wentdowntogeorgia: (Disobedience is man's original virtue)
[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia
Lucifer falls.

This is old news for everyone involved. He fell from Grace, he fell from Heaven, and after the so long awaited confrontation in Stull Cemetery, he and his once-beloved brother and the promise of violence, he fell back into the Cage in the body of Sam Winchester.

Now, when he falls, he feels a shift around him like the universe cracking open at the seams; there is the smell of ozone and a lightning-snap that’s louder than even Sam’s fearful internal monologue, louder than the terror that pounds his frantic mortal heart at the sight of Perdition yawning wide beneath him. He is yanked sideways, sudden lateral movement that would be dizzying if he had a center of balance to upset, a rip-tide pulling him in and down and through the rabbit-hole, shadow-thin and darkling deep.

The body that is supposed to be his—that has had his name written over and across and around every fiber of its being since its conception—is suddenly far away, and he is wrapped in the old, familiar skin of a vessel he’d left dying in Detroit, flesh given freely rather than claimed by divine right. And then he is a streak in the sky that hits water and sinks like a stone.

Under the water, cold and getting colder from the seed crystal that is his freezing Grace in its mortal house, he can feel the vast emptiness where Heaven should be above him and isn’t; the universe is silent and it is deafening, a tinnitus ring where there should be angels’ voices. Lucifer grabs two fistfuls of space-time and pulls, moving himself from under the water to standing in the shallows at the bank, and behind him the lake’s surface is already frozen over thick like it’s the dead of winter. The water around his feet is sluggish and barely liquid, filmed over top with a thin frozen layer that breaks and flows around his ankles.

Someone approaches him with a towel, and there is no Hell below him and above him only sky, and he makes no reply; he banishes the water from his clothes with a thought before he puts his fist right through the man’s chest.

[[ooc: So this is going to be the hottest of messes; see mod comment for post instructions and fun stuff like that.]]

[[TW: gore, major character death.]]
apidae: (sweetheart)
[personal profile] apidae
[[ooc: It's beehive time! Bee is gonna be up on the Rebel apartment roof most of the day, hangin out, and she'll be sending an open text to all the Rebels (and some other friends) about it, inviting people to come join her. The first thread is gonna be Daine helping her set up, but after that feel free to drop by!]]

Everything has to be perfect.

Bee's got the boxes stacked nicely, all ready for their new inhabitants, with a couple rows of box flowers and a beautiful little water garden she'd been lucky enough to find in her eager search for supplies. Not a completed project yet, but it's a lovely start. And thank goodness the rain has stopped; she can be out here all day, in this beautiful weather, until the sun goes down even—and then, fireworks! She grins at the thought of it. She hopes people will join her.

Nearby there's a broad umbrella with some thrift-store cushions underneath, a shady little sitting area, just temporary before she can get something nicer set up. Snacks and a cooler with water, sodas and beer. She's not anticipating a party or even that many visitors - as excited as she is, she knows not everyone is eager to come be around a bunch of bees. But hopefully at least a few of her new friends will be interested enough to take a peek.

For now, she stands near the edge of the building, the wind whipping around her hair and her dress and the netted veil of her homemade protective hat (she has no suit, but she's not overly concerned), watching the sky, waiting for Daine, and her new darlings.
eighth: (Happy | Leaning against TARDIS)
[personal profile] eighth
After being liberated from his cell, the Doctor heads straight for the park. Considering he's about 40 blocks south though, it does take a little while.

He knows it's highly unlikely to be his TARDIS exactly. It's possible, but he thinks he would've felt it, at least once he'd been made aware of her presence. But even just another version of her will be a comfort, and if the future him is permanently gone, she'll probably want the company too.

Once he reaches the Ramble, it takes a little while to pinpoint her location, but not as much as one would think, since he can thankfully sense her somewhat. A grin spreads across his face as he rounds some rocks and sees her.

"Hello, old girl," he says, jogging up to the big blue box, getting out the key. The exterior is different, and oh, his other self seems to have switched back to the regular yale keys. It doesn't seem to matter though, as the doors swing open at his touch. It's nice to feel welcomed.

He lets out a small, appreciative gasp at the sight of her new interiors, too. Very different from his own, perhaps just a little too colourful and shiny for his tastes, but at least it's got character. He doesn't know why he kept the simple white theme for so long.

Already he can feel his memories flooding back, and he reaches out to her mind with a joyful greeting. Between all of this, he doesn't even immediately notice there's someone else in there.
johnny_truant: (paranoid little fuck)
[personal profile] johnny_truant
Fuuuuck this. After sending his last text to the TARDIS, Johnny all but throws his phone angrily onto the bed, gets to his feet and puts on his shoes. He's burning with indignation, disbelief, most of all hurt - hurt that she would ever imply he doesn't care about her, hurt that the things that matter to him don't seem to matter to her - and why should they, he thinks even more angrily, she's greater and older and infinitely more than him, why should his petty little life have ever mattered to her at all? - but he shoves it all aside, buries it down to be dealt with later. Charley needs someone to get her out of there, and if Gabe and the TARDIS aren't willing to play along, then he'll have to be that someone. Anyway it's about time he did something useful.

His phone buzzes with a few more texts, but he's not interested in anything else either of them have to say right now. He draws a breath and huffs it out, then draws another and exhales slowly, trying to clear his head.

He places his palm against the closet door, fingers splayed, lets his eyes flutter closed, and focuses on Charley.

He still doesn't really know how this power works. If he can go anywhere he wants, or can only move within a certain circuit, or has to know where he's going - this isn't even something he wants to have, or get better at. But it's all he's got going for him, he can't deny that. He'll have to use it.

Keep breathing. It'll be okay.

He tries to picture Charley in a cell, any cell, he supposes it doesn't really matter. As the mental image solidifies, he feels a tingling in his fingers, a sort of numb, buzzing sensation. He doesn't really like it, but it does mean something's happened.

He opens his eyes, drops his hand to the doorknob, and opens up, holding his breath.
adventuressing: (uhhh)
[personal profile] adventuressing
It's a mission, and accordingly, Charley is back in her utilitarian Viyran blacks; she's got her PT wristband set to what she really hopes are the right co-ordinates, and an ion bonder in one of the cargo pockets of her trousers. In part of her brain, she'd always thought of the ion bonder as the outer-space stun gun equivalent of the delicate derringers ladies kept in their clutches in American films; discreet, but very effective. She's hoping she won't have to use it, but better to be safe than sorry.

It was the Martian she'd met some days ago who'd managed to track the Doctor down for her. Tracking, apparently, is what he does. But not breaking and entering; he'd said something about his onus not extending to illegally forcing entry into highly secure facilities for human females to whom he was a stranger, and Charley hadn't been able to argue with that. So here she is, leaning against the wall in the shade of the tower across from ROMAC's headquarters. She's about to activate her teleport when it occurs to her that possibly she ought to tell someone where she's going, in case something goes wrong, and she digs out her phone and sends a quick message to Johnny. Always good to have a backup plan.

And then, with a quick glance to make sure that no-one can see her, she hits the button on her wristband, and vanishes. Being Viyran technology, it is remarkably efficient, and she reappears quite silently, without any disorientation, in a corridor. The walls and floor alike are concrete, the floor shiny, and the whole length of the place is lit with fluorescent lights that lend a slightly blue cast to everything. The air feels recycled, but there's a particular cool feel to it, dank on her skin, that makes her suspect she's exactly where she wanted to end up; the sub-basement level of the building. All along the corridor, until it turns a corner, there are doors recessed into the walls at uneven intervals.

All right, Charlotte, she thinks to herself, drawing a bracing breath, you just have to find the one the Doctor's behind. Simple.

Simple. She hopes.

Her boots are not made for sneaking; they're heavy black leather, with thick rubber soles, and Charley winces every time they squeak against the polished floor. Even her trousers, which are loose and easy to move in, make noise as she walks, and the zhoosh of fabric chafing against fabric seems unfairly loud. Concrete, she reflects, has unfortunately excellent acoustics.

And then a guard rounds the corner. He sees her immediately; there is scarce else in the corridor to look at. She curses. 'Bugger,' and then, 'Sorry!' as she pulls out her ion bonder and stuns him with a wave of green light before he's even halfway through his shout of Hey, you!

The guard crumples to the floor, and the shout resounds, half-finished, off the walls. Charley stands frozen in place for the space of a few pounding heartbeats, ion bonder still out and primed, but no-one else seems to have heard. All her breath rushes out of her at once, and she hurries to drag his unconscious body into one of the door alcoves before moving on. Some of the doors are just blank metal (some of those she dares attempt to open, giving an officious little nod should anyone be inside, and hoping hoping hoping they take her for a higher-up of some variety doing rounds), but some have little windows, slots with thick glass and delicate-looking chain link in the double-glazing that she peers through, searching for any sign of the Doctor, or indeed anything that looked like a holding cell.

The windows are just a little too high for her to look through comfortably; she has to crane her neck and push up on her toes. She's so distracted by the annoyance of the effort and her attempt to scour all the corners of the room through the tiny window that she doesn't hear the footsteps.

'Don't move,' says a voice, only a few feet away.

Charley freezes for a moment, skin going tight with the icy shock of discovery, and then she does move, swinging around to offer the guard the brightest, most innocent smile she can manage. It's a woman, taller than Charley but not that tall, a taser in her hands, and an expression that suggests she is not one to be fooled around. Blast, bugger, and blast.

'Um, hello,' Charley says, still smiling. 'I... realise that this must look rather suspicious, but I promise you it is... not what it seems. I am, ah, I'm inspecting things! Making sure your security is all top hole and all that. And so it is! Very impressive. All this... concrete.'

'Top hole, huh?' the woman repeats, and, keeping her taser trained on Charley, pulls something that looks to Charley like a cross between a two-way radio and one of those fancy smartphones from her belt, and hits a few buttons, lifting it to her mouth. 'I've got an intruder. Another one, yeah, I know. High-security area, near the cells; no idea how she got in. Should I--? Ok, ok, yeah, sure. Later, then.'

The phone-radio-thing returns to its holster, and the woman jerks the taser for Charley to follow her. Not seeing much option, Charley does as she's bidden.

Twenty minutes later, having endured a pat-down that's left her dignity in tatters, and relieved of teleport, ion bonder, and phone, Charley is transferred over to another guard, this one a burly man. No weapon, she can't fight him; no teleport, she can't get out. Hell.

'Look,' she tries to adopt a firm-but-reasonable tone, 'If only I could talk with someone instead of you just locking me up; it really isn't necessary.'

The guard, apparently, is immune to firm-but-reasonable tones, and minutes later, she's shoved unceremoniously into a cell, the same concrete as the rest of the complex, a little anteroom  and then the larger cell through a doorless doorway. As the guard locks the door, Charley abandons all attempts at reason and simply shouts, pressing herself up against it. 'Oi! Come on, this--'

But it's no good; she can't see the guard, but she can hear his retreating footsteps, and she falls back a little from the door, scowling at it. 'Damn.'

alwaysalright: (pic#5874907)
[personal profile] alwaysalright
The Doctor is out and about today. He has spent quite a bit of time helping the TARDIS recuperate, and just generally trying to dote on to make up for the time he spends away from her to visit Charley. In between all that doting on loved ones, there hasn't been an awful lot of time to whizz about on his own, but today he is.

Well, okay, he's in a bookstore, not a particularly exciting location, but it is a multistory one. And as it is, he is currently rushing into a closing elevator.

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