kore_logs | can't seem to find our state of grace

Entry tags:

can't seem to find our state of grace

Who: Balthazar and OPEN
What: Exploring and chatting.
When: Day 54
Where: All over the place, but eventually the bar and House 11. Encounter him anywhere you like.
Warnings: Probably none, will update if that changes.

Balthazar's not sure whether to be optimistic about this brave new world or not. There's no question but that certain individuals here are a threat. Raphael and Lucifer? Scary. Whatever's got them all trapped here? Also scary. At the moment, though, the weather is fairly pleasant, there's no looming apocalypse, planned or otherwise, and even the demons here seem to be, if not civil, at least tolerable.

Probably the other shoe will drop before long, but until then he's going to try to enjoy himself.

Hence the search for the bar he hears is around somewhere. He circles through streets, looking over houses, buildings, and...hmm. Rubble. That's a little worrisome. But not too far off he finds what he was looking for, and slips curiously through the doors.

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Balthazar wasn't trying to dawdle, or cramp Gabriel's style, by any means. His senses aren't as acute as the archangel's, so by the time he enters the house, he's not sure whether Gabriel's there yet. He knocks on the inside of the front door, but doesn't linger there, looking for the kitchen.

He pauses in the doorway with a smile. Mead, an archangel, and the smell of poptarts. It's a weird juxtaposition, and he's happy to witness it. "Hello. I hope I'm not interrupting a serious culinary experience."

"Oh, yeah. Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out."

He pops them out of the toaster, slightly more burnt than they ought to be. He bites into one, and swallows immediately, wincing sharply.

"Hot! Ow..."

There are problems, after all, involved with letting yourself get too in sync with the vessel. Pleasure's the main reason he does - being able to taste properly, and, ahem, other things. Pain, however, is a result he's less fond of. He grimaces again, and looks back over to Balthazar, slightly sheepish. It's mostly an act. Playing human. They both know that even putting an actual flame into his mouth couldn't hurt him if he wanted to stop it.

"Can I correct my earlier answer to 'no'? Serious medical emergency, maybe. I burned my tongue."

But hey, so long as neither of them's going to say anything about the act, why not let it continue.

"Mead's over there. Drinking horns too, for the full Scandinavian experience, oooor I guess you could be boring and go for a glass."

"Only if it's cooked and seasoned properly, I think."

He raises an eyebrow at the pop tart antics, both puzzled and entertained. He's been accused of being too attached to his vessel, as well, but he can't recall ever burning his tongue on a pastry. Part of him wonders what kind of game this is that Gabriel's playing. "Are the poptarts worth the pain?"

He wanders over to the mead, watching Gabriel in his peripheral vision. "Drinking horns are just fine. I don't want to bore you."

"Well, it's agonizing and I'll probably have nightmares for weeks, but I think I'll pull through."

He sounds cheerful enough, though, so it's probably just Gabriel being Gabriel. He blows on one to cool it down, before taking another bite. Much less painful, and deliciously artificial-tasting. The other, he tosses with a flick of his wrist to skitter over the table, and come to rest near Balthazar.

"Pour me one too, yeah?"

He spends a few more moments fiddling with the toaster - what he's trying to do is anyone's guess - before giving up and strolling over to pull up a chair.

Oh, he's sharing his poptarts, too? That's downright friendly! Balthazar grins as he pours two servings of mead in the available horns, and brings one to Gabriel. "You're being hospitable. Thank you."

He takes a seat across from the archangel, picking up the pastry to study it. "What flavor is this? I've only had the strawberry kind."

"Yeah, well. Su casa, mi casa."

Or should that have been the other way around... whatever. He takes the horn and tilts his chair back on two legs, tweaking gravity just enough so as not to fall backwards.

"It's chocolate. Which, if I'm eating something, is a pretty safe assumption to make. You drink to anything in particular these days?"

Good health wasn't really applicable in their case, after all, and a lot of toasts were either irrelevant to them or so relevant that mentioning them would kill the mood... not that he was accustomed to drinking with angels.

"Nuestra casa? My Spanish is rusty." He tilts his head to watch Gabriel's impossible balancing act. That's entertainment, that is.

"I didn't know you were a chocoholic, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He frowns briefly, thinking it over. "Not usually. I could be overly precious and drink to reuniting with family, I suppose. Ah, but that reminds me: Anna says you're going by Loki in public, for the most part. True?"

He doesn't care to be responsible for blowing Gabriel's cover. It must be difficult having such a high name-recognition factor to contend with.

"If you can manage not to choke on the Disneyness of it, sure, family'll do."

So long as they can pick something to drink to and get on with it, he's not bothered. Besides, being with the family again is his favourite part of being here by far, even if he'd be disinclined to say so.

"I'm going by a few things. Loki's the main one. If you wouldn't mind calling me that over the network et cetera, I'd be much obliged. Don't really wanna out myself just yet."

"As long as happy bluebirds don't leave droppings on my shoulder, I'm sure I'll manage. Mazel tov." He taps his horn against the archangel's gently and takes a sip.

"Loki it is, then. With as many of us as there are around, I'm not sure how long your cover will last, but then again you're better at it than anyone else I've ever known. Better than I was."

He nods, and takes a drink from his own. Balthazar may not be happy to learn that it's fairly sweet, as mead tends to be, but at least it's not as sweet as Gabriel usually makes things.

"It lasted me a good few centuries back home, but I guess I didn't have a load of angels cramping my style then." Not that he's complaining-- well, he is, sort of, but he doesn't mean it. Not really. "When did you try the secret identity thing? Can't say it rings a bell."

He rolls the drink in his mouth a moment thoughtfully, tasting and considering. It is sweet, but it's a natural honey-sweetness he can appreciate. Candy may not be Balthazar's primary vice, but he doesn't hate it or anything.

Oh. Oh, he didn't realize Gabriel hadn't heard these details yet. Perhaps he'd been cagier when he was here before. Or preoccupied. He shrugs and looks around the room in an attempt to cover up lingering guilt. "When I heard Raphael had killed Cas, I jumped ship. Faked my death first. You have to understand...so many of us were leaving, dying, being punished. I couldn't picture Heaven lasting the Apocalypse."

He catches the guilt - trying to cover up just makes it more obvious, especially when one's as used to reading people as Gabriel is.

"Hey - I can't exactly throw stones on that one, kid. Trust me, I get it." The story of Balthazar leaving isn't entirely news to him, but it's the first time he's heard it in as much detail, in any kind of linear order. The last time Balthazar was here, he'd only mentioned it in offhand comments, no context, really. He hadn't pushed - he knows as well as anyone that it tends to be a touchy subject. "And, if I remember correctly, you took half of Heaven's arsenal with you. Good idea. Didn't know you spent long hiding out, though-- please don't tell me you went for the pagans too, they're fun and all but not exactly fans of the God Squad."

"Partly for protection." He nods. "Partly just so no one else would be using it. But no, no pagans. I tried to go it completely alone for a few weeks, then gave up and went to play house with the humans."

He didn't immerse himself as fully as Anna had, of course, and can't help wondering, now, what that would have been like. But you can't steal an arsenal and rip out your Grace. That's overkill. "It was fun while it lasted, actually."

"Nice thinking. Some of that stuff's pretty nasty, I wouldn't want someone chasing me with it, and I definitely wouldn't want them using it against each other, either."

In hindsight, he should have taken some of Heaven's more twisted weapons with him when he'd left. Could've saved a little bloodshed, but he'd been concerned enough with just getting himself out unnoticed, let alone trying to sneak out with the restricted section of the armoury smuggled under his shirt. He's actually quite proud of Balthazar for managing it, not to mention for thinking of it in the first place.

"The humans are generally less bloodthirsty. Pretty fun, too, if you pick the right ones. How'd that work out? 'While it lasted', uh, doesn't exactly imply happily ever after."

Did he really just get complimented on thievery? By an archangel? Balthazar takes a longer drink of mead to hide his grin and the little burst of warmth he gets out of that. No one else really appreciated his gesture. Not even Cas, who benefited from it directly. Ah, well.

"Well..." he nibbles the poptart to buy time to gather thoughts and recover from the moment. "It was fun, actually. Lots of parties. Sex, drugs, rocknroll. Less of rocknroll than the other two, really. I set up a gallery, for something to do."

"Unfortunately, Castiel found me after a year or two of it. Spoilsport." He's very fond of Cas, and always will be, but there are some mixed feelings there just now.

"Oh, galleries are good. Brilliant excuse for showcasing porn, not to mention great way to meet girls. Good way to do both at once, actually."

Admittedly for Gabriel at least it would be easier to just snap partners up out of nowhere, but the chase was half the fun, right? Well - a quarter of the fun, if he wasn't feeling lazy, and real people had the personality factor that fake people didn't.

"Yeah, I'm fairly sure Castiel's just allergic to fun. Including other people's, the little git."

Said without any real venom, of course. He's definitely not entitled to any bitterness, given that the 'fun' of his Castiel was opposed to involved beating up Castiel and his friends.

Balthazar laughs, nodding, although he didn't really use the gallery for porn. For meeting potential dates, yes, but not porn. "I admit, I did get some very enjoyable threesomes out of the experience. I just hope I get the chance to return to it some day."

No rush, though, especially since he's not sure how things may go down if/when he does get home. "Castiel...has exactly the sense of duty angels are purportedly supposed to have. Sadly." He gives a lopsided, humorless smile. "Are you aware of what's been going on, Post-Apocalypse, in your absence?"

"Woah there, tiger - this is a fraternal catch-up session, not Penthouse. Spare me the details of your sordid sex life, alright?"

He's kidding, though with Gabriel it can be hard to tell. At least as far as sex talk goes, he's pretty hard to embarrass. Feelings talk, well, that does tend to do the trick, but a little sincerity here and there is usually necessary. Not that he's exactly rushing to get to it.

"A little. You'd think stopping the Apocalypse'd lighten things up a little, but no, apparently it's all downhill from there. Go figure. Haven't exactly had a full run-down of events, but from what little I've been told, sounds like Castiel's sense of duty woulda come in handy with all that chaos."

After all, Castiel had said that things were his fault, but honestly Gabriel had taken that as a guilt complex or a compulsive need to blame himself for not doing enough to stop it. The possibility that all the crap that had gone on was actually Castiel's fault... well, that hadn't really occurred to him.

"When did you become a prude?" Balthazar rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "It's not that sordid. A good time was had by all."

But the rest of the conversation seems to be more important, so he refocuses obligingly. "I'm not sure about that, actually. I wish you...nevermind." Whether Gabriel could have or would have stopped the mess Castiel got into is something Balthazar doesn't know, and it's probably better not to ask.

"Raphael wanted to bust Michael and Lucifer back out of the Cage and reset the Apocalypse. Castiel must have developed a bit of a crush on his humans; he was opposed to the idea. Naturally, an ordinary angel has about a snowball's chance in hell of standing up to an archangel."

"I don't know how it ended up. Or will end up. Except the end result is sure to be more bloodshed. Do you really want to hear?"

"Yeah, well, don't wish too hard, kiddo - Raphael could kick my ass about as easy as he could kick Castiel's."

He should be having a stronger reaction, but he's cheating really: Castiel's already told him more or less everything Balthazar's said. And a little more besides.

"Cas mentioned Leviathans and Purgatory, so yeah, I'm thinking bloodshed and chaos and anarchy and general destruction are a plausible scenario. You got anything more specific to add?"

"Leviathans?" Balthazar looks startled, then a little ill. Goddamn it, Cas! "I...was hoping those were just a legend. The last I heard, Cas was planning to open Purgatory, yes. With Crowley as his partner. The boys were determined to stop him."

He sets the remainder of his poptart down unhappily. "And I was convinced he would blow himself up that way. But if he's ahead of me in time and says he's gone through with it..."

Put together with Meg's information from earlier, this is sounding worse and worse.

"Yeah. He says he did - and it sounds like it didn't end up great. But hey, look on the bright side, he's more intact than you expected... physically, anyway."

He takes a swig from his meadhorn, and apparently forgets to stop swigging, because he doesn't lower it until long after a human would've needed to pause for breath. The state of Heaven, and Earth for that matter, is sounding bad enough to him that he's almost glad he's dead.

"Someone'll fix it all up. Someone always does." He doesn't say it with much conviction, but he expects that sooner or later Raphael will sweep up the mess. Probably later, actually. "And for as long as you're stuck here, it won't have to be you. Lucky, huh?"

Balthazar doesn't find this comforting at all, and almost says so, but he's distracted by the sight of Gabriel chugging mead. Right. If the prospect is that upsetting to an archangel, he can feel better about being distressed, himself.

So there's no reason not to take very long drink, and he does so. "I was hoping to prevent the mess," he says when he stops. "I hate clean-up duty. Do you think we ever can go back where we left off?"

There's no reason even Gabriel should have this answer, of course, but it's a testament to Balthazar's lingering respect for authority that he thinks to ask.

He shrugs. He hasn't given it much thought - doesn't want to, frankly. It's not particularly relevant in his case.

"I think it's possible. Raphael got dragged here after Lucy did, and he remembers him getting shoved back in the basement - but Lucifer's from before that happens. So unless he's got a doppelganger he must go back, plus him being here can't have changed the timeline too much. So yeah. I think so."

Although that explanation doesn't make as much sense to him now that he's put it into words. Maybe if he were to drink more it'd make more sense. He tries it - it doesn't help.

"Course, personally I'd rather not have to. Unless it gets a billion times more boring here, it's still better than going back - so here's hoping it's a multiple choice thing, huh?"

"Ugh, string theory." Cue an eyeroll from the younger angel. He's good at dimensional jumps and manipulating timelines, but that doesn't mean he likes it all that much. "No, I don't blame you in the least. I'm not sure I'm anxious to get back, either."

Especially if he has to live through watching Castiel swallow up Purgatory and vomit it back out. The possibility that he might not live to see this, hasn't even occurred yet, or at least he hasn't acknowledged it to himself.

"So, tell me what you've been up to to stave off the boredom, other than propositioning the entire network?"

Works for me!

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