exsiliumlogs | action; closed

Entry tags:

action; closed

Date: October 1st
Location: Away from the Observatory
Character: Kevin & close CR who feels like dealing with sad and sick celestial beings.
Summary: The guardian angel of Britain is experiencing technical difficulties.
Warning: Transparent angels?

[Uriel doesn’t need to be at the Observatory. When the time comes, he discreetly slips away on unsteady feet, hand clasping his chest as his whole body is shaken by unremitting agony. Millions of prayers, millions of dreams, millions of lives binding him. Where are you, where are you at a time like this? Who will account for us? Who will take responsibility?

He stumbles into an empty room and falls to his knees. When the first bomb touches the ground, he feels the blast on his very skin. Every single scarred soul, every single pointless loss, he feels their screams perpetuate into infinity. His. He grasps empty air and reaches out for them, uselessly.

Uriel, on the other hand, makes no sound. He would not, even if all wind had not been knocked out of his lungs. His face becomes a mask of silent and desperate shrieking. And for a nanosecond, his divine aura explodes and surges across three different plans of existence, then collapses into itself and all but disappears. What is left is barely perceptible, a frayed and lacerated veil of light for those who can sense such things.

For a brief moment, his body becomes transparent around the edges, and that is when awareness deserts him. Right before his eyelids finally close, he gazes at the walls of the room he has taken as haven, now entirely coated with variegated crystals. ]

(ooc: Since the nuclear attack destroyed his alternate people and territory, Kevin will be a mess for a few days and then recover gradually.)

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[In spite of their translucency, his fingers are solid enough. They are, however, much colder than the last time she touched them.

The word "help" is received with unadulterated apprehension. Help means more people, and - even in his current state - he is quite certain that is something he should do his utmost to avoid.]

N-no.

( She pulls his cold hand to her chest. Her own hands don't have enough warmth to change that temperature; she hopes that might change, as she wraps her other hand around his. )

No?

( She snorts, feeling that worry gnaw all the more. There's relief, too: he can talk. Kevin can talk! Her smile is wobbly. )

I didn't think butlers learned how to talk back.

[Warm hands? He tries to hold them tighter again, to no avail. His eyes turn towards her once more, this time with a shadow of recognition. A butler, she said?]

P-please, do not call…anyone.

[ Collette. Her name is Collette, and she shouldn’t be seeing him like this. She is a good girl and must be concerned, terribly concerned. He must…]

I-do..not worry, pl…

Why not?

( She demands, voice fierce and low. )

Are all men this -- this stubborn?! You're not okay. Yuo're not, Kevin, that's when you're supposed to let people help you.

( She can't stop the pleading note from entering her voice. Please be okay, please let her, or someone, or anyone, help, because she's just lost so much, and she doesn't want to lose even more. Not another person, not another friend, not another moment that could be saved.

If she knew how he'd felt that same loss, those half million lives terminated, she would have had more empathy. But she can't know. All she does know is that she hurts, and he's not okay, and that maybe if she rubs her hand against his and holds on wiht the other she'll be ablel to make his flesh warm up again. Don't go cold. Don't die, semi-ghost butler guy! )

What can I do?

[Angel of the element of earth: some would argue that stubbornness comes with the job description.

Her anxiety pulls his focus further in her direction. There was a time when he would have found the right detachment to ignore her human pleas, but that was thousands of years ago. Now he tries to apply pressure to her warm hand once more, trying to convey some comfort, some measure of assurance.]

P-please, close the door. I-I will recover. It is not…[He takes a deep shuddering breath.] Please.

And leave you here?

( She asks, sounding slightly closer to outraged than before. Slightly, because she's too much at odds with herself and how she feels to pull on outraged with any amount of strength. )

No way!

[B-but what if he has not enough strength to argue either.]

S-stay, but close the door, please.

[As long as he can keep himself away from prying eyes, everything will be fine, right? Right? ]

( She ignores his request, not out of ill will, but: )

I'd rather not have to crawl over there, or get back in my chair right now, you big dolt!

( So it is she doesn't end up moving, just letting one hand move from his own to reach out and touch his forehead. )

What's happening?

[Oh.

He didn't think this through, did he?

His forehead is cold, just like his hands. His whole state conveys lack of energy.]

Britain...We have...a deep connection.

( She isn't, either. If she was, she'd remember her stop watch; with that, she'd have the time without worrying about him.

But she doesn't remember. Such is her concern, and she takes her hand off his forehead, groping blindly for the blanket she has on the back of her chair for when her own loegs feel cold to the touch. Finding it, she tugs it down. )

Okay, Britain and you are connected. How? Why?

( Butlers don't grow crystal walls or turn into semi-corpses over the bombing of one land... though they might get a bit clammy at the world changing so drastically around them.

She works to pull the blanket over him, tucking it around as best she can with one hand, the other still keeping his on her chest. )

Are yo some sort of British Guardian Angel?

( She half jests, barely fighting off the urge to babble on as her concern leaves her alternately cold and warm. )

[The blanket is more welcome than he would have expected. But now he can only imagine how cold Collette must feel as well. Collette, he tells himself, is still a kid. He looks blankly up the ceiling, and finally notices the multicolored stalactites of crystal. Oh my, did he...

Of course, this line of thought is completely derailed by her next question. His look conveys the shock of the proverbial boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.]

Huh!

( Her own eyes widen. Of my goodness, she thinks to herself. Really? Another?! )

You are? Oh gosh, I bet you and Mahdi have all sorts of things to talk about! Though what kind of angel are you, a classic one from the like, Christian or Catholic Church? Or something else? I think Mahdi's more of the something else that ends up being like an angel... wait, am I even allowed to say that?

( She finds herself blushing as she babbles, retucking the blanket in around Kevin's shoulders. )

Does that mean you're William's guardian angel too?

[Are there other kinds? He has certainly met Mahdi, but he never thought of him as...No, honestly, how many people already know?

Kevin tries to move under the blanket, but moving is extremely difficult.]

Please, Collette. Do not disclose... such sort of information ...so lightly. Nobody...is supposed to know. Young master...

[Especially young master!]

You keep it a secret from Will?

( She makes no promise right then, tired of being bogged down by things which are silly here, or silly to her because it's a denial of the honesty that can help each of them assist the other. )

Another secret? ( She sighs, bringing his hand down into her lap. ) People are way too fond of letting me have those! I never wanted to be rich in secrets, just in friends and the number of ski slopes I'd get to go down before I died!

( She got the friends, but never the ski slopes. Now she has the friends and the secrets. )

Okay, mister angel. I won't go telling everyone, though I still think you should tell Mahdi. And don't get into fights with demons. Talk about bringing unnecessary battles in here!

( She means the last as a tease. Less of a tease is the continued concern on her face. )

You're not going to be like this until we help this world heal, are you? Because I don't know if that's going to be all that fast, and I don't want you hurting the whole time like this. It's frightening.

[If only he had the strength to facepalm.]

Mahdi...knows. [Good Lord, does everybody know?] I-I will be alright. And...not pick fights with demons.

[Well, there is Chrono. But she doesn't need to know about that.]

[But wait, even in his state, he can tell something is definitively off about the way Collette phrased her ranting.]

Before you...died?

Edited 2013-10-06 06:34 (UTC)

( Shit.

It's hardly a polite thought (or a polite word), but she's been so careful. The one time she'd ever told, it was to help someone else who had died back home to adjust to this world. She's never slipped up so badly before; there's a slight hesitation, then she snorts, shaking her head. )

At least Mahdi knows. And good! No fights with demons is a good thing. We'll probably need to work with them, so I'll tell them the same thing with you. Settle differences when we don't need to work together.

( She nods, giving his hand a squeeze and taking anothe rmoment to fidget and tuck the blanket in again. his shifting has upset one corner from where she'd tucked it behind his shoulder. She carefully leans out and tucks it back in. )

Before I died, yep! One of those list things, you know? An old list. My "do before I die" list's been updated since then!

( Let him buy that. Please, let him think it was because the list expired, and not because she had. )

[But how...why is she not in heaven? What is wrong with this place?

As she tucks in the blanket again, he seizes the opportunity to weakly hold her sleeve.]

C-Collette, contrary to what Mister Break and Sister Rosette might think, I was not born yesterday. I--

[He offers her a frail smile.]

Please do not...go tattling about me to demons. I can...keep secrets too.

Edited 2013-10-06 06:58 (UTC)

( What the Initiative wants, the Initiative gets. Even if it's pulling people from the moment they enter their own grave, incinerated on a battlefield, or dying of cancer in their bed.

She goes still, eyes sliding toward his hand on her sleeve. She swallows, listening to him speak. He's so fragile sounding right now. It makes her heart hurt. She remembers their awkward dance last month, not even three weeks past, and has to swallow again, past a lump that's part grief for what he's acknolwedging, and part grief that comes in seeing anyone she likes and cares about being brought low. )

Aren't you supposed to have been born six thousand years ago?

( She manages at last, offering him a small, quivering smile. She does tug her hand away, not to dislodge him -- he may well hold on -- as she moves her hand to the side of his face. It's to keep him looking at her, even as she forces herself to look him in the eyes.

No one's supposed to know, and by her own chatty mouth, and his own breadth of years, now someone did. )

Which secret of mine are you keeping, Kev?

( She can feel her eyes welling up, that familiar warmth that spoke of tears almost prompting her to blink. She forgoes, hoping her tears won't overflow before he answers. She needs to hear, just to make sure.

And she wasn't crying for her. She can't be that selfish, okay, she'll never cry for herself. it's for him, and for all those people he's supposed to have been able to watch over, and who he couldn't possibly defend against the UE's whims. That's all. That's more than enough reason why to cry. )

Well, strictly speaking, time itself had not been created yet, but...

[He sees something shining in the corer of her eyes, and he is quite sure it is not an effect caused by the crystals on the walls. He holds on to her hand as best as he can, but his grip is as frail as expected. He is too cold to offer any real comfort, his aura too damaged to reach her. This poor child should not be here. She should not be here at all, and yet she is doing whatever she can to help. No wonder he once thought she could be one of his.

In a sense, she is more alive than any of those he could not save.]

Secret? [He asks with a warm smile.] My apologies, Collette. I seem to have completely forgotten...

( Her hand slides from his face, a grateful smile turning her lips upward, unable to last for long. He wouldn't tell. That means so much more than it should, a secret that's only a secret because of what she doesn't want people to think about in relation to her. For the others, yes, they each make their own decision.

She only wants people to believe she's alive when she goes home, too. How to explain why she fights so hard to be sent back to death? She doesn't. It scares her.

Her hand slides off his cheek, as warm a caress as it can be with her hands starting to chill. She leans forward and down, bracing against the floor. Maybe it's inappropriate to do what she intends to wiht this angel, but she doesn't know how to say a proper thank you otherwise.

Not for this.

Her hair probably tickles at his face, thick and heavy and wavy, spilling past her shoulders as she bends to press her lips against his cheek, where her hand had been moments before. )

Thank you.

( She murmurs, not wanting the hiss of a whisper, and if a tear or two escaped her blinking eyes, she doesn't pay them heed as she straightens back up. There is important business to attend to, between an ill angel and a dead-but-not-gone girl. )

How long will you be like this?

[His eyes widen, his cheeks turning dark red, surprisingly more at her gratitude than the display of affection. She shouldn't be so grateful for something like this. Kevin, of all people, knows how hard it is to keep important secrets from those one loves the most.]

Not too long...I-It has never happened before, but I think...

[He is not going to die. He doesn't think so. Not when young master still needs him, and Britain is still waiting somewhere beyond his reach. He tries to raise his hand to touch her tears. She could use his support right now, but he has so little to offer her. It seems he is doomed to fail at every single one of his duties, just like that tiny demon implied not so long ago.]

Edited 2013-10-06 08:06 (UTC)

Yeah, well, I don't think anyone's tried to wipe out the whole island.

( She says, managing a crooked smile. She can swallow past the tears; most of the threat of them she blinks away, tired of the other crying she's done lately. )

You haven't gone through the World Wars yet, or I'd ask how those were for you. Um... I think we'll need you moved. It's too cold here, you should rest and drink plenty of fluids and have something to eat, maybe broth? Not right now, but when you're more -- um. Not transparent.

World Wars? World Wars? G-good Lord, Collette!

[You should prepare me first for this sort of news, young lady.]

I-I believe sister Rosette is...searching for a proper..huh. [Hiding place? He offers her another warm smile.] I...I do not believe this station is rich on proper anything, do you?

But I would welcome the company.

There was no particularly good lord during either of those, from what I hear.

( She gives his hand a squeeze, not terribly apologetic for the bad joke. )

I don't think Exsilium in any way is rich on proper whatsits and dohickies. If you don't mind me waiting with you until she comes back... I'd like that.

( Still might call people on your feathery butt, angel, if you take a turn for the worse! )

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