eyemind | time isn't real and the party is always } network + action

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time isn't real and the party is always } network + action

[hey, it’s a jack video! and she is grinning with excitement, because she has something cool to show you.]

So. Time is a construct, right? But it’s a pretty important one to a lot of us. We mark the passage of time in cycles, with celebrations, and I’m guessing most of us have missed at least one birthday, favorite holiday, or anniversary since we’ve been on this long, strange trip. For me, it’s been four birthdays since I was home. Not that I did a whole lot for my birthday, but it was still nice to take myself out for ice cream and check the box for surviving another year.

[the video feed flips around to show the observation room/lucifer’s bar, tastefully decorated with sparkly silver streamers and balloons. as jack slowly pans the camera across the room, you’ll see tables have been brought in and are loaded up with a variety of foods, an assortment of drinks, and of course a nice big cake.]

Anyway, whatever it is you’ve missed, we’re celebrating it - right now. So get thee to the observation room! If nothing else, you can celebrate an unbirthday with the rest of us.

[have a party mingle! or you can talk to jack on network, if you really want. feel free to assume your involvement with party setup, making food, etc. and have a good time!]

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[It takes a lot to get John to shut up, even for a moment. But Murmur's comment about hell and heaven being two sides of the same coin is so out of left field that for a moment John's eyes widen every so slightly. He's good at shutting down his own reactions, and his features quickly return to his usual baseline of irritated. But he's entirely certain now that he's never met an angel even slightly like Murmur and he will almost certainly never meet one like him again. He's too much of an outlier, unless of course all angels are like this where Murmur's from. There's something that speaks of boldness somehow in Murmur's words though, like he's not weighed down by the expected dominion of the hierarchy. Manny seems that way to John too, although he speaks in ways that seem acceptable for his kind. Maybe they're both corrupted, heading down Imogen's path. Maybe they're both just far more powerful than John realizes. The angels with the most authority tend to be thinkers, after all...

Bollocks. It's too much to think about. So he pushes ideas of what angels should or shouldn't, might or mightn't be right out of his head for the time being. John is stuck here for the time being, he's certain that he'll have plenty of time to speak to Murmur again and get more semi-wanted insight into the workings of a celestial mind.

And then the conversation takes another turn, and Murmur laughs. John swears he feels the sound in his very bones, beautiful and awful and penetrating. It's something entirely wonderful and frightening, an unnatural and fantastic feeling that he won't soon forget.

He swears he can even taste it.

John just shakes his head as he shakes off the feeling as best he can, a bit of a snort of a laugh coming in return.] Old son, I've had a first class ticket to the fiery pits for years. I've put off my stay more than once now, but there's no room for me where the angels fly. [It feels good to say it. It feels good to laugh in the face of his damnation. He might as well own it once in a while, he absolutely deserves his eternal stay in hell and there's no point in pretending that good deeds will have a chance of changing his course. No, he belongs there, although he's damn well going to do whatever is in his power to shake things up before he arrives.] Oh, I could say that I'm pious. That I've done little to earn that one way trip. I could blabber on about what a good man I am for fighting the rising darkness, I could give you one hell of a chin-wag about my good deeds. But that'd be lies. And there's no point in lying when there's nothing to gain from it. [John Constantine is not a good man. He's done a lot of good, but it's not for god or heaven, so his acts won't earn his way to the pearly gates. And he thinks, sometimes, that he's absolutely fine with that.] I've been told that a time or two. Usually with a few more insults added in.

[It finally hits him though, that he never told the angel his name. He supposes that the information could have found out somehow, but Lucifer himself didn't even realize he was here until he met him at the piano today. And it leaves a deep, shivering sort of feeling inside of John for a moment, at the idea that something got past his carefully cultivated protections.]

[The response wasn't terribly surprising, though it was interesting to see what things would surprise John. His silence, and that momentary widening of the eyes was clue enough that Murmur had divulged something unto him that John hadn't expected to hear. Perhaps in only from one of his kind, or perhaps in general altogether. Either way it certainly had a marked effect. Angels were not like this were Murmur was from, he was indeed something of an anomaly. While he'd argue he wasn't anything particularly spectacular in the power department few did manage to function as well on their own without drawing attention as Murmur did. Generally the rebellious ones were eliminated before they could pose a threat.

They'd had quite enough of that with Lucifer's Fall.

However, he was perfectly content to move away from such a topic for now. They would have plenty of time to cross paths again.]

Tell me, how did you secure your first class ticket straight to the Pits?

[Sometimes confession could be liberating. Murmur didn't seem particularly inclined to judge or go all righteous on him. His temperament had remained rather even through their conversation, despite the dangerous topics they were touching upon. Judgement wasn't within the typical duties of Thrones. Only to obey. Something he had grown out of long ago. Granted, his recent trip here with Lucifer and the humans who kept insisting he was a person had made a lot more progress in the free-thinking department than he'd made on his own.]

I do so detest lying. [He mused with something of a hiss upon the word "detest", a subtle warning that he would very much prefer John be honest with him. Even if that honesty was full of darkness. It was always better than lying.] I am not convinced your soul is beyond salvation. However, it is also not my place to decide.

[You do you, John, he's on holiday. There's a moment, where John finally realizes Murmur's snatched his name from somewhere and has been using it quite freely. Without turning his head his eyes slide to regard him briefly, the faintest smirk touching his features. Murmur is absolutely just being a creep.]

Oh, you know. This and that, sinful living. The usual human weakness. [It's all sarcasm, and for a moment he genuinely considers leaving it at that. But he continues on, at least mostly honest. He's not sure exactly what part of his failures in sorcery really damned him. Sometimes he wonders if it wasn't playing god that really did it, bringing back the dead to truly alive is playing god in a way that displeases the most holy. But the part that he considers truly his downfall, and the part that demons taunt him with is what followed.] I botched an exorcism. Didn't know what I was doing. And some piece of shit demon dragged an innocent child to hell.

[His face doesn't really change in expression when he says it, but his eyes betray him, reflecting pain. And true to form, even talking about her makes his body cry out for chemical soothing. He fishes through his pockets, reaching for a cigarette from his carefully rationed out pack. And he lights it, needing the nicotine kick for comfort. Christ, help him. It hurts even now. God should have stepped in, there should have been some sort of ruling in place to prevent this, no innocent soul should ever make it to that dreadful place.

But mostly, John should have known what he was doing. He should have saved her. And that's what he continues to work towards, every day.] So you're not fond of fibs? You'd never make it in the human world. Can't even gamble properly if you don't tell a lie or two. [He takes note of that tone, but isn't particularly bothered by it.] That's two angels now that think I'm not beyond hope. Wishful thinking, squire. [A deep drag leaves him visibly relaxed, it's a terrible habit that's already lead to cancer that he had to do ridiculous things to rid himself of. But he goes back to it every time.] I just think that's a lot to promise, don't you? I've got to make things right, and in the process of doing that? I usually end up with a nasty spell or two that has to count against me. But who knows? Maybe the good lord considers even the worst spells miracles if they're done in his name.

[Murmur doesn't believe for a moment it's as simple as "sinful living" as John initially claims. There had to be more for him to be so certain of his fate. Fortunately the trick of shutting up and letting someone talk was generally fairly effective at gleaning more information. Despite his hostilities and reservations, it seemed John also wanted to speak his peace. That was well enough, as Murmur was quite curious about this strange hostile man who smelled of magic and regret.] And you believe it is that failure that has doomed your soul?

[There's no accusation in his tone, no inflection to hint at confirmation or denial. Only an honest question, a desire to understand how John perceives his guilt within that action. It was the demon that pulled her soul to Hell after all. Had John given voice to his thoughts Murmur might have reminded him that thus is the cost of free will: The consequences are yours and yours alone to face, the good and the bad. They cannot interfere.

Moving on, he huffs a faint sound of amusement through his nose.] Is that what you think? That one cannot obscure the truth without a lie? [That might be telling more on himself than he intends, Murmur realizes, but he's also not going to lie in a manner that would suggest he is wholly honest at all times. Everyone has secrets, even angels.] Why do you call me squire? [He's not upset by it, again just curious. John is a fascinating creature.] I cannot speak to what path you presently travel, nor could I confirm if your personal angel can do as he promises. What I can do is remind that every plague and flood is as much His hand as every miracle and blessing.

[It's just shy of a "mysterious ways" cop out, but at least slightly less of one. Slightly.]

[John shrugs. He's trying for nonchalant, and for most people the act would be an utter success. But there's pain behind the cool expression, it reflects in his eyes and also in the way his fists clench up a tiny bit before he crosses his arms.] That seems to be the consensus, at least as far as the demonic gossip mill goes. I've got a damn impressive application for the first of the fallen to look over, the blighter can take his pick, but it looks like the exorcism is what did me in.

[He's still not entirely sure if Astra's damnation was what destroyed his hopes of seeing heaven. Where Lucifer is from, guilt is what damns someone to hell and keeps them there. Where John is from though, there's a full scope of actions that can pre-register one for eternal damnation. John knows what the demons say, what makes him feel the guiltiest. But who knows what really set John towards that end? The creator is fickle, after all. And the good book doesn't cover every potential falling that might sends someone to hell.

He's just done so much since then that he can't imagine garnering favor from the almighty no matter how many lives he's saved or how many demons he's sent right back to their homelands. He supposes he could pray for forgiveness, beg for salvation, but maybe that's the one thing that he just can't do. He doesn't feel like he deserves it. He couldn't make the words happen, knowing that there was a chance that he'd be absolved of his failures and wrongdoings. No, he feels like he has to earn his way to heaven. And that's a large part of the problem.

Murmur is starting to really have John's attention. The question about obscuring the truth is fascinating. Angels may not lie as far as the ones that John has met so far, but they obscure the truth and that's deception in John's mind. The way he sees it, a lie is a lie is a lie. It doesn't matter what form it comes in, it's deception all the same. And John has no response to that query, save for a little knowing smirk. It's the same old cryptic bullshit, and honestly, it's got less of a sting now that he's out of what he was doing back home. Which makes it easier to be cheeky and play around with this celestial, verses the fits and anger that Manny gets from John back home.] Don't like it? It's just a casual term to use, but I could always go with old son, don't think we're quite at mate yet, you're likely too old for boyo. Otherwise, we've got insults to pick from if that's more your speed.

[John doesn't bother further with the whole talk of confirmations or lack thereofs, he doesn't want to think about plagues and miracles. He makes both of them happen, in his own time. He's tired of thinking about god's negligence and random gifts.]

[Trying and failing at that nonchalance. It isn't John's fault, it would absolutely have worked on anything that wasn't watching him as closely as Murmur was. Despite his very rarely making direct eye contact the feeling of being watched never quite left. Besides, even if it weren't for the physical tells the pain radiating off of him would be more than enough for the Celestial to know what John was hiding behind his act.

Murmur's gaze did flick to him again, and he rose an eyebrow.] I would advise against taking a demon at their word.

[Lucifer's version of Hell was much different than the one Murmur was accustomed to as well, his fell more in line with how John understood it. Many things could drag a soul to damnation, even unfortunate happenstance.

As for the status of John's soul, well, that's deeper digging than Murmur's comfortable doing uninvited. He could potentially find out, but who really wants to know their fate before it has come to pass? All that ever causes is heartache and trouble.

It was true angels did not typically appreciate an outright lie, deception was an entirely different beast. Not so dissimilar, no, but one could not deny that there were always times in which discretion was important. The Commandments were for humankind after all, but that did not mean angels didn't have their own laws that they must abide. As well as methods with which they could skirt those laws. Murmur was very practiced at doing just that.

Of course, at the moment he had no real reason to deceive John. That didn't mean he'd necessarily be any more forthcoming than he absolutely intended to be, but he also wasn't currently sworn to some particular level of secrecy. There was just a tiny part of him that was also being a petulant child, thumbing his nose at his Father for sticking him in this situation altogether. If he won't make his intentions clear, then Murmur would take that silence as implicit permission to behave however he so chooses. Which is, at the moment, being very slightly rebellious.

The comment just earned something of a faintly amused look.]

Not at all, merely a curiosity. Innocuous as far as nicknames go, I much prefer that to the usual.

[He's no stranger to insults and if John thinks he's going to fluster or make Murmur blush, he's going to have to get creative. Murmur certainly could go on at length about God's negligence, but that would be terribly blasphemous and he's not drunk enough for that yet.]

I don't take anyone at their word. Everyone's got an angle. And if you trust too easily, you'll find yourself screwed over good and proper.

[Demons, angels, worst of all humans. No one lies like the average sod trying to survive in a brutal word. Creation is as hellish as it is heavenly, and no one does horrible things like someone who's absolutely desperate. John should know, after all. He's done some amazingly awful stuff just in the name for survival. So how could he ever really blame someone else for doing whatever it takes to get by? Besides, if someone can make it easier on themselves by fucking over their neighbor? They'll do it, without question.

That's his take on things, anyway. But he isn't as cynical as he'd like to be, there's a warmth in a heart that feels cold and dead to him, and he isn't likely to just stand back when someone needs him. And that instinct to help screws him over far more than he'd like to admit. But what's worse? Falling prey to a sob story from someone who seems legitimately in need? Or refusing to listen to someone in trouble and having to handle the aftermath?

John isn't nearly as hard as he'd like to think. Oh, he's a dangerous man. And often a mean piece of work. But he's not someone that can just tune out people and walk away when they're in trouble.

The hint of something lighter in Murmur's expression is unexpected, but not unpleasant. Manny fakes human emotions far better than this angel does, but John thinks that this one feels more real to him. Then again, it might be less about the awkward lack of real shows of emotion, and more about the setting. John doesn't think that god can touch him here, nor the first of the fallen. So none of them really have anything to prove. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.] Good. 'Cause you're out of luck if you don't like it. It's just how it goes, it might as well be written into the language.

Cynical, but not wholly unwise.

[He is aware that among the grains of truth John also hides behind his cynicism. It's a trait all too familiar these days. Humans often act harder and colder than they truly are as a defense mechanism. Far be it for Murmur to call him out on it. At least... not yet anyway.

Another time, should another arise. He wouldn't want to show his hand too early on just how much he can glean in idle conversation. Besides, why not allow him his personal illusions if they make the weight of duty easier? Murmur's no stranger to the little lies one tells themselves as they form their own opinion on what kind of person they want to be, how they want to be seen by others. Judgement is not his dominion, his is to observe and guide. When it suits him.]

Of course. [That faint amusement remained as he offered just the slightest bow in concession. Was it mocking, or honest? Hard to tell. The angel didn't seem inclined to elaborate.]

Posturing aside, how are you taking to the change of scenery? It must be at least somewhat shocking to find yourself in space.

[Maybe he can keep John from pressing too much about his own identity, not that he'd necessarily mind. The posturing has been amusing thus far.]

[John scoffs, although he's not particularly irritated.] Didn't know that wandering around a party and snagging free bevvies was posturing. Learn something new every day.

[To be fair, though, he's been acting much like a feral cat just barely acclimated to humans since arrival. On the edges more than right in the crowd even now, not too close to anyone, ready to fight or dart if someone makes the wrong move. It's just how he is. Life has not been kind to John Constantine, and it takes a good deal of work to get truly comfortable with people. Unless the right amount of booze is involved, and he's not comfortable enough with the group he's with to let himself get that vulnerable among them.

That said, if Luci is here, between the two of them they're going to be at least somewhat safe. Especially since Lucifer has his detective to worry about. So he really doesn't think he has to be that defensive.

He will be, regardless.] It's not really a shock. Space, time, heaven, hell, doesn't matter really. Once you've seen so much, played with the multiverse a bit, it just doesn't hit the same way. [He shrugs. Acting as if it's nothing exciting at all. It probably isn't, to some. But most beings, no matter how powerful, keep to their own part of the multiverse at least.] It's been one hell of an inconvenience though. I might have to get creative to keep my addictions fed now that I'm on board.

[Murmur chooses not to comment, only granting John another one of those faintly amused looks. He can deflect all he wants, the angel isn't blind to this feral cat act but also doesn't find it necessary to point out further. Paranoia is all well and good, John has no reason to trust Navi and their crew just yet and Murmur understands as much. Mostly the jab was teasing anyway. No real intent nor bite.

Navi had a few more heavy hitters watching over them than John might realize. Lucifer was absolutely a contender, but Murmur himself was no slouch. While he wasn't vocal about it, he considered every passenger personally under his protection, yes even surly Constantine, and would act accordingly. That information wouldn't be volunteered, of course, because he did so dislike being pestered for more than he was willing to give. Even if he would be Oathbound to do so.

He has a right to enjoy his time off and he will try to take it.]

Mm, I suppose. I cannot say I have tampered much with the Multiverse. I have long been aware, of course, my own universe had become something of a Nexus point. That said, until now I had no reason to seek anything beyond it. Not until I was given no choice in the matter.

[In truth it was probably for the best. His own universe was dreadfully hostile, especially to him, and this one where he was unknown was thus safer. Even angels sometimes developed a sense of self preservation. The comment about addictions earns a quiet scoff.] Undoubtedly you will find replacements on one of the planets we visit in due time. Until then you may wish to ration.

[Even if the information was wheedled or pressured out of Murmur somehow, John wouldn't believe it anyway. Not without some show or proof at least. The way he sees it, unless they've fallen, angelic types are far too busy looking important and doing little to actually factor positively into the lives of lowly humans. Too much in the way of daddy issues and divine ego for that. Then again, he supposes it's much the same after they fall.

The talk of the multiverse is more interesting to Constantine than anything else now. Murmur is an an odd duck, certainly, but he has enough common ground with John to allow conversations of the extraordinary sort. And while sure, John could go to Lucifer for some of it, the man is so wrapped up in himself that John finds him often insufferable. That may prove to be the case with Murmur too, but for now, he's pleased enough to talk odd things that few others might care about.]

I've hopped around a bit, played with a couple takes on Earths, heavens, hells, purgatory, a sealed realm here or there. Nothing too exciting looking back. I was always wishing that I could find somewhere worth visiting. It's just my rotten luck that I ended up here. [This place certainly isn't to his taste, too much tech and too little magic, too much frustration and restraint, too little freedom and fun. And far too little in the way of satisfying his vices. He groans at the comment about rationing, he's already lower than he wants to be.] Suppose it's time I get myself invested in raising plants. I should have caught an episode of two of Gardeners’ World, it'd be helpful now. [It wouldn't have been, there's very little anyone could have told him about growing a magically altered container garden in his bedroom. He'll just have to wing it, like he always does.]

[Wise on his part. Trusting an entity as inhuman as an angel or a demon on their word alone was at best foolish, and disastrous more often than not. In this instance he may be surprised to learn that despite his oddities, Murmur agreed with him. His brethren had lost track of what was truly important, instead languishing in their own perceived self importance and rage over their Creator's disappearance while ignoring the duty for which they were created. Granted he also has Fallen, and risen again. A conversation Murmur's not exactly keen to touch upon.

He'd much rather talk about the Multiverse and philosophy, thank you.]

Have you? And among them not a single one to spark your interest? Though I would not write this one off just yet, you have merely arrived between bouts of excitement. Navi is remarkably adept at interstellar travel, this universe has proven to be uniquely populated thus far.

[It would seem Murmur's satisfied himself enough with gauging John's posturing to engage more eagerly in conversation. The man hasn't spat any groundless accusations or made strange demands of him yet, so he's alright in Mur's book.] You could try reaching out to Persephone, she's taken charge of the on board gardens. Perhaps she has access to something to tide you over.

[An angel not discouraging vice? What is this universe coming to?]

[Humans aren't really any more trustworthy when it comes down to it. They're just usually more easy to figure out. When you live short, painful lives there's usually an expected desperation to rise above the rest at whatever cost it takes built right in. It's right there with survival instinct, but worse. Something feral and so human it aches. Every poor bastard has their price, what they'd sell out their own mother for if given a chance to, so with mankind John expects it. So when it comes to those that live longer and grander existences? Well, John expects it more and in spades.

Lucky for Murmur, John can ramble on for ages about things like this. He's very experienced in the art of bullshitting about anything other than painful and serious conversation.] The problem is that it's so much of the same. Oh sure, there's a bit of difference here and there. Even the closest mirrors in the multiverse have a flaw or two to differentiate them. But it seems like if the worlds have the expected creator, and at least some of the expected fallen? Then humans will remain much the same too. [And they all remain rubbish, rotted flowers in the dustbin, destroyed bits of something potentially beautiful but ruined. John never expected utopia, not in his world or anywhere else. But he had such hopes that there was something better, somewhere with human life and free will, but not ending in another preventable shitshow.] I guess Navi'll have it easy. Can't be that hard to impress me at this rate. [Maybe, or maybe not. John's sense of wonder isn't dead, after all. Just buried beneath all of the grim things hurt humans collect to themselves to make a sort of armor of. But that shell is strong, and his bitterness is well cultivated.]

Persephone... [John tilts his head, expression suddenly inquisitive.] Is she the real deal? Can't say I've met anyone from that group before. [He hasn't met her yet. But he absolutely wants to. Especially if there's vices to be had.]

[Perhaps not, but what a cynical way to look at the world only seeing the worst in it. To have seen so little honor and integrity to believe the entirety of the species at its worst at all times. Then again, Murmur held a similarly grim view of his own brethren, so perhaps they weren't so different after all. That said, he still held out hope in the worth of life and Creation. He's seen enough good to justify it.

The can have long philosophical discussions once John has relaxed some. Should that ever come to pass.]

Yes I suppose you do have a point in that the parallel universes would hold significant similarities. Although... I have yet to encounter any that have experienced the same events as my own. [Oh the humans and various types of Celestials were all still largely the same, that thread ran deep, but different enough to be noteworthy. As far as the tendency for corruption went that was unfortunately common. The cost of free will was ever a high one. Was it something they'd truly want to trade away? Murmur didn't think so.]

I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. [Some of the worlds were more impressive than others, maybe now that John's away from his usual influences he can find some time to actually enjoy himself. Another thing that only time will tell.]

Quite. In fact, she's provided much of the spirits of the evening should you desire to partake. Strong enough even something like myself can actually enjoy them.

[Being angels is hard, they can't even enjoy getting drunk most of the time.]

[John can't imagine not being able to get plastered easily. It's just one more reason that he wouldn't stand a chance in the celestial ranks. Too much in the way of obedience, too little in the way of coping vices. He'd be booted in record speed, without a single doubt.

Some people just aren't meant to fit into nice little boxes, neat little rows, careful choirs.

Murmur might know a bit about that.] Well, who am I to keep a literal goddess awaiting? Might as well go find her and introduce myself, I've vices to feed after all. [There's an amused little expression for a moment, this is a bit exciting.] More into Hecate myself, we've got a working relationship. But maybe I can use that in my introduction. Oh, hello luv, we've got a mutual acquaintance, mind growing me something for my ciggies?

[John pulls out his flask, finally, and takes a long good drink before tipping it towards Murmur like it's just as good of a toast as any. Or perhaps just as good as a goodbye as a proper one. Then he tucks it back away.] Guess I'll be seeing you around, old son. Bet I won't get any choice in it either.

[He doesn't sound half as irritated about that as he meant to. Then he's walking away, getting himself busy with one person or another on his way to find the lady in question.]

[While Murmur can't speak to being mortal and therefore holds very little opinion on the matter, he can confirm there are more than a few downsides to the whole celestial business. John would definitely not make it among the ranks of the Lord's Holy Host, but that didn't mean he couldn't pull his weight in some other capacity. Demons and angels weren't the only things out there, after all.

Murmur does understand quite well what it is to not fit in neat little rows and neat little choirs, and he'd never fit in a box. He'd just rather not go into details at the moment.]

Perish the thought. I am certain you will manage to charm your way into her good graces. [Is he being cheeky or sincere? Or both? It's very hard to tell, the monotone does not do his jokes justice. Then again that too could be part of the game. Murmur inclines his head faintly in response to the gestured toast, as he has no drink with which to respond.

The only response to John's less than biting remark is a brief flash of teeth, the first hint of genuine amusement twinkling in his eye as Murmur likewise draws away to resume his duties for the night. Of course they'll brush paths again, John's just far too interesting to pass that up.]

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time isn't real and the party is always } network + action

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