birdwithoutasong | Before I go to heaven, I gotta park my bike

"I always did want to go to space." Alec's voice was languid even as his posture stiffened without him noticing, even as he looked pointedly away from the display he was standing in front of. "That hasn't changed."

This would probably be easier for him if there weren't some truth in what he was saying. "It turns out that space is either for the claustrophiles or the rich." Or, well, both, but Alec was here to help sell seats on the SpaceCruise Victoria ship, and sharing his opinion was a great way to get fired.

"We're running a special right now, where you can get to space without being rich." And wasn't that a damn lie. Whoever's bright idea it was to make the engineers into sales representatives was the one who should be fired.

Alec would damn Diane de Tremontaine to hell for making him the guinea pig on this if that wouldn't get him fired even faster. The CEO had to be beyond reproach, and all the more if she was family.

"For less than a first class transcontinental plane ticket, you can experience luxury in space." Alec managed to get the words out without grimacing. "Can I answer any questions you might have?"

Edited 2018-09-01 15:29 (UTC)

Nyxnissa so Dasheem hadn't made the sacrifices she had just to quit now. She surveyed the disaster that was a mall coffee shop midmorning on Black Friday: crying children, abandoned coffee cups and napkins, adults who couldn't handle standing in line, and not enough space for any of them.

She'd be damned if she was going to put a smile on her face for these people, but she met the eyes of the next customer. There was an implied challenge in the eye contact, which felt about right.

"What can I get for you?"

It had been a good concert. According to his bandmate it had been 'fucking awesome man'. Dominic preferred to consider matters more carefully, which was why he had come back to stand on the stage after the venue had emptied out.

The sound equipment had all been packed up. So had Dominic's guitar. That didn't matter. He let his eyes slide shut and started reviewing the concert, running through his memories. He hummed while he thought, retracing his own motions on the stage, thinking about band interaction and crowd response alike.

No one would miss him from the continual celebration, and he always found this harder to do once they moved on to the next venue.

Kai hadn't been planning on causing trouble. He never did, but that didn't keep it from happening.

Two dead bodies probably counted as trouble.

Kai stared at them a moment longer, shaking his head. Nothing much to do about it now, other than make sure he didn't become one of them.

Ten minutes later he'd tossed his blood-covered leather gloves, tucked his gun back away, and was stepping into a crowded subway care.

"Excuse me," he said, sliding into an empty enough place to stand near the middle of the car.

There was something Ryder liked about parent teacher conferences. Sure, there were always some of his students whose struggles were only seen as inconveniences by their parents, and some students who were hindered by their home environments. Still, it was good to understand those circumstances. And even as long as he'd been doing this, Ryder still believed that if he could talk to the parents he could help them understand.

"Come in and either stand or sit, to your preference," Ryder said. "I'd apologize for the size of the desks, but usually they're being used by third-graders.

"Once everyone's here I'm going to give an overview of my philosophy for teaching and answer any general questions. I'm also happy to talk individually about any specific situation, and I'll give you my email. Please always feel free to reach out at any point in the year." He wanted to give the students the best education he could.

Edited 2018-09-01 15:37 (UTC)

Sol didn't care overly what people thought about what he did, which was probably for the best. There were some angels who took immense pleasure in what they did, saving humanity, casting out the righteous, blah blah. All it did was make them full of themselves, and forget the bigger picture of it all. They wasted their energy running from person to person, trying to present them with their options - couldn't take away their free will, after all - and taking it terribly personally when people made the wrong choice. And of course people made the wrong choices, all the damn time.

So Sol tried to avoid house calls, except when he absolutely had to.

Which was now, apparently, even if this house call was to a place of work rather than their actual home. If anything, that would make it even more difficult to talk to the person he needed to see alone. He entered with no small amount of presence; Sol was a large man who didn't waste his movements.

Edited 2018-09-02 15:34 (UTC)

It's not even Legualt's place of work that Sol's presence is gracing tonight. Legault is quite happily unemployed at the moment, which leaves him plenty of time to put his fingers to use doing what he does best: crimes. His fingers don't even flinch from the safe he's opening when Sol appears in the room behind him, cutting off his exit if he doesn't feel up for a three story jump.

Ah, how inconvenient. With a satisfying click, the businessman's safe is open. It'll have to remain full for now. Just what kind of person can sneak up on him like that? He's not an assassin anymore, but those skills haven't faded in the slightest. It turns out holding knives and taking hostages and poisoning dinner is like riding a bike. Who knew?

He briefly considers staying silent and drawing his blades, but the absurdity, the suddenness of the situation tells him he's not facing some ordinary person. He can't see Sol, not with the door between them, but he speaks up, his voice low and not showing fear.

"Teleportation magic. That's a rare one. My, I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?"

It would be hard to mistake Sol for a human, as he steps into the room where Legault is. His wings are held folded up at his back, but even that way they are plenty dramatic. They cover his entire back, are whiter than freshly fallen snow, and folded like they are they trail in length to his knees. Still, they are behind him and Sol doesn't spread them. He doesn't care too much about first impressions.

He doesn't expect Legault to try to make a run for it or anything. Most people don't, although that's more instinct than logic. The logic is there, of course, Sol could always follow anywhere. It is convenient that the room is empty other than Legault, because Sol hates having to wipe bystander memories.

Sol's not sure what to make of the man, knowing pretty much only what he needs and having skimmed the rest of the file. His shoulders rise and fall in a laconic shrug that flares his wings a little.

"I'm not here to Judge you." There's an emphasis to the words, but Sol takes his time considering Legault instead of telling him what he is there for.

Edited 2018-09-02 23:37 (UTC)

That's no human, no, Legault realizes that right away. Gorgeous wings, white and soft, are instead placed on the back of a man who appears to be as unfriendly as he is ripped. Or maybe 'man' isn't the word he should be using. Angel. He knows the religions, even if he doesn't practice any himself. His first response is a defeated sigh, but there's no hiding the alarm in his eyes, even if he's quick to tense and attempt to hide it.

"No? I might be judging you a little. If anyone ever draw a picture of you and presented it to a pastor as divine, he'd make them go back and try again. You look more almost as much like a thug as I do."

He rubs the back of his neck, remaining in a crouch. He isn't planning on fighting an angel. That would be stupid. And the safe, the safe is unlocked right next to him and he can't tear his eyes away. He's faced dragons, he's faced golems, but angels...

"And to what do I owe this...honor?" The last word is oozing with sarcasm. His time must be up. How unpleasant. His heart is racing, too, and he can't turn away. As cool as he looks on the outside, he feels frozen. Helpless isn't something he likes feeling.

"Tch." Sol's never been into talking, and people who are just generally chatty or talk when nervous tend to annoy him. He doesn't know which this one is, but it doesn't matter.

He has a lot of thoughts on pastors and general religion, but none of them are things this guy needs to share. On the other hand, the lack of respect doesn't bother him. There are lots of angels where it would, where they'd want to teach this guy a lesson.

"Can't think of anything on yer own?"

Unfortunately for Sol, Legault has a lot to say. None of it is important.

"I can't, no."

He rubs his chin. He's in the middle of robbing a safe, and even now he doesn't see fit to confess to it. For starters, it's not why an angel would ever appear to anyone, he thinks. And he also just doesn't want to. After a moment, realization seems to dawn on his face.

"You haven't been watching me, have you? I'm flattered. You're almost my type, too."

He relaxes his tense stance and stands from where he'd been crouching. He places his hand on his hips, his smile still sleazy and indecipherable as he continues.

"At least I get to die next at the hands of someone handsome, right? You don't have to keep me waiting."

He's killed so many people. He killed in the name of helping the poor, he killed deserters from his group, and when there was no one left standing he turned to thievery. He stands, smile fading, ready to take this seriously.

Sol does nothing but stare at Legault for a long moment like he's hoping the man will just vanish and rid Sol of having to do anything at all with him. When that doesn't work, he finally speaks.

"If I'm not Judging you I'm definitely not killing you," Sol says.

"No." He steps closer, ready to get into Legault's space. "I'm recruiting you t'help me out with something."

"Not a manhunt," Dominic says, his voice crisp. "I have suspicions and I want them validated."

Actually, he'd much prefer if they aren't validated, but what he wants won't have much impact on the truth. Better not to pass his own biases on to Murphy.

"I think she may have..." he pauses, glances around before he steps closer and lowers his voice. Then he starts again. His whole body is tense. "I think the Covenant had something to do with her disappearance." Hence why he needs outside help. Investigating his own organization without arousing their suspicion would be nearly impossible.

She visibly tenses at the words. Her eyebrows come together.

Instinctively, her gaze cuts upward, sharp eyes cutting through the darkness to make sure no one was passing just as Dominic spoke. Making sure he wasn't overheard. A moment before, she'd have said she didn't give a shit who heard what he came to say; but that--? Even knowing nothing further about it, she knows that's a rumor she can't allow out of her control before she gets an explanation.

When she speaks, her voice is lowered to match his, her eyes fixed on his face. "...Gonna have to tell me why you think the Covenant would disappear one of its own."

The Covenant is largely mysterious to her, as an organization. They hate her for what she is; she doesn't see that she needs to understand more than that. But she's always understood them to be loyal to their own, as Dominic is loyal to them.

Her reaction is for the best. It means she understands some of what he's speaking about it, means that he's probably at least not opened himself up too much by coming to her.

"Not here." Dominic says it automatically, too aware of the threats of what he's saying. But it wouldn't exactly be any better if he went somewhere else with her, if it could be traced that he'd done that. If anyone finds out, it might not matter what he was talking about, it would be plenty of cause for reeducation.

"And I don't have any proof. That's some of what I'm looking for." He has to be wrong. There has to be another explanation. He can't help but hold out hope for that.

'Out of earshot' is no longer private enough, it seems. Where else--? They could go onto neutral territory together, she supposes. Safer, unless they were seen speaking by literally any uninvolved party. Shit.

She lets out a low breath, carrying a quiet curse. And seems to come to a decision. She puts two fingers in her mouth - briefly baring the sharp eyeteeth - and whistles another piercing signal, different from the one she'd given on his arrival.

There's no obvious change, but she listens a moment, head tilted, until whatever she hears in reply satisfies her. "Means fuck off," she says. "They'll pass it on. Stay down and away til I tell 'em it's good to move again." She jerks her head down the alley, resumes walking. "Come on. Unless you got a better place to take me."

She doesn't think she needs to say it: She's just paralyzed her backup. Should he decide she's a threat, there'll truly be no one close enough to help her. This better be good, de Luca.

"Gonna have to give me something," she goes on, keeping her voice low as she walks. "If you're asking us to help you dig up proof. Don't think you'd have come here if you didn't think it stood a good chance of being true."

He has to trust her. His whole self revolts against it, from the tight feeling in his stomach to the slight pounding of his head, but Dominic had decided it was worth it when he decided to go to her. The most likely worst thing would be her signaling to her troops to kill him -- if he goes missing the Covenant will be able to change their security protocols faster than anyone can get the current ones from him -- and if he's right about his suspicions the consequences of not investigating could be much worse than his death.

And her trying to go the Covenant would be much more likely to end in her death than them believing her, besides which she has no incentive for that. It's why he's chosen her to come to, instead of any more traditional allies.

After a moment, his shoulder consciously relax a little, and his eyes meet hers.

"She'd expressed reservations about our mission, the last time I talked with her. Not because she trusted me," not given some of the names she'd called him, and her insistence that he was as 'pig-headedly stubborn as a man could come', "But I think she was expressing those reservations to most anyone who'd listen. It's unusual for a Covenant agent," to have those doubts, not to express them, as far as Dominic knows. "And maybe her doubts just made her sloppy, made her trust a monster -- someone -- she shouldn't have."

Dominic breaks eye contact, looks away. It's probably cruel of him to hope that that's the case, that it's that straightforward, but he does.

"No one's found a body yet." Which could mean she's been turned, or eaten, or just buried. Or could mean she's still alive somewhere. Dominic doesn't know.

Her people cross Covenant ground only at great need, and almost never alone. They've chosen ground for themselves that lets them hold an easy peace: Far away enough from hostile territory not to have to keep their hackles up day and night, small enough that even her ragged crew can make interlopers think twice about their chances of crossing unharmed.

Which is to say: Like hell would she go to the Covenant, whatever her told her. Sure, it'd worked out when they'd had a common enemy; but only because, for a brief time, her enemy's death had been more important to them than hers. That wasn't, like, a basis for healthy ongoing communication.

She can hear his heartbeat if she listens close, hear it rise and fall with the waves of his tension. She listens; her expression flattens at monster. She crosses her arms.

"Could be she just fucked off," she says flatly. "Could be she found the monstrous life better. Is that so unheard of?"

Dominic's eyes widen. The possibility of her leaving voluntarily for something like that hasn't even crossed his mind before now. It's not only unheard of, it's unthinkable.

He's thinking about it now. "I suppose that's something I'll keep my eyes open for." Not that he knows anyone outside the human population other than Murphy herself.

"If so, there will be others from the Covenant looking for her." It might be better if Dominic finds her first. He hates not knowing if he's being paranoid or realistic about it.

The look Murphy gives him is so unimpressed it crosses over into incredulous. "Which would seriously complicate my involvement. I'm not gonna take chances on running into more of you. One's enough."

The dim streetlight overhead throws odd shadows over her face as she looks up at him, makes her eyes stand out a little too bright. "I'm serious. You think it's possible? You think there's any chance she left willingly? If she fucked off on her own, I'll start asking around the clans, see if somebody's turned her recently. But if the Covenant's responsible-- what would they do with her? What do you people do with dissenters?"

She's thinking aloud, rapid-fire, but the questions are important. She's not sure precisely when she accepted the fact of her involvement as a given. Apparently that's happened, though.

A month or two ago, Dominic might have said that the Covenant had no dissenters. After all, what could there be to dissent from? They had a cause, and he'd believed it to be a holy one. He still felt slightly sick, to think of doubting it.

And yet he knew that it wasn't as simple as that.

"I think that generally they'd work to convince her of the error of her ways. If she shows up in a couple of months, back to believing in the cause, that's what they do." How is something he's trying to think about now, but would also rather not find out for himself.

Without coffee, none of this would be possible. One could even say that the Covenant of St. George runs on coffee, what with having to keep up with day jobs and secret knowledge and late nights and early mornings.

If that's true, though, then the Covenant of St. George runs on Starbucks.

Dominic does not, and he's slipped away from the rest of his group to find his own coffee in this much less crowded shop. In the time they wait in line, he can get his coffee in something other than a to-go cup and find a spot at the table to sip it in mostly-peace.

Mostly.

Harry has laid claim to a quiet corner of the coffee shop and is currently buried in a book and chewing on the end of a pen. Periodically, he bites the cap off and makes a note in the book. Yes, he's one of those people.

Someone nearby scoffs and decides to interrupt his reading with some 'helpful' advice, "You should respect books more and not deface them."

Dominic has noticed Harry in the past. He keeps to himself and doesn't bother anyone, and it's not like he's marking up a first edition Shakespeare or religious text, as far as Dominic has been able to tell. He certainly doesn't interrupt others at their work, so Dominic decides to take his coffee to this stranger, to join him at his table to cut off the other person.

"There you are. I almost didn't see you." Now Harry is not a captive audience for whoever wants to scold him.

"And yet, here, I am." Harry catches on quickly enough and moves so that it's clear he's happy to have Dominic sit with him. He can't promise scintillating conversation, but he will mark his page and close his book for at least a little while.

"How've you been?"

Only now does it occur to Dominic that he's not quite sure what to do from here, not quite sure how to have a casual conversation. He's trying, for the most part, but that's really all that can be said.

"Enjoying the coffee. It's very...caffeinated. Not a complaint. Actually it's just about the perfect level of caffeinated."

Edited 2018-12-30 00:18 (UTC)

Before I go to heaven, I gotta park my bike

Alec - space

Nyxnissa so Dasheem - coffeeshop

Dominic De Luca - boyband

Kai Gracen - spy

Ryder - teacher

Sol Badguy - angel

I don't know what angel!Sol looks like so I put him in the other room

like himself + wings as described

awesome, coolio, thank you

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sorry, time got away from me for a while there

Closed for Murphy - continuation

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For Harry

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