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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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?"

He lets his chair fall back down onto its front legs, emptying the horn and putting it down.

"Bit of this, bit of that. Meaningless sex with fewer of the town's residents than I'd like, but hey, community as small as this, that's probably for the best. Eating ice cream, pretending to sleep... aggravating people, that's always fun. We've got some good hotheads here, real easy to get under their skin."

Though not necessarily a great idea, but since when has Gabriel been sensible?

"Probably ought to spend more time with the family. Organise a picnic, maybe. Sunday dinner?"

An even worse idea, and he knows it. 'Ought to' is not the right phrase, and he knows full well that if he did try to organise a familial bonding session it'd go to shit in a matter of minutes, but it feels so stupid to him to have so many of his brothers here after being apart for so long and to barely even talk to them. He laughs, passing it off as a joke.

"Or a chainsaw massacre. No, I haven't been doing much. How 'bout you, planning to join one of these after school clubs? I'm sure you'd make a brilliant farmer. You could start your own vineyard."

Somehow the tone of the conversation seems to have taken a turn for the depressing. Even changing the topic from home to current hobbies leaves Balthazar feeling strangely hollow. Watching Gabriel, he's not sure he's the only one. But maybe he's misreading. He's still an archangel, and it's always a gamble trying to figure out what's going on in the heads of the eldest four of the Host.

He picks up the poptart he's set down and resumes working on it. It's not going to be his new favorite dish, but it's a welcome distraction. "It would be easier to connect with family if so many of us weren't at each others' throats," he murmurs cautiously. "But evidently you've got Anna, and now I'm around. We could do a board game night."

"I was thinking of the clubs, actually." He finishes the last of his mead, but holds onto the drinking horn, running his thumb along the surface idly. "I might actually do that. It might be enjoyable, making things grow instead of cutting them down. I'm not clear on where we're meant to get seeds, though."

"A board game night, that's supposed to be your solution to infighting? Kiddo, you've still got a lot to learn about human culture, that's for sure. Especially if you were gonna suggest Monopoly."

Although the idea of Raphael and Castiel bickering over hotel prices and the intricacies of the rules is sufficiently amusing to be almost tempting, and he can just imagine Lucifer's face if he got sent to jail. He's not sure the entertainment factor would outweigh the bloodshed, but so long as it stays inside his head it's easy enough just to laugh at it.

"Planning on doing good, honest work for the benefit of the community then. Tsk. Castiel's such a bad influence - you'll ruin the family name, carrying on like that." He waves his hand idly; his drinking horn disappears. "There was a supply drop a while ago - weapons, food, that sorta thing. Wouldn't be surprised if there'd been some seeds too, if there weren't any in this place already."

"I thought Hungry Hungry Hippos, or perhaps Candyland. You'd enjoy Candyland." He smiles faintly. Actually, it might be better not to give Gabriel ideas.

He regards the archangel curiously. "It's easy for you to make fun. You create things all the time. I've never had that talent. I'm envious."

Growing some nice plants isn't the same as shaping worlds out of thin air, but it's something.

"If it lives up to the name, I expect I would." Surprisingly or not, he's never tried - he tends to favour playing with people's lives over board games. Much less predictable. "Maybe when Lucifer wants to kill everyone less we can give it a shot, huh?"

He catches the look Balthazar's giving him, but ignores it - he's pretty sure he ought to be helping out with any and/or all of the 'clubs', or at least just with food supplies, but he doesn't want to draw attention to himself. He's happy with his relative anonymity, both with their fellow residents and their captors.

"I guess so. Never really thought of it as one of our specialties, though - creation's fun and all, but we were always better at destruction." It's not true, really. Raphael and Gabriel in particular hadn't been cut out for soldiering - at least, not originally. Destruction hadn't come naturally, but practice makes perfect. "Still, makes a neat little party trick, doesn't it? We should do kids' birthdays or something."

"We might be waiting a while at that rate, but sure." Balthazar smiles wryly.

Actually, he understand Gabriel's position. Who would want to become the go-to guy whenever there's a problem in town? Angels aren't cows that you can milk for miracles. That's not how the world is shaped. He'd like to think that if people were actually dying, big brother would find a way to step in, but he's not going to ask. Certainly not yet.

"That's my point, though," he says. "Grace is this...raw creative power, and what do we do with it? We kill things. Including each other."

The sudden tension in his posture suggests this is something he's thought about a lot. Maybe too much. Becoming aware his grip on the drinking horn is threatening to crack it, he sets it aside on the table nearby, and takes a breath. "Sorry. It bothers me. I suppose I can't just turn my sword to a plowshare by wishing, but it can't hurt to try."

It's usually easy to tell when something gets under Gabriel's skin, much as he hates that fact. It makes him forget to act human. He goes stone still, lips thinning into a tight line - evidently Balthazar's not the only one with opinions on that, and judging by the tension there, his aren't entirely the same. Still, it only lasts for a moment before he relaxes back into a slouch and pastes on Sardonic Smile #6.

"I don't know how keen the God Squad are on conscientious objectors, kid. Might not wanna say that too loud around Raphael."

It's thoroughly chilling to watch the human mask fall away, and to be reminded he's drinking with an archangel. Even if Gabriel's the least likely of the four to squash him like a bug, Balthazar's unnerved by the reminder that he could.

Actually, he can't even be sure he's the least likely to try it.

He makes a mental note to keep his tongue better in check from now on.

"I suppose not. I'm just an aberration." He shrugs and finishes the last crumbs of poptart, avoiding Gabriel's eyes while trying to pretend that's not what he's doing at all.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, it's a good sentiment. And you're not the only one - not by a long shot."

To his ears, at least, it falls a little flat. At least talking morality with Balthazar leaves him feeling less jaded than arguing about it with Castiel, but the last thing he wants is to scare the family away, especially those of a similar disposition. Honestly, it would take a lot more than Balthazar might realise to get Gabriel to harm one of his siblings... even if harming anything else comes far more easily than he's always entirely comfortable with. He could say that outright, but that just wouldn't be him, so he settles for shrugging and pretending not to notice.

"So, uh... you all finished with that?"

He's not sure whether he's actually offended the other angel, but the return to Gabriel's usual tone soothes his nerves, and he glances up to smile, nodding. "I think so, but it was excellent mead. And the poptarts were an oddly appropriate accompaniment."

"If I end up planting a vineyard, shall I make you some wine?" As if it would be a simple thing to do. "I'll have to obtain some oaken casks first."

"Yeah, height of culinary achievement, right?"

A grin, easier this time than the last one. Balthazar's drinking horn disappears much as the other one had, and Gabriel tips his chair back again. All is well.

"If you're making some anyway, sure. Don't know if a vineyard's quite what they were thinking of in terms of urgent food supplies, but hey, you've got my vote. I'll show you how to make the mead, too."

"Absolutely! The Barefoot Contessa has nothing on you, brother." Balthazar feels comfortably buzzed, between Gabriel's mead and the drinks he had at the bar. All in all, it hasn't been that bad a day.

"Well, I'll let them eat some of the grapes, too." He shrugs, then grins. "Do you mean that seriously, about the mead?"

"I'm just waiting for the day I manage to outdo Nigella Lawson. That'll be a day to really celebrate."

He stretches out. The mead hasn't had too much effect - the drinking horns weren't so huge, and angel still trump pagan god - but he's settling back nicely into human, and between the drink and the company, especially given the dangerously dark turn that conversation had nearly taken, he's quite pleased.

"Course I mean it. Not like Odin's gonna be mad. He won't know - besides, he's dead." He says it casually enough. Odin had been supposed to die in Ragnarok anyway, and hey, Gabriel was dead too, so it was fine for him to say it. It didn't count as disrespect. "And we can't have you cleaning the whole town out of booze every time you wanna get a little tipsy."

"I'll look forward to seeing that. Will you be using poptarts?"

The atmosphere has turned easygoing again, and Balthazar's happy to set aside the more risky topics for the foreseeable future. He really did miss Gabriel after his departure.

"That would be very much appreciated," he says, stifling a laugh. "I promise I'll keep the recipe a secret."

can't seem to find our state of grace

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