Shards (Mythklok, Chapter 25)
Jan. 19th, 2011 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Shards (Mythklok, Chapter 25)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brandy and a disappearance
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking, possible character ... something.
Notes: This is part 5 of a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
capslokdethklok.
It ams my birthday. So here ams my brutal present to YOU! <3 <3 <3
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap: with Skanda's complicity, the angels murdered one of Our Heroes. Last time, Pickles and Skwisgaar identified the one who gave the order, Archangel Raphael, and Charles blew him up in a volcano. Ha! That'll teach him! And they averted an all out war between earth and the Legion. Yay! Unfortunately, the murdered person is still dead, and Charles is not handling this well.
Shards (Mythklok, Chapter 25)
Pickles led Nathan across the grounds at Mordland. "I usually jist bring a Klokateer," he explained.
"I need to see," Nathan commented. They came to the small graveyard. Pickles opened the gate on the low metal fence, and they stepped inside.
There was a bottle of brandy, mostly empty. He was sprawled over the grave - Charles - apparently passed out. Pickles knelt down. "Yeh, he's still breathin' at least."
Nathan crouched beside Pickles.
"I've told da Klokateers t' watch dis place, but den he'll jist order dem t' stand down, I guess," the drummer explained.
Nathan stared for a time. "Should we get him back?"
"Yeah, he's passed out, should be OK. When he's still conscious, he'll put up a fight sometimes."
"Sometimes? How often does he fucking do this?"
"Couple times a week. Maybe… Actually, maybe more."
Nathan picked up the unconscious angel and easily slung him over one shoulder. He weighed nothing. Like an empty shell.
They sat in Charles' office, Nathan somewhat uncomfortably behind his desk, though more comfortably than in the past. He stared over his reading glasses. “I’ve been looking through some of his numbers. We’re OK. We’re making a lot of money. Everything’s been going really well.”
"It's what I've been tryin' t' tell ya, he's jist goin' through th' motions now: it’s jist dere ain't no dere dere no more."
“Why didn’t you call me back from Brazil?”
“Nothin’ yoo doods could do, I figured.”
Nathan was fiddling with one of Charles' pencils. "You talked to Lady Raz?"
"She ain't ever seen him like dis, an' she's known him since da universe began or whatever. We t'ought maybe he'd get better, but he seems t' be gettin' worse."
"Has she been down here?"
"Yeh, but, not in da past couple weeks I t'ink. She's got ... shy or somet'ing about comin' down?" It seemed odd to use a word like "shy" in connection with Lady Raziel.
"Isn't he like immortal and shit?"
"Yeh, but, yoo know I see, like, spirits now?"
Nathan nodded. It sounded like gobbledygook, but Pickles could also do weird magic shit. He had appeared, seemingly out of thin air, in the recording studio in Brazil last week, cranked out a drum solo, and then disappeared. It was sort of awesome. Creepy as hell, but awesome.
"It’s beginnin’ t’ look like his spirit took a walk or somethin'," Pickles was saying.
"Is there anyone else we could ask?"
"Dere might be one guy."
The golden airship was the most beautiful thing in the sky.
The Dreamtime sky.
Pickles walked around the railing, not mindful for once of the orange-green skies of sunset.
Aaron was at his usual place, hanging over the railing, enjoying the flying spinner dolphins as they leapt through the sky. "Hi, Pickles!" he called.
Pickles stood silently and watched for a time. "I need t' see somethin' today."
"You wanna go to that scary place again?" Aaron asked, a slight frown passing his painfully young features.
Pickles was back in that room. The one he had been in with Raziel during her spirit walk. It looked like a painter's studio. There weren't any angels this time though.
The guy, the one Raziel referred to as the Creator, was there. And a woman. He had taken her for Raziel the fist time he had seen this drama play out. But it wasn't Raziel. The woman shared her dark coloring, and there was some resemblance of their faces. But this woman was taller and slimmer. And quite frankly, she was beautiful. Raz was very pretty, and she had that weird angel magic. But this woman - she was gorgeous.
She was kneeling on the floor - that was why it had been difficult to tell her height. And she had one arm thrown up, as if to protect herself from the Creator. He seemed angry beyond words.
She said something to him, in the angel language. And then he said something back. His tone was chilling.
And then he loomed over her, seeming to grow bigger. Until his body blocked out all the light.
And then.... Something very terrible happened then. But Pickles wasn't sure what, because he always got knocked out of the room at about this time.
He walked the deck of his airship, feeling sick and empty. He needed someone to come with him maybe, to tell him what the people were saying. Maybe Raziel?
Aaron stood out on the deck. Pickles moodily came to stand beside him.
Pickles felt a chill pass through his body. He shuddered involuntarily. When that would happen, when he was a kid, his mom used to say, there's someone stepping over your grave.
"Did you feel it?" Aaron asked.
Pickles nodded uncertainly.
"A spirit is passing between worlds," Aaron told him, smiling.
Pickles did not smile in return.
At Valhalla, Lady Raziel abruptly sat up in bed. "Husband," she said, grabbing Wotan's shoulder.
Pickles stepped back into his room from the Dreamtime. He wished he could understand what the angels were saying. Assuming those two were angels. He wanted to remember, so he could at least tell Charles, but his mouth didn’t even seem to be able to form the words.
He made his way to Charles’ room. He was hoping to find him asleep there. That was the easiest thing. He could just slip into the bed, and encircle him for a few hours. It was like trying to restrain something weightless from floating off, and it wasn't just Charles' terrible thinness.
But, Charles rarely seemed to sleep any more. More likely he would be sitting on the floor near the end of the bed, smoking. And there would be that cough he refused to get checked. Maybe, after a bit of coaxing or threatening, he could be convinced to lie down for an hour or two.
Pickles opened the door.
The bed was empty. The room was empty.
He was out the door, running down the hall.
It was raining.
It really wasn't much trouble to elude the Klokateers Pickles had set to watch him. Just a bit of misdirection would usually do it. He made a note to change the training paradigm for security forces. There would be a memo. It wasn't hard to run things, really. Not after all these years. They sort of ran themselves.
He had a job, a sacred responsibility; really, if anything in the world could rightfully be called sacred. And he wouldn't abandon that responsibility, not while there was breath left in his body. Even if that was really the only thing left in this pitiful body. He had neglected himself before, but, he was forced to admit, this was probably the worst he had ever done. He neither ate nor slept any more. Sometimes, after the consumption of sufficient amounts of alcohol, he would pass out for a short, sweet time. But then he would wake, and be back to all the rawness that was his existence. So, he worked. And he mourned.
Breath. It was getting more difficult. Almost not worth the effort. Maybe at last his spirit would finally shake free of this body, and the whole breathing thing would be moot. Maybe it would be for the best. Raziel had given her vow. Asgard would then take over the boys. She could probably do a better job than he ever had of protecting them. And he would at last be free to wander. Maybe he could fly and find Ganesh. But, maybe not. Maybe his fate was to be a solitary spirit.
He had made his way to the cemetery grounds, lost in thought. The remains of Ganesh's broken body lay some feet beneath this ground. He would go lie here now himself, on the freshly cut grass. It wasn't anything like being in his presence. There wasn't the delicious smell, or the feel of his skin, his pleasant laugh, or the funny smile that seemed too big for his face. He had smiled a lot, in life.
It was too cruel to remember.
That was OK. He had brandy. Soon he wouldn't remember very much at all.
But he saw he hadn't eluded the Klokateers after all. There was one standing by the grave in the rain. A tall one.
Ofdensen drew closer. He had already formulated a plan. He would congratulate the guy, get his number, and then knock him the fuck unconscious so he could get on with what needed to be done.
But it was not a Klokateer.
The brandy bottle was inside a paper bag, so the crash when he dropped it on the stony ground was muffled. The brown paper bag soaked up clear rain water and amber booze.
He couldn't speak for a long minute. And then he forced out the words. "Please," he said. "I know you're not.... Please.... Please, let me believe. Even for a few seconds...." And then he ran out of words.
The tall figure embraced him. And then there was nothing at the grave site - nothing but shards of a broken brandy bottle.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brandy and a disappearance
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking, possible character ... something.
Notes: This is part 5 of a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to
capslokdethklok.It ams my birthday. So here ams my brutal present to YOU! <3 <3 <3
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.A quick recap: with Skanda's complicity, the angels murdered one of Our Heroes. Last time, Pickles and Skwisgaar identified the one who gave the order, Archangel Raphael, and Charles blew him up in a volcano. Ha! That'll teach him! And they averted an all out war between earth and the Legion. Yay! Unfortunately, the murdered person is still dead, and Charles is not handling this well.
Shards (Mythklok, Chapter 25)
Pickles led Nathan across the grounds at Mordland. "I usually jist bring a Klokateer," he explained.
"I need to see," Nathan commented. They came to the small graveyard. Pickles opened the gate on the low metal fence, and they stepped inside.
There was a bottle of brandy, mostly empty. He was sprawled over the grave - Charles - apparently passed out. Pickles knelt down. "Yeh, he's still breathin' at least."
Nathan crouched beside Pickles.
"I've told da Klokateers t' watch dis place, but den he'll jist order dem t' stand down, I guess," the drummer explained.
Nathan stared for a time. "Should we get him back?"
"Yeah, he's passed out, should be OK. When he's still conscious, he'll put up a fight sometimes."
"Sometimes? How often does he fucking do this?"
"Couple times a week. Maybe… Actually, maybe more."
Nathan picked up the unconscious angel and easily slung him over one shoulder. He weighed nothing. Like an empty shell.
They sat in Charles' office, Nathan somewhat uncomfortably behind his desk, though more comfortably than in the past. He stared over his reading glasses. “I’ve been looking through some of his numbers. We’re OK. We’re making a lot of money. Everything’s been going really well.”
"It's what I've been tryin' t' tell ya, he's jist goin' through th' motions now: it’s jist dere ain't no dere dere no more."
“Why didn’t you call me back from Brazil?”
“Nothin’ yoo doods could do, I figured.”
Nathan was fiddling with one of Charles' pencils. "You talked to Lady Raz?"
"She ain't ever seen him like dis, an' she's known him since da universe began or whatever. We t'ought maybe he'd get better, but he seems t' be gettin' worse."
"Has she been down here?"
"Yeh, but, not in da past couple weeks I t'ink. She's got ... shy or somet'ing about comin' down?" It seemed odd to use a word like "shy" in connection with Lady Raziel.
"Isn't he like immortal and shit?"
"Yeh, but, yoo know I see, like, spirits now?"
Nathan nodded. It sounded like gobbledygook, but Pickles could also do weird magic shit. He had appeared, seemingly out of thin air, in the recording studio in Brazil last week, cranked out a drum solo, and then disappeared. It was sort of awesome. Creepy as hell, but awesome.
"It’s beginnin’ t’ look like his spirit took a walk or somethin'," Pickles was saying.
"Is there anyone else we could ask?"
"Dere might be one guy."
The golden airship was the most beautiful thing in the sky.
The Dreamtime sky.
Pickles walked around the railing, not mindful for once of the orange-green skies of sunset.
Aaron was at his usual place, hanging over the railing, enjoying the flying spinner dolphins as they leapt through the sky. "Hi, Pickles!" he called.
Pickles stood silently and watched for a time. "I need t' see somethin' today."
"You wanna go to that scary place again?" Aaron asked, a slight frown passing his painfully young features.
Pickles was back in that room. The one he had been in with Raziel during her spirit walk. It looked like a painter's studio. There weren't any angels this time though.
The guy, the one Raziel referred to as the Creator, was there. And a woman. He had taken her for Raziel the fist time he had seen this drama play out. But it wasn't Raziel. The woman shared her dark coloring, and there was some resemblance of their faces. But this woman was taller and slimmer. And quite frankly, she was beautiful. Raz was very pretty, and she had that weird angel magic. But this woman - she was gorgeous.
She was kneeling on the floor - that was why it had been difficult to tell her height. And she had one arm thrown up, as if to protect herself from the Creator. He seemed angry beyond words.
She said something to him, in the angel language. And then he said something back. His tone was chilling.
And then he loomed over her, seeming to grow bigger. Until his body blocked out all the light.
And then.... Something very terrible happened then. But Pickles wasn't sure what, because he always got knocked out of the room at about this time.
He walked the deck of his airship, feeling sick and empty. He needed someone to come with him maybe, to tell him what the people were saying. Maybe Raziel?
Aaron stood out on the deck. Pickles moodily came to stand beside him.
Pickles felt a chill pass through his body. He shuddered involuntarily. When that would happen, when he was a kid, his mom used to say, there's someone stepping over your grave.
"Did you feel it?" Aaron asked.
Pickles nodded uncertainly.
"A spirit is passing between worlds," Aaron told him, smiling.
Pickles did not smile in return.
At Valhalla, Lady Raziel abruptly sat up in bed. "Husband," she said, grabbing Wotan's shoulder.
Pickles stepped back into his room from the Dreamtime. He wished he could understand what the angels were saying. Assuming those two were angels. He wanted to remember, so he could at least tell Charles, but his mouth didn’t even seem to be able to form the words.
He made his way to Charles’ room. He was hoping to find him asleep there. That was the easiest thing. He could just slip into the bed, and encircle him for a few hours. It was like trying to restrain something weightless from floating off, and it wasn't just Charles' terrible thinness.
But, Charles rarely seemed to sleep any more. More likely he would be sitting on the floor near the end of the bed, smoking. And there would be that cough he refused to get checked. Maybe, after a bit of coaxing or threatening, he could be convinced to lie down for an hour or two.
Pickles opened the door.
The bed was empty. The room was empty.
He was out the door, running down the hall.
It was raining.
It really wasn't much trouble to elude the Klokateers Pickles had set to watch him. Just a bit of misdirection would usually do it. He made a note to change the training paradigm for security forces. There would be a memo. It wasn't hard to run things, really. Not after all these years. They sort of ran themselves.
He had a job, a sacred responsibility; really, if anything in the world could rightfully be called sacred. And he wouldn't abandon that responsibility, not while there was breath left in his body. Even if that was really the only thing left in this pitiful body. He had neglected himself before, but, he was forced to admit, this was probably the worst he had ever done. He neither ate nor slept any more. Sometimes, after the consumption of sufficient amounts of alcohol, he would pass out for a short, sweet time. But then he would wake, and be back to all the rawness that was his existence. So, he worked. And he mourned.
Breath. It was getting more difficult. Almost not worth the effort. Maybe at last his spirit would finally shake free of this body, and the whole breathing thing would be moot. Maybe it would be for the best. Raziel had given her vow. Asgard would then take over the boys. She could probably do a better job than he ever had of protecting them. And he would at last be free to wander. Maybe he could fly and find Ganesh. But, maybe not. Maybe his fate was to be a solitary spirit.
He had made his way to the cemetery grounds, lost in thought. The remains of Ganesh's broken body lay some feet beneath this ground. He would go lie here now himself, on the freshly cut grass. It wasn't anything like being in his presence. There wasn't the delicious smell, or the feel of his skin, his pleasant laugh, or the funny smile that seemed too big for his face. He had smiled a lot, in life.
It was too cruel to remember.
That was OK. He had brandy. Soon he wouldn't remember very much at all.
But he saw he hadn't eluded the Klokateers after all. There was one standing by the grave in the rain. A tall one.
Ofdensen drew closer. He had already formulated a plan. He would congratulate the guy, get his number, and then knock him the fuck unconscious so he could get on with what needed to be done.
But it was not a Klokateer.
The brandy bottle was inside a paper bag, so the crash when he dropped it on the stony ground was muffled. The brown paper bag soaked up clear rain water and amber booze.
He couldn't speak for a long minute. And then he forced out the words. "Please," he said. "I know you're not.... Please.... Please, let me believe. Even for a few seconds...." And then he ran out of words.
The tall figure embraced him. And then there was nothing at the grave site - nothing but shards of a broken brandy bottle.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 07:34 pm (UTC)At first I thought Nathan, but the reaction is all wrong. Unless you've made Ganesh undead, but how would that even work? (Was Ganesh tall? Somehow I can't remember...)
oh, and have a good birthday.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 08:29 pm (UTC)Curious about the woman in Pickles's vision, too.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 09:09 pm (UTC)(Oh, yeah, of course I do. Ha.) :D
oh, and have a good birthday.
Thanks! I plan to hit more stuff with a rubber mallet.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 09:10 pm (UTC)That one is for the next arc. So, you know, BE PAAATIEEEENT. :D (Maybe I'll go hit Selatcia with my rubber mallet.)
Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 09:11 pm (UTC)I plan to drink wine and hit stuff with a rubber mallet.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
*LULZ*
I told you you'd wanna kill me. :D
Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 09:15 pm (UTC)Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 09:16 pm (UTC)Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 09:21 pm (UTC)Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Date: 2011-01-19 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 10:09 pm (UTC)Oh, and also... HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D (Meant to say that in my previous post. YOUR EPIC CLIFFHANGER, IT DONE DROVE OUT ALMOST EVERYTHING ELSE FROM MY MIND, METHINKS.)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-19 10:36 pm (UTC)I wanna hear Selatcia going "POOKS!"
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 12:52 am (UTC)I LOVE THIS FIC! Seeing it being posted is like, the bright spot in my day.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 01:38 am (UTC)*is evil*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 04:13 am (UTC)1) Dimneld Selfkark developed a cough before he died;
2) Whatsertoes, the terminally ill girl was coughing before she died;
3) Aslaug was coughing right before he died;
4) Toki's real cool cat had a cough, then he hamburger timed;
5) Charles has now developed a cough...
CAN THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES??!
I think - that the person who absconded with Charles was the God of Death, or Angel of Death, as you will. And he looks like Toki.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 06:52 am (UTC)PLEASE tell me why you are reading MY fic and I am not reading YOUR fic. Because, damn.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 03:38 am (UTC)So that's why I am reading YOUR fic and not writing on MY fic. Though I do have to finish it for Hearts and Guts, so there's that.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 11:22 pm (UTC)When I first finished this, I was happy, thinking oh, goody, that's a great reverse birthday present. But then after reading some of the other comments, I sobered a bit. Pickles and Raziel are NOT happy. Then again, Aaron didn't speciify a direction, did he?
(I know you've already posted the next chapter, but I kind of was trying to save it as a reward for actually accomplishing anything productive today .)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-22 12:50 am (UTC)I had a good bday. I hit my shelving units with a rubber mallet and drank wine.
Then again, Aaron didn't speciify a direction, did he?
Hee. Good eye.