Encampment Under the Sea [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Since the dreamers of Manhattan had such a lovely time at the last vaguely-nautical-themed party, the Rift has decided to step things up a notch. Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in what appears to be a city very much like the one they inhabit in the waking world, full of towering skyscrapers, neon signs, and heavy traffic. But there is one rather crucial difference: this city is located deep underwater, and the aforementioned traffic is mostly whales and fish, with the occasional submersible thrown into the mix.

The walls and windows are heavily reinforced to withstand the pressure of the water outside, and the people who dwell in these buildings seem to be doing rather well for themselves, for the most part. Buildings are connected by enclosed walkways, so barring any horrible accidents, the dreamers should have no problem getting around without getting too wet.

Much like the city they inhabit in the waking world, some areas are more obviously affluent than others, and the dreamers are as likely to stumble upon an upscale club as an underwater pub. But while the chances of a full structural breakdown are slim, there are definitely some areas that are on the leaky side, and a general sense of claustrophobia pervades the city wherever you might find yourself.

Explore. Or, if you're feeling particularly ambitious, attempt to escape. Either way, take care - it's hard to say what might be lurking in the darkness just beyond the city lights.



[ooc: Y'all know the drill. All characters are welcome, whether they are in the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dreaming at the player's discretion. And the party never stops - backtag into infinity!]

Comments

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"I didn't think you would."

Aziraphale holds on to his righteousness. But he is proud, and there is sloth in him; he has sort of... gone native, kind of like how Gabriel did to blend with the pagans. He has spent so much time on Earth, perhaps, among the humans, that it has rubbed off on him. Stained him with their filth.

His vessel may have to look up, but such things are immaterial. A vessel is a vessel, and it does not reflect the strength of the angel within. He reaches up and touches Aziraphale's jaw, tilts his face slightly to one side like he's looking at the teeth of a horse he might purchase.

"You're a principality, aren't you?" It's really not a question; he can tell just by looking. "The sword doesn't fit your rank."

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale twinges away slightly at the touch, though he can't keep Lucifer from moving him; he doesn't resist it, though he can feel the tingling burning sensation as the fingers brush against his skin, not so bad to really hurt him yet, but enough that he grits his teeth in anticipation.

"It does where I come from," he says through his teeth. "I was the Guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden. Your world's interpretation of the 'ranks' doesn't change that."

He's just about had it with these outsiders trying to force their cosmological rulesets on him and Crowley, and absolutely refusing to see reason about it. Gabriel never tried to order him around, seems to even run from the Archangel brand at times, why does Lucifer have to be such a tight-arse about it?

[wentdowntogeorgia]

His touch is gentle, in the same way it was with Crowley; not rough, but firm, not to be refused or ignored. He moves his hand to the other side of Aziraphale's face, tipping it the other way, crooks the index and middle under his chin and lifts it slightly. Like Aziraphale is his to move as he pleases.

"Was the guardian."

The tense of that statement hasn't gotten past him.

"Sounds like a bit of a demotion, doesn't it? Going from Guardian of the Eastern Gate to watching over a little section of the Earth."

[bibliophale]

The contact is starting to freeze a little, and he can't but release a panicked little exhalation when Lucifer's fingers shift around him, leaving traces of burns where they track. He's immediately angry with himself for letting his discomfort show; he doesn't want to give ground, not yet. He allows his head to be tilted up, taking the opportunity to peer down his nose.

"Well I wouldn't want to stand watch over an empty Garden, would I?" he says rather churlishly. "It's reassignment, not demotion."

He wouldn't try something as stupid as attempting to win over Satan on the merits of humanity even in his universe, so he's not about to try it here. But all the same, this glorification of the dull past - it really doesn't sit well with him.

"I think Crowley did the right thing, showing them the tree," he says. "Would have been a dreadfully long eternity without that."

[wentdowntogeorgia]

Lucifer is still unsure exactly why his touch freezes Aziraphale, but as he moves his fingers, he can see the paths of reddened skin they leave behind. He hasn't left them in one place long enough for a deep freeze, not like what he did to the other angel's throat before, so the color should diminish in time. It has not ceased to be strange, though.

"Crowley?"

He hadn't gotten the fallen angel's name before; it's similar to the name of a demon from his universe, but pronounced a little differently. And that Crowley was certainly never an angel-- just another twisted human soul.

"He was your Serpent in the Garden?" He presses his thumb to the indent in Aziraphale's chin, just under his lip, and pushes his head back down towards himself. "I did not delegate that task."

It was... personal. It was a way to show God and Heaven that he was right, that humans were corruptible and fallible and that it was in their nature to sin; he would never have sent some little fallen angel to do the job in his place. He showed humanity free will and disobedience, put them on the path that led them out of Paradise.

"Did you let him in, Aziraphale?"

[bibliophale]

That's right, Lucifer'd never deigned to learn Crowley's name, and it seems to surprise him now for some reason Aziraphale doesn't care to mark. Air hisses through his teeth and Lucifer clasps his chin and draws him back down; he hates being touched like this, like he's a thing - the burning sensation is only secondary to the indiginity of being treated like Lucifer's pupil, or possession.

"Well, it was different," he says quietly, then, affronted, "Of course not. He crept in. Slithered right past us. That's what he does."

He's getting a bit desperate, the high, unusual pitch in his voice, saying too much - he wants to be let go, and he draws back just slightly, not forcing, but a physical expression of will nonetheless.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"Different, of course."

Lucifer allows him to pull away; he could have caught his face again, forced him to accept the contact of his hand, but he does not wish to burn him right now. Pain is not the point of this meeting; this is just a dream, he can do no lasting damage here.

"Now, I imagine that he doesn't have to creep in, does he?"

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale steps back, shaken and still wary, and frowns at the question.

"I already explained our Arrangement," he says coolly. "Time enough goes by with the only other familiar face, you get used to him. We're meant to keep an eye on each other."

He knows, or rather senses, deep and dreadful, that Lucifer knows very much what he is implying, or at least most of it - and he isn't going to get anywhere with this tack. But it's a force of habit. And he's not about to just answer directly, like an obedient student. The very idea.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"I'm sure the two of you are quite used to each other."

Lucifer knows-- or, at least, thinks he does. He can't know the specifics, the nitty-gritty gossip-worthy stuff, but he knows enough.

"And I'd bet you're keeping more than an eye."

He walks, circling around Aziraphale with a slow and measured pace.

"You seem very well, considering the condition I last saw you in." It's more than just a topic change or a non-sequitor. "How your wings have healed."

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale stays put, his eyes tracking Lucifer without moving his head. Obviously, whatever Lucifer thinks he knows, he's trying to goad Aziraphale into confirming it. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to get at with the remarks about his healing - he's an angel, isn't he? Angels heal.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he replies drolly. As if he hadn't done any damage in return. One might be insulted.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"I wasn't very badly injured."

He reaches out and places one chill finger in between Aziraphale's shoulder blades, right in the space between where his wings would be if he had them out, and dragged it down his spine a short ways.

"You were barely able to stand. Your wings were broken. Now, they are..." he tilts his head. "Just messy."

mild tw for violation trauma

[bibliophale]

"They healed," he says, his tone almost as cold as Lucifer's finger, which he can feel through his clothes. He represses a shiver with a great manifestation of willpower, but cannot keep his breath from catching as the light but invasive pressure of it trails down his spine. He feels livid, sick with the impropriety of it, and that he can do nothing, must only stand there and let it happen. Lucifer's hand being so close to his wings, intangible though they are at the moment, is enough that every muscle in his body is tense, his hands pulled into fists. He still vividly recalls the pain and the violation of it - he doubts he'll ever forget.

"Don't touch me," he snaps, and immediately wishes he hadn't; it escaped him, a desperate little spark of dignity and pride, the sin that is probably going to get him killed one day. He steps just out of arm's reach and turns around, his breathing now heavy and slow, and tries his best to look unafraid.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

He lets Aziraphale step away, watching him and his labored breaths. His bravado is terribly, almost endearingly transparent, especially when Satan can tell that he has so little power to draw on.

"Oh, are we dispensing with civility so soon?" he says, spreading his hands apart in a wide, smooth gesture. "Here I thought we could get to know each other a little better, before I give you what you're owed."

[bibliophale]

Civility. Aziraphale's lip curls slightly at that, though it's difficult to sneer when he's terrified. "We can be civil at a perfectly reasonable distance," he says, rather stuffily. He tries to smooth his clothes. His hands are shaking.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

Lucifer folds his hands in front of himself like he's the very picture of respectability.

"Why don't you tell me about this little arrangement of yours?"

Still no capital; it's a quaint idea, having angels and their fallen brethren cooperating to maintain some kind of cosmic balance, but ultimately at odds with the end goals of Heaven and Hell. Balance is not what they want.

Which means that the both of them are going against the spirit of their orders, if not the letter. Little rebels, in their own ways, and Lucifer has always had an interest in the rebellious.

[bibliophale]

Oh good, we're back to this. Aziraphale feels increasingly like a cornered animal, harried and ragged and trapped. Liable to do something stupid, something else stupid that is, if he thinks he has a chance at escaping (and he knows he doesn't).

"It's just sensible," he all but sputters. "It - it simplified things for us, that's all. The Authorities always looked the other way, or didn't even care in the first place, it's not as though they didn't have plenty more on their minds, and who are we to be of any interest to them?"

This is sounding hysterical. And it may be an openly desperate punt meant to imply Lucifer is wasting his time on them, that really, there are so many more interesting people out there. Which is so cowardly Aziraphale feels a bit sick.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"But you didn't make much effort to keep them well-informed, did you?"

The lady is protesting too much. He's making excuses, too many excuses all at once, and he is clearly terrified that Lucifer will press him on it. That he'll discover this great secret between himself and Crowley.

"When they wanted reports from you, I'm sure you told them all about your great efforts to thwart your clever adversary. And about how necessary it was that you stayed assigned where you were, because who knows what could happen if such a competent foe were to be left unchecked."

[bibliophale]

"I did my work," says Aziraphale, his voice rising sharply, losing patience for the interrogation. "What does it matter to you what I did, or why or how? I don't answer to you." His contempt is seeping through again, and he can't stop it, panic taking him through the conversation like a deranged animal through a burning field. Maybe he'll just wake up before this inevitably blows up in his face. Just wake up and never go outside ever again.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"You don't," he says with a lazy shrug. That much is very true; Aziraphale answers to his Heavenly superiors, to Michael, not to him. But this really isn't all about Aziraphale to begin with.

"Crowley does."

The other half of this peculiar equation.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale goes quite still and cold at that, blinking behind his glasses. Stupid, just walked right into it.

"He doesn't," he says, so quiet and thin it's almost a hiss. "You have no jurisdiction over this world, or over him. I already told you. He - he is not your servant."

His voice is shaking now, along with his hands. Like he doesn't quite have the conviction to back up his words.

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"You can say whatever you like."

He could go around saying that Crowley's the Queen of Sheba if it pleases him, but it wouldn't make it any more the truth.

"But if I tell him 'jump', he'll still be asking 'how high and when can I come down'?"

He is still Crowley's lord, even if he isn't the one from his universe.

[bibliophale]

"Stay away from him," says Aziraphle abruptly, his voice coming low and distant, like a growl, like something that doesn't belong to him. He takes a step toward the Adversary, drawing himself up, absurdly, like he has anything to follow this with. Internal voices are screaming at him to stop (which is to say nothing of his expectation for what Crowley himself will think), but he can't seem to heed any of it. He takes another step and hears himself say, "If you tell him anything, it will be me who answers you."

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"Aziraphale," he says, calm and cool and oh-so-reasonable, "don't you think it's about time you dropped this guard-dog act?"

He does not move when Aziraphale takes those few steps forward; he doesn't need to try to intimidate him back, because Aziraphale already knows what he can do, even when the angel hasn't been knocked down a few pegs. This is all bluff and bluster, like a cat puffing itself up to make itself look bigger, and Lucifer is not impressed.

"It's nice to see loyalty these days, but is throwing yourself at me at every opportunity really what Crowley wants from you? It's a touch on the suicidal side."

[bibliophale]

This is not what he'd expected, and it makes him falter a bit. He suddenly feels very foolish, posturing like this, reckless and dangerously brash, but he imagines that's what Lucifer wants him to feel - hopeless in addition to helpless. And he won't. Even if it means allowing the Adversary to be the voice of reason, he will not give ground.

"I don't care what he wants," he says, blunt and a little surprised at himself. "And it's not an act. I will not allow you to use him and that's all. I damaged you once and I can do if again, to whatever extent is necessary."

Pure, idiotic bravado. What he ought to say is 'I will die before I stand down' but he can't quite bring himself to say that. It would almost seem an invitation.

And yet the surprise at not having been physically harmed thus far is starting to get to him, making him wonder if perhaps he could just walk away. He leans his weight back slightly, as though preparing to pivot around.

"I have nothing more to say."

[wentdowntogeorgia]

"Selfish, Aziraphale. Selfish and arrogant. Don't you know pride is a Deadly Sin?"

Because if it isn't about what Crowley wants when this is about Crowley, than it's what Aziraphale wants. It's about Aziraphale thinking that he knows what's best for the other, without taking into account what he has to say on the matter. Like Crowley is a child who needs an adult to take care of his bullies on the playground, like he isn't capable of solving his own problems or can't be trusted to seek help when he requires it.

"And you and I both know that your blade can't kill me. So if you don't mind, this whole song and dance is starting to get a little old."