[log] Event: Breaking Down [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: anyone pulled into the Escherverse
Location: Escherverse
Date: Morning 220 - Night 221
Summary: All alone/Even when I was a child/I've always known/There was something to be frightened of
Warnings: general horror, violence warnings; make sure to put more specific warnings in the subject lines!

Comments

Escherworld

[whiteknightnecromancer]

Dorian did not like this place. It made him vaguely nauseous even with how accustomed he was to navigating the Fade. This place did not react to him and his will. It simply existed like the physical plane. Possibly to spite him.

The approach of the large glowing monster made him freeze in place, staring up at it. He'd seen larger, much larger. He wasn't sure if he'd seen uglier. But he'd never been so helpless.

His light was easily visible as he muttered, "Maker's shriveled balls."

(OOC: Let me know if this works and sorry about the wait.)

[godsspeed]

Castiel doesn't turn his body to face this new intruder at first, but that's simply because he doesn't have to. Dozens of eyes - circling his halos, on his shoulders, his wings, and least unnerving of all exactly where they're supposed to be on three of his four faces, with the crow's head pointing most directly at him - swivel to look at Dorian all at once, fixing him in their piercing, judgmental gaze.

"I'm going to assume that was some kind of blasphemy," he says, in four synchronized voices that sound like whispers but are much too loud. He sounds very, very tired.

[whiteknightnecromancer]

"Definitely," Dorian said, backing away slowly. "It's unusual for a demon or a spirit to care much about that." Maybe if he could just keep the creature talking...

"What manner of spirit are you? A Spirit of Clean Living?" It would explain all the eyes. How better to enforce one's standards of living than to be constantly vigilant against those who preferred filth.

[godsspeed]

"I am no demon or spirit." His feathers stand on end and his ears flatten back against their respective skulls - he's clearly deeply offended by this. The word 'demon' specifically seems to earn his ire, as he spits it like a curse and the ringing beneath his voices grows almost painfully loud when he says it. He rounds on Dorian, actually turning his body to face him now.

"I am an Angel of the Lord," he declares. "And you carry within you something that is not yours to keep."

[whiteknightnecromancer]

"My blood stays where it is, messenger." The last word was more hesitant but he drew his staff and placed it between himself and the monster.

Castiel wouldn't be the first being Dorian had encountered that acted like a demon but was very angry about being called such.

[godsspeed]

Castiel seems a little mollified by being called 'messenger'. He still stares down his nose at Dorian like he's a particularly contemptible rat, but he no longer actively bristles and snarls at him.

"It doesn't need to come to bloodshed." He holds out one of his large hands, made of hammered black metal and coated in rust. "Give me the light you carry in your mouth, and I will have no reason to harm you."

[whiteknightnecromancer]

"What now?" Dorian frowned, gripping his staff tighter. "No. Absolutely not. It's mine."

He wasn't sure what it was but if it was in his mouth then it was his. He'd licked it.

[godsspeed]

"Don't be stubborn. The lights are vitally important." Even if Castiel doesn't actually know what they are. It doesn't even occur to him to question it - he knows that it's his task to collect them, and that's enough for him. "Give it to me or I will take it from you. I won't ask again."

[whiteknightnecromancer]

"You're welcome to try," Dorian said with more confidence than he felt. He felt utterly naked without his magic to rely on. Even this strange grey place refused to bend to his will as glared grimly at the creature.

[godsspeed]

Castiel's heads turn until the smilodon is facing Dorian now, its pupils dilated and its ears pricked forward. If Dorian is at all familiar with cats and their habits, he'll recognize the expression and posture of one about to pounce.

"I gave you every opportunity to avoid this," he says, and then he springs. Four clawed hands reach out to grab at Dorian, aiming to knock his staff away and pin him to the wall. For all his talk of not wanting to hurt anyone, the attempt is considerably rougher than it needs to be.

[whiteknightnecromancer]

Dorian took the blow hard but with practice. He went limp, maintaining his grip on his staff by twisting it under himself as he fell, likely giving himself a serious bruise across his ribs. The room swam unevenly and he couldn't quite feel his extremities. There was a definite beat where his head lolled and he wasn't defending himself.

[godsspeed]

After all of the previous light thieves he'd encountered had proven able to successfully evade him, this easy victory is at once both disappointing and something of a relief. With a dispassionate ease, he pries Dorian's jaw open and reaches into his mouth - unpleasant, why do mortal bodies have to be so damp - to retrieve what was stolen. Not his light, but good enough for now.

His task accomplished, he lays the man out on the ground and continues his patrol.