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Audio | UN: presage - An Offer

With our situation here having grown more dire with Mindseye making itself known and our rather unwilling trip to the Infernal realm Xanadu I thought perhaps we could all use some recreational options. With that in mind I have procured a video game system from the space station with intent to set up a communal space for such things.

I have also taken the liberty of sifting through Mammon's hoard for similar items of entertainment. By the way if any newcomers have found their cabins lacking in soaps and towels, those items have been placed in the kitchen for easy retrieval.

Back to the topic at hand: I require assistance in setting up such a place. One of the many lounges would work for space, but I am wholly unfamiliar with the specifics of this kind of technology. For the benefit of all aboard I am asking for any willing to lend a hand, or other luxuries, to the cause.

These trips between worlds do get so long and boring.

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"I hosted a poker night when I was in college." He presses his lips together and crosses his arms. Then his lips tilt up into a smirk, "Assist with my nightmares using what? Some sort of angelic ability?"

Being around him is removing his headache and he's not about to piss the other angel off. Leaning against the wall he lowers his gaze.

"What would that entail?"

"I expect there are a fair few here who would appreciate a fair game," One not horribly rigged by the demon of Greed. No offense, Mammon. "Yes," A simple enough answer, he's just glad Richard isn't screaming at him that he's obviously lying and messing with him anymore. That was tiresome.

"You have to ask." There are rules. And with that tidbit, it might just hint at some of the why they aren't more apparent.

"What you want me to beg?" The words are snapped, "No. wait I'm sorry I didn't understand. Being around you is helping with my headache so I'll beg."

He doesn't look good. Sweat is pouring down his collar and he looks haggard, like he's lost weight. He's haunted by bad dreams, including a recent one of locks and metal parts driven into flesh. Then sorrow. It's a rotation of pain and he keeps hearing Alex scream throughout all of it which bothers him the most.

"...Just make it stop."

He doesn't look offended, indeed he almost looks sympathetic, if baffled, by the reaction. "No, begging is hardly necessary. I simply require a direct request, I cannot interfere without it."

Alex had used that information to guess what he was, she's a sharp one.

That plea seems to count enough for a request. Murmur simply nods, then quietly clasps his hands together in silent prayer. It isn't flashy, there are no horns or songs or brilliant lights, simply a lessening of that oppressive pressure. A feeling of lightness, and peace. Gentle, but distinctive enough to understand that something had happened.

When he finished he dropped his hands to regard Richard curiously. It'll be more effort to maintain for this one. "Better?"

It's unintentional that a few tears spill, Richard's nerves and anxiety are temporarily gone. He inhales once, then twice, then nods.

It's not gone. It's not wholly gone, it's just muted. Like there's TV fuzz and of course he can't make it go away. Perhaps I deserve that. The pain isn't there and that's what matters.

"That felt very good. Thank you." He inhales, "I...I don't know what you did specifically but my concerns are gone. You didn't see anything from them did you?"

Murmur will refrain from comment, humans were touchy on the subject of crying. Another thing Murmur never quite understood. Still, at least he was able to offer some reprieve.

He folds his arms, leaning back on one heel to utter a thoughtful sound as he considered how to answer that question. Or rather, what question was truly being asked of him. "I try not to make a habit of peering too deeply without permission. So, if you would like me to, again you must make the request. If it is of your burdens you would speak I am a willing listener. As to their alleviation..."

A faint, apologetic shrug. "Great is the burden of a mind and heart that sees beyond the surface. Greater the burden you carry." Even without looking too deep he can see that a darkness dwells within Strand. That he struggles with a hunger and anger he doesn't yet understand. It's not Murmur's place to interfere.

"I appreciate you not looking never the less. I have always tried to abide by Doctor patient confidentiality even if I'm not a practicing psychologist."

His features harden as he rubs at his temple, "...It was perhaps...a mistake to share things if it spread those secret things to others but I thought that it would help and Alex has been so interested."

He nods mutely, "And she...while she may not treat it with as much respect as it deserves she does make people feel better. I'm glad I did. She's very good at helping people."

"While I am held to no mortal standards or agreements I do work by my own code, and the code most unbreakable is one's own." At least, that's how he sees it. There are likely some who would disagree, but who holds an angel to account but himself?

A faint shrug, as he has no strong opinion on the matter. "Would hiding it have changed the course of events? And if it did, would that change necessarily be in a more favorable direction? What if has always been the question that plagues us all. In the end, what's done is done. The most ideal path is to learn from what went wrong, and to endeavor to improve going forward."

He appears pleased. "She is a remarkable woman. Sharp and perceptive, though she doubts herself overmuch. Her ability to link together disparate pieces of information with remarkable accuracy is astonishingly impressive." Some, many, would accuse her of jumping to conclusions. Yet the point still stands: How often is Alex Regan wrong?

"She has a keen scientific mind. I wish she'd focus more on the rational side of things. It would help her, and when she's stressed out and anxious she's difficult to work with. I'm deeply concerned about her. She hasn't been herself lately."

Does he settle? No. When he was younger he would have stretched like a cat and spoken cocky because he knew he was smart and attractive-

"It's difficult to watch. I know we're on a ship but when I knew her she was much more focused and assured. Considerably more engaging. She's always been engaging, fascinating in fact but the direction she turns..."

Oh really. Murmur just raises an eyebrow, but chooses not to comment directly on the implication that Richard knows Alex better than she knows herself. "You believe so? I have found her to be quite level-headed and reasonable in her interactions with me. Nothing to suggest irrationality." Quite the contrary, he'd argue.

Is Richard Strand really going to try to pull aggressive Evangelical Skeptic mode with an actual angel that just blessed him again? Murmur thinks that might be the case, and honestly he's both tired and amused at the same time. Why is it that humans never change? "In which direction is that?"

"She is level-headed and reasonable normally but the way she talks about our future has me concerned. I don't want her to get hurt and apparently she's been charging off on crusades and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It never turns out well."

He rubs at the back of his head, "If I can spare her that, spare anyone that I'd feel better. She has her whole life ahead of her."

He's the only one who crusades. He's the only one who dedicates himself to causes.

Edited 2021-05-14 03:28 (UTC)

"You cannot halt what has already come to pass." No matter how much he might want to try. Alex's future is her truth, that truth won't be changed. Denying it will only cause strife between them.

"Tell me, have you had your own crusades?" It did sound like he might be speaking from experience. A desire to save her the pain of lessons hard learned. But, to believe he's the only one who gets to crusade is arrogant. And foolish.

"Bringing the world science and reason." He's focused and sincere, "Teaching in it's own way is a crusade - though without the religious ramifications. My wife-"

He missed the beat, "I suppose one's marriage could be called a crusade but I like to attach myself to hopeless causes - probably because I'm hopeless."

He suddenly wants a drink, a very stiff drink as he leans back to stare at the angel, "I'm a so-called psychic in a world with supposed ghosts and demonic serial killers - stopping those alone is a crusade."

His throat works, "Alex doesn't need crusades. She has a life to lead, and she deserves it. Being so focused. She has done so much good and while I don't think I want to let her go she would be safer..."

"A noble pursuit." Just because Murmur's technically a supernatural being that doesn't mean he can't appreciate science and reason. That's really his schtick, after all.

"Did you find your marriage to be hopeless?" It was a genuine question, one born of simple curiosity about the word usage with no hint of judgement. Relationships end, it's reality, again a strange taboo that humans held themselves to. Perhaps Murmur will never understand that.

"Do you believe that you alone can 'stop' demons and ghosts?" Okay now he seemed amused, if only faintly. Many have tried, and one cannot eradicate their existence any more than they can will the wind to cease blowing. They are parts of creation, that's just how it is. He's also not going to comment on the psychic part, it's pretty obvious he is but if Richard wants to cling to his denial far be it for Murmur to stop him.

However, as Richard continues and begins to express his assumptions about Alex he does seem to frown disapprovingly. "And how does Alex feel about you determining what she needs?" The removal of one's autonomy is not something he's quick to abide. That is the domain of free will, who is Richard to decide what her path is to be?

"My wife had an affair with one of her grad students." It was ironically hypocritical, he'd met the mother of his daughter when Amber was a grad student. Granted he'd only been a TA - but Richard looks heartbroken at the thought. He had it in him to be soft and gentle and kind and life just kept spitting it back in his face.

Leaning forward he snorted, "Demons and Ghosts aren't supposed to be real. I combat human ignorance. It's not even stupidity. We could do so much more without being inhibited even if belief is supposed to comfort. We could grow..."

"I can already tell she throws herself into this and here she told me she died. I'm not going to kill people."

He rubs at his head, "She doesn't know this but I've been stalked over this - people trying to steal my father's work." He spits, "Bastard. I don't want her to hurt."

"Ah, I see," Yes that would certainly complicate things. That did explain the tone. Murmur would be less impressed if he knew Richard were being a hypocrite, but two wrongs don't make a right and all that. Unfortunate.

"Aren't supposed to be," He offers with a faintly quirked eyebrow. Richard was aware he was a psychic talking to an angel, right? "I will not disagree that humankind has a tendency to inhibit their own advancement, but I also believe you know yourself that things are less simple than that."

Although... "Died, when?" There is concern there. As hard as he tried to protect them, Murmur was but one angel against an army. He and Mammon did their best, but there were bound to be some that slipped through.

The frown remains. "You have hid this information from her, why?" If he were so concerned in protecting her would it not be better to be honest about the reasons why, rather than to try to control and manipulate? Granted, Murmur did understand the irony of him saying that, being the master of manipulating patterns and weaving intricate webs of fate. It was different as a Seer. He couldn't control free will, only guide it.

All of the rest of this doesn't matter. He frowns at Murmur before pointing a finger, "It's my business. I don't want anyone to get hurt. I don't want her to get hurt. It distracts from my work."

There's an edge to him, hard and cold and mean.

"She and I were never supposed to be that close to know it."

A snorted laugh. "You presume to decide the course of time and fate?" While his monotone rarely changed much beyond itself there was a very slight undercurrent of 'who do you think you are?' in that statement.

Richard may like to pretend his motivations are altruistic, but he's made it very clear it's all selfishness here. Pride, and hubris.

"What is it they say again? Pride goeth before the fall?"

"I presume to offer assistance. To offer help." The pride is more obvious but he sniffs and looks away, "...My mission has always been to help, the propaganda spread by beings in my world - let's assume for a moment you have a message."

He almost, almost says, almost thinks, You aren't real but it is shoved aside mentally.

"Messages can be corrupted no matter how many mouths speak it." He gestures, "surely you can agree that's wrong? That ignorance is in itself dangerous?"

"To offer implies the receiving parties have a choice in the matter," He states pointedly, pinning Strand briefly beneath that unnervingly piercing gaze of his. Only a moment, as he has no desire to worsen the man's headaches and make him more belligerent than he already is.

Not real, and yet here he very much is.

"While it is true that no message is immune to misrepresentation or misunderstanding, I fail to understand what that has to do with you deciding for Alex what is best for Alex, without any regard for her input? On the same hand, dangerous as ignorance is it can be corrected, but blind zealotry and a blunt refusal to acknowledge that which stands before you is equally as dangerous. And far more difficult to excise."

Edited 2021-05-18 02:44 (UTC)

"You're calling me a zealot? You're an angel. Isn't that the definition of zealotry?"

But, the being helped him so the snarky tone is replaced with quiet, calm, reason, "Alex is free to do as she chooses, but the way she's been behaving indicates that I do...take an interest despite my wife-"

He stops himself.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt anymore because of me."

He laughed. It was almost... musical, melodic and carrying with it just the faintest hint of distant chimes. "We are capable of zealotry most certainly, not unlike your own," It would seem he wasn't offended by the accusation. "Are you operating under the impression that human religious texts are an accurate representation of us and our roles? I do not believe the comparison is quite fitting, as while we are capable of enacting on free will it can be more difficult for us."

And impossible, depending. Fortunately it isn't often they are stripped of that option anymore. Murmur's amusement dies down, and he tilts his head curiously at Richard. "How long has it been?" That he's been missing his wife. It's clear to him there's something there, though Richard is aggressively guilting himself out of it. For whatever reason.

"A noble ideal, but flawed in its execution. You cannot control the actions of others, what you can do is keep them informed. Or not. But know that choosing to do nothing is still a choice. And hiding the truth may leave them more vulnerable, than not."

This makes him want to get drunk. Well and truly drunk. Let Alex see that, let everyone see the guy who wants to be the center of the spotlight and how he focuses enough to keep himself there. It would be good for all of them. Good for every single one of them.

"Everything I do is to keep people informed. Believe that." He tries to move to his feet, headache and exhaustion hitting all at once.

"Knowledge and reason can and will change the world. And I operate on that principle."

The difference is it's almost like he was bred to it, born to it, raised to it for a reason, as if an enlightened apocalypse or massive change could be a way out for so many others.

Would it? Or would it simply be cathartic for a man trained to embody an idea of perfection both unobtainable, and utterly false to begin with.

"Does lying to yourself make it more true, I wonder?" Murmur mused aloud, watching Strand stand. He could only shake his head. The blessing was effective so long as it was embraced, when Richard rejected it so too did the effects weaken.

He hummed thoughtfully. "What does that brighter future look like to you, Richard?" When did he learn Strand's name?

A muscle in his jaw twitches and something cracks across the pleasant fuzz, "Why am I lying to myself? I know you're an angel, an ethereal being, which could be something evolutionary different..."

Another crack. Better not to think about it.

He sighed, "Is it too much to ask that you not go digging into my head?" That's the only way he might know, "Or did Alex tell you my name?"

The cracks are making him rude, cranky. He rubs his jaw before he presses the side of his head.

"I can see people when it do it now. Go digging in my mind."

Audio | UN: presage - An Offer

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