Gabriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trickntreats) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caveofsapphires2012-06-02 09:03 pm
trickntreats) wrote in caveofsapphires2012-06-02 09:03 pm
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.
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.
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What was the point? He'd just have to fumble to get them out all over again. That was one good thing about Aziraphale's hovering, that at least things were clean, even if they were untidy.
The archangel was still holding his phone, one hand resting on the counter as he made his way down the caravan's aisle to the door. At the sound of Balthazar's voice his head snapped up and he gave the other angel a sunny, utterly empty smile, his sightless gaze trained on some point past Balthazar's head. "Hi there, bro. Apparently I rank a trip on angel-airlines; wouldn't've thunk."
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"Shall we go? Ah, wait, I should probably hold your hand on the way there, shouldn't I?" It was a harmless riff, anything to take the tension out of the situation.
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He made the door, sliding his hands along the frame and gingerly finding the step with his foot, making his slow way down. The archangel rolled his eyes and smirked. "No need to clutch my hand like a frightened date, bro. Nothing's going to jump out at you on the way just because you're daring the streets for once."
Even so, once he got to the ground he reached out, searching for Balthazar' arm. It wasn't even remotely a joke that he would need the guidance.
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The former angel didn't comment any further on the whole hand-holding business, instead just pushing his arm into his brother's reach. He knew they were both prideful in their own way; the fact that Gabriel really hadn't gotten in touch with him immediately after this all happened didn't really surprise him. Balthazar knew if something like this had happened to him, he doubted he'd look for help either.
"I dare the streets much more than you think. There's nothing better to do here, so I often take trips to nowhere in particular. If only to get a layout of this God-forsaken dump." Once Gabriel had a hold on him, the blond walked forward, knowing exactly where he was going.
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The archangel gripped Balthazar's arm and when he felt the tug of movement he followed, matching his brother's pace after a step or two. If he ignored the fact that he had to stay a half-step behind, he could almost pretend they were just walking. Aside from, y'know, the whole living in utter darkness thing.
"I hear there's a club to check out," he said innocently. "Best times to visit is late at night." Jealous as he was of that Kardos guy, the conversation between him and Aziraphale had at least been entertaining. "If you've found anything else, you should let me know. I could use some entertainment."
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"The drag club, correct? Its owner is interesting, to say the least." When Liam had told him the bar was part drag show, Balthazar didn't bat an eye. He thought maybe a normal person would, but Balthazar barely had any sense of gender roles outside of sex. He was technically sexless, after all, and it's not like his vessel seemed to have any preference. "I've been once or twice." When he wasn't drowning himself. "I like it. Other than the club, the coffee shop, and your caravan, I really haven't seen much. The rings of the city are big, if nothing else."
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He couldn't help the falter, because that reminded him of the Doctor, and the Doctor reminded him that any one of them could vanish at any moment. The archangel promptly tried to distract Balthazar from noticing by adding, "Just do me a favour and wait 'til after this crap wears off if you're planning to take to the stage yourself, bro. That's something I've just gotta see."
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