Field Mission 5: Il Prigioniero, Part 1

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There was a theme park in Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop #7: The Carnival Caper. Sirs, I gotta say, I liked that one a whole lot better. NAVIGATION Click here for the RNG thread! 1. IL PRIGIONIERO: WELCOME TO CORMANTHOR A. A CRASH BETWEEN TWO FERNS Lucretia has given the orders and locale for the next Grand Relic to be reclaimed and destroyed, a task that will present itself with many new and weird dangers that the Reclaimers haven't come across before. For anyone looking to brush up on their history of Myth Drannor, the Netheril, and the forest of Cormanthor, some of you have already learned a great deal of what occurred here, in bits and pieces. Leon, the Artificer of the Bureau of Balance, had described the tale of a very unfortunate city facing a major energy crisis that was bleeding out the land. You've already met the culprit behind one of the worst decisions humanity has ever made (Spoiler: it's Karsus, a god-tier shit wizard who sacrificed himself to get some of you out of dodge back in Lyrabar), and seen the destruction, first hand, of what happened to the Netheril via the events of Vista Virs. Phew, that's a lot of lore to take in all at once. But as history would have it, there are always a few sides to every story, and the fall of the Netheril wasn't the only mass of land that had been affected deeply by its twisted magical decay. The forested region of Cormanthor, not far from the source of corruption, did as well. Cormanthor was once home to capital of High Elves. They had resided in a city deep within, warded carefully from the outside world, known as Myth Drannor. Today, it lay in shambles, lost forever and protected by the sickened forest that surrounds it. You see, over 200 years ago, a floating city of Netherese fashion had appeared over the vicinity of Vista Virs. A battle raged on between heroic paladins and the cult that had raised it into this plane of existence. The result of that war sent the planar magics that bound the raised city into turmoil. Its target? Myth Drannor. And what didn't destroy the city from impact damage left a far deeper, darker problem among the elves that lived there. A twisted sickness, a dark corruption, it seeped deeply into the hearts of all that dwelt there. Legend has it that the Tree of Life itself, Yggdrasil, is at the heart of Myth Drannor. But that's all ancient history at this point. No one's been able to make it deep enough into the woods to find out what really happened. Most often, they find the city of Shadowdale instead, and with that... Wonderland. Speaking of which, you'll be blasted down to the outskirts of the forest. The entire balance of magic in this area is highly off kilter, which isn't entirely new to some of you veteran Reclaimers. When a Grand Relic is used, it often leaves behind a very distinct path of destruction that makes even the most learned scholars scratch their head. Magical interference runs nigh high throughout all of Cormanthor, which makes this mission particularly dangerous. Bubbles are not able to penetrate the canopy of Cormanthor or land directly at Wonderland. As Lucretia had said a few months ago, these missions are going to get harder and come with higher consequences. She has faith in all of you to make better decisions. You're the most amazing and stalwart people she's ever met, after all. Blasted down to Cormanthor in parties no more than 4, you land somewhere near the outskirts of the forest. Look behind you, and you can see the yellow-hued mountains of the Netheril behind you, boasting a land of pure desert and its own uniquely cursed roster of flora and fauna. Pitter patter, Reclaimers. Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. There it is before you, smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, "Come and find out." Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness Back to top 2. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS B. EMPTY WOODS The woods of Cormanthor were stunningly beautiful once. Before most people who walk among these trees were born, sure — but once upon a time, this was a beautiful place. A living, thriving forest, like any other great wood. When the Reclaimers enter, however, the first thing they'll notice is the silence. Unnatural, ubiquitous, and oppressive, silence is the single unifying factor throughout these woods. The trees themselves shift, first sparse pines, then white ash and beech, and finally towering oaks, maples, and hickory. The silence doesn't change. There is no noise but the wind rustling the leaves on the trees — and as you get further in, even that begins to fall away. It will become quickly apparent that there's no animal life here. This is a forest in stasis, certainly, but it's utterly devoid of birds flying overhead, four-legged creatures scurrying through the leaf debris. No deer, no wolves, no bears. No monsters. No insects, even, if you're paying attention. Those with the ability to speak with animals will notice very quickly that life simply doesn't seem to exist here. Those with the ability to speak to plants may be even more alarmed, because while the trees and other plants do respond, their replies are sluggish and distant, somewhat reminiscent of speaking to someone suffering with a severe fever, drifting in and out of consciousness. Travel through Cormanthor's forest takes a few days' time, and so much time spent in silence begins to take a toll. Never mind the fact that no matter your Boy Scout badges, you can't forage for anything useful out here: nothing from the forest that is eaten provides any sustenance. Eat a bucket full of berries, and you'll still be as hungry as if you hadn't eaten a thing. The trees press in on all sides, and you know each one is different from the last, but after a while they all start to look the same. Some will be more affected than others. Those with a madness effect (RNG'd or chosen from the list on this mission's dossier) will begin to feel it by the end of the second day. There are infinite options of how to play with this in the frozen forest, but here are a few possibilities: ○ If you have forgotten something important to you (1), it can happen quickly or slowly. Perhaps you're camping with your bubblemates, talking about someone from home. That Greg Grimaldis, was he really that bad? the Reclaimer to your right asks. Who, you ask, perplexed, brow furrowing, is Greg Grimaldis? ○ If reality is beginning to distort (2) for you, you might become abruptly certain that you're going the wrong way. Wonderland is back the way you came. Anyone trying to convince you otherwise is absolutely up to something — trying to make you look bad? Trying to hurt you? Who knows, but they're definitely up to something. ○ If you've lost valuable skills (3), they might drop out from under you at the worst possible moment. Even a forest in stasis has its hazards: pitfalls, roots that disguise holes and twist ankles, flimsy bridges that collapse and leave you hanging perilously over ravines, et cetera. Design peril to fit the skills you've lost. When you reach for your tried-and-tested knowledge, what do you know? It isn't there. You have to figure out another way out of this. ○ If you're feeling unlucky (4), guess what? The one person/thing in this whole realm that was keeping you safe isn't here right now. Everything around you is a portent of awful luck. Is that tree telling you to go die? It probably is! Paranoia creeps up on you from everywhere. Even your teammates. There's something about them that makes you certain everything's going to go to hell any minute now. C. EMPTY CITY Before you enter, you can see a town and only a town. Step across the border and you'll feel a barrier, something invisible and not quite permeable. After a pause, it seems to accept you, and your foot touches down in Shadowdale. Then you look up. You can't help but look up. Stretching so high you've got to crane your neck to see to the top is a great gold tree sprung from the center of town. You couldn't see any of it from outside of Shadowdale's borders, but the town, it seems, wants you here. It wants you to see Wonderland. This could be paradise for a while, a place to stay safe from prying eyes and protected by the vastness of the forest as the Reclaimers track down this latest relic. Except, not to put too fine a point on it, it's kind of creepy here. The whole place is empty — not everyone-got-up-and-left-in-a-rush empty, but ghost-town empty. Nobody wants to stay here, it seems. Maybe there's somewhere else they'd rather be. Regardless, it leaves you with plenty of lodgings to choose from. If you don't mind making your own fun, there's plenty to do, too: bookshops to visit, bakeries to use, butcher shops to — okay, maybe not that one. There's a courthouse, though. Who wants to play Judge Judy? Consider any shop or government building one might find in a small town to be fair game. After a few hours, though, it becomes clear that this place isn't quite empty after all. You aren't the only ones investigating. D. A FAMILIAR FACE (OR TWO) ○ The first face you see is a friendly one. Upon seeing the bracer on your wrist, Matthew Hollyweather walks right up to you, all the more readily if he remembers your face from New New Aspen. Despite the setting, he's clearly and genuinely pleased to see Reclaimers here. To those he's met before, he's eager to share all the positive change going on in New New Aspen: the newfound peace, the booming economy, pictures of one bajillion bouncing new spider-nieces-and-nephews. To those new to him, he introduces himself as Mayor Hollyweather of New New Aspen with just enough good-natured self-derision in his tone that he comes off as authoritative but kind of embarrassed about it. It becomes obvious pretty quickly that he's been here a while — a few weeks, perhaps, more than long enough to get kind of lonely. Matthew's only company so far has been that kid, who's nice enough, but only showed up a couple days ago. And why is Matthew here? Well, that's where he stops being quite so much of an open book. He's looking for something, that's what he tells you. Something he's missing . . . and that's all. If you want to know more, you're going to roll for it. Everyone can get information from Matthew, but if you were present for the New Aspen mission, you'll get +2 on any DC on top of your existing class or skill bonuses. ○ The kid Matthew is talking about makes himself known soon enough. Perhaps you catch him perusing the bookstore in his fancy-boy suit and spiffy fancy cap, nose deep in a tome his thin arms tremble to hold, clearly paying no attention to you. Or maybe he's chowing down on some truly unusual-looking fried concoction (where did he get that?) in the town square by the fountain, clearly paying no attention to you. Wherever you first see him, he is clearly paying no attention to you. Once addressed, he will brightly greet you and introduce himself as "Angus McDonald! I'm a little boy, I'm ten years old! Who are you? How did you get here? It's a really nice day, isn't it? It's nice to meet you!" Angus says a lot, actually. But other than giving off a strong vibe of needing to be noogied, nurtured, or both, he doesn't actually tell you much. Asking him anything is a good way to get the question turned right back on you. But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? If you can stand listening to him extoll the virtues of Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop for a few minutes, you might level up enough to actually learn something. Of course, you can't stay in Shadowdale forever. Literally: you can't. Every Reclaimer's feet are inexorably pulled to the entrance to Wonderland after not very long at all. The golden tree at the center of town is impossible to ignore. Step into the elevator at its base, and you might very well find yourself elbow-to-elbow with Matthew or Angus, staring as the numbers tick up . . . up . . . Carrying you to Wonderland. Back to top 3. WELCOME TO WONDERLAND E. A BEARY GOOD TIME You arrive in Terminal Square, where you can sign up for a membership with Roland and find out more about this larger-than-life amusement park. The entire theme park city seems to run on a currency known as Wunderbux- directly inscribed via magic into a stone you're handed after filling out a small precursory screening by the giant anthropomorphic bear. Gifted with some starting credits and maybe a really gaudy Roland-eared hat, depending on how much of a good Wonderperson you've been so far, he explains that certain actions in the park will add credits or remove them. He advises against owing Wonderbux to Wonderland, if you can help it. "Wouldn't it be unbearable not to be able to ride the rides!?" Yeah. You know what this guy is all about. Chutes and ladders will take you all over the various places of the park, all branching out from Terminal Square. The entirety of the complex is, at scale, ridiculously large. All throughout Wonderland, you'll be treated like a king if you let yourself be pampered. The sheer amount of gilded perfection that went into crafting this place is at a scale even larger than the Moon Base. Gorgeous fountains spouting golden water are not infrequent, stands selling food of every type imaginable pepper anywhere there's space, and often as you pass by, you can hear people having the time of their lives here. F. PLAY WITH ME IN THE SPACE! There's so much to do in Wonderland. So much. Honestly, you wouldn't be the first to say it's overwhelming. That's part of the fun! Wonderland sweeps you away with all of the fun it brings. We could fill pages with the wonders in Wonderland, but why don't we stick with a few highlights and let you fill in the rest? ○ Wonder Square: When you first enter the confines of Wonder Square, you'll notice it looks and feels sort of like a casino... minus the strong and pungent smells that usually accompany those types of areas, typically. The wide birth of the room overlooks a beautiful vantage point of the top of Cormanthor's forest; pale greens look out into a sea of leaves for miles on end, as if the rest of the world doesn't exist outside of Wonderland itself. And why would you think it does, when you're here? Tables are set up for games, games, and- you guessed it- more games. Arm wrestle against a machine to test your strength. Shoot hoops into a basketball for 60 seconds. Engage in a few games of chance: Queen's Call is particularly abundant in this area. You'll notice this is where Maria can most likely be found, surveying the area like a snake mother, carefully winding herself around the pit and ensuring that no one is up to anything less than pure, unadulterated fun around these parts. You can do you best to scam a few extra Wonderbux here, either through legitimate play at any number of the machines present, or otherwise through less than scrupulous means. Don't get caught, though... it never ends up quite well. Dodging in and out of the crowds of Wonder Square, often charging forward and giving his best at a VR simulation of as snowboarding game, you might find Niel here as well. He's awfully energetic, a typical cornerstone of youth in the midst of a truly killer arcade. One thing you might notice, or might... not notice? Every now and then you might look at someone one moment, enjoying themselves thoroughly or getting a little deep into the game they play. You blink, and suddenly they're gone. And so is the recollection of events that've happened the entire last hour of your life. Something tells you not to question it, deep down. If you could only remember what they looked like... or the fact that they were even here to begin with. Oh well, there are games to be had. Might want to head on over somewhere else. We hear Event Square has a ton of live entertainment for you to check out. Some people are even saying that there's a cactus like creature performing Jazz tonight! Now that's something you've never seen before! ○ Round Square: How did you end up in this luxurious tram? It's truly fantastic. Wheeling around the entirety of Wonderland as night falls, you're swept away with the romance of it all. Look at those stars! Look at that moon! You gaze fondly at the person sharing this ride with you, and— Wait, who's that? How did they get in here? For that matter, how did you get in here? You don't remember getting on this ride. But here you are, with a fellow Reclaimer and, if you're particularly (un)lucky, a native elf, too. In the latter case, it might be a good time to ask them some questions. In the former case . . . snuggle? We're not your boss or mom. ○ Speed Square: Upon entering the speed square for the first time, another Roland will ask if you got your Roland Racing Registration! Then you'll have a stamp card shoved in your hands. Going on each roller coaster gives you one stamp on your card, which you can then hand in to a friendly Roland for a beary special reward. ○ Ghost Square: While the Ghost Square has many options to take some years off your life — from haunted houses to fortune tellers to wandering workers done up in bedsheets — the main attraction here is the Hall of Mirrors. It boasts of the "longest mirror maze in Faerun!*". Inside, all the mirrors are kept polished to perfection via magic, varying between normal reflections and wavy funhouse style, but some of the mirrors might reflect something... weird. Either a friend from your home world, or a version of you from your past, or even a reflection of the person's soul. It's a fun ghost story everyone shares. *: The poster has the tiniest print of 'that we know of'. Whoever runs Wonderland has a good lawyer. ○ Reeducation Ride™: Not everyone's the funloving sort we want here in Wonderland, but there are ways to deal with that. For anyone who cheats, is rude to carnival workers, or is a persistent curmudgeon, party pooper, or fun sponge, it's time for the Reeducation Ride™. On this disciplinary ride, you are strapped into a cart that wheels in a wide circle for three hours, during which you are hugged and complimented by a slew of Roland Replicas™. Begone, sour face! Elevate, low self-esteem! Be snuggled! Be huggled! Be happy. Everyone gets in on the fun here in Wonderland. No matter how reticent one might normally be to do so, something about this place just puts pep in everyone's step. Nine times out of ten you might be the kind of person who finds rides, games, and having fun to be childish or beneath you, but guess what? Here in Wonderland, you're at least a little into it. So are the few non-natives you see. Angus is here, trying to figure out the rules of all these arcade games. Matthew is here, getting lost in Ghost Square and wandering the food court. A couple of other faces, too. Anything in the dossier is fair game for your use. But keep in mind, Reclaimers: those madness effects? They're still very much in effect. You're still in Cormanthor forest, after all. The longer you stay, the more you play, the worse it gets. Little by little, hour by hour, day by day. Have fun, kids. Be yourselves. Don't do anything Lucretia wouldn't do. Back to top 4. OOC In order to keep to our goal of providing the most personalized Wonderland experience for all of you, we're setting a limit of 3 RNG attempts per character this log. Additionally, please be aware that while more mundane rolls will have standard-level DCs (for this log, anyway), any RNG with the potential to uncover plot information is high-risk high-reward and will have a very high DC along with steep penalties for failure. As always, we will let you know of this before we roll, and you have the option to decline any roll at any time. Other than that, this is your story to write and your setting to play with! Anything on the OOC post is fair game, and if there's something you'd like to try, please don't hesitate to let us know on the RNG thread. Back to top blurb code by photosynthesis

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[alethiological]

[ The world is static, the same kind known only twice before. The Contract should cover things like this. It doesn't apparently. But it did last time. It's wrong. Even last time, console commands worked, shutting down one after another, but they Worked. Now it's blocked. There's only a slate gray cast, burnt ash behind closed eyelids. It lasts for an Eternity before the sun rises. Two eyes open just enough to spot a thousand others wrapped in color, bright and clear and unmarred. One that never had to absorb the sins of others. He was like that once, thousands upon thousands before. Seeing the comparison now is jarring, but it's just hallucination. Thrice-damned mirror. There is only him now.

Or not. All it takes is the lightest touch and the world burns. Cracks spreading, widening, through flesh and bone, past the Vessel, further. There's only one breath, sharp and wet, before it cuts off immediately, prioritizing Silence. Lived through worse. Almost-lived. Noise is weakness. The only sound left after is the cracking. One Aziraphale himself hears. If he watches, the half-wrenched shard, very slightly, grows.

Out. out out out out out it needs to be out and a hand snaps back on reflex to Try Again but there's no glass, only flesh. Oval. Ulna. Extensor digitorum. Wrist. Real. Right, there's another now. And so much better. Can't touch him. What if the sin spreads. Even so, the vice grip doesn't ease. ]

Ah-I-I- [ No. Wrong. Slam it back down like a fist on a faulty keyboard. Embarrassing. Who can't even answer such an easy question? Work. 'Can you hear me?' ] Yes.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale swallows, startled and afraid. None of this is good. No one should sound like that, not when they're just trying to breathe.

There's another sound, right on the edge of his hearing, and he turns his head in time to see the glass shard expand slightly. It's impossible, but it's happening, and Aziraphale makes a noise of his own, a soft, helpless moan. His eyes go back to Will's face, and he leans closer, speaking softly. ]

You're hurt, my dear, but it's all right, I'm here to help you.

I think - I think I'm going to have to - [ His voice wavers, and he swallows hard. He's never done anything like this before. Not without miracles. ] I'm going to have to pull out the glass. Are you ready?

[alethiological]

[ More than the blades reaching for his lungs or Whatever The Hell That Was in the mirror reaching for everything, this is the worst. It’s handing suffering off to someone else. Not that if the roles were switched it’d be any better, but he was built for this type of Old Testament nonsense. Aziraphale doesn’t deserve this. No one does, but especially not someone who knows what it means.

But what are the options. Rip his wings out or become an even worse kind of nightmare? The choice is obvious. It’s not like Court angels show their wings often anyway. No one would know. Ha. Or maybe it’s just an illusion. That’d be nice. But it’s wrong to gamble on miracles, and even stronger than wanting that abomination Out is the need to get that point across. Each dying breath is barely a syllable long, losing traction with each word, small but desperate. ]

Y-you. Don’t. N-should. N’t. Ha- ave. To. [ Ugh, what a mess. Disgraceful. Focus. ] I-I’m s. Sorry. Please.

[ Please forgive him. Please do this. Please refuse if it’s too much. The grip tightens, loosens, then lets go. He’ll need both hands for whichever option gets picked. ]

[eastofeden]

[ It hits him all at once, what he should have seen immediately, and he can't say now how he'd missed it except that the reality of it is too horrifying, too profane to believe. The glass shards, two of them, identical, jutting horribly from the angel's shoulderblades. He hadn't been attacked, hadn't had an accident with a plate glass window. They hadn't been thrust into him at all.

The idea of pulling them out isn't just terrifying and faintly nauseating now, though it is still that - it's also wrong. He can't. He can't do it, no one should and certainly not him. He can't pull out an angel's wings.

But Will is desperate. Dying. Begging him, groping fruitlessly, unable to touch the glass himself, and Aziraphale knows he would do it himself, if he only could. And that reflection - he risks one more glance up, at the figure in the mirror, at the sick and rotting wings. ]

You have nothing to be sorry for, my dear.

[ He speaks soothingly, calmly, pressing a hand briefly to Will's in reassurance when he finally lets go. And then, before he can overthink anything, he graps one of the shards firmly in both hands -

And screams, jerking backwards as his hands are enveloped in pain and burning. Hellfire, he thinks, nonsensically, before he looks down at his hands in horror to see them coated in something smooth and transparent, frozen in place. Glass. His hands are covered in glass. ]

[alethiological]

[ The screaming is what does it really. It's that One Particular Scream, forged from horror and agony in equal parts, heard so many times over so many years it's not even unsurprising anymore. It's autopilot. Find where it came from, find out how many corpses came out of it, find the monster responsible, execute it. Easy. Step one, the gaze comes into focus just a bit more to glare at Aziraphale until it blurs less. Staring at his hands. Light reflects wrong off matte flesh- no, plastic coating? No. Too smooth. Glass? But where-

First thought: Oh. It's contagious. Wonderful.

Second thought: NO.

Emotional damage is one thing, but physical? That takes offering someone salvation and crosses over the line into forcing your problems on them. It's cowardice. And forcing it on him, of all people, the type of angel that should've been here from the first day. It's beyond unacceptable. It's Forbidden. Repeat it. Remember your Purpose. Grown too spoiled on Maya's presence and the bracer's support. Never needed those to rise above all things before. Vista Virs was nothing. Bernkastel was nothing. This is nothing. Keep repeating it over and over, until Intent becomes Reality once more.

On the mirror's side, even with the decaying grayscale, every burnt-out word seared in flares like a dying star. It's nothing dramatic, no sudden rising like nothing's wrong, but it's Enough. Got one halfway out. That's one fourth done, right? Easy. Just like the first time. One arm on the ground, brace, other one goes back, lock joints in place, then rip. It's an autopilot rewarded with the shrieking noise of metal on glass, and it's wrenched only a slight bit further. Static. No. Not yet. Focus. Forgetting something. What. Who? Ah.

Aziraphale gets acknowledged, but the look he gets is almost from some monster. Dull gold eye turned a bright yellow, pupils narrowed into vertical slits, those same weak breaths as before being outright ignored. ]

You need t- [ Almost ignored. Okay, words are still failing. That's fine. Focus. A sharp breath is inhaled that comes out in a crimson fog, dyes melting in water, a bone-wrenching Command. ]

Lea-ve.

[ Or rather, almost a Command. The need to Obey comes and goes in the span of those three letters. There's not Enough for that. Stupid mirrors burning through reserves so fast. Fine, whatever, spoken word it is. ] One i-is. S. More than... Eno-ghhh.

[ One glass-based abomination is enough for this place. Two is just uncalled for, honestly. ]

[eastofeden]

Absolutely not.

[ His hands are shaking, useless, but if Will thinks he's going to just leave him, he really doesn't know him at all. And if he thinks he can scare Aziraphale even for an instant with those yellow serpent's eyes -

Well, they should scare him, perhaps; they're much more the eyes of a demon than an angel, at least any angel Aziraphale knows. But for some reason, the fierce glare, the stubbornness, only makes him that much more determined to stick by his side.

He's rather got the hang of disobeying, lately. When it's for the greater good. ]

I'm not leaving you, don't be ridiculous. I -

[ He'd only touched the glass for an instant. He tries, as he's been trying, to move his hands, and this time, it works. Just the faintest twitch, but it's enough to send fine hairline cracks spiderwebbing up through the thin coating of glass. And then he tries again, curling his fingers in with all his strength against the weakened, cracked glass.

It shatters, and he cries out again as a million little shards cut into his hands. It doesn't matter. He can miracle them out later. Will is what matters right now, and he hesitates only long enough to think before he's pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around his blood-spattered hands. Tip-top condition for 180 years, but the coat matters even less than his hands do. He pauses with the fabric positioned over the glass, meeting Will's eyes. ]

I'm going to try again.

[alethiological]

[ The entire thing is witnessed with an agonized fury that wanes over the course of Aziraphale's response, sacrificing his coat and his hands and his words. By the last request (demand), the expression has gone strained, before reverting to the same doll-like glaze as before.

That actually proves it, huh. Residing Dominion of an entire multiverse district, commander of countless winged weapons, now rendered to a state where he can't even order one person away. If that doesn't confirm someone as the worst at their job, then nothing does. Simultaneously, in a bitter way, it's the most relieving thing he could name. Finally free of that accursed duty and everything that came with it.

But that's not important in comparison to That. Da Vinci doesn't know shit. The true beauty in the world is watching absolute certainty force reality to give way. Human or not, that expression of free will is always the most valuable thing to exist. The colors in the mirror fade, words dimming, going eternally still. Patient. A concession to a stronger Will. It needs to see this. Even dying is fine, it needs to see this.

-Wait. No. Not yet. A bit of power is reached to the side, where Maya usually is, a Master gone beyond static, and a half-assed memo gets-(Place Note: Replace his coat upon returning to base. Set bookmark, timestamp range to -10:00:00, reference court record for copying.)

-no response. Hopefully gets sent to her side. Good enough.

It's only here that his grip on the glass loosens, returning back to the near-corpse Aziraphale originally walked on. Spent of all arguments, it Waits. ]

Go ahead.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale waits for permission. Not because he has any intention of giving up and doing nothing should Will refuse to give it, but rather because he would rather have it, if he can.

The other angel capitulates at last, and Aziraphale nods, a mixture of trepidation and stoicism settling on his face. He has to try. Setting his jaw, he adjusts the fabric in his hands, and then settles it over the glass, wrapping his coat around the shard and yanking up hard. ]