IC: EVENT

[bossman]

A TERRIBLE THING IS HAPPENING

reference books detailing myths and legends stolen from libraries...
wikipedia pages wiped clean from the face of the internet...
ancient stained glass windows smashed and destroyed...
historical research centers burnt to the ground...

Someone out there is trying very, very hard to erase all of the possible sources of power and belief of the ancient gods and goddesses. And it hurts. Whilst the powers of the minders are unharmed by the attacks, the gods and goddesses will be certainly feeling the toll: it's now painfully clear that even the simplest of miracles are now becoming almost impossible to perform.

deities, you had better have gifted your minders with some decent blessings! Because now you're going to rely on them more than ever. Someone is out to get you.

Comments

ACTION

[attends]

[The distance between himself and Gabriel isn't far in archangel terms, but it feels like he has to travel half the globe to get within a few metres of his brother.

It's more luck than purposeful direction that has him falling from the sky and into an alley just around the corner from the Old Bailey, the sound of the ground cracking underneath him loud. All he wanted was to get to Gabriel to try and... do what he knows he cannot, but somewhere it went wrong and now he's finding it difficult to pick himself up off the decimated cardboard boxes and rubbish abandoned down that alley.]

[judicious]

[ The whipcrack noise of reality bending to accommodate the sudden presence of a living myth is always unmistakeable. The electric crackle of metaphysical activity, audible only to those who knew, dies away as Gabriel hauls himself up from against the stone walls of the Old Bailey. Straightening his clothes and passing a hand briefly over his forehead – a half-hearted attempt to blot away the worst of the freezing sweat – he collects his briefcase from where it had unconsciously slipped from his fingers to the floor and headed in Raphael's direction.

There was nothing that told him it was actually Raphael that had arrived, other than any other of his fellow heavenly host, other than faith and the results of an educated guess. He quickly picks his way along the alley, dodging the worst chunks of the rubbish scattered by his inglorious arrival, before casting aside his briefcase again to heave the other angel up by the shoulders as best he can. His arms are weak, lacking the divine strength of millions of believers, but eventually he struggles to get the other angel upright. ]

Brother, a taxi might have been wiser. Are you hurt?

[attends]

[Raphael feels more terrible about Gabriel having to haul him to his feet than he does about his physical weakness. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so loose, to out of control of his own faculties, but he doesn't really have time to inspect those ills as much as he usually would. His mind is all jumbled just at the question Gabriel asks, frown deep across his forehead as he thinks.]

No, it would have been too slow. [Though now that he thinks about it, he can feel how much of his energy he's drained flying here instead of taking the human route.]

Not hurt. ...I think we're all in trouble. [His version of not hurt is held up against the scrapes Uriel has returned in, at times. He's dislocated his thumb and scraped up his arm something terrible, but he pushes through the pain.]

Are you?

[judicious]

It would have been wiser. [ Gabriel repeats himself quietly, voice full of concern as his eyes sweep his brother's face for any sign of acute pain. Seemingly satisfied that at least Raphael wasn't in immediate danger his grip slackens a little, tentatively testing to see if the other angel was capable of standing on his own two feet.

His gaze dropped. It was then that he noticed Raphael's thumb. ]

Oh, Raphael-- [ He issues a little sigh, voice caught and modulating somewhere between concern and exasperation. Who heals the healer? It was certainly not Gabriel's speciality but thumbs certainly didn't usually point in that direction. His hand dropped to take Raphael by the elbow, careful not to brush against the disjointed digit, as he gently manoeuvred the angel's hand so he could inspect it. ] That is not not-hurt!

[attends]

But something isn't right, Gabriel. [There's a part of Raphael that, in certain circumstances, defaults to a little brother rather than an equal one, specifically where Gabriel is concerned. He had been the angel who first came to mind when he realised something wasn't right.

As his hand is taken he looks down at it and, on seeing it for the first time, can't help but attempt to fix it without his powers. He can't afford to waste them and given a window for action neatly and forcibly pulls it back into place. The groan of agony is kept at bay in the back of his throat, but the sudden explosion of paper and rubbish from the piles of boxes and black bags is violent. The fact his eyes prickle uncomfortably is ignored in preference of pulling the hand back and shoving it under his arm, nestled carefully in his armpit as he frowns.]

What are we going to do?