don't get lost in heaven, they got locks on the gate [open to multiple]

[peacefulexplorer]

Existence without form or breath or shape is disorienting, the spread of atoms over a plane he doesn't recognize, with the repeated dissolutions and reshapings of an indistinct self. At one point there was pain, and the unspooling of himself into light and purpose, and for a long while there is only amorphous drifting. He hits barriers, dissonant and frequent, where once he should have crossed from one plane to another, one reality to the next, in an effortless slide of energy across the universal boundaries. It is difficult to define emotional state outside of the human context - he only knows that he is not human - but it is a state of affairs that generates confused distress.

Temporal sequencing becomes a problem.

Awareness, too, is difficult to achieve. Gradually he is able to pull together the various components that comprise himself and reshape them into something capable of perception, but doing so strikes him with a revelation disconsolate, and that is that there are no Others here - no Ancients, nothing, simply an empty plane of shifting light and bottomless dark. And he is alone.

He knows he did this, and it was for a reason. But he finds he cannot remember anything, not immediately, and when the memories trickle back with his concentrated effort they are unfiltered and unstructured and unordered until finally he can impose the alien concept of linear time upon the thing, and fully interpret what he is in comparison to what he was.

Daniel Jackson.

The name is the linchpin that generates the outward ripples, spreading from that singular point of origin. It triggers the flood of remembrance, the 'gate, Manhattan, the locked-away knowledge that was once sealed in his head but now coalesces seamlessly into the whole of him now. He cannot delineate his form by shape or size or mass, not any longer, but now he remembers, he remembers what it is he can do and how it is he can do it.

He starts small because he must, drifting as a pair of hydrogen atoms while he glimpses the city on a reduced scale. Then he builds to it, the recollection of his shape. Spectrally manifesting was never truly allowed before, but if there are no Others then he is not bound by their laws. He assembles a body that resembles the one that was human and familiar, and projects it. It takes two tries to succeed, three to sustain it for longer than a meaningless collection of seconds, and no matter what he tries he cannot force his shape to manifest with glasses. Apparently his inner self, or however he chooses to define it, does not need them.

He loses track of how many attempts he makes before he can maintain his form visibly for any significant length of time. But finally, in a ragged burst of energy, the bewildered shape of Daniel Jackson reappears in Manhattan, and there he stays.

[ooc: Daniel Ascended back during the Rift Shitfit of September 4th, and he's only just figured out how to Do Things in his new state of being. Right now he's completely intangible and frequently phasing in and out of visible existence. I've added to his handy-dandy reference post as to what he can and can't do in this state. He can also show up LITERALLY ANYWHERE so if you want in on Ascended funtimes just pick a date and a location, or Daniel can pick one, or whatever.]

Comments

[peacefulexplorer]

"Because it's your defense, whether it's true or not," he says firmly, neutrality sharpening into something more direct. "It's safer to throw up a wall that deflects people beforehand, because it's your way to avoid getting hurt."

He doesn't advance. He doesn't need to. Seth's already standing and facing his projection squarely, bridling at each statement. Daniel holds his stare, measured, even.

"I'm still your friend, Seth," he answers, exasperation leaking into the words despite his outward composure. "Dying doesn't change that. Nothing changes that."

[powerdealer]

Seth seems to hit a wall. He's still angry - at what, he's not even sure anymore - but he can't think of what to say.

Daniel's damn right it's safer, so why shouldn't he do it? Of course it's safer, but it seems pointless to agree, because he knows what Daniel would say - or at least he knows what he himself would say, and maybe he shouldn't assume Daniel would too, immediately after Daniel calling him out on doing just that.

It might be safer, but it's not necessarily better, because by shutting himself off he also shuts out all the positive stuff. He knows that, and he's been trying not to do it, but clearly he hasn't succeeded. It's ingrained in him, and not something he can change just like that.

He deflates a little after Daniel's reaffirmation of their friendship. "I know that," he answers, scowling at the floor. He's not sure how they got to this point.

[peacefulexplorer]

"And?" The projection tilts its chin fractionally. Corporeality is a standard he hasn't yet achieved, and the whole of him might not be fully visible in this shape - but its faintly puzzled frown is the best form of communication Daniel has.

"I don't want that to change," he says carefully. "I care about you, even if you don't always seem to believe I do."

[powerdealer]

Seth drops back down onto the couch, the fight going out of him. The anger is still there, bubbling under the surface, but it doesn't really go away these days.

The affirmation is welcome, and, if he's honest, sorely needed. It's not like he has any reason to believe otherwise, he just needs to be reminded sometimes.

"Sorry," he says again after a moment, this time specifically for his angry outburst, rather than some vague, self-critical reason. He makes an effort to pull up some actual sincerity, to get out of this hole of misery he's dug himself. "It's good to see you," he says, trying for a smile and at least somewhat succeeding.

[peacefulexplorer]

The sudden deescalation of what was looking to be an incredibly charged confrontation wasn't one Daniel predicated (outlined as several plausible choices of action, because their actions decide their fate and each fate is comprised of diverging, ever-changing pathways and he really can't let himself get ahead of things like this), but it's an appreciated outcome nonetheless.

His shape smiles, small and sincere. "You too. I really am sorry it, uh - happened how it did." He casts his focus more distantly, skimming the building and its tenants. "I apologized. To, uh, to Johnny. I, uh." And he draws himself back into the present with an apologetic shrug. "I didn't mean for him to see that."

[powerdealer]

Seth's emotions tend to change more often than the weather these days, so this is really par for the course. It's probably some sort of reaction to grief or trauma or something, but Seth wouldn't really know, he's just kind of along for the ride.

"Yeah, how dare you go and get yourself killed in front of him?" Seth jokes quietly, morbid humour to try to adjust to actually talking about it. At least his joke is lighter now, not just a bitter effort to push things aside.

"But yeah, he..." he starts, nodding a little sadly. "We weren't doing too great." Seth both saw and realised how terrible it must've been for Johnny, but unfortunately he was in no state to help - he still isn't. He just has to hope that Johnny's getting his support elsewhere.

[peacefulexplorer]

"Yeah." He pulls out the word wearily, wincing. "It was kind of - out of nowhere. For both of us. Though in the future, I'd recommend against physical therapy." He pulls the fingers of one hand into a fist before spreading them with a meaningful lift of his shape's eyebrows. "You know."

[powerdealer]

"He insulted you and said I should be happy you died the way you died," Seth answers, as if this justifies violence. He knows it doesn't, but out of all the things he feels guilty about, that one's not really a top priority. Sadly it didn't even help, it just left him with a pained hand.

[peacefulexplorer]

"Nick's outlook is - complicated, let's say." It's all he really can say in a way that would make sense with the context Seth has and without unraveling potentially non-correlative timelines or issues of cross-universal causality, none of which he really wants to get into right now.

"As far as I can tell, he knows enough about the process itself but, uh, there are a lot of variables." He pauses and frowns, considering. "Really a lot. The way it happened turned out to be one of them. I was lucky it was slow enough that there even was time for me to Ascend at all."

[powerdealer]

Seth refrains from commenting about how a slow death is apparently positive, because it might make sense in context, but it still sounds horrific to Seth, and he'd rather Daniel just hadn't had to die at all. But apparently he's doing just fine as a mystical, celestial energy-being, so...

"How come you know this stuff about Rush?" he asks curiously, frowning. Last time he checked, there was all this worrying about timelines and paradoxes, and now they're on first-name basis? Or, well, one-way, anyway. Rush seems to default to last names.

[peacefulexplorer]

"I was, ah. Kind of lacking an anchor." He really should be apologizing to Nick instead of around him, but he's still wary of approaching the man directly, particularly since he may have accidentally violated his mental privacy. "While I was just - drifting, I didn't really recognize anything. I couldn't get a hold on what I was or who I was or what had happened, and that was the only vaguely familiar point of reference I could find, so."

His projection at least has the good grace to look appropriately shamefaced about it as he tilts his head guiltily. "It wasn't exactly intentional on my part, but that's not exactly an excuse either."

[powerdealer]

Seth lets out a long 'huh' sound. Makes sense, sort of. As much as a situation like this can make sense to Seth. He's still burdened with a regular, physical brain, and not even a particularly clever one like Rush's.

"So I take it telepathy is among the many powers an Ascended being has?" he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back. Despite not really understanding the situation, at least he's starting to attain some sort of equilibrium. Enough to be able to discuss this stuff.

[peacefulexplorer]

"More or less." He wiggles one of his hands in a wavy, noncommittal gesture. "I was capable of a lot more, before. I think the Rift's getting in the way." It's almost certainly the Rift - Ascended beings were the closest thing his universe ever came to actual gods as opposed to all the sweeping, over-dramatic conquerors they faced regularly, and here he's lucky to even establish a mode of communication.

"But, uh, you could probably - I dunno, think really hard in my direction and I might pick it up?" It's theoretical at best, but he's not really sure what counts for a consistent method of contact when he's not even on the same plane as most of the people he knows.

[powerdealer]

"Right," he answers with a small, wry smile. "What do I even need a phone for when most of my friends can be contacted through prayer..." That's good to know though, that it won't simply be a matter of Daniel popping up whenever it's convenient.

"I've got that too now," he adds, since he's not sure Daniel can actually see what powers Seth has. "But it's, um.. Touch-based, so. Can't really..." He lifts a palm towards Daniel's spectre, a gesture to indicate why it wouldn't work on him. Or it might, assuming Daniel wants it to. Hard to tell without trying, really.

[peacefulexplorer]

"Yeah, you are, uh, particularly luminous right now. Is that the right word?" It's certainly a kind of hard-edged brilliance that's difficult to ignore, in the same way that Lucifer and Gabriel had been unequivocally what they were - bright and winged and beautiful and terrifying. Seth's not anywhere close to the same extent, he's recognizably human, but there's a notable difference because he is, for lack of a better term, glowing with the different beads of energy buried in him.

[powerdealer]

Seth raises his eyebrows in amusement. Luminous. He's not sure if Daniel's really seeing the world like that, as if Seth is actually glowing, or if it's some kind of metaphor for a sense they don't really have words for. Probably the latter. Seth's had that problem when it comes to describing powers as well. He can very distinctly recognise what a power feels like, he can tell them apart, both in himself and in others. But he doesn't think he could describe it to someone else. Definitely not if they didn't have any similar powers.

"I was even more so," he answers, flexing his fingers a little. "But I think I hit my limit in how many powers I can hold." Either that, or how many powers he can take during a short space of time. Perhaps he can hold more once the ones he has now have settled in him, once he's gotten a proper grip on them. Or perhaps not. "I keep, uh.. Doing things on accident."

[peacefulexplorer]

"Hmm." He brushes at the edges of the other man's being a little more experimentally, the glaring bleeding edges of the other energies compacted into him. There are a lot of them, blurring the edges between each other.

He lifts his projection's eyes to meet Seth's, vaguely concerned. "What kind of things? Nothing really uh, really life-threatening, right?"

[powerdealer]

Seth shakes his head in reply. "None of them are offensive powers. I guess I could get stuck halfway through a wall, but I haven't had any problems with phasing." Probably because he's had that power for a long time and can use it while barely having to focus on it.

Most of it is just awkward. Like accidentally turning into a cat. Thankfully he hasn't done that in front of anyone yet. He doesn't think he could stand the embarrassment.

[peacefulexplorer]

He hums his interest, set to peer a little further into each one, maybe see if he can determine their purpose purely by sight. The effort shudders something in his projection's foundations, and its face falls.

"Damnit." He retreats back into himself, opening his manifestations' hands to study them. They appear as solid as ever, even if he feels like he's fading, untethered.

[powerdealer]

Seth sits up straighter, immediately worried, even if he has no idea what's wrong. He doesn't really have any special sensory stuff that would allow to tell - the ones he have are touch-based, bound to a certain physicality that Daniel doesn't currently possess.

"What's wrong?" he asks, which is just about the only thing he can do.

[peacefulexplorer]

"I'm sorry," he says, expression momentarily pained. He's growing so tired of this. "It's not really easy for me to maintain this, this shape, and it gets harder the longer I - "

The next moment he's scattered again, and the form he once held is gone.