applesaucedream | Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]

Current Music: Evening August 4/Morning August 5, 2013

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Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]

The sleeping rifties might have a difficult time realizing they're dreaming this evening, in part because tonight's dreams are atypically vivid, even compared to the rift's usual efforts. Perhaps that is because it's drawing so heavily from the memories of the dreamers, themselves, and using that information to recreate their home worlds in stunning detail. And that is the real reason the dreamers might not be eager to accept the unreality of the situation: the situation is one that many of them have been hoping for for months or even years. In their dreams tonight, the rifties are going home.

Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.

They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.

[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]

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Lucifer's standards for 'fine' are probably a little harsher than the average person's; his vessel is not currently in danger of disintegrating or dying, so therefore he is fine. He is dirty and thirsty and tired and has probably worn a hole in the soles of his shoes by now, but he can still put one foot in front of the other. So long as he can stand, he'll keep making his way towards New York.

He doesn't even know if Gabriel is really in New York at all, and if he isn't, than Lucifer is back to square one and mile zero; the next best option is Las Vegas, which is an even further walk than Manhattan. He thinks it may be difficult, walking through the Arizona desert, possibly more difficult than the Pennsylvanian mountains. It's hard to say, though; he has little experience with deserts. He supposes it would be hot.

But first: New York City.

Lucifer is close enough to the car than he can put one hand against it, taking a little of the weight off his feet; a little lean, nothing too obvious. He is fine; he is fine.

"No. I'm not injured."

He's just a lone forty-something year old man walking by himself through the Fuck-All Mountains of central Pennsylvania, clearly there's nothing strange going on here. He's not a fugitive or a hobo or an escaped mental institution patient, really, he promises.

"Right," he replies, circumflecting the word with a lingering, skeptical pull.

Clearly he's missing some astronomically huge chunks of context here. But it wouldn't make sense to stop and ask some stranger if he's all right and then drive away, and Daniel's picked up stranger hitchhikers under far more colorful circumstances. The fact that those hitchhikers usually happen to be on the other side of the asteroid belt doesn't really change much. And hey - being homeless and wandering aimlessly around is something Daniel has an unfortunate amount of experience in. He can't help but be sympathetic to the guy's plight. Even the tattered looking-half-dead thing, though Daniel has his doubts.

"Here." He leans over to unlock shotgun. Altruism before reason, as always. "If you're, um. Really sure about not needing a hospital."

"I'm quite certain."

Lucifer opens the door when it's unlocked and settles himself in the passenger seat; the movement is awkward, like he's never done this before and isn't quite sure where all his limbs are supposed to go, or perhaps like he's walked some five hundred miles and is sore as hell. Toss up, really.

He is aware that he is not the most savory passenger to have right now, but there is little that he can do about his appearance. The relief at being off of his feet is immense and nearly overwhelming, and he eventually settles into a position that hurts the least. How do humans live like this, every moment of their lives? How do they stand it?

He tilts his head slightly towards Daniel, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Why are you so adamant about helping me?"

It seems a reasonable enough question; this road hasn't been busy, but it hasn't been completely deserted, either. There have been plenty of people who saw him walking and just kept driving on.

"I could be a criminal, for all you know. Or a murderer."

"Uhh." Right, good question. Which means Daniel has of course not considered it. "You looked like you needed the help? And, well, homelessness - been there. Not a lotta fun. So, sympathy. I guess."

That rationale's pretty poor, he'll admit it. And it really has been a while since he's been in any sort of situation resembling the one this guy's in. But then, impulse doesn't necessarily correspond with common sense. The second statement is a little more worrisome, but Daniel pulls back out onto the road regardless - plus one passenger of questionable intent. He parses those words for a minute in an attempt to work out if they're meant to be ironic commentary or a challenge.

"I've dealt with worse than criminals," he offers finally, settling for defensive neutrality. "I can handle myself. Might not look it but, yeah." Usually, anyway. He'll leave the bits about the frequent die-er's miles out.

Homelessness. Daniel has no idea just how homeless Lucifer is right now.

He listens, then cocks his head as though considering what Daniel has said about handling himself and being tougher than he looks. After a moment or two, he nods, because there is something there in this man that isn't in the average human. He's a little different-- Lucifer can't quite put his finger on what, but it's definitely there-- and he supposes that Daniel hasn't made it to this age by being completely unable to handle himself. If he was both stupidly altruistic and just stupid, he'd probably be dead in a ditch from a scenario just like this.

He remembers something, what some other drivers had wanted in one form or another.

"I can compensate you," he says. "I have some money."

He replies with a noncommittal shrug.

"Mm, it's no trouble. I'm heading that way anyway." Is he? He supposes he is. New York seems important in a vague, abstruse way, and that sort of meandering logic is solid enough for Daniel's present instincts. Even if those instincts tend to get him killed, they're often correct for a reason.

"Um, Daniel," he ventures hastily upon remembering that he's forgotten an important step in the socializing process, "is me. Hi."

New York City is a popular destination; Lucifer thinks little of the coincidence.

"Nick," he replies, because he really can't go around introducing himself as Lucifer, Lord of Darkness and Ruler of Hell and except to not end up in a white padded cell. He dislikes the charade of playing human, but he doesn't have much of a choice until he reaches Gabriel's. Once, he was one of the most powerful beings in the universe. Now, he's sitting in a car with an anthropologist, using his vessel's name so that he can have at least a few hours' rest.

How the mighty have fallen.

So the stranger Daniel just picked up off the side of the road who looks like he's crawled out of the ninth circle of Hell is fairly taciturn, but that's fine. That's understandable, even. Who knows how long he's been out there? ~~Careful with those similes, Daniel.~~

"Been traveling long?" he asks, politely conversational. He's going to guess the answer is an emphatic 'yes' based on Nick's general appearance and demeanor, like he hasn't had the luxury of sitting in a while. Which, speaking of general appearances and demeanors - "And, uh, you're sure you don't need a hospital or anything? It wouldn't be a problem, really."

"That won't be necessary."

Either Daniel does not understand the meaning of the word no or Lucifer's vessel looks worse than he'd thought; it could go either way, really. He hasn't exactly had the chance to look in a mirror since he'd been set free.

"I've been walking for about three weeks." He says it as though it isn't unusual. Didn't humans used to walk everywhere, anyway? Back before they had cars and airplanes and the combustion engine. "I started in Kansas."

For a guy walking his way halfway across the continental US, he wasn't making terrible time.

As far as appearances go, it's safest to say it's probably good thing Nick isn't actually human.

"Three - three weeks?" Daniel tears away from his distantly concentrated stare at the road to raise his eyebrows at his new passenger in mild astonishment. "Just by walking? God, how did you even manage that?"

Sure, that sort of thing isn't unheard of. And maybe he's been hitchhiking sporadically in between, who knows? Daniel still can't help but gape a little. No wonder the guy looks so rough.

"Mostly by not stopping."

He just... walked. Through good weather and bad, day and night, until his vessel could not physically keep going. The concept of limitations is still a distant and not particularly well-understood one for him; he had lived in this vessel for so long and never really had to learn what it could and could not do. It simply would do whatever he required of it.

It's a good thing that Nick is no longer sharing it with him.

"I need to get to New York, and there wasn't a better option available."

The eyebrows climb higher. Well, okay, talk about determination. Has he just been pushing himself nonstop, only pausing when it's to get a ride from whoever might be intrigued or worried or sympathetic enough to pull over?

It sounds like it.

"Why? What's in New York?" he can't help but ask, curiosity sharpening the edge to the question. Something important enough to risk tapping himself out physically and mentally and in all ways one can become tapped out is the idea Daniel's getting. He can't even begin to guess at specifics. It strikes him too late that this might be a bit of a personal matter and hence not really some random stranger's business, but Daniel tends to fling himself at neon Do Not Touch signs like that.

It is quite a bit of a personal matter, especially for some stranger who doesn't know him from Adam, and he isn't exactly keen to get too deep into his family issues. Not only are they fresh and painful wounds for him, they'd also be incredibly difficult to explain without sounding like he's insane.

But he can explain why he needs to get so badly to New York, at least in a superficial way.

"My brother. He should be there."

"Ah." A nod, peripherally relieved. That's as good and normal a reason to be traveling as any. Though why Nick is apparently refusing to factor rest stops into his equation is certainly a mystery.

Yep, this sure is a situation. For a moment Daniel drums his fingers on the wheel and watches tires chew up roadway and casts about frantically for some way to continue a reasonably normal-sounding conversation without encroaching on some deeply private topic. He performs a belated double take when he finally takes the time to dissect those semantics.

"Wait, 'should' be? You mean you don't actually know? Do you need to, uh, call him or anything?" Daniel fishes around in his pockets for his phone. One hand emerges, triumphant, bearing a perfectly serviceable if definitely military grade cellphone.

Lucifer looks at the phone in Daniel's hand as though the man had just offered him something terribly unhelpful, like a fish.

"My brother and I didn't part on good terms," he says, because that's true enough. The last time he saw Gabriel in this universe, he'd been sticking an angel blade in his chest. Even humans would consider that 'not good terms'. "I haven't spoken to him in some time, so I don't have a number to call."

He turns his head, looking instead out the window, at the scenery passing by far more rapidly than it had when he was walking.

"Last I knew, he was in New York. He may have moved on by now, and if he has... I suppose I'll just have to keep going."

Just keep walking until he finds him.

Wincing, Daniel re-pockets the phone. Such an exemplary display of his legendary tact.

"Sorry," he mutters for no reason he can immediately specify. It's not like he could have known one way or the other, but it seems the polite thing to say. Nick's tone has him more than a little worried.

"So you're just, what? Gonna keep walking and wandering and hoping that you'll run into one specific person out of some seven billion?" It doesn't sound very efficient, is all. "You can't look him up or anything?"

"He's very good at staying hidden when he wants to be."

If he had been able to stay off of Heaven's radar for a few millennia, he'd certainly be able to give Lucifer a run for his money, assuming he knew that his brother would be looking for him. It's possible, though, that Gabriel still thinks he's in the Cage, or that he's dead like the rest of their family, and won't be guarding against him.

He doesn't hope that Gabriel will be looking for him as adamantly as Lucifer is looking for him. He's too old for that kind of self-deception.

"But I know my brother. If he isn't in New York, he may be in Las Vegas, or New Orleans. He was fond of Buenos Aires, if I recall."

And he would walk to Buenos Aires, if he had to.

He exhales, a sharp, impressed huff out through his nose, and shakes his head. Even if walking is the slowest possible way to go about it, Daniel can't help but admire the man's resolve. The familial perspective is somewhat beyond his understanding but he'd do the same for any of the members of his team and he has, though maybe not purely by walking.

"Guess it's a pretty important family matter, huh?" Or Nick simply has nowhere else to go, which is a much more sobering thought. The implication that the brothers seem to be involved in some sort of feud or have been avoiding each other for whatever reason probably doesn't help matters.

"Yes, it is."

Depending on whether or not Gabriel can be convinced to take his head out of his ass and go after whoever destroyed their family, Lucifer could find himself right back out on the road again. Then he would just have to go and try to find Michael, assuming he is still alive, too, and that he won't simply try to pick up where they left off with the whole battle royale cage fight.

This is Lucifer's life. If their Father isn't dead yet, He has a sick sense of humor. Why does he have to be the one who tries to bring together the sad remnants of their family? ~~Recompense for starting a civil war?~~

"Our family was... large and tumultuous. Gabriel has been estranged for years, but lately there have been," he pauses, trying to find a way to put it, "problems. They need resolving."

Lucifer had ninety-nine problems and about ninety of those were caused by a smarmy little asshole of a brother named Metatron.

"The man Gabriel," quotes Daniel in what's meant to be a wry academic stab at humor, "whom I had seen in the vision at the first came to me in swift flight at the time of the evening sacrifice."

Immediately he shakes his head in acknowledgment of that poor taste. Hardly relevant, is it?

"Sorry. I realize that's - well, just - mental associations. I've been brushing up on my theology way too much lately." His line of work has more or less required it. He hastens to redirect the subject back to its original content in what is quite possibly the clumsiest segue of all time. "It's, it's good that you're addressing them. The problems. You know, directly."

Lucifer smiles thinly, the closest to amusement that he can probably get at this point. Daniel, quoting the book of Daniel to the Devil.

"Oh, Daniel," he says, "I have now come forth to give you insight and understanding."

He leaves the part about addressing their problems be for now; they probably weren't, really, going to address what was actually the problem with their family. If all went well, they would talk about revenge and the methods of obtaining it, and possibly about finding their older brother Michael to make it all the more certain that they got it. And after that... well. Three angels does not a Heaven make.

"Are you a religious man, Daniel?"

"Um," says Daniel.

Is it just him or has the general tone of the conversation drastically shifted? Sure, maybe quoting Scripture wasn't the most applicable thing in the world but that smile is more than a little unsettling.

"That's - kind of a hard question to answer, actually," he answers warily, trying to keep himself from eying Nick with too much suspicion. Should he be stopping or slowing down? Would that be rude? Would that be hostile? Would that imply he's expecting a calamity?

Daniel speeds up. He doesn't mean to; his anxiety has just inexplicably spiked.

"I mean, I know a lot about different religions," he volunteers. "I'm an archaeologist, so it's sorta my job."

"Humanity's collective obsessions with gods and deities and the persistence of these beliefs is a fascinating subject."

If Lucifer notices Daniel's discomfort or the sudden creeping increase in speed, he makes no outward appearance of it; he just continues to look placidly out the window at passing Pennsylvanian mountains.

"If you expect me to start proselytizing at you, I promise, you're safe. I'm not what you would call a devout man."

The cool mountain air has caused condensation to form on the inside of the window; Lucifer drags a finger through it, cutting a line through the moisture.

"My Father was, though. Two of my other brothers are named Michael and Raphael, if you can believe it."

Humanity's collective obsessions with gods and deities is one of Daniel's unhappier academic specialties given the context of his work and how frequently he gets to run into apotheosizing intergalactic conquerors. In fact, he'd be a little concerned he might be talking to one of said intergalactic conquerors right now if Nick hadn't stated outright that he isn't a 'devout man'. Whatever that means.

"Really," he says. He makes an adequate attempt to inject a little more calm into his voice and promptly notices he's white-knuckling the wheel. Breathe, Daniel. And relax. There is absolutely nothing about any of this that implies aggression. The leisurely slide of one finger across the window is just that, the prolonged collision of two surfaces on a vertical plane.

"So. Gabriel and Michael and Raphael and - Nick. Nicholas?" There, that lowers the rifting apprehension by a few degrees. Anthroponymy is a little more Daniel's comfort zone. "Not exactly consistent idiosyncratic naming."

There's also the part where apotheosizing intergalactic conquerers probably wouldn't be wandering the back woods of Pennsylvania wearing dad jeans and almost a month's worth of grime.

Granted, people also probably wouldn't expect Lucifer, the Morningstar, Angel of the Deepest Pit, to be wandering the back woods of Pennsylvania wearing dad jeans and month's worth of grime, but here he is.

Lucifer is tempted to draw a sigil or two in the condensation, just to see if Daniel would recognize it, but it may attract more attention than he wants. And he doesn't want to get kicked out of the car quite yet. He should at least wait until they're out of the mountains before he starts getting himself kicked out of the free ride.

"No, but it's better than being named Balthazar."

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