logsinthenight | Round 2 [open]

Entry tags:

Round 2 [open]

characters: Cao Pi and everyone who wants to show up
location: town hall
date/time: Dec. 8, starting at moonrise
content: Community meeting, take 2! After the Dreamer/Defender incident, there's a lot to talk about and Cao Pi has encouraged everyone to come and publicly share what they learned while asleep or what ideas they have to make the next massacre less massacre-y. Feel free to handwave catching his post or hearing about it from a friend.
warnings: none likely but lmk if that changes. Threadjacking likely; if you don't want to be threadjacked, make some sort of indication.

As before, Cao Pi arrives ahead of time to ensure the town hall is ready for a session, righting any chairs that might have been thrown about in recent melees and checking the logbook for recent information. When a fair amount of people have arrived and he can see the waxing moon rising through the leafless trees outside, he rises to begin with a short intro.

"By now we know that those who succumbed to the food at the feast had a strange experience - they shared dreams with each other, in which they found themselves seeing Beacon as it was in the past. I encourage all those who dreamed, and remember it well, please tell us all what you saw. There may be considerable clues to our purpose and progress in even the smallest detail.

"The rest of us, well. We managed to make it through and I believe those who were killed are whole again, but for our part we can go over what worked and what didn't. Defending ourselves isn't merely a matter of being trained to use weapons. The spirits which attacked were formidable, powerful. We will need more than just our strength to outlast another attack. Ideas are welcome, as is any new information we have on everything from communications to threats."

That's all he'll ramble about this time, he'll take a seat and allow others to have the floor before he makes any more grandiose speeches.

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[He wouldn't describe himself as a wallflower, but perhaps there is no word that would fit quite right. Bruce has been stepping up to podiums and giving speeches for as far back as he can remember. He's been chased by reporters, photographed at all hours of the night, been on the front page of the paper; he's been seated at the lead chair during board meetings and has carried his family's name through galas, auctions, and corporate events. This is part of his birthright and it something his mother and father had made an effort to prepare him for.

But who he is and what he does are different things. Outside of a suit, outside of a blazer and tie, Bruce keeps to himself- a quiet observer.

There is a man nearby that he hasn't spoken to yet, but who he recognizes nonetheless. Bruce has a meticulous nature, part of this manifests in extensive note-taking. His head turns just a little, enough to look and offer polite acknowledgement, before turning back towards the crowd. Truthfully Bruce is very tired, and still grieving.]

You don't think that listening is participating?

[Crowley considers the question.]

Not much of a listener, me. More of an active engager.

[This is why Crowley misses out on a lot of interesting things going on around him, probably.]

[One could argue the merits of active listening, but he suspects that isn't going to carry him very far. Besides, he speaks with the conviction of a man who knows himself. Bruce isn't of the opinion that all qualities are good, but he has found that an awareness of one's nature is preferable.

Bruce considers this, then asks-]

Would you say that it's emotional impulsivity, or that you just don't like to be still?

No, no, you're not trying to get me to self-actualize or whatever, are you? I really didn't get into that into the 70's, I'm definitely not getting into it now.

[He glares into the group of people actively talking at the town hall]

You don't actually think this is going to get us anywhere, do you? We're all just...sitting around, trying to lick our wounds, pretending like we can just go back to normal after all this?

I was trying to get an understanding of how you perceive yourself so I could better estimate how dangerous you are.

[Someone else might level this as an accusation or tint it with sarcasm, but Bruce answers as if he's been asked what the weather is like today. Perhaps that's part of growing up in Gotham. He's seen people do all kinds of things, give all manner of monologues- nothing really seems strange after that.

The corner of his mouth tugs, not really a smile or a frown.]

But I suppose I'm not here because I think any one person has the answer. Everyone has questions. If I come here to listen I can see what the most vocal people are advocating for and what the most likely reactions by them will be.

I don't think any of us will be going back. To normal or otherwise.

Nobody here is actually dangerous, mate. We might've been, once, but this place took that away from us. Ask anyone.

[Crowley says this with an air of flippancy. He's still fairly dangerous, but not like he used to be. His ability to damage reality is all but gone, but he can still fuck with people a bit. Which, he supposes, is something.

He turns sharply to the lad at his words, though.]

What do you mean, 'otherwise'? You can say that all you want, but I'm going back. I'm not staying here.

One might say that commandeering and crashing the ferry was dangerous.

If I were going to 'ask anyone.'

[There's something almost conversational about the tone, but this has less to do with the act itself and the potential for harm, for a reset than it does with the present. What's done is done.]

[Crowley shrugs. That's how he feels about the ferry at this point. So many people in this blasted town hate him for it, and he just can't bring himself to care anymore.

It was such a good idea. It just went so bloody wrong.

If only they'd get another shot at the ferry.]

You got a better idea for getting out of here? I'm all ears. I think all this complacency is going to keep us all stuck here until we get eaten by those monsters everyone is so afraid of.

New people are pulled here after every reset, not just in between.

[Hate seems like a petty waste of his time; this is different from finding value in criticism. Bruce's tendency is to play all things close to the chest, but he knows that his plans succeed only because he presents his thoughts and reasoning to the people around him to be vetted and tested, weighed and measured.

He shakes his head, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.]

This will keep happening even if we manage to leave.
We're in a position to stop it.

[Crowley throws his head back and lets out an overdramatic sigh.]

Oooooh, riiiiiight, I've heard this one before. We get to be the heroes and save everyone in this world, because it's so our problem. Hate to break it to you, but I've done about enough world-saving to last me multiple lifetimes. And you know what it got me?

Executed.

Rather not do it again, thanks. Just want to get out of this place and back to Earth where I belong.

[Bruce does not believe in heroes, and he's not sure if he believes that a whole world can be saved. There are days that he struggles to see a future just for Gotham. But this isn't really about him, he hasn't been asked anything. Instead he lets Crowley's words roll over him, thinks about how familiar that exasperation is. About what responsibility any of them have, for any of it.

The hinge comes to rest where instead of saying killed the word he chooses is executed. The context hangs in the air. The carrying out of a plan or action. Punishment for a crime. Judgment.

It wasn't incidental, then- whatever he'd chosen to do. He knew that there could be consequences, that the risks would be great. Bruce turns to him, quiet. Curious.]

Would you take it back, if you could?

[Crowley thinks about it for a moment. Would he take it back? Would he have just given in, fought his best friend, and ended the world? Would he have?

He doesn't really need to think about it. He's never been good at being a demon. Not in six thousand years.]

Naaaaah. I've always been very bad at my job.

Would've been better prepared with the fallout though. Would've had some sort of plan coming out of all of that so I didn't get obliterated for doing the right bloody thing.

And don't think that's some roundabout way of telling me I need to start being better prepared with my plans. My plans are already prepared enough for this town.

I won't. I was just thinking.

[This isn't the first time that Crowley has said something to the effect of don't tell me or don't start with- an attempt to cut off a particular course of action. Bruce isn't offended by it, but instead he wonders at how often he's repeated the same cycles, if he's gotten used to such a pattern.

It must have been very boring.]

If you went through all that trouble, you must've thought it was worth it.

Yes, once. I had a reason then. I had----things to save then. A whole planet full of things I liked and I didn't want to just see it go splat over some ancient spat that didn't mean anything.

This---

[he gestures to the dark world around them, eventually settling his gaze on the crowd of people. They all matter to him too, though he's more than a little loathe to admit it. Stupid town. Stupid people in this stupid town.]

We could get everyone out of here and we wouldn't have to save it. We could just all be back where we belong. Safe there. Let the World Eaters have this place.

Yes, that's true.

[Bruce has always liked honesty, especially the type that doesn't flinch on the threshold of manners or kindness or obligation. In his experience, the truth is rarely any of those things, and though it's a standard he's like to live in accordance with, a quality he values almost above all others- it isn't one he possesses himself.

Crowley gestures at space around them- at the perpetually dark world, at the nondescript walls and the faces both familiar and foreign. And Bruce stops following his gaze to look up at the man instead.]

But it wouldn't be the right thing to do.

[He does not think of himself as a good person. Bruce has had the uncommon luck of knowing good people, of having them as friends and confidants. But he isn't one of them. He's trying. And that isn't the same thing.]

Besides. Once they have this place they'll move onto the next.
How long until they come knocking for someone else? Going back, we'd all be too spread apart to matter. Or even say goodbye.

Do I look like someone who worries about doing the right thing?

[No, that's always Aziraphale's gig, isn't it? And Aziraphale thinks they should stay. He thinks they need to save this place, save the stupid spirits and this world. Stop everything happening and then go back and save Earth all over again. Like this is their job now or something, which Crowley does not agree with at all.

And yet, here they are.

He sighs.]

We don't have to stop them. We could----I don't know. Create fake light, something they can feast on forever, as long as they want. As much as they want. Like----I don't know. What is that fake sugar?

[he moves on]

Eat it up and eat and eat and they'll never go anywhere else.

[It's an easy perspective to empathize with and understand. Bruce understands what selfishness feels like and he doesn't consider it an inherently bad thing. He knows he's done things, made choices, that have had profound costs in the name of protecting the people he cares for. He says do I look like someone who worries about doing the right thing? and Bruce thinks You look like someone who has friends. And your friends are probably worried about doing the right thing. Perhaps in from that angle it's six steps one way, half a dozen the other.

Besides. The idea Crowley presents is a nice one. Bruce has no idea how to stop the World Eaters, has no idea if they can be stopped. It's possible that the suggestion might be what saves them all in the end. But even that, creating fake light to distract them, to let them gorge on forever, is Doing Something.

The corner of his mouth tugs. It's not quite a smile, but it suggests one. The muscle memory of it at least.]

I don't think it's a bad idea.
For what that's worth.

No, of course it's not a bad idea. But I'm the one who made it, so who the hell is going to listen to it?

[he gestures vaguely at the crowd]

Not them. Not to me. I'm the one who sunk the ferry, remember?

[Which, Crowley would be the first to state, was not a terrible idea, either. If the people running the ferry hadn't gotten wise and decided to stop them from going after the controls, he'd do it again in a heartbeat. It's a transport, and it's a way out. It could carry everyone. Everyone else is just afraid of failing, in Crowley's mind. Afraid of getting hurt.

Not that he doesn't feel guilt for hurting people. He doesn't like hurting people, not really. Being a troublemaker isn't the same as being a demon who hurts people. Maybe if he were a proper demon he'd have gotten more joy out of sinking the ferry, but he isn't so he doesn't.]

[He wonders how many people Crowley has asked. How many people have said that they want to leave, and of those people who want to leave- where do they think they will go? There's a phrase that comes to mind: the devil you know, and Bruce thinks that even if he didn't feel an interest and responsibility for the mysteries of this town- surely there are worse things than being reunited with people you care about after you've died.

One shoulder rises and falls. It isn't a cavalier shrug so much as it's just a small one. Bruce's grand gestures have always been reserved for times behind a mask.]

I listened.

[Crowley will probably never stop being The One Who Sunk The Ferry, but that's the strange and wonderful thing about the passage of time, in his experience. The opportunity to make new mistakes. Get new monikers.

People have an amazing capacity for forgiveness.]

And anyway, who knows. Maybe they'll surprise you.

[Suddenly:]

ASPARTAME!

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Round 2 [open]

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