entrancelogs | Open | Clever title goes here

Who: Michael and you there, the one reading this right now.
Where: Various locations around Wonderland.
When: Throughout Nov 17th/18th
Rating: PG or PG-13 for now.
Summary: Open log for any characters looking to meet an archangel. Michael will be wandering both the mansion and the grounds, so feel free to pick a public spot. (Prose to begin, but switching to action is fine too; same for past/present tense.)
The Story:

Vacations aren't a concept Michael is very familiar with, never having had one before, but he can't think of a word that more accurately describes the situation he now finds himself in. There had never been downtime in Heaven. There had always been something that needed his attention, some seraph seeking his direction, some doubting lesser angel to be dealt with. Free time was as foreign a concept as free will.

Here in Wonderland, he has nothing but free time. The angels here are either from another world entirely and thus not his problem, or no longer a part of the Host, and thus only his problem when they get in his way. The role he's most accustomed to, that of the General of Heaven, isn't one he can fall into here.

Idling has never suited Michael. He'd been made to take orders, to give them and to carry them out, not to sit around on his wings and wait. Exploring Wonderland is something he'd done on arrival, but he'd done so discreetly. He's more conspicuous this time, appearing around the mansion and the grounds in that unnerving fashion so common to the angels: out of thin air, with little regard for personal space, and with nothing but the sound of unseen wings to announce his sudden presence.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[Between dragons turning hallways into works of art and clones that look like your estranged brother, the day is a strange one, but not necessarily bad. Fresh air being good for one's health isn't just a myth. He feels... better. A little bit stronger, like a patient that's fought through the worst of a fever and finally escaped the sick room. The meds he'd taken from the clinic don't hurt his cause, either.

Neither does the fact that he'd literally hand-fed a giant, purring monster. It's not what he's used to in the pit; it's strange and a little amazing and something that sticks in his mind as he makes the walk back to his room. His safe, angel-warded room.

The sound of wings beating the air beats him to the punch.]}

[There's a sight he hadn't expected to see any time soon: Adam Milligan, out of the comfy little hole he'd dug for himself in one of the rooms on the tenth floor. He can't blame the human for wanting some time outside. Even creatures that lack the ability to fly get tired of being cooped up inside, eventually.

He looks a little less frazzled than he did during their last encounter, so Michael judges it safe to land a few feet away. After all, if he panics or has a heart attack, he can always revive him.]

Adam. Leaving the safety of your room so soon?

[Don't think he didn't notice that angel-warding you put up, kid. Pseudo-dad is very disappointed in you.]

_{[The change is instantaneous. The sound of Michael's voice causes Adam's muscles to tense all down his body.

Michael.

As he turns his head to look, a wall slams down in his eyes. Yes, he'd left the safety of his room, and now that the archangel's appeared out of thin air to remind him of that choice, he sincerely regrets making it. Just like that, the few sparse moments he'd had to relax might as well have never happened. He can feel the pressure in the air increasing, bearing down on him. A familiar feeling of weight and resentment. It's not even Michael's real voice or real form he's dealing with, which makes everything worse in a way--he has to be reminded that Michael's supposedly walking his own dad around.

He might not be destined to be the Chosen One or whatever the fuck they were calling Dean, but he seems destined to keep having the worst family reunions a person could possibly have. All thanks to the angel standing in front of him, of course.

At least this must mean that the symbols Dean showed him are working, if Michael had noticed what he'd been up to.

He works his mouth for a minute before continuing to walk in silence. He's got nothing to say.]}

Open | Clever title goes here

NOOO, AND HERE I WANTED TO BE THE ODD MAN OUT.

Pretty sure Adam is still the odd one, here.

R U D E. Michael's the one pooping on his head while he's out for a stroll. :(