005 Video
[Gabriel's not exactly glowing, that would be weird. But there's something different about him, something that's a little brighter and hell, he feels good. more alive than he's felt since he got here, maybe even before then. Maybe he had to loose it before he realised how much his Grace meant to him
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[He's met many people, all fascinating. And now he comes a bloke straight out of something he had only read - skimmed really. An Angel of the good old Lord, a thing out of text, an impossible thing. His teeth scrape against the glass and he remembers his place: there's no such thing as no such thing after all.]
[He won't be able to fill that avarice, not yet. But he'll take anyone and anything. Everything to fill that void.]
Fathers - who needs 'em? Orders ain't my thing either. I'm perpetually off the clock - [He's finishing off his sentence when the feed goes dead, least he thinks it does. And then there's the same man from the video, now sitting next to him. Greed kicks his leg out, rolling the over-turned bar stool that was his heel's perch. He huffs with great laughter and sets the scotch down.] That's absolutely amazing!
[But, back to business:] Offering? Of course, but you've gotta have the right cash. [Greed pushes himself up from the bar, jolting up on his heels and contorting in a way that just can't be comfortable.]
[He shoves hands into the back pocket of his leather pants. His pointy boots clatter noisily on the floor as he makes his way behind the bar.] Is it a sin for you to have a bit to drink? Don't want to be the cause of your fall or somethin'. [He leans up on the bar and his teeth set together - they're jagged like knives.]
You're the second person to ask me that! [He points to Gabriel.] No my feathery friend. I'm no personification - I'm the living embodiment. [He pauses to grip his chin, elbow up on the bar top. For a second, Greed looks quizzical.] That's not going to cause problems for you and I, is it? I mean, I don't judge! You take the holy road all you want - I'd just enjoy sticking around. Can't help what I am, you dig?
[A quick disappearance behind the bar. He comes back up with an empty glass.]
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Still, the reaction isn't his, it's something in him, and he can work around that. For a free, hand-made and not summoned drink, Gabriel can sit through anything. And while he knows he shouldn't, he's the sort to poke a bruise, just to feel the ache of it, and the reaction of his Grace is like a bruise.
Anyway, he can't help but grin, slowly, at those words. Perpetually off the clock? Well, that's where Gabriel's been for a long time now, and he feels, maybe, this is a kindred spirit.]
No point bothering sometimes, is there? The world seems to get on with it's own thing without anyone fussing about it.
[Of course, the question on sin makes him snort, shaking his head and he sets his elbows down on the bartop. Now, that's an interesting revelation, isn't it? He'd had Greed down as a simple patron, not as the barmen. Well well well.]
A drink isn't going to make me Fall. There's one thing that makes an Angel fall, and we'll not joke about it, right? [Fair warning, Greed. Gabriel might have had a fairly disastrous run-in with Lucifer recently, but he still loves his brother. And Gabriel's no where near Fallen. He always did what Daddy-dearest told him to.] Then again, it depends. How good a barmen are you? Do you just pour drinks? What if I ask you for something... creative? Can you do that?
[At the next part, Gabriel laughs.] You and I are... old friends. You know what I mean. I'm not the purest of creations. Trust me, a few millennia would taint anyone. I'm not on the clock, like I said. But if there's any assholes about, I'm not above... keeping my hand in, you know? A bit of justice never hurt anyone.
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[Or so he thinks. Maybe the world went to shit, maybe it didn't. But he's here, blood pumping for the umpteenth time. So a guy can't worry.] I'm not interested in your personal life, Angel. Just interested in what you can do, what you are - you're one of many and I can't help my need to know. [The glass on the bar is swept up.]
Oh, I've learned a few tricks these past few centuries - tell me what you want and if I got the poison, I'll mix you up your own special cocktail. [Gabriel would be right - Greed wasn't exactly the 'tender back in the old 'Nest, but he learned what he needed to.] Want something to celebrate, since you just got your angelic groove back? Or do you want something that's going to knock you on your holy ass? Either way, I'll do you the favor.
[He takes his own scotch in his free hand and downs the contents. His teeth crunch away at the glass and his throat throbs as he swallows it down.] - aha.
[The Angel is talking about creations and Greed shrugs - he's always willing to share his own story.] Old friends, huh? Never thought avarice set well with the holy types, but hey. Whatever floats your boat floats mine. [Greed doesn't much care about justice, but whatever.] I'm no angel, no devil, and no human. Creation is an understatement in my department.
[He pauses to lick the front of his teeth clean of liquor.] But before we get to that, name your drink and I'll give you what you want.
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Angel? Is that what you're going to call me? [It's amusing, not a nickname, more of a description, but he doesn't mind. Although it is a little strange to be called that directly.] I'm not one of many, I'm one of four. And right now? I don't know what I can do. I feel like I could do anything.
[And then the archangel's eyebrows shoot up, a grin moving back over his lips. Ah, now that sounds very, very interesting.] Greed, I really don't think you can knock me on my holy ass but challenge accepted. Do it.
Just how many holy types have you met? We're not exactly like the paintings, are we? [But everyone thinks they're something other than what they are. It's part and parcel of being an angel. They're nothing like what most people expect and Gabriel is glad of that. I've not been running with the Brady Bunch for a while. I wouldn't worry about it.
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[He rolls his shoulders and they shake. His fingers are jittery too, like there is something there just waiting to burst from him.] I've met clergy, back in the day. Trespassed a church or two. Never paid attention to the paintings, but I got the basics. [The lights in the bar flicker and for a second, his slit pupils shine through his sunglasses.]
If you feel like you can do anything, why don't you show me. I told you before that that was why I was interested in the first place. Why don't you give your - [He pauses for that shit-eating grin that alludes to all sorts of mischief.] - wings a stretch. It'll stay between the two of us - the Grace, as you so put it, and the Sin. [Greed made a mock of a bow, hand on his chest.]
Then, maybe we can finally get that drink of yours. Depending on how good the show is, I'll give you a discount this one time. I'm feeling a bit generous. [Money can't compare to talent - Greed'll be the first to admit that. Sure, he's thirsty for money. But he's thirsty for other things too; money's just the tip of the iceberg.]
Unless you're shy, but you don't strike me as the time. So let's see your talent. [He lowers his hand from his chest.] And when the time comes, I'll show you mine.
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[Gabriel pauses. Churches. Churches. He always preferred Temples, big open social places, with noise and life and a feel of ancientness about them. Their Father had once or twice even put in an appearance in them. There was more sin in Churches then you could shake a stick at.] I tend to ignore clergy. Big men who like power? They're normally as evil as they come. [And he'd dealt with one or two of them in the past, dangled them from their own weathervanes.]
Show you? [Gabriel pauses, considering and helping himself to a few Skittles from the bowl in front of him that might not have been there before. It's fair offer. Greed has already proclaimed what he is, or rather, what he isn't, and Gabriel is very keen to, as the other says, stretch his wings.] Remember, you asked.
[And with that Gabriel slips off the barstool, swallowing down the last few Skittles in his hand and concentrates. It's not hard, to pull in all his Grace, to focus it tightly inside himself, the wings flickering and fading, cutting out like the image on an old fashioned TV set once the power's been pulled. That's nothing though, not in comparison to the shift in the air, the howl that comes with it as the power in him is forced and crushed and compressed, ever second building until something has to give, the wind forcing over the stools and chairs, the glass bowl of candies falling to the floor, smashing.
It doesn't stop there though. Not with Gabriel's head tipping ever-so-slightly back, his form fading into light, into a bright white colour, humming softly and then, the light throbs. Once, twice, and then a third time, stronger and brighter, silence so loud it could burst your ear-drums, the wind non-existent, but there is no more bar, there is no more street outside, no more sky above, no ground below. There is just white. No horizon. Just white.
It doesn't seem to last long. But there isn't much way of telling. The white stretches and stretches and stretches, seemingly forever, and then, in a second, snaps, like an elastic band, and everything is back. The Devil's Nest, the stools, the other patrons, the sky outside and the city beyond the walls, all fine. As if nothing happened.
Gabriel is back at his seat, as if he never moved, helping himself to candies. The ones that aren't still on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. Gabriel is smirking to himself, looking Greed over.]
Now you show me yours, handsome.
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[Greed's body is all still, silent on the Western front as it were. The noise, or lack there of, throbs in his ears. The veins in the side of his head pulse and twist, like larva trying to break free. That's the only movement for a bit - he's stopped breathing, only watching. He can feel that raw power and it makes him so hungry for any of his. The craving is unbearable, hurts like that blinding light of Gabriel's. It burns, but he doesn't flinch.]
[He wants to see the whole show; he wants to see everything.]
[When the light subsides and the 'Nest comes back into focus, Greed finally breathes. But he's ragged, shoulders slumped. His fingers have found the edge of the bar and his nails dig hard. Two or more split and a little bit of blood leaks out. But he ignores it. His shades try to conceal his longing, but they no longer suffice. His purple eyes, wide and hot with numerous wants, needs, desires, grow and bulge from the edges of his sunglasses. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and dry.]
[He pulls his fingers away from the bar and they tremble.] That - oh that. [He forgets his words, lost in that desire. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have one of those on his team.] Absolutely stunning - fantastic, beautiful! [He's probably getting looks from the other customers - he's loud about what he likes and he really could give less a damn. Greed raises his hands and opens his arms wide.] THAT-! [His jaw is opened wide.] Amazing - you are amazing!
[The tremors sink low and slowly smoke away, as ash would from a snubbed cigarette. He sighs, pulls off his shades, and folds them.] I can't, not yet. Wish I could.
[Greed leans in, close enough to smell the power that left as quickly as it came.] I'm not that, no. Not so bright and blinding. [He taps his tattoo.] I'm a homunculus.
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You've complimented me a lot this evening. [And it's true, Greed has, but Gabe's still wearing a smirk, a pleased gleam in his eyes and okay, so what if he'll never get sick of it?
He stills then, because he knows how annoying it was to not have his powers. He's only jut got them back, Greed. He can fully empathise with you. And to prove it, he pushes the bowl of candies towards the other. Maybe it'll make him feel better.] I can take a rain-check.
Homunculus? [Well, that makes the angel frown] A representation of a man? [And... is that why Greed doesn't seem right? Why Gabriel's Grace reacts so negatively? It means nothing to Gabriel, of course. Handsome is still a very good word to use for the man- man-shaped thing- in front of him. And Gabriel... well, Gabriel isn't exactly man-shaped, naturally. ]
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[Greed leans back and rolls his neck around, back and forth. This whole stiff thing is really starting to become a drag.] Bingo, buddy. [His lips turns up and his eyes seem to soften.] Artificial through and through. Given life by good ol'Dad - [Sarcasm there - contempt laces lightly through his playful tone.] - and forged by a Philosopher's Stone.
[So maybe Greed's talking a little too much, but since Gabriel's been so kind to show off, he'll try to fill him in on the details. Can't show him, but he'll chat.] Not sure if you have those - it's an alchemy thing. [But stories are so damn boring when he can't show off. So he sighs dramatically and pouts - hey, gold star for effort.] Eh - like I said. I'll show ya when the time comes.
[Greed pops a couple more of those candies - not bad, not really.] So now Gabriel - what can I fix you up with? I'll give you 25% off for the display. [He tilts and plants an elbow on the bar top. He extends his hand, offering a shake.] It's a good deal. And as an added bonus, I'll answer your questions when the time comes. As long as you answer mine - if the time comes.
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[Gabriel's pressing the little colourful candies between his lips again, nodding along. He knows about Alchemy. Hell, he knew John Dee at Leuven. Of course... none of that stuff had ever worked. Not in his Universe. But Gabriel would be the first to admit that perhaps he didn't know as much as he'd always thought he had.] We have them. Well, the idea of them. Alchemy... never worked, back home. Magical and soothe-saying. It was... interesting though. The elements, the balance of Humors.
[He ducks his head slightly, looking back up again] I doubt you need me to be telling you this, but artificial or not doesn't matter one whit. It isn't about where you come from. My Dad put me together with light and power. Not much more to me than that. It's about what you do. [Even the face he wears is borrowed. Gabriel and Greed probably have more in common than someone might think]
...It's a fair offer. But you still have to make me a drink that will knock me off my angelic ass. That, or you can give me up a Zombie. I'd settle for that right now.
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[He's after bigger and better things - Skittles just don't cut it.] Ha! I've always said the same thing - doesn't matter who or what you are, it's what you can do. That's what interests me. People are quick to judge and bring their hammers down on whatever is strange. [His eyes thicken again, pupils widening then thinning out.] I want it all; everything. Every reject, every saint, every warm body. [Greed quickly turns, but he can't hide his shivers. His spine tingles and he's so thirsty he could damn well cry!] Everything has a price, a purpose, and a reason.
[He sets a glass down and wields a knife from under the bar. It's small, nothing to do any damage with.] Can't do a Zombie - don't know what it is. But I'll make you something from home - would that suffice? [He doesn't wait for a response. The knife is used to cut a thick piece of lemon off the rest of the fruit. Greed examines it with a calmed face and places it on the counter. He wipes the knife off on a cloth and sets it away.]
[Next comes the alcohol and he hungrily gathers a few bottles up: white rum, vodka, tequila, gin, blue curaçao. He pours them all out equally into the glass on the counter top, then pushes them aside. A bottle of sweet and sour proceeds them and he empties a heftier amount of it into the glass.]
[With the cocktail in hand, Greed paces to the other side of the bar. He cracks open a bottle of soda - looks like a Sprite brand - and dumps it into whatever-the-hell he's making. The drinks sparkles a brilliant blue. Ice drops in after and the lemon slice is placed neatly on the side.]
I'm going to need to borrow some of those - [Again, without asking, Greed snags four of the Skittles. He manages to grab a variety of colors, of which he places on the bar top. Behind the bar he goes, gone for a second and back in a flash. He's got a skewer, shaped like one of those old-fashioned swashbuckler swords, and he proceeds to jam the Skittles onto it. They crack, colored shells splintering, showing the sweet, nugget center. He gets all four on, though they're a little jammed.]
Not a Zombie, no. But an AMF should do you just fine - I promised a good ass knocking, didn't I? [In sinks the skewer and the rainbows leaking off the Skittles are to die for.] Bottom's up.
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AMF? You're going to have to explain that one to me. [He's pulling the drink closer though, picking up the glass with reverence and his lips quirk upwards at the rainbow of colours bubbling through the liquid. Very nice.
So he takes a swallow, small at first, the mixture of alcohol... surprisingly pleasant and there's that sweet and sour hit, the fizz of the Spite and yes, he likes this. It isn't a Zombie, but he can teach Greed that. As a substitute... well, wow.]
This I like. This I like a lot. Not sure about the ass-knocking yet though. [He grins, taking a longer swallow and very much enjoying it, eyes fixed on Greed as he swallows. There was something the man said earlier that has been tugging at Gabriel's conciousness, and now is the time to ask. He sets the glass down again, fingers still pressed against it's cool sides. The ice hasn't yet, and won't ever, start melting.]
You want... everything? Every reject, every saint, every warm body? What does that mean. I'm interested.
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[Then Gabriel drops the bomb.]
[The big bomb.]
[Greed all but stops, his movements still. Everything stops. His shoulders tense, the veins in his arms and hands quiver. His head bows with a heavy weight and he's laughing. But that jovial laugh has turned a bit ugly, sick in his throat like a fever. Greed can feel that heat rising off his neck, sticking to the leather of his vest. Sweat dots his hidden brow.]
[He gingerly reaches to his side for the scotch, which had been placed there at some point during the conversation. He lulls it down, but even that burns - and oh Heavenly Father, he has sinned. He is sin - flesh, blood, mind, soul. Souls; all mingling into one, forming him. Greed's teeth grind together and they're sharp, sharp, sharp. He doesn't even notice when he slices open the inside of his cheek. Not until the blood pats down from his lower lip to the counter top.]
[And that's all it takes.]
[Greed swallows back his blood and howls - his laughter is wild, untamed, and unmatched. He extends his arms and his fingers are like claws tearing at the air. His laughter winds down, billows like a tornado and starts soft but promises a storm.] Money, women, fame. [He rocks on his heels, turning. The blood is gone from his lip, but a stain or two remains on his impossibly-dagger-like teeth.] Sex, status - [His hands pass by his face, fanning in an elaborate display. Think peacocks showing off to a mate.] - power - [And he's eyeballing Gabriel, eyes hungry.] - I want everything - everything this world has to offer, everything every world has to offer. I want it all. [Both hands slam down on the bar.] I demand the finer things in life! I am avarice, Gabriel. I want everything - I want to see everything. I want to own, I want possessions. I want it all and I tell you what, I won't be satisfied until I have it!
[He pushes himself back and breathes - oh does that chest expand with air. His hands fall to his sides and they find the back pockets of his slacks.] And so did Father. My Father. And in the end - [He can't hold back, not now.] - he tried to kill his avarice. And it killed him. Because working under him, being his never suited me, Angel. He made me with his greed and I am it.
[Calm. The storm is settling.] Not once, but twice did he kill me. I got it right the second time.
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Oh, he's felt need and want, lust before. But nothing on the scale that seems to possess this man. It's like, but not exactly alike, the madness he's seen grip some humans, a raving frenzied sort of thing, but it is not the same. This is... This is a hell of a lot like some of his brothers and sisters, consumed with purpose and without enough Free Will to say no. All they can feel is the need with fills them, the need to do as they were made.
Thank Dad Gabriel got over that one, huh?
As Greed starts to calm, Gabriel raises his glass again, taking another swallow. It really is good stuff.]
You know... we can't always have what we want, don't you?
It's softly spoken. Gabriel is pointing out the obvious, and Greed has no doubt heard the old adage many times before, in his line of existence. And Gabriel has no intention of belittling him.]
And the second time you got it right? You killed him, Greed?
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[- Greed flushes it away. Can't think about that right now.]
I can only assume. [He rubs at his throat, fingers grazing the under palette of his chin. It is very strange to him, the feeling there - yes, his thirst for more, but also that pain. It is minor, nothing special, nothing that really bothers him to the point that he's actually feeling it, but it's there. He shrugs his shoulders and drops his hand.]
Don't get me wrong - I won't tell you a lie, not now, not ever. I rolled out the red carpet for Dad's demise, but I wasn't the one who swung the last hit. No, he made sure to kill me good and proper that time. [And there he is, talking and starting up another drink. He drops four chunks of thick ice into a shallow glass, snags the bottle of scotch, and starts pouring. The scotch is thick, as if it could be made of the sweetest cream, and it slides against the glass beautifully. At least, Greed thinks it's beautiful.]
[He sets the bottle back down once the scotch reaches the brim. And he raises it, tips it back, and begins to really have at it. His throat throbs with every large gulp and a bit of the liquor runs down his chin. He gets to the half-way mark and stops. The back side of his hand makes itself a good napkin as he swipes it under his chin, grabbing the booze there.]
I'll tell you a little secret, Gabriel - there were seven of us. Seven for each sin he wanted cast off - because he actually thought he was better than humans. They all did! Ha-! What's the phrase? To err is human. And what is Sin but a mistake? Well, that's what some people would say - me, I say that at least greed is neither good nor bad. But I'm getting off topic.
[Another swig of scotch.] They thought they were the next best thing, and Daddy dearest thought he could conquer God, conquer The Truth. But you know what happened to my brothers and sister? Want to guess?
[He leans in and his smile fans.] Because I'm going to tell you, Gabriel. I'm going to tell you that they're all dead.
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But then again, why would Greed be a cold creature? Greed would be loud and full of life, full of spirit and lust and hunger and raw need and maybe those are some of the things Gabriel can see now, can see in the way Greed drinks with a never-ending thirst, why he seems to tremble under the weight of everything he seeks.
Gabriel actually feels a little sorry for him. Can he feel anything but that hunger? Gabriel supposes he must, but he doesn't know for sure. Hells, he can't imagine what tvwould be like, his very existence ruled by just the one sin.]
I can't pretend that I know exactly how you feel. But... Well. My brothers and sisters have been fighting for thousands of years, infighting and betraying and scheming and killing each other. Dad isn't dead. I don't think He can be dead. But no one knows where the fuck He is and even if He came back it might not make any difference.
[Gabriel's downing the rest of the cocktail then and shaking his head, smile moving back over his features.] Family, huh? Frankly I'm glad I'm out here. Out here I only have I deal with Head Bitch in Charge and one half of the Winchester Duo. [Not even the better looking half but beggars can't be choosers]
Right, my turn. [He's gesturing Greed to a seat, getting himself off the stool- the cocktail may have made him a little morose but it ain't knocked him on the ass, it takes a bit more to get to an Angel, but still, it's a good try. And Gabriel wants to try his hand at cocktail making now, because hey, if he's making friends with a barman, why the Hells not?] Scotch is no fun. Trust me on this. It's the drink of old boring drunks who don't have a hope of getting laid.
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