Open

[quis_ut_deus]

Who: Michael and open!
Where: The grounds.
When: Sunday, aka the last day of the Spontaneous and Embarrassing Singing event.
Rating: PG, to be updated as needed.
Summary: Being a member of the Heavenly Choir doesn't necessarily make one eager to sing their heart out anywhere and everywhere; but, being in Wonderland, one doesn't often get a choice in the matter.
The Story:

It's hard to ignore that there's an event on with people breaking into song left and right, but Michael tries his hardest to do exactly that. The ubiquitous plaques demanding honesty are easy enough to dismiss - they are, at least, quiet - but the archangel isn't willing to risk being dragged into someone else's musical number. Heaven holds many secrets. He avoids the mansion, spending the weekend in his preferred spots on the grounds.

No matter how effectively he avoids the others, though, he can't hide from his own in-built inclination for song. Eventually, he cracks:

There, out in the darkness
A fugitive running
Fallen from god
Fallen from grace
God be my witness
I never shall yield
Till we come face to face
Till we come face to face

He knows his way in the dark
Mine is the way of the Lord
Those who follow the path of the righteous
Shall have their reward
And if they fall
As Lucifer fell
The flames
The sword!

Michael blinks back surprise. Compared to his true voice, John's own is lacking - if not exactly unpleasant. If he's fortunate, no one will have been in earshot to comment on it.

[[OOC: for your listening pleasure.]]

Comments

[what_he_needs]

[Michael's foot was an inch from the ground, his body frozen awkwardly at the sound of the other Michael singing. He tries to remain still, to reverse his steps so that the other archangel doesn't know he's just heard him.

But, he was never so lucky, and he wasn't going to be today. Something crunches underneath him, a leaf, a twig, Michael doesn't know, or care, but it signals to the other that he is there.

He'd done his best to keep away from everyone, not wanting to share anything he wouldn't normally divulge, and Michael had done an amazing job of keeping hidden. Until now. And he can feel it, bubbling up, and he knows what's coming next and he hates it.]

[And, he can't believe it, and he'd never admit to it later, but it's a medley of songs, all cut up and pasted together like an awful musical.]

In the fields the bodies burning
As the war machine keeps turning
Death and hatred to mankind
Poisoning their brainwashed minds... Oh Lord yeah.
Now in darkness, world stops turning
Ashes where the bodies burning..

[He takes a deep breath, his own out of key voice ringing in his ears, and the words keep coming.]

Oh I'm a guilty one,
And know what I have done.
Yeah, I'm a troubled one,
And I won't be forgiven.
Guilty on the run,
And I know what I have done.
Guilty on the run,
And I'm never forgiven.
Spent years singing, "no regret".
Then suddenly it all becomes clear,
I've been sorry all these years...

[The last part comes out softer, lower, and ashamed that he couldn't keep himself from singing.]

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life.

[When he closes his mouth, he knows it's over, and he drops his head. His alternate was the last person he ever imagined singing in front of, or sharing anything personal with.]

[ooc: part one part two part three]

[quis_ut_deus]

[Had Michael known the other archangel had been making an effort to avoid him in a moment of vulnerability, he would have accorded him thanks. Not verbally, of course, but it would have been factored into the mental tally that determined how kindly - or unkindly - Michael treated others.

Instead, all he knows is that he's not only had an audience, but is being treated to a performance in turn.

There's something of a wince from him, a little twitch under one of his eyes. His alternate is about as much of a talented singer as the Winchesters are bringers of joy and comfort. When he opens his mouth to comment, though, it's not the words he'd planned that spill forth:]

Babe, there's something lonesome about you
Something so wholesome about you
Get closer to me

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword
Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know

[Michael coughs. Whether he's managed to loosen Wonderland's hold on his vocal chords by sheer force of will or if it's willingly giving him a moment to express himself properly, he's not certain, but he chooses to believe it's the former.

His voice is harsh and distinctly unhappy when he finally manages to speak his mind.]

That is, come here. I have no desire to shout my opinion across a field and I doubt you do either.

[Admitting to a certain kinship with his alternate isn't what he intended, but what's done is done.]

[[OOC: source.]]

[what_he_needs]

[His eyes were wide, mouth hung open a moment, before he quickly snaps it shut. Michael was still too disturbed to process any of what the other archangel had just sung to him, but his feet knew how to work, so he used them.

When he was closer, lips tightly sealed, and the pressure of his clenched jaw causing a small section of his cheek to twitch, he stopped, hands on hips.

Michael didn't speak at first, wary of that strange sensation to sing out secrets, and after enough awkward silence had passed, he opened his mouth again.]

I didn't want that. I'm sorry.

[He was referring to hearing his alternate sing, and doing the singing himself. Michael wasn't sure that he owed him that apology, but it hung, heavy, in the air anyways.]

[quis_ut_deus]

No one wanted that.

[Not any passers-by, not his alternate, not Michael himself. Neither of their human envelopes possess particularly magnificent singing voices.

Being someone who isn't especially fond of apologies, Michael doesn't acknowledge his alternate's. All too often, they're used as excuses by those who shouldn't have been doing what they were doing in the first place. Sometimes they're warranted, but Michael much prefers when others simply avoid making mistakes in the first place.

There's a short pause as Michael evaluates whether or not he's firmly back in control of John's vocal cords. When he's sure that he is, he speaks.]

What is it that has you feeling guilty, then?

[If you're going to sing at him, you at least owe him an explanation.]

[what_he_needs]

[For whatever reason, he felt drained after his bout with singing, resigned even. If the other Michael wanted to know, then he'd try to tell him.]

Everything.

[His voice was light, and he shrugged his shoulders.]

It'd be a smaller list if I were to tell you what I didn't feel guilty about.

[Michael turned away from the other archangel, trying to decide what he should say that would be explanation enough without over sharing.]

Gabriel. Father. The humans. Killing them and then not killing them. [It was complicated, to him, that no matter which way he looked at it, he knew he'd feel guilty for taking either side. He'd feel guilty for being the good son, as much as he did for being a bad one. The same applied to being either a good brother or a bad one.

Mostly, he felt guilty that he'd killed so many humans all those years ago, and he felt guilty now that he'd stopped. But, only minimally on that, as he believed he was doing the right thing. Though, he'd discovered, that doing what you believe is right didn't negate any guilt a person would feel for their actions.]