View source for Log: It's Not a Bug, It's a Feature

<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

With the blizzard still going on, Jason has shut the Bar down for another night. Granted, this rest is warranted. He had to fight a giant wolf that breathed ice and cold the night before and his poor truck got flipped. Fortunately, the truck is a hilux and so most of the damage is cosmetic. It's still going to hurt though. But that's how it goes.

At the moment, the private detective has his entire bottom half beneath the heavy futon of the kotatsu and letting the electric heater keep him warm. He's working on some record keeping from a laptop while sipping slowly from a cup of coffee. Occasionally, he looks out the window and sighs. "I'll be glad when it finally stops snowing," he says out loud to no one at all.

With a slight frown, the American reaches for his coffee mug, only to find it empty. "Damn it," he mutters in English and with great reluctance, starts to get out from beneath the kotatsu to shuffle over to the kitchenette so he can refill his mug.



<Pose Tracker> Eien Seida [D4] has posed.

Flocks of snow descend from the steely heavens, gusting down the street, swirling in tangled, ephemeral ribbons down icy pavements and the few intrepid pairs of booted feet braving the inclement weather. It accumulates in thick drifts along brick walls, clumps into gutters, encrusts windows with glittering hoarfrost.

Jason's apartment is a far better place to be, all things considered -- even if he's working. At least his work is dry. Warm. Coffee in a pot, in the little kitchen. Maybe something to eat. There are worse ways to spend an evening.

As he untangles his long body from the tented table, his laptop produces the sound that it produces when he receives a new message.

The subject line reads:

Holy Quest

The From field reads:

GOD



<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

Jason is halfway to the kitchenette when his laptop dings. It's a familiar sound but not usually an urgent one. He'll take his time to fill his mug, take a sip and then top it back off before padding across the floor to his laptop. He doesn't even look at the screen while he settles back down. He takes the futon and tucks it in around himself to get resettled before checking his mail.

The mug is at his lips and he takes a slow sip as grey eyes scan the screen and lights onto the new message. The reaction is instantaneous. The American spits his coffee, turning his head just in time to spray the drink /away/ from his expensive laptop and it's a miracle that he didn't drop the mug either.

"What the hell?!" He continues on in English. This is a prank. It has to be. Showing more hesitation now than he ever has in his life (and thankful there's no one here to see it), he reaches for his mouse and with a feeling of dread, double clicks.




<Pose Tracker> Eien Seida [D4] has posed.

Click-cli--

Existence explodes.

Light blasts from every surface. As though the mundane contours of the visible realm were merely a thin veneer of paint, barely able to conceal the blinding, searing, soul-torching brilliance of the ethereal cosmic substances that lie beneath, the tangible knowns of his apartment burst like over-ripe fruit, spilling forth light and sound and heat and cold and peace and ecstasy and wisdom, a torrent of high and holy things, as though Lunar Palace had become the staging area of the heavens. Trumpets blare, their strident voices piercing and bracing all at once; harps larger than the world, struck by the unfathomable fingers of seraphim, produce one single, lingering chord of notes that could shake the world free of its foundations. Choirs of angels raise their voices, singing opaque hymns.

Also, his laptop bursts into flames.

Purple and golden ones.

JASON RHETT BUTLER,

it says, in a voice that is not a voice, which threatens to tear every last molecule of his skeleton apart, dissolve his consciousness, his identity, and absorb him once more into the All from whence he came.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL.



<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

Yup. He definitely shouldn't have double clicked.

Jason is a man who's used to the strange and the supernatural by now. He's capable of summoning a phantom from his very mind armed with fire and magic to defeat living shadows. He's seen men transform from man to giant monsters and back again. His own intern can 'feel' the past of an object or a person and somewhere out there is a demon snowman who's imitating him.

But all of that didn't prepare him for this. When the light explodes, he rockets backwards and nearly up ends the entire table. The last time he saw a light burning so bright, he ended up getting dumped in a city that wasn't a real city, surrounded by demons with no way out and no real weapons. What he didn't get during the explosion that created Mikage-cho was a holy symphony.

There's a choir of angels, trumpets blasting and his laptop is on fire. "Wh-?!"

Now, like every good southern boy, Jason went to Sunday school. He learned as a boy the miracle of God and the story of Moses. Charlton Heston's 'The Ten Commandments' was something that played regularly on the TV during his youth. But just because he knows the story doesn't mean it prepares him in any way for The Voice or seeing his laptop surrounded by purple and golden flames.

He turns ashen pale when he realizes what's going on. "Oh g-. Ah.. um.. Y-yes." He hurriedly goes into a kneeling position. "I ah.. Have received your mail Lord?"



<Pose Tracker> Eien Seida [D4] has posed.

NO,

says the laptop, which may or may not also be God.

YOU HAVE MAIL.

With a thunderclap and the scent of ozone, the space in front of Jason tears open enough for a coat of mail to materialize from the nothingness, where it dangles in the air, silvery, shining with starlike warmth. The holy choir redoubles its efforts at the appearance of this strange holy artifact, their voices lending awe to the moment. The incandescent light in which the room is steeped causes the mail tunic's finely-wrought rings to glint and sparkle as it rotates once, and then it simply collapses to the floor with a very /real/ weight.

TAKE THIS ARMAMENT WITH MY BLESSING. YOU WILL FACE MANY DANGERS IN THE COMING DAYS.

Again, the choir pitches its song in volume, twisting along a dramatic, ominous turn--

IS THAT REALLY NECESSARY, says God, and the singing voices decrease, as though someone had turned their cosmic volume dial back from over 9000 down to merely 11.

THANK YOU. AS I WAS SAYING, YOU WILL FACE MANY DANGERS IN THE COMING DAYS, FOR I HAVE CHOSEN YOU TO EMBARK UPON A HOLY QUEST, TO RETRIEVE A WEAPON OF GREAT IMPORTANCE IN THE ETERNAL FIGHT AGAINST SATAN AND HIS MINIONS.



<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

"I hav- Oh." It was a pun. A tiny cynical part of Jason is cringing at the pun but one doesn't God that was a terrible pun nor does he groan. Instead, he just watches a piece of armor, a most beautiful piece of armor appear in front of him and fall at his feet. He reaches out to touch the armor and it definitely feels real. It's like something out of a book or a movie. The lights, the deafening choir.

'Did King Arthur feel like this when he touched the sword in the stone,' he thinks to himself as he suddenly has memories of watching the old Disney movie. He pulls his hand away, as if to see if the choir will stop but God pre-empts that by telling it to simply quiet down. This comment makes him smile a little as he once again puts his hand on the armor.

With his other hand, he sweeps blonde bangs away from his eyes to look back at the fire. "Yo-. Wait. I know this story," he starts to argue. "The pages of that book. Are you telling me that I'm supposed to take on the role of Sir Merryweather and find the sword of purity?" He frowns. "I.. don't think I'm particularly suited for this quest Lord."

Because he is anything but pure.



<Pose Tracker> Eien Seida [D4] has posed.

The mail is absolutely tangible to the touch, and strangely alluring, not cold, the way one might expect metal to be...and light, almost insubstantial.

As Jason looks around his apartment, he might notice that his window is no longer encrusted with snow: beyond, too difficult to see clearly through the blazing brilliance of holy light but there, definitely there, is a suggestion of elysian fields, topped by creamy azure skies, dappled with delicate blossoms of surpassing beauty -- which may be where that scent is coming from, of floral nectar in the sun.

Then again, they say that saints smell like flowers, don't they?

But, to the present:

Jason has decided to argue with God.

There is a long, holy silence.

OH, WELL THEN, says the voice, I SUPPOSE I HAD BETTER GIVE THIS QUEST TO SOMEONE ELSE. WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT MYSELF BEFORE TAKING THE TROUBLE TO MAKE MYSELF MANIFEST TO YOU AND BESTOW THIS DIVINE GIFT, IT WOULD HAVE SAVED ME A LOT OF TROUBLE.

Pause.

OH WAIT, I DID THINK OF THAT. BECAUSE I AM GOD.

Pause.

I UNDERSTAND YOUR HESITATION. FEW HAVE ENDURED WITH EASE WHAT I HAVE ASKED OF THEM, BUT ALL WERE ABLE TO BEAR THE WEIGHT. BUT YOU ARE MY CHOSEN. I BELIEVE YOU WILL DO WHAT IS RIGHT.



<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

There is some relief in the feel that the chainmail armor is light. It means that it shouldn't weigh Jason down if/when he has to wear it. And if God is serious about sending him on this quest and the 'dangers' that await him, he has a feeling that he'll basically be wearing the mail except when bathing and possibly sleeping. The floral scent and the reprieve from snow and ice is also welcome but at this point, he's not sure if he accidentally slipped something into his coffee when he was brewing it or if this is real (even if the mail feels real).

But he's too busy arguing with God to spare more than just a glance out the window. A part of him is in disbelief, that he dare question God but another part of him asks 'why not?' It's a different time, a different era and he was never the most devout of Christians to begin with.

The response he gets isn't quite what he was expecting though. The silence makes him nervous and very /very/ aware of just how vulnerable he is. One doesn't realize just what The Voice is doing to one's body until the vibrations stop. He cringes, as if steeling himself for some holy smiting. What he gets instead, is sass. Well deserved sass but sass nonetheless.

"No just wa-," Jason starts to protest in that brief pause until God comes back, a little kinder, a little more gentle. He has a feeling that he shouldn't push God anymore. He might be the 'New Testament Nice God' God right now, but he's not sure he wants to try and see if beneath that 'nice guy' is the 'Old Testament Vengeance God'.

"I.." There's a kind of resigned slump in his shoulders, "I don't have much space to argue do my Lord?" Lips curl into a humorless smile as he bows his head. "Very well. I accept this question. Do I have to use a sword or can a shotgun serve instead?" Yes, he had to be pert.



<Pose Tracker> Eien Seida [D4] has posed.

DO WHAT YOU FEEL IS RIGHT.

In one light, those words might look like permission; in another, they're the sort of burden that children know well -- words that come along with a sneaking suspicion that one is being given just enough rope to hang themselves with.

AND FIND THE SWORD OF PURITY, JASON RHETT BUTLER. YOU WILL BE SORELY TRIED AS YOU WALK YOUR PATH. THE MINIONS OF THE ENEMY WILL NOT REST UNTIL YOU HAVE QUESTIONED YOUR PURPOSE AND DOUBTED YOUR FAITH. STAY TRUE TO YOUR QUEST, PURE OF HEART, MIND, AND BODY, AND NO WICKED TRAP THEY LAY FOR YOU WILL HAVE DOMINION OVER YOUR SOUL.

The chorus of angelic voices swells once more, gaining such power that objects on shelves are rattled from their places to clatter onto the floor, and a fresh hairline seam appears in the plaster of the ceiling. The laptop, still ablaze, practically disappears within its nimbus of spectral flames, even as it jounces and shudders across the low table.

AND SO IT IS DONE. I WILL RETURN TO YOU WHEN YOUR QUEST IS COMPLETE.

Papers and other lightweight objects spiral into the gossamer, shining air as the light in the apartment intensifies, culminating in a white-out flash--

...after which things appear to be still, and silent.

And normal.

For five seconds.

Then the light explodes into the room for a second time, and the heavenly host shouts its harmonies once more into the room. The laptop streams phantom tongues of flame ceilingward, once more a torch of the divine.

ALSO THERE WAS A VIRUS ON THIS COMPUTER, BUT I TOOK CARE OF IT, says God.

I ALSO REMOVED SEVERAL THINGS THAT SEEMED LIKELY TO CONFLICT WITH YOUR QUEST FOR PURITY. YOU ARE WELCOME.

And then, with another thunderous roar, the light blinks out again.



<Pose Tracker> Jason R. Butler [D4] has posed.

'Do what you feel is right.'

Those will be the words Jason will want on his tombstone. 'He did what he thought was right'.

He sits through the instructions, feeling vaguely unhappier with every passing word. He will be tempted. Be pure of heart, mind and body. Does this mean he has to quit smoking and drinking? He really hopes not. Though one could argue that his smoking is poisoning his body. Then he wonders if Eien is Christian and somehow God heard her wish about this. He'll have a talking to with his intern at some point.

He winces with the swelling of voices and obediently bows his head as his laptop behaves like it's possessed. Plaster dust falls on the detective's head and he wonders just how is he going to explain all this to Katsuya. It won't be easy.

But things go quiet and he can think again. Cautiously, he looks up and is rewarded with another explosion of light followed by deafening sound. "... Th-." Wait.

Removed several things?! When things go back to 'normal', Jason reaches cautiously for his laptop and opens up a couple windows. A few clicks shows exactly what God removed. "ARG. Damn it! Do you know how long it took me to find that video?!"

He is /really/ not going to like explaining all this to /anyone/.




[[Category: Logs]]
[[Category: Once Upon a Time]]