abraxaslogs | EVENT #10: AFFLICTION

Entry tags:

EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

With tensions heavy across Abraxas and all the destruction that's happened, it's no surprise that the dark shadows which sweep over the land go unnoticed...at first.

Winds initially stir in Solvunn, where the influence of the Old Gods remains the strongest. Slowly each Herald infects Thorne and the Free Cities, as well. The Summoned are the first to feel its effects and are the most heavily impacted.

Though no one will realize it until well afterwards, Nocwich remains unaffected. After all, the Summoned don't reside there.

NOTE: This event will deal with themes of death (people and animal) and horror imagery.

Emergence

It begins sometime in mid-October, around the 18th. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterwards when you're visited by an unusually vivid dream.

The dream starts the same for everyone: you are going somewhere, anywhere, walking to your bedroom or enjoying a stroll on the beach. You might be driving down a familiar neighborhood. Wherever you're headed, you eventually come upon a stone tablet engraved with your Arcana. Laid on the tablet are three objects:

◎ A dead moth trapped inside a wilted rose, symbolizing Koth of Festering Lands
◎ A teacup inside which sits a single nightshade berry, symbolizing Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues
◎ An ornate cracked hand mirror that contains no reflection, symbolizing Sannleikr of Many Faces

Make a choice. Something inside your soul will be drawn towards one of the objects. Maybe you spend hours in the dream deliberating, but sooner or later, you'll pick one of the items up. The moment you do, the other objects vanish and the chosen Herald appears before you. Where one might expect a god to seek subservience, the strange figure instead extends a friendly hand towards you - as though it's greeting you as an equal.

Whispered around you, you hear its name. Then it fades and with it the dream. You awaken.

Affliction

You go about your day as usual. That's when you realize something isn't right. Creatures and people around you behave strangely. You begin to sense that you are the cause.

Depending on your chosen Herald, you'll experience at least one of its afflictions. The effects might start small, then grow. They might rush you all at once. You can't shake what haunts you, though you can try. Spells, potions, and willpower can help keep the afflictions at bay but you won't ever be completely free.

As the afflictions seep into your mind, you start to find shadows of it following you: a dead moth here, a nightshade bloom there, a cracked mirror elsewhere. You may even wonder if it's following you in the first place. What if instead, you are the one leaving these signs behind?

Corruption

The first time you inflict your ability on someone else, you don't mean to. It might be a stranger, some unsuspecting soul, or it might be another Summoned. Regardless, the afflictions that ail you seem to spread through you into another. Someone falls down as if in the throes of an invisible death or secrets spill. You brush by someone and they're suddenly upset and confused.

The more this happens, intentionally or not, the better you feel. You may grow full of life and energy, gain a renewed strength of heart, or radiate a charm that turns heads and garners compliments. The afflictions haunting you could even start to fade or completely vanish. And if you use your newfound power deliberately? You'll feel better even faster for longer. Of course, these boons are temporary, lasting at most an hour or so. When the feeling wanes, you might miss having it.

You are not possessed. You can't control this power that spreads through you, but how you respond or behave is up to you. You could be attracted to the allure of power, enjoy the boons you are granted, or realize you can gain relief from your afflictions if you choose a victim. Not everyone will fall headfirst into the pull. Some are not easily swayed by power, some struggle to overcome their dark impulses, and others would rather endure their suffering than inflict it on someone else. But others still might succumb to temptation and turn on those around them with purpose: once, twice, multiple times. The choice you make is yours alone.

Blight

With the call of the Herald at your fingertips, the world around you twists. No one knows whether this stems from you and your newly imbued afflictions, or if the Heralds are exerting power on their own. It's for sure easier to think of what occurs as the influence of something monstrous beyond your control. No matter the cause, the earth is changed all the same.

Omens

The omens arrive shortly after the initial Summoned receive their dreams, but they don't come to every faction at once. SOLVUNN is first, being home to the Old Gods' shrines, before THORNE and the FREE CITIES follow only days afterwards. Depending on where you are, the omens will affect things a bit differently.

Solvunn

In Solvunn, the ground stirs. A desiccated hand breaks through the grass, a cloven hoof. Human or animal, they crawl forth, animated against their will. Some might attack, but most do not. At the same time, crops around the settlements begin to fail. Some chickens lay rotten eggs while cows produce spoiled milk. Any livestock that perishes overnight will surface in the mornings with empty eye sockets - pecked out by crows or gnawed on by rats. From a distance, the ocean can be seen bubbling as leviathans beneath thrash.

Worth noting is that many of the dead are concentrated around the shrines, especially the ones deep in the woods. They're too decayed to recognize, and some might not even move from the site, as though they are waiting for the earth to take them again...or as though they once chose to give up their life at this very spot.

Summoned can assist by helping to cast spells or place warding charms around shrines, farms, and gardens to protect crops and livestock. As a commune, the Solvunnites will share their resources as much as possible and would appreciate those who might lend a hand bringing supplies, herbs, and offerings to neighbors who are lacking. The Summoned can also brew a common herbal remedy to aid any animals who have fallen ill or to help purify the well water.

Free Cities

In Libertas, the dead buried under the rubble dig themselves out. More crawl forth from graves in Cadens' cemeteries. Beasts and bandits slain in the desert wilds rise, hungry or searching for the ones who killed them. At the same time, dead fish wash up onto the shores of Aquila while birds fall dead from their perch, dropping like flies from an unknown illness. Vultures and other scavengers begin to prey upon the eyes of the dead, leaving behind hollowed-out corpses.

Worth noting is that in the Badlands, a few very old and skeletal corpses rise with a metal plate or two screwed onto their bones, which are also oddly elongated. Only one or two make their way near the city. The army is quick to dispose of them before many can notice. They will not disclose any information about this and will claim these are just monsters like anything else.

Summoned can assist by going on patrol with the soldiers to put down any risen dead. Merchant caravans are also hiring escorts for their journeys. Additionally, they can help look through any received supplies and packages to make sure the food isn't rotting or worse, use a special dissolving compound to purify the waters, and donate staple food items to refugees and the less fortunate who can't afford the rising prices.

Thorne

In Thorne, the dead emerge only from the outskirts of the castle city. Thanks to information from one of their Summoned and their recent monitoring of the Singularity, Thorne was able to act swiftly and was able to ward any royal or otherwise significant burial sites. Graves and tombs of less importance, though, will not be protected in the same way. There are fewer encounters with eyeless corpses, though some animals might appear outside the castle in such a state. Normally extravagant dishes from the Castle's kitchens use simpler ingredients as they struggle to ration their food stores.

Worth noting is that a few unexpected corpses make their way up from deep under the castle in places beyond the dungeons. These are twisted and mangled, missing limbs, heads, fingers. The castle guards are quick to dispose of them before they get too far into the rest of the castle, but one or two may be spotted.

Summoned can assist by contributing to the wards around Castle Thorne and the city, using spells to put down the dead without mangling the corpse, and taking inventory of food stores. Further, in Nott the situation is more dire for anyone who is traveling there to continue assisting with repairs following the attack. Nott will welcome help with any problems caused by the omens. It'll be clear the kingdom has neglected the city somewhat. Thorne will claim the Castle takes priority, of course, due to King and Queen residing there along with the entire royal court.

Apprehensions

Across the factions, locals are beginning to catch on that something isn't right with you, the Summoned. No one will say it outright, but there's an air of caution and wariness around you where you go. Merchants might be quick to hand you your wares so you'll leave or locals give you a bit of space when they walk by. Chatty innkeepers are more reluctant to hold lengthy conversations.

Much of the time, it may not be conscious. The natives might simply sense something off that instinctually makes them want to put some distance between them and you. The only exception? If you've chosen Sannleikr of Many Faces, you'll continue to exude your charm towards people you encounter. At least for as long as you continue to inflict that ability you've been gifted.

Displacement

Everyone responds differently while in the Horizon. You might exert better willpower over your afflictions or you might feel its effects more strongly. It all depends on the individual and their mindset. Regardless, the Heralds are only one part of the equation. There's a much bigger disturbance going on.

It could happen as soon as you enter or it might be as you're stepping over the threshold into another's domain. Whatever the case, you are suddenly not where you're supposed to be. Instead, you're in one of two places depending: transported into a domain you never meant to go into or in a foreign setting altogether.

Visitation

Whether you're the one transported or someone teleports unexpectedly into your space, the Horizon becomes unpredictable for the next little while. Rooms normally locked to strangers, areas you yourself may not even realize exists - you and your fellow Summoned continue to pop in and out despite your intentions.

The effect isn't painful, just disorienting, like missing a step you didn't see or stumbling through a door into a too-bright room. The person whose domain you've inadvertently visited might sense an unwanted presence, whether they're inside the Horizon or not, or they may be completely oblivious. This will depend on the strength of their connection to the Singularity and the Horizon.

Not to worry. You won't be trapped or anything in these cases...unless the domain you land in happens to seal from the inside. You might stumble on secrets you weren't meant to find, though, locked away in someone else's mind.

Ensnared

The less fortunate will be pulled into a space that they've never encountered before. The bizarreness of it resembles the glitchy visions that flashed through a few months ago, but rather than an image flickering by, you are now inside the space itself.

Trapped between minutes to hours, you can't use the Horizon's creation magic as normal. Attempts will falter or go sideways: trying to fly out might cause you to tumble, tools and objects are broken or not quite right, wounds don't vanish or heal completely, etc. More significantly, you can't seem to send or receive messages through your connection. Anything that manages to come through will be garbled and distorted. It's as though the place you are in is just out of the reach of your control.

Luckily, you may not be alone. Someone else may have gotten lost alongside you. They might already be there when you stumble through or they might arrive after you do. They might even fade out sooner than you, unintentionally leaving you behind.

Eventually, you'll be released back into the Horizon proper, spat out in a random place in the Horizon. While you're stuck, though, you can try to survive, explore, sit and wait it out, or make friends with your fellow trapped partner. Each area has its challenges and quirks that you'll need to deal with.

Scenes to Explore

JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

High in the clouds, these snowy peaks are as cold as they look. Giant marble hands reach out, though their sheer scale means you might not recognize them as hands from up close. You can scale the mountain, but if you try to go down, the hands will flip the mountain, which sends you tumbling to the top again.

It's up to you whether you can be injured when you fall. Maybe the snow will feel like marshmallows, or you'll break a bone on the jagged rocks. No two experiences are the same. If you have a partner, they could end up faring better than you despite being in the same place.

Conjure some warm clothes or a log cabin even if you wish - they might not manifest perfectly, but it'll be better than nothing. At least the view's fairly nice...while the sun is up. A blizzard will come through by nightfall. With it arrives a strange hovering light that entices you or your friend to follow it into the frozen darkness. What draws you out depends on you. It could be a familiar voice, an image, or a simple compulsion. If you're lucky, the person with you is unaffected and can try to stop you. Or maybe you're the one desperately chasing after the other person?

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

From a distance, it's hard to tell if they're shipping containers or houses stacked atop each other. A gooey mess covers the ground below. Oddly, the smell isn't as unpleasant as the goo looks. It smells like bubblegum or cotton candy, artificial and sweet. When you first fall in, you might land inside one of the homes, on top of the stacked structure, or the ground. You can try to reach anyone else who's there with you, but be careful: the ooze is spreading. Climb if you must or move from room to room. If you don't keep moving, you risk getting sucked into its sticky mass.

Each block of a home is different. Some are furnished, whereas others are empty or filled with strange knickknacks. Some might even have subconscious creations spawned by you. Keep ahead of the gloopy substance, and you'll be fine, probably. Or you can try to fight it back or block its path by sealing yourself in a room or otherwise, which can slow it down significantly. Mostly, you'll have to hope you fade out before the pink mass completely consumes the landscape.

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

The hazy neon glow obscures a nothingness that seems to extend forever. In the middle of the wet ground are several stacked television sets with wires plugged into nothing. Inexplicably, there's also a cat. At first, it appears perfectly normal, but keen observers will notice that its behavior is on a loop where it will walk a certain path, pause at specific intervals to lick its paws, and meow at set points. It does not acknowledge any of its intruders. You can break its loop by picking it up, at which point it'll go limp as a ragdoll. As soon as you set it down, it'll resume its actions as before.

While you can see the same images as someone else on the screens, it's also possible you'll each see something different despite being in the room together. What you see is up to you. It could be an old fuzzy movie, home videos of your childhood, trivia questions you have to answer correctly, or even a memory or vision you wouldn't want to share. Words or faces taunting you could appear between staticky flickers, or maybe your very thoughts are projected onto the screens for anyone with you to read.

Break the televisions if you want, but given a few short minutes, they'll reform between one blink and the next. Looks like you'll have to keep watching until you're released.

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

Sprawling and massive, you're unlikely to recognize at first that you're trapped in a labyrinth. Stone walls rise around you, and your surroundings are pitchblack. Manifest a torch or a flashlight if you can, though these will be prone to going out at inopportune times. Escaping over the walls will only send you into another section in the maze.

As you navigate the twisting corridors, you'll encounter any variety of trials and troubles: gaps in the ground, spiked traps, haunting whispers, monsters, decaying corpses. Some of these might've formed from your mind, others might've spawned from anyone else who's trapped with you.

If you aren't alone, do your best to locate your fellow Summoned. Voices do carry and echo over the walls, and there could be landmarks that help you find each other. Finding the exit, however, is another matter. Walk and climb all you want. A way out is impossible until the Horizon chooses to set you free.

Players can pick any scenario that interests them from the four choices above. Unlike the visions from before, characters can accidentally be trapped in as many of the scenes as you want, as many times as you want. Another option is that they can stay trapped in only one scene while a variety of characters fade in and out to join them, or some combination of the two. Choose what works best for your plans.

Each scene will once again carry an associated Arcana etched somewhere inside it, which can change from person to person or instance to instance. It might be on a wall, a table, or on the ground. Characters with a stronger connection to the Horizon are likely to be trapped for longer but the extent of this is your choice and it won't ever exceed a few hours. It's also your choice whether the afflictions continue to haunt them or not. If you want characters to deal with both problems while stuck together, you're welcome to!

Generally speaking, there are no restrictions other than that they won't be able to communicate with anyone outside the area, they can't escape it until the Horizon chooses to release them, and their creation magic will go wrong just enough that it'll make things tricky.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The diner is empty of staff and patrons, as it always is, save for the one who willed it into existence in the first place. There's work to be done in Solvunn, but Michael's had all he can take of shoving the dead back under and warding pagan shrines for one day. Maybe if the locals weren't worshiping false gods in the first place, they wouldn't have this problem.

His domain is not the reprieve it once was, the Horizon proving almost as unstable as the rest of Abraxas, but it's still a break from seeing familiar faces and ashen wing-prints out of the corner of his eye. Right up until his little brother stumbles through the doors, that is.

"Lucifer?"

The first words are simple surprise. The dead are not supposed to rise, dead archangels even less so, but apparently Abraxas is making exceptions this week. Michael is quick to stand from the booth where he'd been seated, covering his shock with a familiar disapproving look. Lucifer is not a mere phantom. He is all ragged grace, but very much real.

Michael's expression darkens.

"I'm getting used to seeing the dead returned to life, but they usually do a better job of it."

There's a lot Lucifer does not manage to process at once, jumbled and crossed over through his mind. Notably, what sticks out strangely through the screeching and screaming: he's going to have to tell Wanda he made a mistake.

Though his statement to her likely still holds accuracy. Regardless the version of Michael, she should be worried about him with the same level of Lucifer.

But then all his chaotic thoughts fall away to silence at the mention of dead returning to life. Right. The omens. As much as he wants the power of the Singularity he's getting real tired of it screwing with him like this. First his Father, now Michael? Both all wrapped up with the curse of his Cage?

"Oh, shove it," he drawls, his exhaustion with all of this feeding into what Michael's already seeing from him. His voice twists into a sneer, and he's drawn-up with tension. "I am done with these games."

But the diner--the diner is what keeps tripping him up. What keeps his mind trying to process fact from fiction and falling back into the latter because that's what is always, always has been.

Michael would disagree with his assessment, as he so often does. Wanda has far more to worry about from Lucifer than from him. Even then, from what casual use he's seen of her powers, she has little to worry about from anyone except the Singularity itself.

He approaches his brother but stops a few feet away, just far enough that neither of them could hit each other with their wings if this turns ugly. Standard archangel personal space.

"I don't believe that for a moment," he says. This is Lucifer, after all, and the day his little brother stops manipulating others for kicks is the same day he dies and stays dead. "And this is not a game, this is you invading my domain. Though you did always manage to derive amusement from that sort of thing."

His eyes narrow, though his expression is more evaluating than it is unhappiness or aggression. On closer inspection, this is not his brother as he remembers him. It's more than the threadbare grace. Lucifer is a shade too young—too early.

"How long have you been here?"

Lucifer can't reside in Solvunn. Michael is sure he would have noticed him by now. He must be from one of the other zones, and Michael doesn't have eyes or ears in either Thorne or the Free Cities.

"No. No, no, no," Lucifer says, holding up an unsteady finger and pacing back a step. There's a desperation about him. A fuse so close to being lit. "You're not here." It's Lucifer--and Gabe--that were always the tricksters. Not Michael. Michael wouldn't even understand how.

And it's all in the use of the word 'domain.'

Lucifer laughs. It wheezes a little on the edges. His stance is wrong and off-balance before he manages to teeter back into place, teeth flashing, eyes enraged, "And your domain is my Cage!" the disbelief is thunderous in his tone. "Of course. Of course. Like I'm really going to believe this again!"

(And like a broken record, his whispered thoughts: the diner. So out of place, it's literally out of mind. Lucifer may as well be ignoring that it exists in this space at all.)

He is beginning to get the sense that this will not be a productive conversation between the two of them, but that's been par for the course for millennia now.

The sight of Lucifer so close to losing it should inspire fear—but this is his little brother. No matter how ruthless or deadly Lucifer may be, Michael is incapable of fearing him. The attitude is enough, however, to inspire a familiar irritation he never thought he'd have to deal with again.

Michael crosses his arms and scowls at him.

By Lucifer's timeline of two or so years ago, he would still have been in Hell. It's easy to dismiss the 'again' in Lucifer's words as nothing more than him not wanting to repeat their shared captivity. Michael's not thrilled with the prospect, either. Lucky enough for them, the cage they're in now isn't much of a trap.

"Oh? Where should I be, then? Still inside your Cage? Better make up your mind about that."

He can be mad that Michael isn't in the Cage, or he can be mad that Michael is in (a facsimile of) the Cage. Not both. Either way, there's more to his domain than Lucifer's former prison cell.

"It's usually more extensive, but you'll notice the Horizon isn't behaving as it should. You should know more about that than most."

"That's exactly where you should be," he grumbles, but it's barely in response to Michael, unwilling to truly hold a conversation.

It's the continued talk of the Horizon that is chipping away at Lucifer's belief that this is a delusion. Maybe the continued talk in general, as his entity the last time was only stuck in--as Lucifer realized long after--a fixed script.

He brushes a hand back over his head and breathes deeper and has to wonder if going along with this was giving in. If it was just going to slap him in the face later.

But...

'Michael is here. He arrived in the last Summoning.'

He drops his hand and doesn't quite look at Michael.

"She's going to give me a hard time about this, I just know it," Lucifer mutters. And then, finally, he makes eye contact with his brother, a strange smirk on his face. "So, you're in Solvunn."

First Lucifer doesn't believe he's present at all, and now he knows exactly where he is. If it weren't for the full-grown tree up his ass everyone's always talking about keeping him rigid, Michael might get whiplash.

Instead he straightens up, letting his arms drop back to his sides.

He should be used to Lucifer knowing more than expected. Back home he'd had a legion of demons—devious, underhanded creatures that always managed to get a hold of things they shouldn't—feeding him information. But Michael is used to being a little more well-informed himself, and he hasn't heard even one syllable of Lucifer's name come up.

"How do you know that?"

There's no point in denying it. Now that Lucifer knows he's here, he'd only need to ask around to find out which faction had dragged him in. Not that he imagines there's much Lucifer can do with that information.

For as much as he's settling quickly into his usual cloak of confidence--Michael will be able to tell that it's not quite right.

"A little bird told me," he says, pacing the edge of the room. He stops at a table and nudges at one of the small old-school shakers and nudges it right off the floor to shatter. He glances back at Michael. "Though I will admit," because he doesn't really think he'll be able to hide it, "I wasn't expecting it to be this version of you."

Though not quite his usual self, Lucifer is apparently at ease enough to push boundaries. He didn't miss this side of brother. Michael says nothing about the ruined shaker, but he takes a moment to point a familiar glare at Lucifer. Really?

For the time being, he files away the fact that Lucifer has someone within Solvunn feeding him information. He could make a few guesses as to their identity, but what Lucifer had been anticipating from him might tell him more.

"I'll admit I wasn't expecting you at all," he says. "What version of me did you think you'd find?"

He can see why his brother wouldn't expect to meet him from later in the timeline. Lucifer has never believed he'd lose.

Hilarious that Michael didn't miss him because that glare feeds into Lucifer.

He still believes the only place for Michael is the Cage. There's no reason. Lucifer's been in and out and finally out for so long, the two of them should be separate. Paths not crossing again.

"Oh, a 50-cent knockoff that had a stink of Apocalypse, and not my brand," he says. Which means he absolutely hated him. He says it like it didn't matter, but there's just a tad too much nonchalance in the words.

Funny enough, in return Michael can't think of a better place for Lucifer than his Cage either. There is no such thing as getting him to stop, so what else is one to do with someone who finds satisfaction only in making everyone around him suffer? That's something the people of Abraxas—or at least the faction housing Lucifer—will have to figure out.

"The one from the alternate universe," Michael says, face contorting. He'd had a glimpse of the other him from the memories Castiel had shoved his way, and he's insulted that that's the one that first came to mind. At least Lucifer is in agreement that his alternate is lesser than he. "Dead by my time, though clearly that won't stop him from showing up here any more than it stopped you."

He's still not certain if the Singularity itself can resurrect dead archangels. Michael remembers dying, but he doesn't know if he was pulled from the moment just before his death or sometime after. If they can be summoned from any point in time, it doesn't really matter. Any number of people neither of them wants to see again could show up the next time the factions decide to perform their summoning ceremonies.

Including far bigger threats than his doppelganger.

"There are worse things that might follow us here."

Lucifer's entire body goes still, frozen. Everything Michael has said to him all falling dominoes in Lucifer's mind. The brief relief that the Apocalypse World Michael shouldn't follow him here because he's dead is crumpled under the impossible weight of the rest of the words.

The implication.

He's mocked Castiel about coming back from the dead but Lucifer--Lucifer hasn't--Lucifer can't have--

He scoffs, dismissive, but he's tired. He's not as worn down as he was a few weeks ago, but these faux gods are chipping away at him, same as ever single other person.

It's beyond frustrating to be considered so average.

He doesn't ask for clarification. If he doesn't ask, it isn't true.

"What?" he sings, "like our dearest Father?" He snarls, "Let him."

Rebellious and undying as he is, Lucifer has all too much in common with Castiel these days. Michael isn't going to stoop to insults of that degree, though. Not yet.

He sees it the instant the realization hits his brother, the moment his words transition from hanging in the air to understood. Acceptance is a separate step, but not one he's going to push for. Lucifer will come to it in his own time. Preferably in someone else's domain, so he can break their scenery instead.

That ability to read between the lines is one of the things he appreciates just as much as it frustrates him. It gets Lucifer into trouble, but he doesn't need to be led by the hand the way so many of their younger siblings needed to be.

One of the differences between archangels and simple angels, his ego would say.

Michael laughs without a trace of humor and leans back, perching on the edge of a table. Let him. That's nothing but bluster. He's not afraid of Lucifer, but even Michael is wary of their creator.

"And then what, He puts you back in your cell? He kills you outright? You join forces with Him?"

The Lucifer of his time had taken that bargain, though Michael can't fathom why his brother agreed to it. Maybe he'd truly wanted to be by their Father's side again, or maybe he'd seen an opportunity to double-cross him. Maybe it was just better than being dead.

"Help him?" Lucifer fires back, incredulous.

All his poorly-crafted masks around Michael have immediately slipped away again, back into this unhinged state of his. Lucifer would be angry about that if he wasn't so completely blown away that Michael would think he'd ever help that man.

But while there is the concern that Lucifer would be thrown back in the Cage again, the crossed-worlds nature of Abraxas provides him with an eerie comfort. Lucifer promised Wanda that he would break her out of any cage she was thrown into for what she was--what she could become. He imagines the same courtesy would be true for him, and she knows he would prefer death than ever go back to that containment.

"Why would I ever help him again? Just to be used and d-discarded once more?!" He sweeps around in an errant circle, arms spread, a crack of power splitting free with his emotions. "I don't know what's going on with you Mikey to be out of the Cage, but last I knew old Pops made up with his sis and peaced on out once again!"

Lucifer's anger should be anything other than reassuring, but that is the plain truth of it. Worse than facing off against their Father again would be facing Him and his brother both.

(The hypocrisy of this sentiment is not lost on him, but Michael has a talent for ignoring sentiment.)

"You've missed a few things." Michael waves a hand, dismissive. How he got out of the Cage isn't any more important than how Lucifer is standing in front of him right now. It's the present reality, and that's all that matters for the moment. "Our Father returned. Again. The last I saw Him, He'd seemed to come around to your notion of destroying humanity. If He were to show up here and you're not planning to help Him, I suppose that would give you a week to kill Him. Assuming this isn't all some joke of His, of course."

Michael's not a writer. He can't begin to fathom their Father's logic. To the best of his knowledge, He had shredded all of His rough drafts. By all rights, Abraxas shouldn't exist. Either this world is another experiment of His or it's something entirely separate—an almost inconceivable notion, but he's getting used to downing those hard-to-swallow pills.

It's a little annoying that their Father took Lucifer's one and only trick (as Sam was gun-ho to remind him), especially since Lucifer's most recent play had been reckless-abandonment destruction versus any well thought out plan.

It just... it seems cheap. And sours Lucifer's own desire for destruction. Short-lived, sure. It'll creep back in as it always, always does.

"Or he just goes to be squirrely in Cadens and with neither aware he's here," Lucifer mumbles. "I mean you've been here, what," he hums, "last Summoning... so, three months or so?" He claps his hands. "And I had no idea! Until little after Nocwich. I mean that's... just great..."

If there was a pendulum for where Lucifer's emotions kept swinging back and forth rapidly between, it would be anger on one end, indifference in the middle, and unnerved on the other end. A constant metal sphere clinking, clinking, clinking.

"It seemed like a joke at first," he says, voice distant. His body is still once more, his head cocked to the side, eyes staring unblinking at a diner wall like he could see through it to the odd Cage structure beyond. He lulls, "I had a demon named Abraxas, you know. Seemed soooo fitting to be a joke, but..."

Lucifer is not always right, but when he is, it often seems to be about the things that matter most. Michael frowns, this time directing it towards the empty space beyond the windows instead of his brother.

"Or that. It would be like Him."

When Michael thinks of the times their Father abandoned him, they seem to multiply. There was the moment God left Heaven, but in truth, it happened long before then. Chuck wrote him an ending He never intended to fulfill. The alternate version of him had found that out first. How many iterations of that story had taken place? Then their Father had come back and left him in the Cage. Even after he'd been free from Hell, Chuck hadn't bothered to seek him out.

He'd been forsaken a long time ago.

It is not fair. Part of him wants the opportunity to drive a blade through His chest for what He's put their family through, for what He did to Adam, for everything. Part of him wants to be free of his Father for good. Part of him will always be loyal.

It's difficult to be torn in so many directions at once, especially for someone so accustomed to knowing exactly what he needs to do.

"I've yet to run into any of your demons. Dean Winchester is here. Castiel, too."

This is information Lucifer might already know. From the way he talks, his brother's been here at least as long as he has. Still, he has no use for this knowledge. Maybe Lucifer does.

"I know," Lucifer says, disdain thick in his voice. His lip curls. "In the grand scheme of our timelines, they're both earlier than I am," he doesn't know that that's changed, "they thought I was still in the Cage."

He picks up the sugar shaker and smacks the bottom of it against his palm. He hasn't dropped it, you're welcome, Michael. It's clear he's fidgeting. He'd be better with a blade in hand, but they're not fighting, not yet, and Lucifer isn't likely to make the first strike.

For as wild as he's become since they last saw one another, Lucifer didn't want to fight that first time in the cemetery, and it still rings true in the present moment.

But that's subject to change.

Whether or not that means he's ignoring their time in the Cage together, well. That's a separate problem.

"Oh, and Dean Winchester evidently has wings now," he says flatly.

Edited 2022-10-24 00:22 (UTC)

From where Michael is sitting, Lucifer is poking and prodding at his domain to see how far he can go before he'll snap. If he wanted to paint himself in an altruistic light, he'd say every minute he keeps Lucifer occupied here is time he's sparing someone less equipped from dealing with his brother's antics. The truth is that he's never wanted to fight Lucifer any more than Lucifer has wanted to fight him, and the last week has not let him forget that he watched his brother die by his hand.

It'd be a waste of effort, anyway. There is little they can do to hurt one another within the Horizon, beyond trading harsh words. Michael knows a choice few that would be guaranteed to ruin his brother's mood.

The last thing Lucifer says has Michael's attention snapping back to him. It's too absurd to be a lie. Lucifer is better at it than that, he knows how to make his words at least believable. Still, Michael dislikes the notion enough to deny it.

"Dean Winchester does not have wings," he argues.

That smacks of their Father's writing, giving the man a gift he most certainly does not deserve or appreciate. Why the likes of the Winchesters so captivate Castiel and Chuck are a mystery to him. Adam had been the best product of that bloodline by far.

"He's excruciatingly bad with them, so I imagine it's a... new augment. 'Gifts' I suppose from the Singularity."

He perches oddly on top of one of the red booths, straddling it. Still playing with the sugar shaker, white occasionally falling free as he does so.

"It's a travesty, Michael." It's probably the most "normal people" conversation they've had since Lucifer stumbled in here. Bonding! Over bad-mouthing a Winchester. "An absolute insult." Annnnnd the reason Lucifer got his ass handed to him.

As odd as it is, Michael supposes that gossiping with Lucifer about their least favourite human is no stranger than finding himself in a backwards, pagan-worshiping farming commune after being all but certain that he'd ceased to exist. Nothing has felt quite right since he was pulled out of that well. This might as well happen.

Since neither of them seems to be leaving, and neither of them seems inclined to fight, Michael slides into the closest chair.

"For once, we don't disagree. Wings don't suit him." Putting aside that he'd adopted Castiel, Dean had rejected everything about the angels: their plans for him, the life after death Heaven offered, and Michael himself. What right did he have to a pair of wings?

"I don't suppose you've been the recipient of the Singularity's beneficence?"

Lucifer groans. Far as he can tell, the Singularity, though powerful, is nothing but a nightmare. Which fine! Great! He can work with that!

Just not against himself.

"'Beneficence.' Right. Nothing but curses." Barely a flicker, but Lucifer's glancing slightly behind him, corner of his eye, a haunted expression on his face before it's gone just as quick, slipped away. For all Lucifer's bravado about their Father, Michael's thought about it all being bluster is correct.

He can't stop expecting another round with his entity, and that isn't even real.

"The only benefit that I've seen granted from it is this place--which again begs the question, Michael," and this time it's spoken unfrenzied, "did you purposely make the Cage and if so, why is it here?"

Michael follows the look and sees nothing. Just diner wall. He looks back to Lucifer, questioning, but if his brother's week has borne any resemblance to his, he can guess what kind of visions are haunting him. Perhaps the Singularity has saddled him with something even worse.

Lucifer'll bring it up himself if he cares to talk about it. He's never been shy about speaking up.

"Your prison, not mine." Which is. Not an answer. But since when does the archangel Michael answer to anyone but God? And these days, even that...

The truth is that the Cage, the diner, the church—they're all places where the memory of Adam lingers, and in the company of his vessel is the last time Michael can recall feeling at peace. He'll be damned (again) if he gives up a thought that vulnerable to someone like Lucifer, though. His history with Lucifer is already an open wound. He isn't going to offer him salt on top of it.

"The recent disruptions to the Horizon have put it front and centre, though I did find it was effective at warding off unwanted guests." He gives Lucifer a slight, disapproving frown. Except you. "You'd recognize the rest. Scenes from home."

Lucifer flashes a grin in response; breaking rules and breaking and entering and just breaking is his jam. Sorry/not sorry, bro.

But the 'your prison, not mine' sticks weirdly to Lucifer's mind. He doesn't know what to do with the words, but he'll hold onto them until he knows. Days, months, years down the road.

"Boring," he chimes, petulant, and hops down from his perch with a loud thump. "Come on, we have a power here that he--that he robbed from us, Michael!" He spreads his arms. "Creation. A-And this is how you use it?"

To think, his brother is actually smiling around him about something that's not actively harmful to him. Michael wouldn't have believed it possible this morning and he's not sure how he feels about it now. Foreboding, maybe. The good things never last. He'll figure it out later.

"Because I am renowned throughout Heaven for my creativity," he deadpans and then leans back in his chair, unimpressed rather than at ease.

Michael doesn't have any illusions about what he is. Imagination has never been one of his talents. It's hard to feel robbed of something his Father never gave him in the first place. Lucifer, on the other hand—

"Big talk for someone still wearing that, for that matter." He gives Lucifer a look. So far as Michael is aware, his appearance in the Horizon is as subject to his will as his domain, and Lucifer still chose Nick? He'd have figured Sam's face would be more his style, if only for the possibility of tormenting Dean with the sight. "What have you done with your cut of the Horizon?"

(no subject)

thedevilwhorose - 2022-10-24 21:05 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only