uberboned | IC CONTACT POST

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[what] contact post

IC CONTACT POST

[A woman's voice comes over the line.]

You've reached the Trickster's voicemail. Unfortunately, Mr. Trickster isn't available to take your call, nor will he likely ever be. Should you still wish to leave a message, please respond after the tone, and maybe we'll remember to get it to him, mmkay?

[Beep]

[[OOC: This is an IC voicemail post for all verses games. Please put the name of the verse/game you want in the subject heading.]]

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If it's about him having breasts, I know. I've got 'em too. Mine are bigger.

[He is being unbearably curt, but decidedly less suspicious than he'd be if Lucifer and Michael were still here. He has no real beef with Mags, besides, well, Crowley.]

If I was worried about a good portion of the city spontaneously manifesting uncontrolled shapeshifting abilities, I would be blaming Sero putting something in the water, not calling you.

[Magneto, contrasted, just sounds worn and resigned, with an undertone of "company manners".]

Gabriel I only extremely rarely ask for help. Even when my life is at stake. I'm asking for a few moments of your time, because I'm concerned for my friend.

Blah, blah, blah. [Rudeness is a Gabriel way of life, apparently. A few seconds tick by and Gabriel sighs.]

Where are you? [Because Chuck is his friend too and he'd a little perturbed by all this.]

Sector Nine.

[He gives the address.]

Ninth floor, northeast quadrant.

My old home sweet home. [Or near it anyway.

He arrives at the exact location a few minutes later, dressed the same way he normally is, but otherwise... well, female, and not too concerned about it.]

Okay. Talk.

[This old building happens to have - or once had, and Magneto has since rebuilt it - and extremely ornate iron fire escape. He monkey bars on it, which is what he was doing while figuring out who to call, and then talking himself into it.

Magneto hasn't been affected, and doesn't even glance over Gabriel's different form. He does, however, look different - older, there's no doubt he's over fifty, his hands are bruised, knuckles torn, sporting at least one broken finger, more bruises than not under his clothing, scruffy in a way that's clear he hasn't shaved in several days, and looking like - trim aside - he hasn't had a hair cut in months - and in mechanic's chic, though he more than likely slept in them.]

Have you noticed anything...odd about Chuck? Just things not what you'd see in a human?

[Gabriel purses his lips and crosses his arms, only to frown when he realizes that doesn't work as well when you have impressively large knockers and fidgets for a second to find an appropriately nonchalant pause.] He's a Prophet. That's... Pretty much it.

[Magneto wants to give Gabriel the best version on his line face. Instead he does his best to keep a neutral expression.]

And is it normal for Prophets to become as emotionally attached to those they have visions of? Not that he seems as emotionally invested in the Winchesters as he is every single one of the angels. Speaking of - Gabriel I've never met a Human who can remember details the way he does. Psychics yes, but they aren't Human.

Not to mention I've seen him blow out the lights worse than Castiel ever did. Or punch a hole through a steel beam and have only a sprained wrist to show for it.

[He shakes his head, speaking a little quickly. This is bothering him, clearly.]

He killed Anna - which all right. Some one with combat training might have been able to do that - but how many times has that every happened? And then he walked - WALKED! - through the Darkness, without a mark on him.

[He stands up, pulling his right sleeve up, showing various healing bruises.]

I can't pull that off! And not to put too fine a point on it, I'm a great deal more durable than a Human is.

[He huffs out a breath.]

And...there's a couple other things.

[Gabriel stays silent for all of that, just listening, not interjecting, until he's finally finished, after which he starts ticking off on his fingers.] No, but this is the 21st century and he's a writer. Writers are insane. Prophets get fed bullshit by angels all the time. I didn't say he was human- I said he was a Prophet. They're your basic human on holy brain steroids.

[Except he's starting to doubt. This is all the self-justification he's fed himself to avoid thinking about any of it too much, but it adds up, except he'd know. He would know if Chuck wasn't human.]

Oh, great. More things. Keep going. I'm running out of bullshit answers.

[He's been doubting for a long time now.]

You weren't around for that Shadow thing where you?

Chuck broke his TV and one came out. I had to pull him away from it and lock down part of the House. It was the same one that went after Anna and Lucifer.

[The God Shadow. And a testament to just how much Magneto had been terrified that he still pales a little on the topic.]

And then there were the snowglobes.

[He raised a hand to his face, rubbing his nose.]

I can explain away the Garden in it, sort of, if he saw it is his writing, but why did it look like one I had seen? One he's never heard of? Why was there a Throne Room, with a golden Throne, a scorch mark on the floor, and a golden horn? Why was there a light so bright it hurt? And hot enough that it was uncomfortable - when neither light nor heat can bother me?

[Never mind how Magneto managed to actually look long enough to see that. Or that he'd ended up in a lot of pain after.]

I don't remember. Probably not, though. [He might have been on his honeymoon. Go figure. Gabriel fidgets uncomfortably and tries to logic his way out of this, but finds nothing. He never noticed. Angels don't bother with the minute details of human life like that, so why bother looking closer.]

So what's your theory, exactly? And how the hell has he been keeping it from us? He can't be an angel- we'd know.

Are you sure? I mean - it seemed like no one knew were Anna was for a while?

[That was how he understood it, but he could have been wrong.]

Peter certainly thought he was hiding something. You had to come rescue him from that, what did you think he was trying to do to Chuck? And the first time I ended up stitching Castiel up - he was saying something to Chuck in Enochian, Chuck laughed about it. There was also this dream he had...

[SLAM mental brakes. No, no, no, he wasn't talking about that with Gabriel.]

Until she started getting visions of angels and telekinesis. She was full human, with the barest traces of Grace. What you're saying about Chuck would've sent off warning bells from here to a tiny telephone in Shedd, Oregon.

[Gabriel massages his temples.] I dunno. A secret love of furry porn? You don't get it- we would know. Dead languages and... Things that could just be explained by the damn city don't mean anything.

[Oh now you've done it.] What dream?

A dream he had about a year ago.

[DODGE. DODGE.]

This isn't explained just by the city Gabriel. There's something just not right about this.

Oh, that explains everything. [ACTUAL WORST RN.]

Right. Something that four archangels haven't noticed. 'Cause that makes sense.

Last October Gabriel. After the nurses threw both him and I out. When that telepath was pulling others into other people's dreams.

[After Jinx miscarried. Do you really want details Gabriel?]

You weren't looking were you? And after he trapped Lucifer in Holy Fire -

[He can't quite keep the 'THE FUCK' look off his face over that one, still.]

he avoided him, Michael had his hands pretty full, add in the angel proofing and would you notice?

[Gabriel promptly shuts up about that.] But I'm always around him. I don't just...

[Except he does. He doesn't dig. He doesn't pry. He doesn't care. If Chuck's meant to be a prophet, then why bother paying too much attention to it and Chuck's never done anything weird around him. It was always easy to ignore or brush off.

He stands there stricken for a second and then shakes his head, slipping back into a flippant mask.] I think I'm gonna go now. Good luck with your conspiracy, though.

[Oh thank someone. He may want to see if he can leave bruises on Gabriel but that's a level of causing pain he doesn't want to do.

Not that he doesn't note the look.]

I've said my piece. Just-

Keep an eye on him, all right?

[It was said flat, like he meant it as statement, but tense enough to be something close to a plea.]

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