
- { caprica-six (marisa alexander),
- { famine (david mathis),
- { hope estheim (garrett ross),
- { uther doul (huw downing)
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.
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.
| Day 1: Calm | | Day 2: Animals | | Day 3: Sandstorm | | Day 4: Mansion | | Day 5: Thomp | | Days 6&7: Long way |
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"I should've picked a better meat suit to parade around in." The statement was mostly to himself, the exhaustion suddenly settling in.
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"They all wear out after this kind of thing," was what he settled with, allowing himself to sink to the floor. His posture was as prim as it could possibly be in such an odd space: hands clasped on his upright knees, back straight against the wall. He was tempted to slump, but kept a lookout outside the opening instead. If Balthazar was going to take an impromptu nap, someone out to keep an eye on things, just in case the thing from yesterday came back.
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He lifted his eyes to gaze out into the storm and wondered how long it would rage on. "Father's displays of power were always more enjoyable with a bird's eye view."
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The rest of his irritation came from a niggling sense of something he did not experience nearly enough to be used to it, which was simple dislike. Something about Balthazar was rubbing him entirely the wrong way, and as not liking people - brothers, even, as it were - was not very angelic at all, Aziraphale planned to keep it to himself.
Although that might be difficult. He cleared his throat and readjusted his legs, which had begun to fall asleep. "Displays of power?" he asked lightly, as if for clarification.
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"Storms. Natural disasters, and the like. You know." There was only one Father in the universe who had ego-contests with his own children. At first, a little storm was all it took to wipe out a settlement, but now that humans were so sophisticated, Daddy had to juice up all the disasters. Earthquakes measuring 9 magnitudes, tsunamis bringing whole countries to their knees, tornadoes the size of hurricanes, and hurricanes the size of God Himself. "I was never quite sure where the humans always got these ridiculous stories of their deity being loving and caring. Daddy always did have a very mean streak."
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Although they weren't. They hadn't been for years, thanks to Adam, and aside from that he was even less significant now than he once had been, not to mention somewhere else. Even if someone was watching him, what could they do? He was already human. Still, it was so deeply ingrained that every moment of questioning came with a queasy thrill of anticipated punishment.
The other point, of course, was that questioning and disrespect were two entirely different beasts, and the way Balthazar was speaking was practically disdainful. After a moment, Aziraphale looked at the opening of the crevice again and thought carefully before he spoke.
"A coping mechanism," he said, "perhaps. It's easier to understand a God who is kind, or for that matter cruel, than one who is . . . ineffable. Incomprehensible." He ducked his head and added, "In any case, I wouldn't know much about the bird's eye view. I never spent much time in Heaven."
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But, anyway... "I'm not quite sure how your offices were run over there, but perhaps it was for the best you didn't have to deal with the political side of it all." Lord knows Balthazar had his fill of it.
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With a sigh, he shrugged, letting his legs stretch out as much as he could; his muscles were tensing up. "I was never asked to. I wasn't particularly important. But it would have been - frustrating. Difficult." He thought, too, that it might have changed him, or rather kept him the same. He had been happy on Earth, more or less, and he'd never met a happy angel in Heaven, because happiness was not a concept that had meaning in Heaven. Nor contentment. Just . . . existence, and service.
Service was all well and good, of course, but there had to be something more to it all than that.
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But now Heaven was so clinical, so militaristic, so...cult-like. It became frustrating in all-new, infuriating ways. Ways Balthazar became disgusted to think about. Once he had been a loyal soldier; loyal to his Garrison, loving of his brothers and Father. Now he was a thief. A drunk. "You're lucky; you're not brainwashed like the rest."
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Turning to Balthazar, he added, a touch of curiosity in his voice, "But nor are you." It had been in the back of his mind since that vague night at the bar with the other two angels. Neither of them were anything like the angels he'd known back home, but Balthazar was miles more bitter than even that brief glimpse Gabriel had shown him, and he wore it on his sleeve. It was fascinating, in an incredibly morbid way.
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But, even now, he couldn't decided whether leaving Heaven like he had, had been a good decision or not.
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He didn't really have a good response. He looked at Balthazar, though, and nodded slightly before letting his head fall back against the stone. That, at least, made sense, the tremendous discomfort and shock of realizing that you and your fellow creations, your brothers, were on entirely different planes of understanding.
"Hard to know what to do, really," he mused. "After all that time."
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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."
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"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.
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Best to just leave it be, as was his mantra, and get a bit of shut-eye.