lifeaftr | [OPEN and one closed prompt] A very backdated arrival

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[OPEN and one closed prompt] A very backdated arrival

Who: Aziraphale & anyone else!
What: An angel arrives to the archipelago and is extremely confused. Plus a bit of exploration
When: October 27th - November 4th
Where: Mostly Ensō
Warnings: Stress and confusion

ARRIVAL [Closed, for Crowley]
Beach holidays are lovely in concept. The sun, the sea, the sand, all the good marks of a nice time, should the weather permit it.

What is not so lovely, however, is finding yourself, alarmingly, somewhere where you're not supposed to be. Somewhere where you definitely were not just moments--hours-days-- hold on just a moment. He doesn't even quite remember ever settling down or in any way losing consciousness. Which, you know, wouldn't make this whole situation any less cause for alarm, but it would be somewhere to start.

He's stepping through the damp sand, holding, in his hands, a knapsack that, for some reason, has his name embroidered on it. The items inside do nothing to answer any questions, and he's looking around every which way.

Something about this place is...different. Something feels strange - well, all of it is strange -, and he can't quite put his finger on it. What on Earth did he get himself into?

"Hello?" He calls out, somewhat nervously.

STORYTELLER'S TEMPLE & MANA POOL
The day after his arrival, he sets off to have a look around. This particular building easily catches his eye - hard to miss the structure in the island as is, but there's something else about it. Something-- oh, darn it. Yet another thing he can't quite comprehend, and it's entirely frustrating in an already confusing and stressful situation.

For a few hours, this strangely dressed humanshaped being walks around the temple, examining its structure. He can be found stopping at times, seemingly focused on something, although it doesn't quite seem to be whatever piece of stone or mark on the wall his eyes are landing on.

And then, there's the mana pool; he stands at the edge of it, staring into the water intently.

This place, it's...

What is this?

DENNY
Well, this is...something.

The small gathering of buildings make things feel a little bit more-- hopeful, in some strange sense of the word. Somewhere where one can expect more inhabitants to show up, he would assume, and where he could perhaps get some answers.

Steps into the mess hall and he notices, right away, the effort that must have taken to put this sort of place together. He also notices, immediately, how he must entirely stand out in a place like this. Still, it feels cozy and lively in here. Yes, this is not too shabby at all.

Regardless, he steps quietly along the room, rubbing one of his thumbs into the palm of his other hand.

As soon as he spots someone, he steps to them a bit quicker, clearing his throat to make himself known. Tone light and polite, he addresses them with a smile, if a bit awkwardly:

"Pardon me. I do apologize for my intrusion, but could I take a moment of your time?"

LIBRARY
A library! Oh, of course, a library. He'd find himself soothed if it were not for the lack of, well, most things he'd say were necessary to establish a library of proper quality and structure, but it's a start. He has to assume that there isn't necessarily an abundance of resources in a place such as this.

Still, it warms his little nervous heart, as well as give him some hope to find some proper information about their situation.

He approaches one of the shelves, a dainty finger held up as he looks along the book spines to find...well, he's not sure what he finds. He shouldn't have exactly expected anything to stand out to him specifically, but maybe he could-

The angel looks around, looking for some sort of curator or some sort of keeper. Much like in the mess hall, he approaches the first person he sees with a polite and slightly awkward smile.

"Excuse me. Could you tell me, is anyone in charge of this establishment?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It isn't just that Crowley doesn't know the rules. His own don't apply. He almost doesn't even feel himself, having lost the ability to operate per normal after millennia of being used to certain conveniences. Others might not sympathize, but Crowley was proud of himself for holding it together as well as he was.

Crowley follows, testing the ground a bit before stepping onto it. It doesn't burn, which is a plus. "Then we should find the entrance, find some answers."

"Yes." He's right. Whatever this building is, he's sure they'll get a better sense of it inside.

So he goes along the wall, denoting the lack of people around. But, if what he's feeling is correct, this spot is not abandoned, by any means. Unless something happened, very suddenly, and very quickly. Which, as they may prove by virtue of being here, is entirely possible.

While they don't find the entrance just yet, the angel stops when he sees...a puddle? A pool, nearby, surrounded by flowers. And, right then, it also feels like a lot more than meets the eye. He could swear that, in some way, it almost calls to him.

The pool catches Crowley's attention as well, although he isn't certain why. Shivers run down his spine, and he shakes it off; his senses are overwhelmed and it's only natual to feel unease by it.

After a moment of hesitation, Crowley steps closer to investigate. The area around the pool certainly feels a bit odd, but in a way, refreshing. He can't explain it, which inly makes him more irritated.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, already tired of repeat questions. He should just assume at this point that the angel is having the very same sensory overload and move on, but really, until they get inside that structure and find some answers, he's not certain of anything.

"We shouldn't get distracted... this might be a trap."

The angel watches him approach the pool, stepping forward after nothing seems to happen. Looking here and there and everywhere around him, his brow is furrowed in curiosity and confusion. This place feels overwhelmingly...important. For many, many reasons, muddled into each other, with an grander layer of something much more particular.

He steps up beside the demon, hands held together in front of him, looking at the water, narrowing his eyes at it. But then, he straightens up and raises his brows. With a faint shimmy of his shoulders, he could swear he feels a little better, in some way.

"I doesn't...feel like a trap." But good traps never do.

Crowley watches the angel with a level of intrigue, noticing the way his posture changed. They were definitely feeling the same things, if that was any indication, but Crowley still felt weird about it. Paranoid, slightly, that nothing they stumbled upon would be any good in this place.

"Let's head inside. Keep your wits about." he muttered, leaving the angel's side to find the entrance. Surely, if they followed the stone wall, there would be one.

"Right." The demon can't really be blamed for his suspicion. He's always been more careful than the angel, and it's mostly served to keep them both safe. A healthy level of paranoia should be expected when you find yourself somewhere you, by all accounts, should not be.

He follows Crowley along the wall. Upon turning the corner, the small object in front of the entrance immediately sticks out to him, so out of place as it is.

"Is that a child's toy?"

Crowley has taken the lead, prepared to strike anything that should threaten harm to the angel with, well, whatever object is at his disposal should it happen. It takes a moment for them to get closer to the object for Crowley to recognize it as a rabbit. He was just thinking about rabbits... he thinks, maybe...

"I think I dreamt of a rabbit." he says, coming to a realization.

Aziraphale follows along, staring down at the stuffed rabbit with about as much confusion as he did the pool. He immediately looks up when Crowley mentions his dream, staring.

"Huh." His own dream comes to him in flashes and lines, gradually. "I believe I did, too."

Crowley peers at the angel out the side of his eyes, an eyebrow peaking as he tilts his head toward him. "Since when do you sleep?" he scoffs, ignoring the rabbit for a moment to circle Aziraphale instead, re-situating himself on the angel's left side, glaring him down.

Aziraphale dreaming of rabbits was interesting for many reasons, so interesting that whatever was inside of that building might have to wait.

Now that's a good question. He furrows his brows in though, staring down at the stuffed toy for a moment.

"I don't." He looks at Crowley again. "I don't remember anything after- the Ritz."

Were they sharing dreams now? That would be embarrassing, if it happened more frequently. Crowley looks over the angel quizzically.

"What did the rabbit do?" he asked, trying to remember himself, "In your dream."

The idea of shared dreams doesn't quite occur to him, simply settling into extreme confusion, like he didn't already have enough to spare.

"It...spoke." He tries to remember. "About stories."

"That's right..."

Crowley squinted off into the trees, trying to remember more, himself. His head snapped back to Aziraphale quickly, just a moment later.

"Was that not a dream, then? Did that happen to us?"

The angel stares and falters. It's difficult, and rather frustrating, to find yourself in a situation so...alien? Something so sudden, so strange. Within all the years, centuries, eons, he's never had something like this happen and he's trying incredibly hard to stay calm about it.

"What? A large rabbit speaking to us about our personal tales?" What could that even mean.

Crowley looks at Aziraphale nervously, his head turning back to stare at the stuffed rabbit at the entrance. It was definitely starting to come back to him, and the peculiarity of it, as Aziraphale clearly understood, was troubling.

"Do you think we should go inside?"

Aziraphale looks at the temple ruins with a healthy level of unease. There’s an overwhelming amount of emotion to this place, as well as that one presence he can’t recognize. This entire area is overwhelming to his senses, in part due to the unrecognizable element of it, which isn’t particularly encouraging.

Should he not be what it is, the whole thing would be giving him a heck of a headache.

“Well, we came all the way up here.” Although his tone isn't the most confident. “Might as well.” Right? implied by the look he gives the demon.

The angel's confidence (or lackthereof) doesn't sit right with him, but Crowley feels they have little choice. They either want answers or they don't. He nods, takes a deep breath, and then strolls inside, assuming Aziraphale will follow.

He isn't sure what he's feeling, but he does feel it. It's strange and makes the hair at the back of his neck stand straight. Luckily, Crowley thinks himself a rather good poker face, and any fear he may feel is masked away for none to see.

Perhaps it's the glasses that make Crowley's poker face so difficult to see through. Maybe it's the fact that the angel isn't the most observant creature out there. Or it may be that he's still trying to pick out all the things he feels emanating from this location, which only gets all the stronger when they step inside.

It doesn't feel...bad, per say. There is just a lot, of many, in here. A lot of emotion. A lot of care. A lot of people have been in here, in times of great distress. But there's the Other Thing, as well. Something that's well permeated into the walls. Something that belongs here.

"Never felt anything like this." Said less in awe and more in unease.

Crowley doesn't feel things the way that Aziraphale feels them. He feels shifts in energy, he smells the sulfur on the heels of other fiends from the pit. He smells the stinkingly sweet aroma when an angel is present (as opposed to the pleasant earthly musk Aziraphale has taken on). He can feel when there is a strong celestial energy approaching or when there is attention on him, but he lacks the empathic nature that Aziraphale has honed his skills on, and so all he feels inside of the stone walls are the Thing that he's sure Aziraphale keeps mentioning.

"Nor have I." he replies, almost whispering, every step he takes more careful than the last.

While whatever seems to belong here, whether that means making its home here or something else entirely, doesn't seem directly hostile, the fact that Aziraphale can't recognize it at all only serves to make him more nervous.

He walks along one of the inside walls, the only one that seems to be intact, touching his fingers to the stone as he goes around.

"It feels strangely...familiar. But not- " He purses his lips. Nothing he's ever felt before.

" This is much too strange. All of it."

Crowley's had about enough, they're not going to figure out what this thing is any faster, and considering it's power, Crowley's certain it's already aware of their presence. He heaves a heavy sigh, certain there's no sneaking up on it. Besides, he came here for answers, didn't he? Whatever this thing is, it should help them better understand why they were brought here, or so he thinks.

"We should make ourselves known, I think," he warns the angel, "We aren't exactly stealthy right now."

Aziraphale looks over at him, pulling his hand away from the wall. “Are you sure?”He has to ask, even though he imagines the answer is no. Crowley is right, however, that they are in no way being stealthy, and trying to change that now would probably be entirely useless.

He steps towards the center of the ruins, looking all around. There are other passages, deeper into temple, but he isn’t quite looking forward to getting themselves trapped on a place where they might not have any way to run.

“Do we just...call out?”

Crowley isn't really ever sure of anything, but that never truly stops him. He sighs, "Your guess is as good as mine." he mutters, stepping along the passageway and into the center, puttering around it for a moment as he thinis up a plan.

"Oi! Anyone home? We'd just like to talk."

Hands folded in front of him, Aziraphale looks around at the ruined temple, quiet, listening in for...well, anything at all. A voice. Steps. Any shift at all in the presence.

When nothing but the distant sounds of the ocean and whatever jungle birds exist out there answer Crowley's call, the angel flattens his lips.

"Well.

It appears they are not picking up."

Crowley wasn't feeling particularly patient, and the aggravation he felt was showing in his face and his movements.

"Of course they're not. Why would they." he replied, more of a statement than a question.

"We need answers... maybe we should split up. See what we can find and meet back here?"

[OPEN and one closed prompt] A very backdated arrival

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End!