War (warmongering) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-11-13 09:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint george, war |
WHO: War & George
WHEN: Veteran's Day night
WHERE: Outside War's place then... somewhere else.
WHAT: Warmongerings making sadfaces and coping with alcohol.
WARNINGS: tba
War was brash and careless and arrogant, but she was also in the soul of every man and woman who went into battle. And days like these, the days when the whole world remembered how many had died... they hurt. They made parts of her insides ache, parts she always hated were there. It would be so much easier if she was just the slaughter and the bloodshed, but war was more than just that. War was purpose and comradeship and bravery and terror and loss, and so the Horseman felt it all.
Each of the Four had their own suffering, and this was hers.
She sat on the front step of her apartment building, pale and unmade up face hidden beneath her dark hoodie as she picked at the skin around her nails until it bled. George had said they'd drink and War didn't have a better idea. She felt too small to hold everything in and it wasn't just the short teenage body. No mortal shape could have held it all tonight.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-12 11:05 am (local) (link) Track This
George drove up, having spent most of his time in traffic leaning against the steering wheel and trying to fight off the headache he tended to get around Verterans Day. War was easy to spot, looking about how he felt. He scooted across the seat of the car to open the door for her.
"Hey, Red."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-12 12:12 pm (local) (link) Track This
War lifted her head. Her brain felt mushy, but George got it. George got her most of the time.
She pulled herself up from the stoop with a little effort, before dropping herself heavily into the passenger seat beside him.
"Hmph," War said as her greeting.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 05:02 pm (local) (link) Track This
George handed her a bottle of beer, the cap of which he'd popped open with the bottle opener on his keychain.
"So, I forgot that I'm still pissy at Alcohol," George said, leaning his head against the window. "This is going to be a fight between my desire not to think and my desire to be whiny."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 05:14 pm (local) (link) Track This
War went ahead and assumed that George meant the god of alcohol and not the beverage itself by the way he said. She couldn't figure out much of a reason to be mad at either really. "Too many hangovers?" she asked and then took a long drink from the bottle.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 05:29 pm (local) (link) Track This
"She's got her claws into my brother," George said, pulling into traffic. "Patrick. Because, you know, Saint Patrick's Day. He's too good to belong to her, and she just fucks around with him, and..."
He trailed off and reached over to take a swig of the beer. It wouldn't take long for them to get where they were going, and he was drinking with a full stomach.
"I can't protect him from her."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 05:35 pm (local) (link) Track This
"You saints pretty much exist to get fucked around with," War muttered, pulling her legs up against her chest, something a car seat never would have accommodated with her body before this one. "Humans," she corrected in a low, rough voice, "exist only to suffer and bleed and die."
If War sounded somewhat pained it was because she was. All those humans felt like they were inside her, scratching their painful way out through her girl-shaped skin.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 06:02 pm (local) (link) Track This
"Glad to see you're keeping a positive outlook on things," George deadpanned. But he understood all too well how she was feeling. On days like these, all he could think about was the friends he'd lost, the brothers in arms that were painfully mortal when he wasn't.
He shook his head and pulled into their destination. It wasn't much, just a parking lot that overlooked the Hudson River. But the view overlooking the city and the river was good, and his car had never been towed when he parked it here overnight.
"We're going to drink and look at the city, like classy people do," he said, opening her door for her.
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 06:27 pm (local) (link) Track This
War raised an eyebrow as she climbed out of the car and looked at him. "Since when are we classy people?"
She looked around the two of them, doing the usual scan - for enemies, possible hiding places for enemies, for things that would function as weapons and as cover. It was as automatic as breathing and everything was assessed in seconds. Only then did she look back to George.
"Hope you've got something stronger than beer with you."
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 06:53 pm (local) (link) Track This
George popped the trunk, which opened to reveal several bottles of alcohol safely squirreled away.
"Have some faith in my ability to get tequila," George said with a small smile. Carrying the bottle of tequila, he hopped onto the hood of the car and leaned back against the windshield.
"You know what I miss?" he called back to her. "Mead. That stuff took the edge off after a battle."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 07:10 pm (local) (link) Track This
War slid herself up to sit beside him - her legs considerably shorter than George's - and then reached out to take the bottle. "Nah," War told him with a wrinkling of her nose. "That stuff was always too sweet for me. I don't get sugary things." She tipped the tequila bottle up against her lips and took three heavy swallows before letting it down again. She felt the kick travel down her throat and felt a little better for it. "I like things that fight back."
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 07:24 pm (local) (link) Track This
"Well, at least that lets me know you aren't the reason I've got a sweet tooth," George mused, swallowing another mouthful of tequila and staring up at the night sky. He wished he'd brought some limes, but there hadn't been any in the house and he couldn't make himself shop today.
"So. I've been thinking about the end of the world lately. You know, since it's been in the news."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 07:26 pm (local) (link) Track This
War, who thought about the end of the world every day, didn't know what she was really supposed to say to that. So when it seems like she should contribute something, she said, "yeah?"
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 07:35 pm (local) (link) Track This
"Yeah." George turned his head to look at her. "Because it'd be the end of us, you know? The end of things means an end to war. And it means that humans won't need saints anymore, because God is right there. And it means that everything will be gone. Changed." He shrugged. "I guess I'm scared of the end of the world. Although part of it could just be me feeling pissy because Revelation is so obviously talking about the Roman Empire and not some trippy future."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-13 07:39 pm (local) (link) Track This
War thought about it as she took the bottle back and then said, "I'm looking forward to it." She looked over at George seriously. "You're human, even now, but I'm not that. I was made to bring in the Apocalypse. That's all I am." She took a swig. "For me the end of the world means peace and the end of this nagging little voice that tells me that I'm not fulfilling my purpose. I have to wait for that end of the world you're scared of before I can be who I'm supposed to."
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-13 08:34 pm (local) (link) Track This
"Yeah, but what if when it's over, you're gone?" George asked. "What if the end of war means the end of you? And what about the people who aren't Christian, what about the other gods? Pestilence said once that I was being ridiculous, worrying about the people God would damn, but I do. Because I don't know what God would do with them, and that scares me too."
He took a long swig of the tequila again, the burn in his throat a welcome comfort. George hadn't really talked about this with anyone, his fears that the non-Christian friends that he'd made were bound for Hell. He thought about David Hartley, and Opium, and the fairies, and all of the immortals he'd met through the years. He'd had disagreements and fights with plenty of them, but the thought of them burning made him sick.
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-14 03:38 am (local) (link) Track This
"When it's over I'll be glad," War admitted, lying back against the windscreen and watching the sky. "I'm exhausted down to my bones from this world. I want my purpose to be fulfilled and I've always known that means the end of me. I'm okay with that. Fuck, I'm waiting for that."
War didn't really know what would happen to the others, the heathens. By all rights they should have gone below but some of them talked about their own afterlives as though they'd really seen them...
"I think," War said in a small voice, "that God doesn't have any power over the other things in the world." It was blasphemy to say and it felt like it made her tongue burn. She'd never admitted such a thought out loud before, but it had been lingering for a long time. She looked at George and her bright eyes were cautious, as though a lightning bolt might strike her down. "I think that God is fallible."
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-14 11:14 am (local) (link) Track This
"You too, huh?" George said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at the bottle of tequila. Between the two of them, they'd drank it until only a fourth was left. He slid off the hood and walked over to the drunk, rummaging until he found two more bottles.
Sliding back next to War, George thunked a bottle on the hood and looked up at the few bright stars that managed to shine through New York's light.
"I think about it a lot, some days," George said. "Because I've seen New Gods get created. And the heathens are strongest when a lot of people know them and remember their stories. I can't...I guess I can't make myself believe that God has to be different, even if I'd really prefer it that way."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-14 07:23 pm (local) (link) Track This
Well. This had all turned out rather depressing and blasphemous. War continued cradling the first bottle of tequila, watching the sky with a sigh. They were supposed to be great warriors. No, she realized, George was supposed to be up in Heaven and War was supposed to be waiting inside a seal until Judgment Day. 'Supposed's had gotten all fucked up.
War said nothing more about God. Because in the end, she was still one of His creations and to doubt Him... it made everything twisty. But it was a little bit comforting (and a little bit upsetting) to hear that George thought the same way.
"I miss my fucking horse," War complained suddenly, draining the last of the bottle and throwing it as far from them as she could manage. Somewhere she heard the glass shatter.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-14 07:47 pm (local) (link) Track This
"Hey, hey!" George said. "Littering is bad. And you could have hit someone with that."
Having lodged his protest, George settled back against the car. He reached over and patted War on the shoulder. "The Big Guy is ineffable, though. Maybe we aren't supposed to understand Him. So yeah, let's talking about your horse instead. It was freaking amazing, wasn't it?" He took another swig. "You aren't allowed to tell your sisters, because I shouldn't play favorites, but your horse was my favorite."
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-14 08:03 pm (local) (link) Track This
War didn't much care about littering but let George complain if he wanted to. She shrugged away from the petting, not much one of physical affection. Or, to be honest, affection at all. She was War, after all.
War grinned. "That's because my horse was the best horse," she said with certain pride. "He was bad-ass. The others couldn't hold anything against him." He had been a magnificent beast, huge and red and with the fires of slaughter burning in his eyes. He was War's sweet killing baby and since coming to America she'd not seen even a glimpse of him. She hoped that when the end came, he was going to make an appearance. If she had to walk to do all the end of the world wars it was going to get tiring.
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-14 08:20 pm (local) (link) Track This
"He was such a sweetheart," George mused happily, all depressing thoughts gone with the mention of horses. War's horse had gone through apples like a hot knife through butter and literally set the ground he galloped on aflame. Naturally, George had loved it.
"Hey! If I get drunk enough to forget that trying to get all the people I like in one room would result in tears and bloodshed, we can walk to my house and watch My Little Pony."
Ah, he'd hit that point in the tequila bottle where he'd stopped being ashamed of his television habits.
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[info]warmongering
2011-11-20 06:06 am (local) (link) Track This
"Not a sweetheart," War told George with a grumble, feeling slighted on behalf of her gorgeous killer. "He stomped people into the ground."
War sat up and looked at him, eyebrow quirked. "My Little Pony? Are you serious right now?"
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[info]the_lancer
2011-11-20 01:24 pm (local) (link) Track This
"No," George said quickly. After a moment, he added, "Yes. Maybe. Okay, look, it's kind of good and it has friendship and horses, which are two of my favorite things. And sometimes I just like having rainbows and bright colors to distract me from memories of getting shot and cutting off people's arms, okay?"