simulsimul | another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

[Skulduggery nods.] That's a good point. In that case, I'm going to have to ask you to trust me as well.

Are you going to come around to some kind of point, or --?

Kratos is an angel.

[That stops Valkyrie dead in her tracks.] What?

On Earth, we have a certain religious institution. It's not the oldest, and it's not particularly the happiest, and yet it's injected itself into the everyday life of most western countries. Part of the religion is that there's one God, and He's served by a hierarchy of angels. Even people who don't consider themselves religious know what angels are. Do you remember the Christmas ornament that soured your evening?

No, seriously, what?

Christmas was originally a religious holiday. Angel decorations are standard.

[Kratos would ask if there's any such thing as a happy religion, but in light of the explanation, being sardonic gets set aside. The description is ... disturbingly familiar.]

I see. So my presence here could be used to allow a single religion to dominate the rest in opposition to free will.

[Damn.]

I should think that would be reason not to report me to the authorities. Or is your friend a practitioner of this religion?

Put simply, yes.

Angels from space?

[Skulduggery ignores Valkyrie's minor breakdown. It might be more difficult for Kratos to do the same, given she's now staring very intently at him.]

No, Ghastly doesn't practice it. [How to explain this.] It's primarily a mortal religion. Most sorcerers don't take kindly to the idea that anyone exists who's more powerful than they are, let alone a hierarchy of beings no one's ever seen.

Space angels?

A large group of sorcerers believe in a race of evil gods instead. Unfortunately, those evil gods do exist. If any of them find out about you, we'd probably have another war on our hands.

You're an alien angel from outer space.

Ghastly, being a bastion for lawful morality, would argue we take this to our current Grand Mage, Corrival Deuce, because we can trust him and he can help us mitigate any damage. The problem with this is that the government's getting moved to Roarhaven.

Do you have wings?

[Kratos manages to ignore being stared at quite easily. There are more important matters than to assuage her curiosity. Instead he says dryly:]

So mortals worship angels, and sorcerers, when they aren't worshipping evil gods, worship themselves. Where do those evil gods live?

[He might have something of a notion. If they came from Niflheim ...]

What's the issue with Roarhaven?

Edited 2017-07-19 06:44 (UTC)

That's an excellent summary. [It is, too. There's no fault in it Skulduggery can see.] As for the Faceless Ones, they live in another dimension. A few of them are dead on this side.

How can you be a space alien angel if you don't have any wings?

The issue with Roarhaven is that it's populated solely by disillusioned sorcerers who think mortals should be slaves. More than a few of them worship the evil gods. We don't want knowledge of you getting anywhere near there.

[A few of them are dead.]

None of them are skeletons, perchance?

[Sword Dancer was something of an anomaly, but still, there's precedence. Kratos hums.]

And what do you think they'd try to do if they found out about me, precisely?

No. None of them are skeletons. Two of them are dust, and one is a shambling zombie creature we tossed back into their dimension over a year ago.

You can't just drop something like that on me and then ignore all my questions!

I have no idea, Kratos. That's what scares me. [Traditionally, no one takes the confirmation a religion they'd written off as hyperbole very well.] We're nearly there now. Just a few more minutes.

[Shambling zombie. Close enough. Kratos sits back again, thoughtful, and turns his gaze to Valkyrie.]

Yes.

Yes -- yes what? Yes, you're an alien angel from outer space? [A small gasp.] Yes, you have wings?

Edited 2017-07-19 08:50 (UTC)

[There is amusement in his eyes and on his face, for those who can see it.]

Yes. To both.

[Valkyrie absolutely cannot see it. The amusement, or the wings.] Well, where are they? Are they too big for the car?

I'd rather no one do anything in my car if they're not very sure it won't damage the upholstery. We're nearly there, Valkyrie. Be patient.

You've just told me angels exist, and you want me to be patient?

Yes.

[Valkyrie grumbles and subsides. The car pulls up on the side of the road outside Ghastly's shop, framed by the familiar run-down neighbourhood. After Skulduggery turns off the engine, he looks at Valkyrie.] See? I knew you could do it.

One of these days, I'm going to smack you.

[Kratos deliberates on answering and ultimately doesn't, since Skulduggery does it for him. Instead he waits until the car is silent before opening the door and unfolding himself from the seat, stretching.]

You need bigger back seats.

[Just an idle constructive criticism. In the meantime he looks skyward, eyes half-closed, to feel out the mana around them -- and, particularly, the mana in the man inside the shop in front of which they've stopped. He has the same four-typed cast as Skulduggery -- except for lacking the shadowed balance and the stillness of wholly-maintained undeath.]

My back seats are perfect. [Skulduggery's tone is affronted.]

[Valkyrie sighs.] And how often do you sit in them again?

Just for that, you're waiting in the car.

[Valkyrie's answer is to push open the door and step out. Skulduggery follows suit, grumbling something inaudible. He settles his disguise on his skull and locks the car behind them. Valkyrie knocks on Ghastly's door.]

[Appropriately, Ghastly opens the door, given a few moments to put down his sewing and get to the door in the first place. There's a faint smile for Valkyrie before he remembers the most recent phone call from Skulduggery.]

Hello, Valkyrie.

What's this about needing a translating artifact in the dead of night?

...and who's your friend?

[An eye for Kratos.]

[Kratos does not smile at Skulduggery's offence -- on the outside, at least. He does move around the car, slower than the other two, and examining their surrounds. It doesn't look a particularly safe area ... Hmm.

[He only turns when the door opens, and inclines his head at the wary gaze he receives.]

Kratos. You're Skulduggery's brother, I take it?

[Yes, that is deliberate.]

Brother-not-brother. [Skulduggery's quick to correct this, especially now that Kratos can apparently speak perfect English.] There was a breakdown in understanding. It's a long story. May we come in?

He's an angel. [Valkyrie's grinning.] An angel from outer space.

Brother-not-brother.

[Repeated blankly. It was that or 'an angel from outer space,' and Ghastly likes to be mildly unpredictable.]

...Ghastly Bespoke.

[Introductions are safe. He nods gingerly to the -- angel from outer space -- and opens his door further.]

Because it'll be more of a headache if I don't know what you're doing.

[... The people here aren't known for their discretion, are they? Kratos shouldn't be surprised. One of them is a skeleton. There isn't much that's less discreet than that. He does not say this, however.]

Thank you.

[Kratos steps inside, gaze sliding to take in the shop, and moving only so far as to let the others in without forcing Mr Bespoke to work to have to keep track of him.]

Does he frequently use that excuse to get you involved?

[Dryly.]

Frequently.

[This said under Skulduggery's breath, with an unmistakeable trace of amusement. And to think they were having trouble communicating their own names less than a day ago.

Valkyrie heads on inside with all the offhand confidence of someone who does this a lot, and could find her way to the back room blindfolded. Skulduggery nods at Ghastly.] You can ignore her. She's utterly wrong.

[You can't be from outer space. That's just silly.]

I did mention that I don't need the artefact anymore, didn't I?

Very frequently.

[That's very considerate of the angel, if he's doing that on purpose. Ghastly shuts the door behind him and motions them through, toward the back room.]

So he's not an angel from outer space, then?

[It would really make Ghastly's day if he wasn't.]

Why did you need the artifact in the first place?

[It really doesn't sound like anyone in this room actually needs translating for. It's a shame he can't snub Skulduggery by not offering him tea any more]

[Kratos bows slightly, obeying the motion to follow Skulduggery and Valkyrie. His gaze continues to take in the surroundings in that subtle way of a warrior, and he stands behind one of the armchairs without sitting.]

When I landed last night I didn't know any of the languages here. Skulduggery assumed he would need the help.

[His face is so blank and he says it so blithely that it's hard to tell whether he means it or not.]

He's... [Skulduggery hesitates.] Presumably, he wasn't born in outer space.

[Kratos then ruins any remaining pretence completely, and Skulduggery sighs.] When you're dealing with aliens, you don't assume they'll learn your language with a few hours and a dictionary. Of course I thought I'd need the help.

Yeah, but he's not just an alien. [Valkyrie's grinning. She always feels better when she's not the one floundering with the least amount of information.] He's an angel.

Yes, but I didn't know that at the time.

[Ghastly honestly cannot tell how serious Kratos is. Last night. Last night. That has to be a new record for learning English.]

Try him on Gaeilge next, why don't you.

[He'd like to see Kratos learn that fast. Ghastly runs a hand back over his scars, thinking. Trying to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do with them, for one.]

Alien angel from outer space. ... Right. You can sit, Kratos. There aren't any threats here, and if there were it'd be the host's responsibility to get up first.

[He hates you, Skulduggery.]

Tea?

I would appreciate it, thank you.

[Kratos is at least cognizant enough not to remark about the lack of needing food or drink, though given Skulduggery it's probably not entirely unusual. He does move around the chair to sit, straight-backed and resting his elbows on his knees.]

Skulduggery inferred we would need your help, and that my presence here may well be cataclysmic. Given some of the decorations I've seen about, I'm inclined to agree.

[Very deadpan.]

[Skulduggery nods, but doesn't take a seat himself.] You should have seen him when he first saw an angel ornament. I thought he was having a stroke.

[Valkyrie laughs.] What, you don't like being exonerated?

If I found myself on a planet where skeletons were used as decorations for a global holiday, I doubt I'd be much happier.

But skeletons are already used as decorations for --

No they're not. [Ahem.] Ghastly, leaving aside how the mortal world at large would react, can you imagine the fights that would break out between Sanctuaries? Ireland's already on shaky ground with everything that's happened recently. The last thing Corrival needs to deal with is explaining the existence of angels.

another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

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