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

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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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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."

To be fair, Daniel's run into quite a few anomalies wearing dad jeans and a month's worth of grime (or the less disheveled equivalent), but the Devil certainly isn't an anomaly he'd expect to be on that list.

"I - okay, that's fair enough. Or Belshazzar, even." Sufficiently distracted from his unease, Daniel rubs thoughtfully at his chin with one hand. He's reasonably familiar with the Book of Daniel, for obvious reasons. "So, what? Nicholas as in Saint?"

"One of my youngest siblings was Castiel."

It's amusing and seemingly arbitrary, to him, what angel names made it into common human given names; Michael and Gabriel are fairly normal, by most standards, and Raphael, if uncommon, is at least not unacceptable. But you don't find any Balthazars or Castiels running around, or any Anaels or Uriels.

Or, for that matter, any Sammaels, but he doesn't find that at all surprising.

"That seems the most likely. I didn't actually ask my Father why he named me what he did."

Castiel. Now that's an unfamiliar title. Which just makes Nick's own name that much more unorthodox in comparison; if his father was apparently plumbing the more obscure Judeo-Christian reference books (Daniel's never even heard of Castiel - a variation of Cassiel, maybe? But that's not even biblical, those are different origins entirely), why would he settle for 'Nicholas'?

In any case, it sounds like Nick's familial politics are something of a Gordian knot, and Daniel has extremely limited context.

"So, uh, how big, exactly, is your family?" he asks lightly, fully aware that Nick hasn't actually given him a concrete number.

"Large and extended."

And this is where Lucifer has to... fudge some details, because angelic siblinghood doesn't translate well into human terms. And he's fairly certain that, even though their Father told humanity to be fruitful and multiply, that he has more siblings than any pair of humans could hope to produce in one lifetime.

"Michael was the eldest, I was second, Gabriel is the very picture of the middle child, and Raphael the youngest. Those are my full siblings, as it is. I have a number of half-siblings-- Castiel, Balthazar, Uriel, Hester, Samandiriel, Zachariah. Anael, though she preferred to go by Anna. Then there are," he waves a hand in a small circle, "more cousins and such than I'm sure you want me to list."

Edited (why are there so many angels) 2014-12-02 06:36 (UTC)

"I - woah."

Woah. And all conveniently bible-theme-named, save for Nick.

Unless that's - not coincidental.

Crap. No. Crap. Daniel does not want this to be what he thinks it might be, but someone whose job is steadily dismantling an alien power structure that's deeply, accurately rooted in human religious literature is inclined to be more than a little suspicious at this point. Historically that power structure has adapted itself around Egyptian mythology, occasionally expanding to encompass the Greco-Roman, the Babylonian, the Celtic, ad nauseum, but not so much the Judeo-Christian. Except -

"Your dad's name doesn't happen to be 'Yahweh,' does it?" Daniel asks in as casual a tone as he can contrive. Or 'Satan,' he doesn't add, because he's already met a Satan, though that particular system lord preferred Sokar. But Daniel's ninety-five percent sure that Sokar's dead. He's been dead. For years. Please please please let him actually be dead.

"Thinking a little highly of my family, aren't you?"

Well, someone certainly caught on quickly. Most people would probably think that his father was some kind particularly fanatic Dugger-esque type rather than literally the Lord Almighty, even if the latter is the truth. And, honestly, it would probably be better for the entire universe if he was, because God is the worst deadbeat dad to ever exist, and that probably explains a lot about how the universe has generally gone.

"I can tell you with absolute certainty that no one in my family is sitting on a cloud in Heaven with wings and a harp, Daniel."

Because Heaven is closed for business and their wings have been all burned off.

"Besides," he adds, "if I was an angel, why wouldn't I just fly to New York? Hiking my way cross-country seems a little low for an angel of the Lord, don't you think?"

Edited 2014-12-02 08:11 (UTC)

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