caveofsapphires | hurt myself again today

Entry tags:

hurt myself again today

WHO: Gabriel (Sylvester Wilton), [OPEN]
WHAT: Power discovery goes very, very wrong.
WHERE: Syl's caravan, the Cave, anywhere else it's conceivable to him to be
WHEN: 2 June - 9 June 2012
WARNINGS: None yet
NOTES: Looking for nummy new CR, or call-backs to earlier CR he hasn't spoken to for a while, especially for the initial helping-hand thread, please. :3 Multiple threads with the same character throughout the week are welcome. Also, Gabe will not be able to see peoples' souls for the duration.

Actionspam also welcome if that's better for people!

It was the conversation with the Doctor which had planted the thought in Gabriel's head. Well, the conversation with the Doctor and that little hole Re-l had discovered in the back of the wardrobe. The fact was that his constructs were, technically, a reality-warp. They used the fabric of reality to create something out of nothing ... well, nothing that could be seen, anyway.

And if he could do that, then maybe he could take things a step further into doing something else. Like actual reality manipulation.

Which was why he was staring contemplatively at the wall of Syl's caravan, ratta-tapping the counter. A small pocket to start with, he decided. A little safe in the wall. He could cover it with a painting, or something. It wasn't like anyone would assume there would be anything behind it, given the tininess of the caravan.

In the past he'd found that as long as he kept a detailed image of an object in mind, he shouldn't think too hard about the creation in order for it to work. As long as he knew how it was built, that seemed to be all he needed. Well, he knew how these reality manipulations went. So once he had a structured image of the little hidey-hole in mind, he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.

The ensuing flash of light and shockwave which rattled the caravan was visible from blocks away. Gabriel pushed himself up onto his elbows, his head ringing and back aching as if he'd just been thrown against the far wall--which he had. He moved gingerly, pushing himself up against the wall that opened, breathing hard and blinking, and trying not to be sick. The nauseous feeling passed after a few minutes and the ringing in his head dulled to a slight throb.

His vision faded from the white turn of dizziness into steady blackness, and the archangel's stomach flipped over with dread. "Oh, no."

* * *

The next week was ... well, it was something close to Hell. Gabriel couldn't tell whether his screw-up had permenantly messed with his sight or not, and every time he opened his eyes and saw nothing it twisted his gut to such a degree that he felt sick.

Blind. Not just blind the way his brothers were still blind, but completely. He couldn't even move the caravan far, because he couldn't see the streets; there was an autopilot installed on the driver's booth, because Syl had referenced it in his notes, but the archangel couldn't see to program it in the first place. The archangel was forced to walk if he ever wanted to go anywhere, one hand planted firmly on a wall just so he could make sure he was going the right way.

And no angel radar meant he got lost. Frequently. There were few things as terrifying as having no wall, no concept as to where the wall was, and no idea if he was on the right street.

He managed to find his way to the train back to the Cave, once, on the 7th, with some intention of seeing the doctors there. Then some part of him had spoken up, told him he couldn't very well just give in like that, and he hadn't wound up going to see them at all. Instead he'd wandered, lost, through the Cave until he'd found his way back to the metro and returned to the City with his pride intact and his sanity shot.

The day he woke up to find his sight had returned, blurry at first, he was about ready to weep with relief.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gabriel jerked in surprise, craning his head in the direction of Malcolm's voice. His breathing was quick, ragged, his eyes wide and completely sightless, staring into the distance somewhere to Malcolm's side. His gut twisted. He hadn't seen the man coming. Not just physically, but spiritually. He couldn't see the soul.

The archangel's expression rearranged itself, aiming for something close to bitter amusement and not getting anywhere near it. The pain and the growing fear overtook any mask Gabriel might have tried to muster. "Have you ever tried to build something that blew up in your face?"

Something wasn't right--well, that was plainly obvious enough as it was, but the angel had more wrong about him than just simply being tossed about a bit. Malcolm had a bit of field medicine under his belt, but there wasn't much that could be done for something like blindness.

He moved closer, slowly, and gave what he hoped was a more calming chuckle. "Unfortunately, a few times. It's a danger one faces when one habitually works with weaponry." A hand slipped onto Gabriel's shoulder. The other hand gave an experimental wave before his face, just to make sure there wasn't any recognition of movement of any sort. "Whatever blew up in yours caused quite the disturbance. I would have sworn I was going to come upon this street and find no street left."

Gabriel heard the slow, cautious footsteps, knew the Brit was coming, but the hand landing on his shoulder still made the archangel flinch violently, his own hand flying up to grip Malcolm's wrist. He fumbled in finding it, cracking his knuckles on the underside of the other man's arm before gripping it tightly.

It was hard to say whether the grip was tight out of paranoia, training, or to give Gabriel something to orient himself.

The archangel's throat worked a little before he could answer. His vision remained solidly black; Malcolm's gesture received no reaction at all. "It's my first time. Reality-pocket. Maybe a few molecules got rearranged around the place when it backlashed. Most of it hit me."

His voice was strained. Ordinarily he wouldn't have been so open, but he was still stunned, and frightened enough that he couldn't even deny to himself that he was. He'd never had his power explode in his face like this before. It just wasn't meant to happen. With the bridge the migraine had been a complaint at trying to draw more power than he had to spare. This ... this was something different.

The violent reaction gave him a start, but it wasn't unexpected if he was so suddenly blind. The knuckle-bashing and the deathgrip didn't faze him. "'Reality-pocket'?" he echoed, confusion lacing his tone. "You can just summon up little bits of another reality?"

He supposed, at least for now, it wasn't terribly important if he wasn't going to understand it, but it might be important for someone to figure out how to fix him up if it was something that wouldn't heal on its own. "Who knew angelic powers were such an exact science," Malcolm eventually murmured before shifting closer. "Let's get you up and out a bit, perhaps take a rest and get some help, hm? Might have to get you back to the cave for that."

Gabriel's laugh was hollow, for lack of any other reaction. "Oh, you remember that? Great. Perfect." He shook his head, closing his eyes and then opening them again as if his sight would come back in the second he really shouldn't have been able to see anything.

"It's not usually supposed to be exact; it's supposed to be an instinct." Not anymore. Though the fact he'd gotten a reaction at all kind of said that he still had some ability in that area. It wasn't really a comforting realisation, given the result.

His head jerked in the direction of Malcolm's voice, half a reaction and half a shake. Not the Cave. Who knew what they'd want to do to him? His angelic powers were returning. Maybe they could take them away again. Maybe they'd put him under for experimentation. It didn't matter. He was vulnerable. There was no way he was going to the Cave for help. "I don't think going back to the Cave for something like this would be a good idea. The Doctor. He's ... somewhere around here. At the Institute of Science."

The Time Lord may not be a nephilim, but he'd know something about reality manipulation. And at least he'd have eyes to see.

It was true, going to the cave was likely not the best course of action, but as far as he was aware, their hospital was fully functioning--and fully staffed. "I'll have to check a map, then." It was a large city. There was plenty he still didn't know existed, and he hadn't kept track of where everyone went after arriving. "And now that we've some proper communicators, I can even call him up and ask. I'd still like to get you up, make sure the rest of you is functioning as well as we can hope without some scans. Let's at least move up front and sit comfortably, hm?" One thing nobody had ever accused him of was having a bad bedside manner.

"And yes, bit difficult to forget someone claiming to be an angel. I honestly thought you a loon at first, but who am I to judge these things, after all?"

"There's one on the wardrobe," Gabriel said. Inhale. Exhale. Panic wouldn't help, wasn't something he wanted to experience, and it could just damn well go away. He braced himself on the wall, took another breath, and pushed himself up awkwardly, half using Malcolm as a leaning-post.

"Help me over." He could have just described it, but he didn't want to. It was one thing having Re-l poking around. Entirely another to have a guy he'd gotten drunk at once doing the same.

That and he needed to do something. Needed to--to move, to make sure the caravan was still as intact as it sounded it was from Malcolm's words. The wardrobe was at the front, back against the same wall the raised driver's seat shared; there was a panel in the door which flipped down to bridge it and the counter, creating a desk.

"All right." No reason to argue with that. Doing so would only cause undue aggravation anyway. Even if the blindness was temporary, Gabriel would have to start quickly learning to move about with it, at least until it cleared. Malcolm stayed steadfastly beside him, guiding carefully. "Steady as she goes. Over here. Feel it?" He gave the wardrobe a little knock.

Getting to his feet made Gabriel's body ache, and once on his feet he had a quiet moment of panic as he realised he didn't know where to step. The caravan wasn't big and he kept it tidy, but it was one thing to see how far away the other side was and another to appear to have a yawning nothingness in front of him.

The archangel couldn't help but put a hand out, groping blindly for the other side even with Malcolm's guidance. He knocked his knee on the counter-side, grit his teeth and breathing heavily through his nose. Then he fumbled for the wardrobe, hands sliding over the front until he found the panel and swung it down. He misjudged the distance, caught his hand between the edge of the panel and the counter, and strangled a yelp of pain, carefully easing his hand out and clutching it to his chest.

All of a sudden the caravan, which had seemed just about the right size, seemed once again to be far too small.

"There," he said, indicating the top of the desk. The map there looked like an ordinary plastic one covering the whole of the city, but if Malcolm looked closely he'd see that it was electronic, that the white background glowed faintly. "Tap a place to zoom in."

Well, Gabriel could have hurt himself worse, so it was marginally a success just to get over there. "All right, just relax for a few moments." Right, Institute of Science, Institute of Science... "Who is this doctor, anyway? A doctor of what, exactly?" It seemed like it wasn't likely to be medicine, else they'd probably be at the hospital, or some other clinic. At the Institute of Science, it could be a doctor of xenolinguistics for all he knew.

"I suppose I'll be driving your sorry arse there," he chided lightly, jokingly.

Just relax. Just relax. Gabriel laughed, a brittle, near-hysterical laugh that he realised he really needed to clamp down on right now or he wouldn't be able to stop. He still wasn't able to keep his shoulders from shaking as he got the urge under control.

"Just--The Doctor," he managed to say. What was he meant to be a doctor of here in the City? Gabriel couldn't remember. He shook his head, regretted it, and pressed his good hand to his temple. "He knows a bunch of things about metaphysics."

Gabriel hoped. Neither of his brothers had their healing powers as far as he knew, so there wasn't any point in going to them. Making them worry.

Seeing him vulnerable.

"If you crash my caravan I'll kill you," he said, vying for light-hearted. He managed it ... sort of.

"At least someone does, because I certainly wouldn't be able to help in the realm of metaphysics. Now, if you want me to blow something up, that's a much different story..."

Malcolm didn't think it would be calming to mention that he'd seen these kind of vehicles last in a museum, although he assumed they worked very similarly to vehicles of his own time. "I'll make certain to be very careful not to crash into the abundance of traffic out on these streets," he instead wryly commented. "You just sit comfortably, and I'll get you where you need to go without hoping there's someone who's capable of repairing caravans around."

"If I couldn't blow things up myself, I'd need to go back to angel-school." Not that there had ever been an angel school, and if there had been some equivalent he would have been one of the teachers there (mostly specialising in the arts), but eh, details. The levity was helping him keep his head.

"You don't need traffic to crash this thing," Gabriel grumbled, fumbling for the edges of the wardrobe door and then one of the drawers, the one which contained all of Sylvester's paperwork--which didn't include his clandestine communications with Masa, or anything else Gabriel had discovered Sylvester had gotten up to on the shady side of the law. He flapped his hand at it. "Instruction manual's somewhere in there. Just keep an eye on the control-stick, it's a bit loose sometimes."

Despite his sudden apparent confidence, the archangel's heart was beating quickly against his ribs, and his hands trembled faintly with adrenaline.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

hurt myself again today

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Liam says we can find evidence the Doctor hasn't been around in a while, btw