Huey Laforet (
longlived) wrote in
gocirclegogo2012-07-12 12:26 am
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this didn't go as well as Eastwood's escape
A back alley in London. Body parts fall to the streets. Two hands. The forearms. Feet, legs, a hollowed torso in several pieces, internal organs. A human head. Each of the parts is light enough that a falcon could conceivably transport it from one place to another in its claws, and the blood is all clinging. Altogether, these parts would make a full human being--short one eye.
Huey has only done this once before, so it takes some time before his body reassembles. Like cells of an organism, like a well-coordinated swarm of ants, his flesh and bones and organs pull themselves back together, joints locking in and blood flowing once more. He is now as whole in body as he was that day he was made immortal, minus an eye and a ponytail. Huey Laforet looks around him, and in a calm, quiet voice, calls for his youngest daughter.
"Leeza? ...Hilton?"
But there is no answer, and the streets beyond don't sound like 1930s Chicago. Nor did this place seem to have any connection to Alcatraz. So. Something didn't go to plan. (Again.)
"Ah."
But at least he has the clothes he had asked the Poet to fetch. He may as well dress and go looking for answers. He places a hand over his empty eye socket and wishes Renee the best.
[blah blah spam or prose, I don't care which, apologies for his lack of social, you know the drill]
Huey has only done this once before, so it takes some time before his body reassembles. Like cells of an organism, like a well-coordinated swarm of ants, his flesh and bones and organs pull themselves back together, joints locking in and blood flowing once more. He is now as whole in body as he was that day he was made immortal, minus an eye and a ponytail. Huey Laforet looks around him, and in a calm, quiet voice, calls for his youngest daughter.
"Leeza? ...Hilton?"
But there is no answer, and the streets beyond don't sound like 1930s Chicago. Nor did this place seem to have any connection to Alcatraz. So. Something didn't go to plan. (Again.)
"Ah."
But at least he has the clothes he had asked the Poet to fetch. He may as well dress and go looking for answers. He places a hand over his empty eye socket and wishes Renee the best.
[blah blah spam or prose, I don't care which, apologies for his lack of social, you know the drill]
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Much more interesting to his immediate pursuit of knowledge was the matter of this world. "And is it capable of grounding an angel?"
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"The master of this domain actively keeps us trapped. However, the space immediately outside this reality is... dangerous." That word feels like a massive understatement. "Being kept inside might be safer. Your attitude might be better at handling the atmosphere."
A beat. "Assuming you're not one of those vivisection types."
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Vivisection? Not of innocent bystanders. The only creatures he had vivisected in the last few decades were his own homunculi.
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The tone says he's in no rush to fix that.
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A bit miserable, but it's enough to pass as an answer. Good enough.
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Huey Laforet has a human heart, but it is absent from his research. If Will chooses not to answer Huey's continued questioning, Huey will find other ways to research the answer. And eventually, he will uncover the truth. The prison of immortality has drained him of all impatience and urgency. Everything he sets his mind to will come to him in time--and he will continue on after he has his desires, no matter how many thousands of years it takes to achieve them. The few centuries he has lived are meaningless against the eternity that lies before him, and knowing that, Huey's persistence merely is the casual pursuit of an inevitability.
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Feel the amusement at your expense, Huey. Oh, stupid humans. Always hilarious. But the twit asked for an explanation, and as much as he hates explaining, it's to a person he doesn't have to spin up some elaborate metaphor for. Assuming, anyway. If he can't follow along, then sucks to be him. Right.
"All universes are made up of two realities, and the third that oversees all of them. The first reality is the one you stand in. The second is the reality only those no longer human can reach. The third is that allows travel between all other realities. ...And the one I can no longer reach."
Following? Hopefully. Not even a breath before continuing. "That aura of mine you spotted. Myself, and any others like myself, keep it restrained. No need to make others become like you. That thing does the same. A visit to the next layer, unprotected, confirms its presence easily."
How helpful! Now he can ask how to get to that reality, to confirm it himse--
"Too bad you'll never get there." What. Again, not given the chance to argue, on account of said angel has already turned away. "My spare room's already taken, so find a convent or something to help you out. If you say Wright sent you, the Christians'll give you a better deal. Just be sure to send in the proper paperwork. Blue or Black ink only. Multiple submissions are forbidden. Spelling errors, erasures, and scratch outs are similarly forbidden."
The voice of someone who has said this way too many times. Probably why he's waving once over his shoulder in a vague farewell. Or a 'good luck asshole'. Hard to say.
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