entrancelogs | Physics is just a seven-letter word...

Who: ~~Loki~~ Gabriel, and you.
Where: Anywhere.
When: 31st - 2nd
Rating: A little language. Rated S for Silly?
Summary: Gabriel decides to test out the logistics of cartoon physics, with... mixed results. We can plot here, or feel free to just jump in. He's only likely to 'kill' douchebags.
The Story:

Being a trickster for so long had meant that, on the whole, there wasn't a whole lot that Gabriel experimented with, anymore. When the next big things came out, he pranked with them and then moved on (unless, of course, they were excessively hilarious). This was just the way of the big human creative machine. But, of course, when you can make physics your bitch, experiments get a whole lot more interesting than test tubes and lab coats. Gabriel was itchy to do something. He had a feeling that it was set on by the damn house, but it didn't matter. He was bored anyway.

And so, armed with a list of silly cartoon things he wanted to try out in real life, he set off to stalk various parts of the mansion and the grounds, and see what he could see.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gabriel grins; it's a statement he can get behind.

"That's the spirit." Helpfully, he nudges the champagne at Kevin. Maybe he'll change his mind. It's perfectly allowed. "So, what's the hurry? Something big you gotta get back to?"

He looks up sharply from the champagne, but it's a kneejerk reaction. As much as Kevin wishes he could give him a strong and decisive no, he knows that in part, it's a lie. He doesn't have problems with lying, but he doesn't know what's at stake. Those red flashing lights were scary, and what if it meant something dangerous?

"I'm not really sure." He does pour himself a glass of champagne, and he takes a sip, making a slight face. It's his first taste.

"Mostly I just don't want to be a cage anymore." He's including the houseboat in that, and maybe even the bunker. He hasn't stopped hopping from cage to cage since the prophet thing started.

"How come you're so happy to be here?"

Cages makes him think, not comfortably, of Lucifer, and Gabriel makes a face of his own, for entirely different reasons. But it's gone very quickly, and an easy grin replaces it. He shrugs, stacking his sandwich some more.

"I don't really have anywhere else to be. Kinda bit the dust," he notes. "As far as an afterlife goes, it can be a lot worse than Wonderland."

You could, after all, just vanish from existence entirely.

People keep bringing up the afterlife thing, and it only gets him hoping that he'll see his mom here. He knows it's selfish, that she's probably happy in Heaven which is a thing he can know exists for real now, but that doesn't take away the fact that their last few months were... pretty awful. She was worried constantly and Kevin was blowing her off, for his own sanity mostly and for her safety he thought. Boy, he was wrong there.

He isn't as good at brushing off his bad association, and he watches the bubbles in his glass.

"Are you sure you can spare some sandwich for me, or are you going to eat it all?"

No one wants to hear him talk about his mom, and he doesn't really want to talk about her with a complete stranger on the beach, so change of topic.

"My name's Kevin, by the way. Kevin Tran."

Ah, and there it is — the shoe drops. A prophet. No wonder his senses had been tingling. There really isn't much point to lying about his name to a prophet, not here. He looks like he's maybe slightly less neurotic than the other prophet running around.

"Gabriel."

Kevin can make of it what he wants, but Gabriel simply shrugs and tosses him a plate; the invitation is pretty plain.

"I could eat all of it. But nah. Seems like too much work, now."

Kevin doesn't make much of it; Gabriel's not that much of an unusual name. Sure, the sandwich is weird, but not suspiciously weird for him yet. He starts fixing a sandwich for himself, though he's not nearly as ambitious as Gabriel is.

"You didn't work up an appetite putting that together?" He smiles up at him and has another sip of champagne. It's helping to calm him down, along with that urge he had to hurl himself into the ocean to see how far he could go.

"What'd you say you know about the ocean and people swimming?"

"Heard a rumor that you just end up back here, or something like that," the archangel replies, shrugging casually enough. "Same with people who run into the forest and see how far they can go. Sounds like a bad TV show to me. We just need a polar bear or something. But I can't really say, since I haven't tried it myself. Too damn lazy. See? Case in point."

Gabriel snaps his fingers, and a new section of sandwich appears on his plate.

Whoa. That's different. Kevin looks between the sandwich and Gabriel with wide eyes, and whatever he had to say about slips out of his mind for now. Maybe it's even easier to forget that when he could just try for himself, and then if it doesn't work, he could try again, right?

"How did you do that?"

Seeing those eyes widen, Gabriel has to wonder just how long this kid has been a prophet. Eyes widening wasn't a good indication. Unless you started to drink so much that nothing could surprise you; that was an indicator of being a prophet for a good long while.

"It's just one of my many moves." He offers Kevin a slightly tight, wry smile. "Don't worry, nothing on this picnic blanket's going to hurt you. Actually, I guess it's kinda my job to keep an eye on you, if you catch my drift."

Gabriel, meant to look out for him, making things pop up out of thin air. Kevin can put the pieces together now, even if he'd rather not. Is he ever going to get a chance to get away from this kind of thing?

"You're an angel?"

He's dubious about the suggestion that Gabriel's supposed to take care of him. That hasn't really gone well for him in the past.

"You're not going to make me do anything... prophet-y, are you? Because I've been to the dessert, I've read the Word, okay? And I'm done."

Gabriel snorts. He might be back in the game, but he's not that back in the game.

"Kid, I left home. Been going by a different name for, oh, thousands of years, now." It might be a vague exaggeration, but really, even he can't remember what day it had been. That's just a mark of how bad the day was. "I'm not gonna force you to do anything, aside from maybe take a vacation with the scribing stuff. Looks like you could use it. Did me a world of good."

Which isn't exactly true, but he's not going to sit on this blanket and bare his not-soul to some prophet he just met. Being this honest is enough for him, really.

That's... nice to hear. He maybe even brightens, though it's hesitant. No good news is ever really completely good news, it feels like, but as long as Gabriel's not going to shove Kevin's face into a tablet until he reads it...

"You managed to get away?" This is a topic of interest, and he doesn't hide it.

"I'm trying to do that too. It's not easy, though."

"I've got a lot more tricks up my sleeve than you do," the archangel points out, snapping his fingers and adding another section of sandwich.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to worry too much about the physics of cramming this thing in, but then, each section is up for grabs if Kevin's hungry.

"But nah, it wasn't even easy for me. Went to be a pagan for a while. Got pretty good at it, too. More famous than I wanted, but what can you do?"

"I guess a pagan would be the last person anyone would suspect of being an angel of the Lord." That sounds blasphemous, but then Kevin hasn't really come across anything yet in his run as a prophet that's made him feel warm and fuzzy about anything.

Kevin's not inclined to be appreciative about anything that's happened since becoming a prophet, but the more angels he meets (who live longer than a few minutes), the more okay he thinks he is with them. It's not their fault he's a prophet, right? And he likes Gabriel. Anyone who tries to get away kind of gets a free pass from him.

And he comes with a boatload of sandwiches and champagne, which is making Kevin a little dizzy and a little warmer and a little happier with everything. It's even dampened the impulse to figure out whether or not he'll drown if he tries to escape via the ocean.

Physics is just a seven-letter word...

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*D E S E R T

nuh uh *D E S S E R T

life wouldn't be so bad if he could learn the word at an ice cream shop