(no subject)

[paterelohim]

Who: Chuck Shurley and Magneto
When: Saturday night
Where: the HoA
Summary: Chuck comes home early from work after a particularly traumatizing vision, and crashes on Mag's couch. :c
Warnings: none so far except excessive canon centricity :|

[He asked Gabriel to poof him home early that night; after having a vision, he was junk for the rest of the damn night. It was impossible to work with vivid prophecy from home slamming at the inside of his head, and especially with something so awful - one angel going crazy, killing all the others - cut off by waking up early, a story without a resolution. Just seeing the complete dissolution of His family and knowing that, if He ever went home, He had that to look forward to. Not just look forward to- but knowing that, at home, He sat back and let that happen to their world without doing a damn thing to stop it. The thought would make any feeling person want to puke.

The sheer shock of what He saw hadn't sunk in yet. He was studiously avoiding thinking about it by pondering Fred, thinking about Darkness, considering his work schedule for that week, and wondering what he would make himself for breakfast. So deep in thought, in fact, that he didn't notice where he was going until He found himself knocking on a door that wasn't his.]

Comments

[magnetic_magpie]

[He sinks into a chair next to Chuck.]

I'm working on that. I promise. A way to go home and remember.

[paterelohim]

Oh, man, I don't even want to go home!

My world's a complete shithole. I don't want to go back there.

Oh god. [Sinking down to the table, head in his hands.] I don't even have a choice, do I?

[magnetic_magpie]

Different problem for another day.

Hot toddies sound good?

[paterelohim]

That sounds like something in a Dateline special.

[magnetic_magpie]

[Snort.]

I don't even watch that show.

Hot buttered rum then?

[paterelohim]

That sounds like goddamn sex.

[Aka yes please want. Chuck's brain is leaking out his ears.]

[magnetic_magpie]

Better.

[He'll start right on that then. With rum and hard cider rather than rum and water.]

[paterelohim]

[Don't mind Chuck, he's just getting up and twitchily helping himself to Erik's cabinets. Erik can make drink, he'll make something to eat. They both need to keep moving, distractions, something else (anything else) to do.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[That's fine, the kitchen is free range for people to rummage though. There's a tonne of pasties and fruit on the counter, sundry jars of jerky, marshmallow treats, dried fruits, and nuts - almost all healthy food.

He'll simply continue to fix them drinks.]

[paterelohim]

[He fixes them something or other and vaguely wanders into the living room, forgetting that - oh yeah - Erik's still in the kitchen. He drops onto the couch numbly.]

[magnetic_magpie]

[It doesn't take long, and he brings in Chuck a Thermos of rum to keep it warm.]

Here you are.

[paterelohim]

Thanks.

[In exchange, he holds up some... whatever the fuck it is he got. He's not really sure. It's food.]

[magnetic_magpie]

Welcome. Drink up.

[He takes it. He cooks well - great actually - but over all? He's not picky when he can't afford to be. Right now counts.]

[paterelohim]

[He takes a drink obediently and finally, finally sinks into the couch with something resembling relaxation.]

God. The way it was in the dream- the only angels left alive were Michael and Lucifer, burning up in the Pit. [Shudder.] That's almost worse than having them dead.

[magnetic_magpie]

...Is there anyway for them to get out?

[He's really horrified that that thing even exists.]

[paterelohim]

No. Someone would have to break the seals again. Man, last time it took a year- and. Michael... he'd never be the same.

[His voice is slipping into low horror. Horror, at what He'd allowed to happen in that other world and time.]

[magnetic_magpie]

No one would be.

[That's the point of torture.]

There has to be something to do Chuck.

[BIG GULP OF THAT DRINK.]

[paterelohim]

There is. It's fixing the Core. I mean, here- here, they have a chance.

[He sounds utterly hopeless, though. This is striking him very, very deeply- once again, deeper than it logically should, as everything with the angels does. They never did talk about what happened in October, when his subconscious coughed up a horrific hellscape of the angels and their suffering, instead of the story of Sam and Dean - the gospel he's supposed to be writing. But it's an open secret that Chuck Shurley has more of an attachment to them than he has any business having, and it's deeply-felt.]

They all actually have their shit together. Relatively speaking.

[magnetic_magpie]

If they would work together, at least a few of them, they can have a chance wherever they are.

[He sighed.]

No...not really, they don't.

[paterelohim]

[Chuck gives him a look.]

What do you mean?

[magnetic_magpie]

Lucifer is upset with Gabriel.

[And that's the one he knows the details of.]

[paterelohim]

...

[Spill, Erik. Chuck looks like his face is about to turn to stone.]

[magnetic_magpie]

He found out Jinx is carrying Holy Oil. He asked Gabriel to take it from her, swore he wouldn't harm her, Gabriel refused.

[And he's in the middle.]

[paterelohim]

[He closes his eyes with the distinct groan of oh fuck my life.]

What did Lucifer do?

[magnetic_magpie]

Nothing, yet. Wants me to talk to Jinx.