paradisa | (no subject)

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adrian veidt

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Teleportation is problematic. Without a guiding mind, the possibility of a gruesome death upon arrival is, for most intents and purposes, certain. Therefore I must be fortune's favorite, unless--

[ The sound of a smile. ]

Gentlemen, ladies. Let's talk, shall we?

[ Adrian waits in the lobby, journal in hand and standing still to keep his purple suit wrinkle-free. ]

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[Yeah, this guy over here is just wandering into the lobby, more preoccupied with picking leaves and such out of his new white wings than have a conversation with a genius billionaire. He grumbles to himself.]

"Go try to fly", Crowley says. "Jump off the roof", Crowley says. Next time, I'm going to punch that idiot of a demon in the face, and then I will feel better about it, and...

[He looks up and sees the man standing in the corridor, immediately drawing back in slight surprise.]

Oh! Oh, didn't notice you there. Um. Hello, I guess?

[Martel is watching him from her chair in the lobby. She wonders if she should call out to him. But then again, she's been drawing enough attention to herself lately. So she sits there just watching him, seeing what he'll do.

Adrian, there's a girl with pink transparent wings and green hair watching you. Whatcha gonna do?]

[ He stows the name Crowley in his pocket and points to a spot on his own head to indicate a twig on the other man's. ]

Did you win the tussle?

[ He looks up from the journal to notice the woman. An imperative invitation to--a costume party. He walks closer, nodding his greeting. ]

I may have overlooked the dress code.

[have the most skeptical Irish brogue you've ever heard as one half of a pair of twins ambles out of the kitchen, can of Guinness in hand]

Talk? About fucking what?

[ That accent and the can. No judging eyes here, nope. ]

Your experience, to start.

My experience. [he blinks a little, swiping a hand across his mouth] Arrigh'. Little over a week ago, I fell asleep somewhere I was s'posed to be an' woke up here.

Since then, I've had people tell me I'm in some kinda magic castle, an' that there's such things as aliens, people from hundreds've years in my future, demons, books that write down what you say, an' wishes that pretty much instantly come true.

Considerin' I've been on some pretty heavy pain medication and quite possibly dead, I'm leanin' toward either some fucked-up afterlife or a loony bin. S'much as everyone's told me it isn't.

... So, there, that 'nuff've an experience for ya? [that suit isn't getting any judging eyes, either. no. seriously man what the fuck is this, the 70s?]

Oh no, you're fine. There's no dress code. You're from Earth, right...? [Though, with that purple suit...] There's a lot of people from Earth here.

Yes. [ But there's always a dress code. ] Are you one of them?

Ah, no. I'm from another world called Aselia. Hence the green hair. [Yes, that is her real hair color. And those wings are real, but she's not talking about those right now.]

Thank you.

[ If the suit fits! He links his arms behind his back. ] Have you tried wishing away the pain?

Adrian Veidt. [ He offers a handshake. ] A customary greeting on Earth.

Don't worry, it's a customary greeting on Aselia too. [She shakes his hand.] Martel Yggdrasill. Pleased to meet you, Adrian!

Martel, a pleasure. [ A professional handshake, then he pulls away. ] What brought you here?

Well, what brings everyone else here. The Castle. It's alive, and sort of magic. It takes you from wherever you are and drops you here.

[He stares at Adrian for a moment, and then suddenly realizes what he's getting on about, reaching up to remove the twig hanging unceremoniously on his head.]

You mean with Crowley? Nah, he probably would have cursed me or pushed me off the roof himself if I had. He's a real prick.

[ Reminding himself not to shoot the messenger. ] The purpose?

[I wouldn't even attempt to shoot this messenger, Adrian. It will not end well for you.] We don't actually know. This place...it's very mysterious. And there's no real answers to anything it does. I'm sorry, I know new people don't like hearing that answer...

[ Pushing people off high places. Ah, nostalgia. ]

You could try flying.

[Go find better things to do with your time than throwing psychopathic superheroes out of windows, Adrian, sheesh.]

You don't think I've tried? I just got these recently, it's not exactly like someone handed me a "How to Fly 101" book or anything. I mean, it's not as easy as all the comics lead you to believe.

[ If those glowing wings are any indication... ] No apology is needed. You have told me what you know.

[ Like annoying a newbie angel? He's so on it. ]

Pigeons may prove better teachers.

[YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MR. VELDT.]

If they can stay still and somehow converse in the English language, then sure, they'd be amazing teachers.

There are few words in English for maneuvering organic wings.

Yes, but if the human race can provide the details of how to work a computer and all its processing systems, then surely it can explain how to fly with wings attached to your back.

And also, somebody needs to teach me how to do these miracle things, I can't exactly control when they happen...

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