abraxaslogs

There's no weather damage to put back to rights here, trees standing tall and wind gently rustling the leaves of the otherwise silent forest, but in some ways Michael's domain has been neglected far longer than the three weeks they were missing. He hasn't spent much time here since his temper tantrum last fall.

His domain had been home to him for an imaginary eight hundred years, however. Michael wonders if it could become home to him again.

He just doesn't know quite what to do with it to make it feel like home. The version of him that lived multiple centuries of a possible future isn't who he is now. It's not as easy as adding a desert and giving some of the trees a crystalline gleam (though he did try it, for about a half hour or so). He sits in the off-white thinking chair Wanda put here in the clearing for him many months ago. It's got more padding than Michael would have added, unconcerned with comfort or ergonomics as he is, but it's a convenient perch.

So far, he's managed a cube.

Two feet long in each dimension, it appears smooth and white, with a subtle mother of pearl sheen if one takes a close look. Every now and then there's a brief moment where it's bright red, like the booths at Jaci's Red Wagon (but he can't just make the diner again, there must be more in him than that).

He's not so distracted working through his artist's block that he won't notice approaching company. Michael will turn to face strangers and friends and give them a nod.

"Visiting, or just passing through?"

Will was honestly just passing through, exploring. He hadn't experienced anything unlike most of the other Summoned. So, he was checking things out, seeing if anything was amiss. Or anyone. He'd reached out to those he knew. But those he didn't know? He just went wandering.

"Uh, nice cube? " Will completely ignored Michael's question and crouched by the block, looking at it. "What color is it supposed to be?" Honestly he wasn't sure what its purpose was, besides. Existing?

"I'm Will. How you doing?" Cause this? This was super fishy.

Michael doesn't bother thanking him for the compliment. He recognizes it's the nice, socially acceptable thing to say rather than genuine admiration for his creation. Besides, it's clearly unfinished.

"It's a work in progress."

He'll decide what colour it's meant to be later. Form and function before aesthetics, and right now he's not sure what he wants it to be.

"Michael. I'm doing well. And you?" he says, his voice flat. More social niceties. They don't know each other, though, so he's sure Will can't be expecting anything more from him than the dull standard reply. "I haven't seen you around Solvunn. Free Cities or Thorne?"

"Wow, so you're not human." Will crossed his arms in utter amusement and more than a bit disrespectful. Call it an educated guess, but he'd been around enough immortals and deities to peg them when he saw them. Or when they generally were completely not trying. Like at all.

"What flavor of immortal are you? God? Titan? ....A Titan named Michael? ....Right. Not a Titan. And you're definitely not a nature spirit." Yeah, they were skipping the social niceties, and this guy? Was not fluent in sarcasm at all.

"I'm Free Cities. We can skip the small talk although you really need to practice. You must be super fun at parties."

Edited 2024-05-20 20:39 (UTC)

"Never cared for parties. Too much pointless small talk."

He has other virtues. All seven of the heavenly ones, according to his PR team. Close family know well that his temperament lies more on the wrath end of the spectrum than the patient side.

Will's definitely striking him as rude, but that's about what Michael's come to expect from this age group. He hasn't specifically picked a fight with him. Yet.

"Aren't you perceptive? Archangel. And what about you? I can tell you're not human—not fully."

If he were back home, he'd be able to tell demigod from nephilim from demon at a glance. Here though, where so many realities intermingle, what looks to him like a monster might not be quite the one he expects.

"Okay.....stupid question. How many angels are there in this place?" Okay, this was only his second, unless you counted Dean who for some reason had wings.

His dad had a PR team too. Apparently Apollo was excellent at haikus. That held up until you heard one of them. Seeing was believing, Michael. Or hearing. But the smart people held their tongues. after a couple renditions of how Apollo flayed Marsyas alive well, everyone shut up. Except his kids, who were completely not scared of him.

"Nah, it's not perception. You just don't seem to care enough for a mortal. Or an Olympian. That narrows down the field a bit. They care about what people think. Especially about something they care about. Like your horizon. You definitely don't. "

Will settles down, sitting on the floor opposite Michael. "Do you really want to know or do you want to play twenty questions?"

He was bored Michael. Really, really bored. No one had gotten stabbed in days. And in all honesty he was used to trying to entertain bored ADHD demigods who thought fun was setting things on fire.

"More than one. You can't expect me to keep track of every Summoned across the entire continent."

He's not head of the Heavenly Host, here. He's not going to be held up as a liar just because one of his siblings or some alternate world angel he's never met happens to be hiding in one of the other territories. Also, he doesn't know Will beyond him being the sort of person who asks a question and then plays coy about answering the same in turn. He and his brothers aren't exactly on the best terms, but there's still a familial loyalty that says he doesn't go handing out gossip about them to virtual strangers.

Michael reserves the family drama for people unfortunate enough to call him friend (or even more unfortunately, brother).

"You're the first to guess it on first meeting, so I stand by my comment."

Perceptive little whatever-he-is. Usually people just think he's a bit of a stick in the mud. Maybe sheltered, maybe homeschooled. Definitely from some kind of religious household. Perhaps overly interested in birds, for the almost avian way he tilts his head.

"I'd like to know. I answered your question without forcing you to play a game, and I'd appreciate the same in return."

"You guys don't have like a secret hand shake or something?" Okay, call him overly optimistic sometimes but he kind of figured angels would be able to keep tabs on other angels, even in here. Maybe it was this place. Or maybe angels weren't like the greek pantheon, which. Was pretty obvious now that he thought it through. Maybe it was both. Or maybe, as what gave Michael away to Will, was the fact that this guy didn't seem to care. Then again, maybe he had the same relationship to his family that Will had with his. He certainly wouldn't go telling just anyone how many demigods were here. On the other hand, Clarisse had basically lit a signal fire and called FAFO. So......there was that.

"You're right. You respected me enough to answer my question. I'm a demigod, son of Apollo." Wow, this guy was definitely not Greek. He had no enthusiasm. And his posture is kind of weird.

He's a celestial presence larger than a skyscraper folded to fit into Adam Milligan's six foot something frame. If there's something off about his posture, it's only to be expected.

Michael is in fact very comfortable in this vessel of his by now, after the decade (a thousand years and then some in Hell time) he's spent in it, and he's learned well how to express his moods with it. Being a little stiff and a whole lot impassive just happens to be what he wants to get across most of them time. It's who he is.

"Nothing of the sort, though I'd recognize my brothers."

They do have angel radio, a form of communication which might count as a handshake in the computing sense of the word. It's not exactly secret, though. It's rare they use it, and accordingly rare that they speak of it, but Michael is sure Castiel wouldn't hesitate to blab about their angelic communications network if someone were to ask the right question.

"A Greek demigod? You're not the first of your kind here, either. I'm surprised they haven't managed to summon more of you to Solvunn. You polytheistic types seem like just the sort of people they're hoping for."

"Right, you probably saw Clarisse's announcement. I guess that was kind of hard to miss. I don't doubt you're right, but I'm also not convinced they have any idea or control over who they summon here." Mainly because he wouldn't have chosen himself. He would have chosen pretty much anyone else. Or Percy Jackson. Nico, Annabeth. Jason. There were a ton too choose from. Pretty much anyone but him.

"Are there any of my kind back in your world, or do the pantheons tend to keep separate? Cause...I've seen a lot of Gods back home but, they've always been Greek or Roman." He wasn't saying other pantheons didn't exist back home, but they probably stayed off each others lawns. The news of the Egyptian, Norse and Judeo-Christian pantheons hasn't spread to Will's circle yet.

"So it sounds like we each have some family in the area. Kind of. I don't know if this like...doesn't apply because we're in different circles or not, and really, really I don't mean any offense by this, but I want to get it out in the open. If you're expecting me to fetch any of your magical dirty laundry or anything, no. Really, I mean this as politely as possible so I don't end up a pile of glitter or a pretty potted plant --not that I wouldn't love the opportunity to be a potted plant."

Yeah, he was doing fantastically.

"If someone needs healing, magical or physical, I'm happy to help but if you're looking for someone to do your dishes or run errands...can you look somewhere else? If that's what you and your....brothers are interested in." He'd did it for Greeks because that was what was expected of him as a greek demigod. But this? This was way outside the service zone.

Also he wasn't entirely certain if Michael could turn him into a potted plant. So, there was that.

Edited 2024-06-02 01:27 (UTC)

Michael had in fact been thinking more of Zagreus, their local Greek god of blood. Admittedly Zagreus seems to be full pagan god rather than demigod, but it's the same pantheon, isn't it? He had mentioned gaining cousins here. He must have meant people like Will.

"No, I don't suppose they do." Not just because Solvunn has summoned so many atheists to their heavily religious commune, but because there seems to be no consistency in who they pull here. The partially divine, hulking sharkmen, perfectly ordinary humans. It strikes him as random and unplanned.

"Demigods? A few. I can't speak to the internal affairs of pagan gods, but I'm certain they are at least aware of one another."

How else would they know to keep to the boundaries of their own territory? They're jealous and possessive, as much over space as over their followers. Being gods of different aspects of life would only go so far to keep them apart.

Will's rambling about gathering laundry and doing dishes has Michael's brows drawing lower in confusion. Does he expect to be sent on some kind of quest? Is that what archangels do where he's from? Quests are Eddie's area of interest, not his, and without his godly abilities the man seems much more interested in acting them out with dice and paper.

He could probably make Will fit into the space occupied by a potted plant if suitably motivated, but turning him into a plant proper is outside the realm of his abilities—at least within Abraxas. Perhaps he could still pull it off within the Horizon? That sort of trick was always more in line with Gabriel's way of thinking anyway.

"My brothers and I are capable of our own healing, and I believe there's already a courier service between territories. I have no intention of asking you for anything. You're the one who showed up in my domain, I didn't seek you out. Is that the purpose of a demigod—running errands?"

Will was looking at Michael like he was trying to decide if he was telling the truth. At least for a moment. Then he quickly realized this guy was probably a terrible liar. Angels didn't seem to be like gods. Or at least the Greek kind. This guy was just so....alien. Or inhuman. The Greek Gods? They had that human thing down, at least personality wise.

"You really don't want anything? Um. Thank you. That's actually really good to hear. And I'm sorry, I didn't want it to come off as accusatory but.....yeah, that's kind of what I'm used too? I wouldn't say it's our purpose but....well, okay yeah. It's our purpose. We stay at Camp and train so we're not killed by monsters, hoping that we'll get a quest. That one of our parents or any of the gods might need us to do something dangerous because they lost something over a lava pit full of empousai and want us to retrieve it for them. Barring all the wars we've been through, it's how you know if you're any good."

Will took another look at the cube Michael had been creating, still thinking it was interesting. At least, he was quite sure it would be interesting to someone like an Athena kid with a fascination for geometric shapes. Annabeth would love it.

"I'm pretty happy just sewing people back up and lying in the sun, honestly."

Michael might surprise Will, some day. He's an excellent liar when he puts his mind to it, exactly because it requires no shift in his expression. There's no obvious difference between a stone-faced truth and a bald-faced lie when delivered by the same unaffected features.

He wouldn't be surprised about the Greek gods seeming more human than he does. Where he comes from, they live among them. Despite being supernatural in nature, they have more in common with fellow creatures of flesh than with God's army of wavelengths. Angels in their natural state don't experience thirst or hunger or much of anything in the way of emotion. Pagan gods do.

Will's words earn him a slight crack in Michael's blank exterior, a raising of his eyebrows.

"They keep you in a camp?"

This is probably not so dissimilar a concept from keeping angels in Heaven and dispatching them to Earth as needed. Nonetheless, knowing nothing else but what Will has told him of the place, it sounds unwholesome to Michael's ear. A camp where pagan gods dump their half-breed offspring for whenever they need them.

Will would absolutely be surprised when Michael bald faced lied to him without a change in expression. At the moment, he's more comparing the angel to an android than a supernatural being. Blame his Star Wars fixation. As for pagan gods? He would be the first to say that they totally experienced emotion. Needs, wants, desires. Exponentially. It was always great when a greek god wanted you to do something. All powerful being wanting their magical what-its they happened to lose in the most dangerous place possible and you can't say no because you'll get incinerated.

So Will was downright surprised when Michael's eyebrows raised.

"Not so much as keep us as...dump us? If we survive until early adolescence when monsters start smelling us and we have to make a run for camp or get eaten. They're not exactly placing us there nicely for safe keeping." They were more like canon fodder the gods sometimes felt emotionally attached too.

Android isn't far off the mark. There's definitely something artificial about them: designed and assembled by a creator rather than born, their very nature controlled by a series of instructions and codes. Outside of Heaven they grow beyond their original function, but they may still have more in common with a rogue artificial intelligence than a creature of flesh and blood.

Will paints an even bleaker picture of what life at his demigod camp is like. Michael wonders a little at why gods would want half-breed children at all, if attracting monsters and running errands is all they're good for. Surely they could force human worshippers to do their bidding instead.

"Unpleasant. As expected of pagan gods, I suppose. That habit of attracting monsters doesn't translate to this world, does it?"

If so, Solvunn might make for a more difficult place to live than most, surrounded by dark woods and rumours of evil creatures roaming at night. He might be lucky to live in the Free Cities instead.

It was definitely something Will wasn't as experienced with. All the beings in Greek mythology were emotional, inextricably tied to humanity in ways that mirrored them. It made Michael unfamiliar in a way Will couldn't quite comprehend. Besides the Star Wars fascination.

Michaels unanswered question has sad answer. The gods didn't want half breed children. They just couldn't help themselves. And they were kind of handy. His own father once referred to them as canon fodder. It was less work to use their half-breed children than it was to use worshipers. Worshipers could always say no if you asked them to fetch dirty socks one to many times.

"Pagan Gods, as opposed too....?" It wasn't that Will didn't believe in other gods. It was just that he didn't have any experience with them. "I dont know if I attract monsters here, but I wouldn't be surprised? I'm honestly not that interested in trying my chances. I quite like living."

Yes, he probably would have a poor time in Solvunn.

It might be in the nature of divine parents to care about their offspring only to the degree in which they're useful to them. It's no different for the angels.

"As opposed to anything that isn't a pagan god."

Sure, monsters in general are definitely unpleasant too, but pagan gods still rate a few levels of irritation above that. Their sense of entitlement to the name of god offends a creature who believes in only one (even if said creature presently thinks very little of said God). Read between the lines, Will. They're just monsters with bigger egos.

(Arguably, the same might be said of archangels.)

"If you haven't noticed any monsters following you into your home in the Free Cities or around Nocwich, you likely have nothing to worry about."

Monsters don't stay out of cities where he's from, so he can't see what would be stopping them here, either. That goes double for Nocwich. He knows there are vicious things in their woods.

Yup. Will was totally reading between those lines and those lines were scary. Kind of terrifying. He knew just how scary monsters were. He knew how scary gods were. He was slowly getting the idea that maybe angels were just as scary. If not a different kind of scary.

"I actually don't spent that much time around Nocwich really. At least at one time. I need sunlight or my body has an adverse reaction. And yeah, I'm actually really surprised i havent had more of a problem in the Free Cities."

Will was also used to monsters free roaming in the cities. or anywhere really. There was a reason he stayed at camp, and that was the magical barrier.

Michael might not object to being called scary. Even other members of the Heavenly Host had feared him. It would be understandable for something lesser than an angel in his eyes to feel the same way, though he's also noticed people don't tend to see Adam as particularly threatening.

"There are hunters in the Free Cities. If the city is free of monsters, then they're doing their job adequately."

Or is it just hunter singular these days? He's a little less loathe to give credit where it's due, now that he knows Dean more intimately than he's cared to since the Apocalypse. Sounds as though he keeps whatever monsters lurk his section of the continent away from populated areas.

Open

OPEN - Horizon - Michael's Domain

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