can't seem to find our state of grace

[tryingitall]

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.

Comments

[tryingitall]

One might argue that angels have been harming humans since before Sodom and Gomorrah went down in fire and shattered stone. Balthazar finds Gabriel's pranks comparatively benign, but he's thoroughly biased, too.

The angel shakes his head. "I don't think skill is the point. Making something new is. Do you like writing at all? I mean, I'm sure the headaches and gruesome visions are the opposite of enjoyable, but the actual process of putting words and sentences together. Does it please you?"

[godsprophet]

"What? No, yeah, of course. I mean, I went to school and got a degree and everything." Which, actually, amounted to very little in the end. His books were published, yes, but they weren't very popular. He made just enough to survive and that was it.

But, he supposes, in Kore, he already has a place to stay. What was stopping him from writing while he was here?

Well, a lack of computers, for one thing.

[tryingitall]

"Then you should keep doing it. I'll set up a studio in the attic for you, even, if you want. You don't have to show anyone or try to publish anything, but it's important." He sounds more certain about this than he has anything else thus far.

There are no computers, true, but someone might be able to find a typewriter somewhere, and there's always ink and paper.

[godsprophet]

Chuck looks a little taken back at Balthazar's insistence and generosity. No offence to Balthazar, but most of the angels he's seen have been complete dicks. He would never have that that any of them would urge him to keep writing, especially when he has no visions to write.

"What--really?"

[tryingitall]

Balthazar doesn't seem to think he's making that amazing an offer. It shouldn't be that hard to find a desk and a lamp and sweep up a bit, right? Maybe a houseplant. What else do writers need? Liquor, probably...

He nods. "Of course! Write something that's not depressing messages from the ether. Maybe it will make things a little better for all of us. Couldn't possibly make things worse."

[godsprophet]

Chuck's lips quirk up into a small smile. Most of what he's written for the Supernatural books have been depressing. The lives of the Winchester weren't exactly a walk in the park. He's written so much death and depression and sadness that he doesn't think he can write happy.

But then again, he's always loved a good challenge.

"Uh, okay. I mean, I guess I can try, right?"

[tryingitall]

To be fair, Balthazar never stipulated Chuck should write happy things. Just...his own things. Stories, not prophecies. Or poetry, or essays. Whatever. He's not picky.

He smiles at Chuck's agreement, satisfied. "It's a plan, then. I hope I can trade for a desk. I've never tried building one."

[godsprophet]

In all honesty, Chuck doesn't need an actual desk. Simply a table will do. After all, in his home, his "writing desk" was nothing more than the kitchen table. He'd sat down at the kitchen table to write one day, and the next thing he knew, it had been completely taken over by his laptop, miscellaneous papers, glasses, bottles, pens and pencils.

But it worked for him, and that was all that mattered, in the end. "Thanks. I mean, that's really nice of you."

[tryingitall]

"Pfft. I'm not nice; don't give me a reputation." Balthazar looks pleased with the compliment despite his protest. "Anyway, there's enough of us here from the same world. We ought to try getting along. Inasmuch as that's possible."

He stands, though, stretching lazily. His vessel's joints pop quietly, but it's hard to tell if he notices. "I think I'd like to explore the place a bit more, now, but I'll see you at number eleven, I suppose."

[godsprophet]

Chuck can't help the snort that accurately sums up his reaction to Balthazar's comment. There were a lot of people from their world here, yes. But that didn't mean everyone was agreeable. Raphael and Lucifer could be troublesome at the best of times. But it was certainly worth a shot, yes.

If there's one thing Chuck does not want in Kore, it's the Apocalypse. If everyone could at least pretend they all got along with one other, then everything should be fine.

He hopes.

"Okay, yeah. I'll, uh. See you later?" Chuck is pretty sure that's not the proper way to talk to an angel. But then again, he'd just had drinks with Balthazar, and he's fairly certain that's not technically proper behavior either.

[tryingitall]

Oh, Balthazar knows it's a tall order, especially where archangels are concerned. And of course, there's Crowley, who is a somewhat unknown quantity to him. But, demon. Probably not someone to trust wholeheartedly.

At least he's okay with his housemates, though, Prophet included. "Absolutely. If you get too drunk to walk, call and I'll carry you home."

Wink. He would, too, but he'd tease about it mercilessly.

Without waiting for an answer, he waves and departs, the mundane way: by walking out the door.