smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

[resetbutton]

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.

| Day 1: Calm

| Day 2: Animals

| Day 3: Sandstorm

| Day 4: Mansion

| Day 5: Thomp

| Days 6&7: Long way

Comments

[oilyhands]

"It sounds like you do," White said, smiling. "But I'm not sure I know you." Not that it particularly mattered. There were only four people he was particularly interested in seeing and, of them, Gabriel certainly wasn't the Antichrist. "Should I?"

[trickntreats]

"You've probably heard of me," Gabriel said with a rolling shrug, but his smile didn't leave. In fact, it took on an edge, his amber eyes hardening. "They called me Gabriel."

It might not have much effect; this Pestilence, wherever he'd come from, didn't seem much fazed by anything, and Gabriel hadn't had much to do with the one from his world to begin with. That didn't matter. The words were a warning. "Here alone, or did any of your brothers happen to come along for the ride?"

[oilyhands]

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.

[trickntreats]

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.

sorry about the delay :(

[oilyhands]

"Nearly." Perfect would be all of them — plus one. After a moment, he sighed, nodding to the wasteland around them. "There isn't much to work with, here."

ilu bb <3

[trickntreats]

[Gabriel waves dismissively.]

That's just because someone beat you to it. Don't feel bad, now. You may've heard what they say about imitation.

[He sounds sardonic, a bit caustic, as opposed to the teasing he normally would have with anyone else.]

[oilyhands]

By its nature, it happens once. [And his preparations aren't here, his nuclear codes and scientists. This isn't the where, even if he seems to have passed the when.] This doesn't look much like a holy war.

[trickntreats]

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.

[oilyhands]

[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?

[trickntreats]

Eh, probably not to you.

[He smiles humourlessly, sardonically.]

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