Fried food can kill me. A mugger can kill me. You're not so special down here.

[trumpeted]

[ n a m e ; ]	Gabriel (formerly the archangel)
[ c a n o n ; ]	The Prophecy films
[ g a m e ; ]	Bein' weird @ teleios

{ ACTION / NETWORK / VOICE / WHATEVER WELCOME }

Comments

[trumpeted]

There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number.

[He's not going to eat her. He's never been particularly interested in eating people. There's way more interesting and pleasant stuff to eat down here, anyway. Like donuts.]

It's nice to hear it anyway.

[He's a little bit of a douchebag, sometimes.]

[irlhero]

Less Bible, more like all of the fun and inevitable fear of failure you get playing Call of Cthulhu without the fun and the playing. Think crunchy evil corporation shell and creamy human-devouring shapeshifter center.

[She leans forward and rests her elbows on the table.]

But that's enough about Leviathans. What's your schtick?

[trumpeted]

[If it ain't a great and terrible sea-beat whose salted flesh will be served unto the righteous, it ain't Leviathan, in his book, which is to say the Book, but he can do without arguing over semantics.]

What makes you think I got a schtick?

[irlhero]

[Ew. Just ew. The poor righteous.]

You know my name, you're all enigmatic and guru-y. You've got to have a schtick.

[trumpeted]

[Look it up, the Righteous have a tough gig. There's a good bit of suffering for them, too. It's not for nothing that the meek inherit the earth, they oughta get some reward in the end.

He gives her a funny little smile, like he can't quite suppress it.]

I play the trumpet down the block.

[irlhero]

[Then fuck being meek, bro.]

So you're, what? A psychic, trumpet-playing hobo? [That sounds relatively harmless, but psychic doesn't feel right.] C'mon, really. What are you? Twenty Questions is my least favorite game ever.

[trumpeted]

I just have a long memory.

[Fuck being meek, sure, but you know what they say about pride and where it goeth. Ask Gabriel about that one. Pride is a fall.]

I am what you see before you. [The question is what he was.] What, you need to see my I.D.?

[irlhero]

Riiiight. And you remember meeting me before I was born.

[THAT IS NOT A THING PEOPLE DO.]

I don't need to see your identification. You're definitely not the droid I'm looking for. But how did we meet?

[trumpeted]

I get around. I used to,

[he amends, leaning back, still amused.]

You know, He doesn't deal in absolutes, not often. Things aren't... written in stone, but you can get an idea. A little sense of the possibility waiting in a soul. Fresh off the tree. Every one of 'em.

[And then easily he shrugs.]

Or maybe I'm nuts.

[irlhero]

Is that He with a capital H? Like God He? Morgan Freeman He?

[She doesn't know what to think. Dismissing him as crazy would've been a lot easier before she met the Winchesters.]

I'm not big into God, bit I do recall Gabriel being one of the important angels. I know some guys who met him, actually. He died... y'know, in that universe.

[trumpeted]

Who's Morgan Freeman?

[Since his career change he hasn't really had the time or means to explore that much entertainment, and prior to that he'd dismissed the bulk of monkey culture. He likes music, all that takes is a radio.]

Pretty important. [Neither confirming nor denying. Just a theological point. You seem like a smart girl, though.] Nothing's ever that clean and neat.

[irlhero]

Dude, are you for real?

[How can he not know who Morgan Freeman is? He's obviously not right in the head.]

You really are nuts.

[trumpeted]

I'm not nuts.

[He leans in a little.]

The countless generations of your ancestors who've trickled past me like sand through an hourglass... sometimes you don't see the trees for the forest, kid.