entrancelogs | Lets Do The Time Warp Again -- late event post OTA

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Lets Do The Time Warp Again -- late event post OTA

Who: Gabriel Brodric & Michael Brodric, also a little of Pastor Whele but OTA!!
Where: Storybrooke
When: sometime between the 25th and 26th of Oct
Rating: PG-13 for language and such will change if something changes
Summary: It was just a normal day until suddenly he sprouted wings and began getting flashes of confusing things as if he was remembering another life.
The Story:

It was 2 am and the bar was closing, it took the persistence of his bartender to gently shoo him off his stool to head home. Home. What was even there for him? He's certain Michael would be upset to hear such thoughts but that's the low he was feeling today. All sorts of things running through his head about what the hell he's even doing with his life. What is he meant to be? Any sort of things that would plague the normal man, or so he'd keep telling himself so this didn't seem like it was a problem at all. As he staggers out of the bar, tired, worn down and too drunk to pay attention to how he sways, he'll manage only a few feet before bumping into someone. This someone isn't kind enough to just let him shuffle past, instead he's shoved roughly, toppling heavily against a parked car. He's barked at and berated about how much of a rude, disgusting and pathetic man he is.

The insults are the one last straw he needed and he pushes himself back up to meet the other. He'd been itching for a fight this time. He feels a surge of anger pull at him as he stalks up to get in the others face. That's when he feels it; a shift right along the spine near his shoulder blades, a crawling of his skin and an almost stretching sensation but he can't place it, he doesn't remember what this feeling was and he was too out of it to care. He ignores it, blind in his drunken rage as he attacks the man, catching a brief look of wide-eyed horror before there's a cry and blood sprayed across the glass of a shop window. Gabriel stands seething over the body and realizes he hasn't simply beat the man with his fists… there's too much blood pooling out onto the sidewalk for that and his back… his back feels heavy.

A rustle of wind through his feathers causes him to shiver and feel an alien sensation from the new appendages. He turns slowly to look up, as if he's afraid to peer over his shoulders at the slightly raised wings. They react to his surprise, suddenly drawing in and folding against his back. His heart is racing a mile a minute as he nearly turns a circle to look at them and get them in a better light. Wings!? How is this even real?? He's not that drunk. There's no way. Did someone slip him something?

Then the strong scent of copper hits his nose and his attention is back on the body. He can't hear a heartbeat. Though, there's a brief moment of confusion at that thought. why should I hear a heartbeat from here? As if that was normal?

Wait. Was that man dead? Had he killed him?

Stooping lower he realizes that the throat is cut. But he didn't have a knife, how could he possibly have killed the man in such a way? Something in the back of his mind tells him he did it, that his wings somehow are the culprit. WHY does he suddenly have wings?? It's like a war of instincts in his head, one confused at why this is happening and the other understanding just what is going on. He doesn't remember what he is. All he can think is I'm a FREAK. I'm some kind of monster and I just killed someone.

So he ran.

((ooc: so feel free to have someone witness the "fight" or the sudden appearance of wings or see Gabriel run off. Or maybe you talk to a witness and find the body or follow a trail. He's going to run and hide and summon his brother, also approach with caution while he's worked up, he can't quite control things. He'll also be seen going to a church later when things've calmed down some to go Confess. But I'm up for just about anything, especially since the event is over! Please shoot me a private message if you're not sure, or poke me on plurk (AceOfSwords)))

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Michael. Maybe Michael would know what's going on? But what if he doesn't know? What if his brother was going through this too? What if he was the only one? He just killed that man over nothing. He'd gotten so angry and now he was dead. He couldn't control himself or these--these wings. Why was this happening to him?

In his panic he ducks down an alley and gets lost somewhere in the middle of storybooke, hiding and catching his breath. Something tugs at him to go higher, climb up the fire escape to the roof of a building, but he ignores it. He sinks to the ground instead, hugging his knees and trying to get himself to calm down for just a moment to think straight. He's sober now at least, but his head is still spinning from all of this. He puts his head against his knees to try and breath, closing his eyes tight and just thinking of his brother. Michael was always there for him somehow, he'd protected him since they were young, he'd helped out, got him a life here. Now it's all spiraling out of his control.

He's only partially aware of the wings shifting and opening, responding to his need for Michael to be here. They gently extend and flap in a slow, light rhythm to attempt to summon the other.

Edited 2014-10-29 13:19 (UTC)

[His hands were grasping the chain link fence that circled his house, little ribbons of blood standing out stark against his skin. He loosened his grip at the sharp sting of metal cutting into his palms, turning them over slowly to look at the damage, dazed.

Michael had been walking, about to open the gate in front of his house when he'd a strange new weight pressing against his entire body, and then he saw it. Like a movie, a series of flashbacks, moment after moment flickered across his vision, leaving him hunched over a fence and gripping it tight.

He didn't understand what he'd just remembered, and couldn't separate the life he had been living in Storybrooke from the one that had just stumbled across his memories, smothering him. Michael didn't know if he was Michael Brodric, therapist, or the Archangel Michael.

He needed Gabriel.

As if by some force that he couldn't quite put a name on, a title to, he felt a pull. Two invisible arms had wrapped around him, loose at first, then stronger, yanking him down the street. He was dizzy, confused, and his feet were doing everything they could to take him towards whatever was calling for him. There was a part of him that wanted to call out his brother's name, tell him that he was coming, but why would he do that. Why did it feel like his twin needed him, was pulling him towards him.

He moved down street after street in a haze, and round a corner, coming to a grinding halt. There. Sitting in the middle of an alley, his brother.]

..Gab..Gabriel?

[He could feel it somehow, an unexplained soothing of his thoughts just knowing his brother would be here soon, that he'd be found. His wings slow their beating of the air until Michael is near, then they fold back up to rest on his back. Not long after that he hears his name and lifts his head to peer down the length of the alley to the sillouette of his twin.]

Michael.

[He moves swiftly to get to his feet but then stops when the weight on his back reminds him that the Wings are still there. He takes a step back as if that will keep him tucked into the shadow where Michael can't see what he's become.]

I'm glad to see you... I am but you... maybe you shouldn't come closer.

[He didn't know what would happen, what if he lost control again?]

[Michael begins to move forward when Gabriel stands, then stops again, when his twin retreats from him. His eyes widening when he tells him not to come closer, which he completely ignores.]

What are you talking about? Are you alright.

[He hesitates a moment longer, then strides forward, not giving his brother the opportunity to move any further away from him.

The metallic scent hits his nostrils, long before he sees the blood splattered across his brother, and he reaches forward, grabbing his shoulders.]

Gabriel. [He's squeezing his shoulders, panicked.] Are you injured. [He's running his hands across his face, chest, trying to see if he's wounded, even if the dim alley lighting is not helping him in that search.] The blood. Why is there so much blood. [He turns him just a bit, sees the shadowy arch just above his shoulders, and he freezes, confused.] Gabriel.

Michael don't!

[But he should know better that his elder twin wouldn't listen to reason so easily. It probably sounded ridiculous to him, what sort of danger he'd be in, Gabriel won't hurt me. But Gabriel couldn't be sure and he didn't want to hurt Michael by accident, just how he'd killed that man without knowing what he had done until it was too late.

His eyes close briefly as Michael touches his face, then inspects him for a wound or something. He sighs softly, feeling the concern practically radiating off of him. He raises his hands to grasp Michael's wrists, stopping him.]

Brother, I'm not hurt, I--

[It's about then that he's realized they'd turned just enough that one wing was gently illuminated by the weak light of a streetlamp at the other end. He swallows raggedly, eyes searching his twin's expression of surprise and confusion. He releases the other quick and backs himself against the wall and into the shadow, ashamed.]

Please... Michael, take a few steps back from me, I don't want to accidentally hurt you.

[It was fearful and no where near a threat, though he believed himself to be one.]

I killed someone, I didn't try to but these... I couldn't stop myself. It was too late when I realized...

[He should probably be reacting more emotionally over something like this but despite the worry in his eyes he's not panicking as he did at first. He doesn't understand why but it almost seems... natural. He swallows raggedly.]

Michael, they'll kill me for sure, I'm some sort of monster.

[He flinches as Gabriel grabs his wrists, eyes wide, and the confusion he feels twists cold in his stomach when his twin backs away from him.

Michael takes a small step forward, stopping when Gabriel tells him to step back. When he says that he might hurt him, he shakes his head, because that isn't right. Gabriel won't hurt him. Why would he hurt him?]

Gabriel, you aren't making any sense? You.. [What. I killed someone. The words wash over him, harsh and surreal, and Michael looks away from his brother, eyes narrowing as he tries to make sense of what he's being told.

There were things in his life that didn't feel quite right, things that were a little off, but Michael had always squashed down those feelings. His brother had been a constant, and even when things weren't right between them, it was always right that he was a part of his life. Michael's vision started to swim, and he leans forward and presses his palms to his eyes. After a few labored breaths, he straightens back up, body rigid, and face firm.

The blood. The alley. Those fit into what Gabriel was saying. The strange sensation he had felt in front of his house, the pull to find his brother, the invisible hands guiding him here, none of that did, so he pushed it aside and let rational thought take over.

He killed someone. Okay. The part of Michael that wanted him to be responsible, to be a good citizen, that was weak compared to how he felt for his brother. He could take care of this. He could fix this.]

It doesn't matter. I don't know what those are on your back, or where they've come from. But, we have to leave. Now.

[Gabriel couldn't stay here if he'd murdered someone. And Michael would go with him.]

[There's a soft sigh, he should've known his Twin would get insanely protective of him. Hearing the 'we' in all of this just made him frustrated. To think that Michael would so easily throw away his amazing life here because he's gone and screwed up and become some freak?]

Wings. Michael.

[He says pointedly then steps forward out of the dark and into the dim light. The wings flex, opening and spreading the primaries in a small display.]

They're wings. And WE aren't going anywhere. I'm not letting you throw everything away. I'm not dragging you down with me.

Wings?

[Why does his brother have wings now. And why did that not seem like the craziest thing he'd ever heard of.

He steps to the side, trying to crane his head to get a better look, more curious than freaked out by Gabriel's new appendages.]

Wait. What do you mean, we, aren't going anywhere. Don't be ridiculous, Gabriel.

It doesn't work like that. You don't get to decide for me. I know what I'd be giving up, and what I'd be getting to keep.

[Michael's expression is serious, firm, and unyielding. He wasn't going to abandon his brother.]

[He sighs with some annoyance, but as the other turns to have a better look he'll twist his shoulders and sort of move a wing about for Michael to see.]

Brother.

[He'll then lay his hands on either side of Michael's face, brows furrowing.]

I love you, but I'm not letting you ruin your life here in Storybrooke because of me. I couldn't live with myself.

Edited 2014-11-08 14:11 (UTC)

Brother.

I'm not letting you do this alone.

[Michael was stumped for a compromise, a way for them both to be okay with this, but he wasn't focused on that, as the black wings had taken a front burner.

He turned Gabriel some more, hands hovering a few inches above the inky feathers, but not quite touching them.]

They are so.. real. [Although, he's not sure why that surprises him.]

[Gabriel's frown somehow deepens and he drops his hands back to the sides as he's then turned a bit more. There's an exasperated sigh and a wing opens slightly to push itself into Michael's hovering fingers. It's a little more forceful than he originally intended but he's still not sure how to work them properly. At least it hadn't cut his palm open in the process, or worse.]

That's because they are real.

[As the wings are pushed into his hands, seemingly by Gabriel's nonverbal command, he runs his fingers over them. Each feather, the color and shape, were unique, as if time had been put into creating them just right. It was a strange thought, but it wasn't the strangest thing he'd encountered that day.

He gave them one last touch, even though he wanted to stretch them out and ask his brother to try and fly with them, and pushed at Gabriel's shoulder to turn him back around.]

You need to decide what you are going to do, so I can act accordingly.

[He was coming with him, had decided that instantly, and if he had to trail after him, so be it.]

[There was a soft shudder at the slow, gentle touches as Michael's fingers drifted over the feathers with intrigue. He worries his bottom lip feeling something ebb through him at the attentions and he nearly stops the other, afraid of what all of this was doing to him. He swallows down the heat, though it reached his cheeks a moment before Michael stops to push a shoulder so they're looking eye to eye once more.

He can't help but to stare incredulously at his twin. He gives a short, humorless back of a laugh, as if he was asking the impossible.]

You act as if that's easy. I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do with all of this. Not only have I killed a man in cold blood on the street but I'm some sort of... freak.

How can I possibly hide this? What if I do it again? What if I can't control it or it gets worse? I'm seeing things, like memories I've forgotten. Like these wings've woken up a part of me that was locked away. Like I was meant to be this creature all along but I've been playing human.

[Michael notes the flush of his brother's cheeks, but attributes it to adrenaline from his current situation, rather than from his touching his wings. He didn't know they were sensitive, or that his running his fingers over them was causing any reaction.

He grips both of Gabriel's shoulders, wincing at freak, and he wants nothing more than to pull his brother against him and tell him everything will be alright. But, he's more practical than that, and he knows that it won't be. At least, not for a long time.]

Did you do it on purpose, Gabriel? Intent is important when it comes to guilt. You can feel bad that the man is dead, but, you didn't know you had the wings. How to control them.

Playing human? Gabriel, I don't understand.

[Michael'd had strange dreams the night before, flashes of metal and black, and had woken up with the lingering scent of blood and death surrounding him. He'd analyzed it, assumed it to be stress related and that he was watching too much television, and had forgotten it.

But, he wouldn't call it a memory, even if it were vivid. And now this was happening with his brother.]

We shouldn't stay here. In the alley and out in the open.

No! [He stops himself, reeling it in though as he frowns and sighs, rubbing his forehead.]

I mean, I did have every intention of beating that rude arse up and down the length of the sidewalk but... I didn't mean to kill him! These wings... I just blanked out it was like I was on auto-pilot. I didn't know what'd I'd done till it was too late.

But the worst of it? [And there's a humorless chuckle.]

I don't feel guilty at all. [But that kind of scared him and it worried him what he was or what they'd do to him if he were caught. Michael had a point and he quiets down, nodding solemnly.]

I ... don't know how to make them go away though, I might draw attention.

Then, that is all there is to it. You didn't do it on purpose, the motive wasn't there.

[As to not feeling guilty about it, Michael remains silent. He has never been in that situation, and doesn't know how he'd feel if it were him. Maybe Gabriel was in shock, unable to process it, or maybe there was a part of him that really didn't feel badly about killing the man. At that time, there in a dark alley, Michael decided not to care.]

I don't either, but we have to do something with them before walking out onto the street.

[Michael steps back around Gabriel, hands on his wings again. He began to pull at them, fingers sliding over the feathers, not rough, but not gentle either. Maybe he could push at them, and they'd go back in.]

[There was that whole idea that they might NOT go away, but something in the back of his head kept nagging at him that it was possible. Like he should already know how they can be hidden within his being, like it was just something natural. What about any of this is natural, why does he feel this way? Why isn't he freaking out more about this?

He's distracted the moment Michael get his hands on him again. He gasps this time as the appendages are stretched slightly, fingers roughly pressing into them in an attempt to help them go away. He can't suppress the heated shudder as that slumbering part of him reacts to the forceful nature of it all and he can't help but to press a hand to the wall for support.]

Michael. Stop. That's not helping. I can't concentrate with your hands on me.

[There's that fluster again and damn it all why does he want more of those rough touches. This is his brother, not some random lover he picked up at the Rabbit Hole. He swallows it down so as not to allow his body a reaction, pushing whatever risque thoughts out of his head.]

[He pauses a moment when Gabriel leans forward, balancing himself against the wall. Michael understands now, what touching his wings is doing to his brother, and a part of him relishes the thought that he can have that sort of effect on him.

Another part of him doesn't want to make him uncomfortable either. There's a soft, conflicted, sigh.]

I'm sorry. I didn't realize.

[But, he doesn't remove his hands, leaving them there for a few minutes. He doesn't move them, stretch or push at the wings, but likes the feel of the feathers, the familiarity. When he does pull his hands away, it's reluctant.]

Gabriel hasn't been in a church often, to drunk and bitter to go cry to another Father he's almost certain isn't actually there anymore to listen to his pleas for help. If there were a God, he abandoned them long ago, and this newest incident is even more clear. But he's frightened, confused and angry. Michael certainly did his best to calm him down but that didn't mean he was thinking entirely straight. Yet something still drew him into that confession box this day. Maybe he thought THIS TIME he would hear, through his Pastor, through the church he'd get answers to this. He didn't know what else to do. They'd find that body soon, they'd trace it back to him and he'd have ruined his life in a blink once more. He'd lose his brother. He'd be locked up for life he was sure of it. If he were lucky and not killed for being some sort of monster, or worse.

He sits, head bowed in the confining confession box and waits, listening for someone to enter on the other side.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned… it's been …" A brief intake and a slow exhale as he thinks, "Months…I think, since my last confession."

William doesn't even know if he's coming or going anymore, floating around his church in half a daze. Weird things were happening, strange things, and he's almost tempted to start calling up some of the older pastors, the hard core priests and ask them about exorcisms, possessions, anything that would involve memories of someone else. When there are images of a world wiped out by angels, it's either a message or an illness. William can only hope it's the latter; that he can deal with.

For now William knows the show must go on, and when he spots someone headed for the confessional he heads over, waiting for the other to sit down before taking his own seat. The moment the other starts talking is the moment the young priest starts to wonder again, air charged with almost fraught concern. Is it concern? William has to wonder. It feels almost like trepidation.

"You're here now. May God the Father of all mercies help you make a good Confession. What brings you here?"

Gabriel fidgets in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing deep as if it were hard to breath in such a small space with what weighed on him. He slicks a hand back through his hair, making it stay that way for the time being. He then makes the motion of the cross in front of his chest.

"To be honest, I doubt what I've done can be so easily forgiven with prayer, but I need to get this off of my chest. Who else could I possibly talk to?" His brother knows of course but, he'd protect him from his crimes and sweep it under the rug, it would fester there. There's no chance of relief that way.

"I don't even know where to start. There's so much that's happened." He says with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

Whatever it is, it sounds pretty dire, and William is already curious to know what's going on. Normally confessionals are small things that people feel needed forgiving, just one lady the other week had come in to confess she had eaten meat on a certain day. Inwardly, William is pretty sure that God wouldn't care too much for those kinds of transgressions as long as the person led a good enough life.

Still, everyone thought their own confessions were the big ones, otherwise they wouldn't be compelled to visit, and William shifts to get a bit more comfortable, doing his best not to be too judgmental. It's a little difficult when he's so on edge after all these visions, but those can wait until later.

"How about you start from the beginning? You know you can say your piece here and it won't go further."

Gabriel takes another deep breath, filling his lungs and slowly releasing it as he nods. Right. Well, theoretically the beginning is all his drinking, he's certain he should probably confess that while he's at it. It was the alcohol that got him stumbling and enraged so easily, but it should've been just like any other day. He shouldn't have just sprouted wings! But there's another part of himself that's screaming for him to wake up and realize what he is.

"I gave in to my drinking habits and lust." If he were completely honest he never tried to stop to begin with.

"I also fell victim to my anger while drunk, a man shoved me into a parked car and I attacked him."

So far this all probably sounds so simple and normal, but there's trepidation in his voice, a slight waiver as it tightens in his throat. He has to say it though, if there's any chance for being forgiven or at least given answers to what he was, then he'd have to say the truth.

"Father, you're going to think I've gone completely insane but I swear to you what happened next was real..." Hokay here it goes.

"I killed the man that accosted me, I grew wings and with them I slit his throat in my blind rage. I had no control of myself. I--I've never murdered anyone but there's so much in my head telling me I've killed more, billions. Or will... I think it's in the future, but I'm not sure. I'm so confused."

He turns to the holed wooden screen where he can see flashes of skin or the white of Williams collar.

"Father, what should I do?"

It started out sounding like the same old stuff. Someone got drunk and laid. This town was no more innocent than the next one, and William briefly does have to wonder if he's heard everything this town has to throw at him when it comes to confessions. In a small way he's disappointed and William isn't even sure what it is he was waiting for. The images in his head probably have something to do it, perhaps he's been waiting for baited breath as he subconsciously waited for something to happen.

As Gabriel continues to talk, William starts to realize this is much worse than he assumed, enough that even he gives a brief thought upwards to forgive himself for making such a hasty judgement. Attacked a person? William can't remember a time when he's had one of these that would have most people running for the phone to call the police. And it kept on getting worse, William feeling his stomach sink to his feet. Killed a person! This man killed a person! There's so much to think on that he barely even registers the wings part, jolting hard enough to smack the back of his head on the booth. What?!

Wings!?

Shit, he had to say something, but suddenly William can barely find it in him to speak. His mouth is dry and it's even hard to draw breath. It's all too easy to imagine what happened when it's striking a chord somewhere in him. Somehow William manages to keep his tone of voice steady, taking the horror out on twisting his hands instead.

"I don't know? I mean, does this normally happen?"

Edited 2014-11-02 14:15 (UTC)

"What?" Comes out incredulously, almost somewhat insulted at the thought. If this were normal did he honestly think he'd be this worried over it? Or that he'd come to confess his crime at all?

What's worse is the "I don't know?" but he supposes even a pastor would lose his focus after a story like that. He sighs softly, very nearly apologizing for his uppity response.

"No, I mean, I don't know... I'm getting these visions of the future but it's like I've lived it already. Memories that I've forgotten somehow. But, that doesn't even make sense. This only started recently though, I just thought maybe it was the alcohol or something, like I was dozing where I sat and dreaming it all." And then he grew wings.

Darn right William has lost his focus. It's almost as if he's stuck in a horror story somehow, where he knows what's going to happen but there's no way out. Wings! Using wings to kill another person. But then that meant the person sat in the booth was an angel.

William has to take a few deep breaths to even let that sink in. He was just a pastor in a small town, no big deal, he wasn't important and all of a sudden he has someone confessing to being an angel in his church. And what was worse is William doesn't even doubt it. Maybe he should call the hospital up and order two white straight jackets?

Okay, someone had to take control of this, and in all fairness this man had come to ask for help. Freaking out about it wasn't helping anyone, and so William takes another deep breath, nodding to himself as he folds his arms.

"This isn't the first thing I've heard of visions lately. Just what is it that you're seeing?"

"I..." He wracks his brain a moment for the answer to that. It was barely bits and pieces and he'd pushed most of his from his mind. Now though there are some things ringing clearer and sticking with him since he grew those wings. He closes his eyes, brow knitted as he focuses on what he sees.

"A wasteland. A-and a mountain fortress? With more winged people swarming around." A pause. "Angels. They're angels." He's going with his gut feeling and what his memory is telling him, so he says this with certainty.

"Then... I think it goes into the past, a desert... a small boy and my brother. He's spattered in blood and there are people, dead people everywhere."

He's shaking slightly, the Gabriel Broderic in his mind is freaking out, while the Archangel part of him is comfortable and it's clashing oddly so that his body doesn't know how to react to how he feels.

"I did this. I mean, there's a war against humanity and I lead it. I've killed--I kill billions in the future." And he enjoys it, he can feel it in his bones that he believes it to be the right thing. Is it his destiny? Is this what he's meant to do? Is he meant to bring about an apocalypse and wipe out humanity??

"For God. For my father, I do it to bring him back. He's abandoned us because humanities sins are too great." Oh god he really is an Archangel. He slumps back against the confessional, eyes wide, sweat on his brow as the weight settles in around him as truth. What's he meant to do with this? Why did he forget who and what he was? If he wanted the humans dead why live among them to lead a failure of a life?

He rubs his brow, getting a headache as all this swims around in his skull.

William holds a hand over his mouth as he listens to what Gabriel has to say, trying to stave off a sudden wave of nausea, ignoring how his stomach is starting to turn. It all sounds horribly familiar somehow, as if he knows what's going on even if it does sound like outright ludicrousness. Really, a fortress? Angels? Bringing God back? It all sounds like complete nonsense yet makes sense at the same time.

He wants to pick it apart though, a small piece of the pastor wants to debunk the whole thing before shooing the man out of his church, maybe even tell him to not come back. Why would he embrace madness when things were okay in Storybrooke? Just believing everything that the man was saying was crazy, and William knows at this rate the pair of them will wind up in straight jackets.

Hell, he'd call for them.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. God is here, we just don't hear from Him as much as we like to. So I wouldn't worry too much about Him abandoning us, I mean if He were to do that it would have happened by now." Somewhere, William's subconscious is giving a bitter laugh at that one, and he does his best to peer through the slats without looking like he is. "And your wings are gone now. Where have they gone? Were they there to begin with?"

He can't stop himself from scoffing bitterly at the thought that God hadn't abandoned them and that he simply was too busy or incapable of speaking with every one of his children. At first he's just bitter but he soon realizes it's budding into anger, anger at God and anger at the Humans for making him leave them sometime in the future. Before he knows whats going on that question of his sanity and if his wings are real has his ire flaring.

There's that stretch and push of skin and muscle before something strikes the wooden walls of the confining confessional. The noise, though solid is somewhat muffled by his feathers and he curses softly once his anger has dulled again. It was a pain trying to put them away the first time. He can't walk out with them in full view, he doesn't want to draw that sort of attention.

A turn of his head has him realizing that the little slotted window where he can speak to the pastor is covered by long primaries and it takes him a moment before they pull back and his wings fold somewhat uncomfortably behind him.

"There. Now you have your answer." The noise alone should be enough but if he could see flashes of the Pastor next to him then no doubt he could see the dark shapes as they move.

He sighs softly, closing his eyes and trying to remember how he willed them away the first time. He just needs to focus and remember how it felt and maybe with enough concentration they'll go away.

It was a desperate plea in a way, one that William had thrown out there to ward away the harsh truth. And now that too had been cast aside, the truth as blatant as the dark primaries William would see almost trying to make their way through the slotted window gaps. He's not sure if it's possible to feel so shocked and yet not at all concerned by this turn of events, feeling as if he's just seen this before now and it's routine. How could such a thing even be routine?!

"I see it." How could he now? The rustling of the wings against the enclosed space has the hairs on the back of William's neck rising, the pastor cringing as if they were nails down a chalkboard. Another ridiculous notion; feathers were soft, not hard enough to scratch things.

William knows he has to move things along somehow, to try and get something out of the other so he can talk it through and send Gabriel on his way. Right now though, there's very little coming to mind, the young man throwing out the first thing that even comes to his mind.

"So what are you going to do now?"

There's a lengthy pause to follow that question and after a frustrating couple of moments trying to get his wings put away, he gives up with a groan. He buries his face in his hands, fingertips digging into the hairline.

"I don't know." His voice sounded weak and weary, edging in desperate. "I honestly don't know. I turned into a freak and a murderer in one night and you're trying to tell me this is some act of God?"

There's a soft, humorless laugh that sounds slightly unhinged. "the sad thing is is that almost feels like the truth. Like I'm some sort of Angel sent to punish humanity or some such. And that's completely ridiculous."

He can't put his finger on it really, there's so many confusing thoughts, memories, feelings sparking here and there if he gives his mind a moment to slow down and focus.

She had been wandering. It seemed like the best course of action to fight the thoughts and memories returning to her mind. She didn't like what was appearing or the sensation that she was a wicked creature. She was happier in this life, in this world. If there was a way to remain, she would gladly take it. Some things were too precious to let go of.

Running into Gabriel was inevitable, though she had thought it would be before so much was swarming into her head. The fact he seemed as troubled as she was indicated this wasn't a random fluke.

"Are you alright?"

He could count his many blessings that simply being startled isn't enough to throw those shiny new wings from his back in some attempt to protect himself. He pauses, damn near running into Lilith, too deep in thought to have been watching where he was going... again. He swallows and takes a few steps back, just in case. He's still not so sure what he's capable of, but all he knows is he's dangerous and not knowing how to control any of it is even worse.

"I'm fine." It was a poor lie and considering Lilith has known him since he was only a boy then no doubt she can see right through his attempt to seem sincere. Though there's an itching in the back of his skull telling him that she didn't know him at all.

"I mean, I'm better now." He clears his throat. "It's been a while, how are you holding up?"

She could read him easily and sees that he is distressed. It was worrisome to see that fear in his eyes, the lies that were never really part of his nature. It has her more than concerned.

She steps closer to him, reaching out gently for his shoulder. They had been close all their lives. Friends, lovers, a great deal. He was possibly the father of her child. She wanted to help him if she could.

"Tell me the truth, Gabe. You don't have to lie to me."

The hand on his shoulder gives him pause and he's half-relaxed, half-unsure with the touch. They hadn't spoken in a long time, but they had shared so much of their lives together. He wasn't comfortable with yet another crossing his path and learning his secret but it's not like he could hide what he felt from her. He could lie, but it wouldn't make this any easier.

There's a glance back at the church, then around the street before he finally makes up his mind with a sigh and a nod.

"Alright, but not here. We should go somewhere safer." That and he's not so sure that pastor he spoke to hasn't called the police on him.

"My house?" She suggested. She lived close enough nearby that it wouldn't cause any problems and Eve was staying at her babysitter's. There would be no one home but the two of them. And he could at least be in a familiar environment to help him feel safe.

She offers her hand to him, looking to extend the comfort that she gave him before.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lets Do The Time Warp Again -- late event post OTA

Closed for Michael

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Closed for William

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Outside the church (probably after his confession)

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