[SPN] faith is a series of complications (16/16; encore)
∞: encore-after the end.
“One for sorrow, two for mirth…”
The girl’s voice echoed within the vast space of Purgatory, the sky above her blazing like molten gold. Ash and dust scattered into the air with each step she took with her black sport shoes, revealing the worn out path beneath her feet that stretched and meandered down into an almost endless road, cutting through dried grass and blackened undergrowth. Somewhere further there was the gleam of water, its shine catching Loki’s emerald eyes. The Trickster let out a sigh as she walked, quietly noticing the changes from when she had last been here. Purgatory was never going to be a nice place, not really, but at least these days it was far more bearable than she remembered it to be. At least that was something she could look forward to.
Humming under her breath, the girl continued to walk down the path laid before her, continuing her little rhyme. “Three for a wedding and four for a birth.” The sky stood cloudless as always above her, burning like fire as something dark and unrecognizable flew past when Loki glanced up. There was no sun in the sky, no natural source of light-but the skies still burned, and the world of Purgatory still continued to be visible to her. The Trickster took a moment to scuff her shoes before moving again, making her way closer towards the flash of water she had seen earlier. “Five for silver, six for gold…”
The path was starting to clear a little better now, ashes becoming more infrequent and Loki didn’t need to guess just who was the one doing it. There were trees as well, twisted, parodied versions of them that stood in Purgatory with their blackened branches and dried leaves, serving as nothing more but decorations. It was just one of the many warped things that Purgatory provided, something that apparently stayed on despite the changes in management in these recent times. The girl let out a snort but smiled, amusement gleaming in her eyes as she opened her mouth. “Seven for a secret not to be told,” she spoke, her gaze flickering towards the lake that was now all the more closer.
Her feet took her close to the threshold between the path and the lake shore, and scorched earth now gave way to dry sand as Loki walked down the dune, towards the lone figure she saw standing at the shore of the lake, raising her voice to speak again while coming closer. “Eight for heaven, nine for hell…”
“And ten for the devil’s own self,” the figure finished for her, pausing after that in order to sigh. “Don’t you ever get bored with that?”
Loki only made a shrug. “I like how it sounds.”
The figure snorted in response, sounding completely disbelieving of the Trickster’s words. There was another pause before he spoke up again. “So, what’s up?”
“Wanted to see how you were doing,” the girl replied, taking a few steps closer. “Management in Purgatory isn’t that bad, is it?”
There was another snort. “I guess. Most of the time I just need to put on the wings and flare out a little mojo before they decide to listen to me.”
Loki chuckled, clearly amused by the answer. “Well, you know I can always give you pointers for management, if you need ‘em?”
“You?” the figure returned, snorting for a third time. “Please. Both of us know just how bad you are at it.”
The girl rolled her eyes in response. “Pot calling kettle black, Gabe, you know it.”
Gabriel turned his head around now to give Loki an exasperated look, once hazel eyes now brimming with a deep, wine-red colour. His shoulder blades shimmered with Purgatory-infused Grace, and Loki could make out the dark, black shadows that had been the archangel’s once-brilliant wings. They had been white and pure before, made of Grace and light, but obviously being in Purgatory had changed things. Now they were black as night, shades of every color in the human spectrum gleaming with every shift of his wings in a manner that resembled oil slicks. His clothes were darker these days too, closer to the outfits that Loki herself would wear under the Trickster’s mantle-most likely to hide all the dirt and grime and blood that constantly made their way to him.
Turning her gaze back to the other, Loki rolled her shoulders and started again. “So, new head honcho of Purgatory, how has it been hanging?”
“Decent enough,” Gabriel replied simply, turning his head back to look at the lake. “Lenore and Madison have been helping me.”
This time it was Loki who snorted, black hair brushing across her shoulders as the Trickster shook her head. “They knew the Winchesters too, huh?”
The smile on Gabriel’s face was a wry one. “They have friends everywhere, didn’t you know?”
“Now I do.” Loki glanced at her former subject, the archangel who became a Trickster and then now something else entirely. She followed his gaze to the lake, seeing past it and glancing at the little crack that sprawled across Purgatory’s lone entrance. “You know they’ll be alright, Gabriel. All of ‘em.”
The former angel dropped his head and sighed, weariness crusted in his voice as he spoke. “I can’t close Purgatory entirely no matter how much I try,” he muttered, mild frustration growing at the edges. “There’s still going to be monsters roaming across the Earth.”
Loki was silent for a moment before talking, bringing her eyes up to the sky and then speaking. “Can’t say I know what the big guy really plans, but-” She dropped her gaze back down to Gabriel and shrugged again. “-maybe that’s how things are just supposed to be. If there’re no monsters then there’d be no more hunters, right? Gotta keep the cycle. Circle of life and all that jazz.”
Gabriel let out a laugh upon hearing those words. “You’ve been watching too much Disney, man.”
The Trickster grinned and winked back in return. “It’s a secret between us.”
Smiling brightly, Gabriel gave the girl another small nod before he looked up to the sky, sensing Loki’s gaze following him as well and they watched the small, dark shape of a crow flapping by and rising upwards in tight little spirals into the air, cawing out loudly as its black form blurred against infinite expanse of the fiery skies which stretched endlessly above them all.
faith is a series of complications
the end.
← epilogue | author's commentary →
“One for sorrow, two for mirth…”
The girl’s voice echoed within the vast space of Purgatory, the sky above her blazing like molten gold. Ash and dust scattered into the air with each step she took with her black sport shoes, revealing the worn out path beneath her feet that stretched and meandered down into an almost endless road, cutting through dried grass and blackened undergrowth. Somewhere further there was the gleam of water, its shine catching Loki’s emerald eyes. The Trickster let out a sigh as she walked, quietly noticing the changes from when she had last been here. Purgatory was never going to be a nice place, not really, but at least these days it was far more bearable than she remembered it to be. At least that was something she could look forward to.
Humming under her breath, the girl continued to walk down the path laid before her, continuing her little rhyme. “Three for a wedding and four for a birth.” The sky stood cloudless as always above her, burning like fire as something dark and unrecognizable flew past when Loki glanced up. There was no sun in the sky, no natural source of light-but the skies still burned, and the world of Purgatory still continued to be visible to her. The Trickster took a moment to scuff her shoes before moving again, making her way closer towards the flash of water she had seen earlier. “Five for silver, six for gold…”
The path was starting to clear a little better now, ashes becoming more infrequent and Loki didn’t need to guess just who was the one doing it. There were trees as well, twisted, parodied versions of them that stood in Purgatory with their blackened branches and dried leaves, serving as nothing more but decorations. It was just one of the many warped things that Purgatory provided, something that apparently stayed on despite the changes in management in these recent times. The girl let out a snort but smiled, amusement gleaming in her eyes as she opened her mouth. “Seven for a secret not to be told,” she spoke, her gaze flickering towards the lake that was now all the more closer.
Her feet took her close to the threshold between the path and the lake shore, and scorched earth now gave way to dry sand as Loki walked down the dune, towards the lone figure she saw standing at the shore of the lake, raising her voice to speak again while coming closer. “Eight for heaven, nine for hell…”
“And ten for the devil’s own self,” the figure finished for her, pausing after that in order to sigh. “Don’t you ever get bored with that?”
Loki only made a shrug. “I like how it sounds.”
The figure snorted in response, sounding completely disbelieving of the Trickster’s words. There was another pause before he spoke up again. “So, what’s up?”
“Wanted to see how you were doing,” the girl replied, taking a few steps closer. “Management in Purgatory isn’t that bad, is it?”
There was another snort. “I guess. Most of the time I just need to put on the wings and flare out a little mojo before they decide to listen to me.”
Loki chuckled, clearly amused by the answer. “Well, you know I can always give you pointers for management, if you need ‘em?”
“You?” the figure returned, snorting for a third time. “Please. Both of us know just how bad you are at it.”
The girl rolled her eyes in response. “Pot calling kettle black, Gabe, you know it.”
Gabriel turned his head around now to give Loki an exasperated look, once hazel eyes now brimming with a deep, wine-red colour. His shoulder blades shimmered with Purgatory-infused Grace, and Loki could make out the dark, black shadows that had been the archangel’s once-brilliant wings. They had been white and pure before, made of Grace and light, but obviously being in Purgatory had changed things. Now they were black as night, shades of every color in the human spectrum gleaming with every shift of his wings in a manner that resembled oil slicks. His clothes were darker these days too, closer to the outfits that Loki herself would wear under the Trickster’s mantle-most likely to hide all the dirt and grime and blood that constantly made their way to him.
Turning her gaze back to the other, Loki rolled her shoulders and started again. “So, new head honcho of Purgatory, how has it been hanging?”
“Decent enough,” Gabriel replied simply, turning his head back to look at the lake. “Lenore and Madison have been helping me.”
This time it was Loki who snorted, black hair brushing across her shoulders as the Trickster shook her head. “They knew the Winchesters too, huh?”
The smile on Gabriel’s face was a wry one. “They have friends everywhere, didn’t you know?”
“Now I do.” Loki glanced at her former subject, the archangel who became a Trickster and then now something else entirely. She followed his gaze to the lake, seeing past it and glancing at the little crack that sprawled across Purgatory’s lone entrance. “You know they’ll be alright, Gabriel. All of ‘em.”
The former angel dropped his head and sighed, weariness crusted in his voice as he spoke. “I can’t close Purgatory entirely no matter how much I try,” he muttered, mild frustration growing at the edges. “There’s still going to be monsters roaming across the Earth.”
Loki was silent for a moment before talking, bringing her eyes up to the sky and then speaking. “Can’t say I know what the big guy really plans, but-” She dropped her gaze back down to Gabriel and shrugged again. “-maybe that’s how things are just supposed to be. If there’re no monsters then there’d be no more hunters, right? Gotta keep the cycle. Circle of life and all that jazz.”
Gabriel let out a laugh upon hearing those words. “You’ve been watching too much Disney, man.”
The Trickster grinned and winked back in return. “It’s a secret between us.”
Smiling brightly, Gabriel gave the girl another small nod before he looked up to the sky, sensing Loki’s gaze following him as well and they watched the small, dark shape of a crow flapping by and rising upwards in tight little spirals into the air, cawing out loudly as its black form blurred against infinite expanse of the fiery skies which stretched endlessly above them all.
faith is a series of complications
the end.
← epilogue | author's commentary →