Voices from Heaven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thespaceopera) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-06-09 10:20 am
thespaceopera) wrote in driftfleet2017-06-09 10:20 am
Entry tags:
- !atroma,
- !mingle,
- anthony j. crowley,
- aurae "tempest" le paulmier,
- chuuya nakahara,
- daryl dixon,
- edna,
- fenris,
- ginko,
- ignis scientia,
- jack sparrow,
- katherine "kitty" pryde,
- keith,
- lance,
- lumiére,
- max rockatansky,
- mikleo,
- mon-el,
- nami,
- noctis lucis caelum,
- nono,
- okita souji,
- otono-tachibana makie,
- pavel chekov,
- prompto argentum,
- riona cousland theirin,
- sam winchester,
- sayid jarrah,
- shinji ikari,
- signy mallory,
- sokka,
- steve rogers (ou),
- takashi shirogane,
- takeshi,
- uraraka ochako,
- vash the stampede,
- velvet crowe,
- yuan ka-fai,
- yuri katsuki,
- zelda
i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
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no subject
[It's not cute. Rip, as he is, crosses his arms over his chest while he waits for Jack to tire of poking him. Though he can't feel it, rather obviously, it's still not exactly something he wants people to just start doing.]
The Spear of Destiny had the power to rewrite reality itself. With the proper incantation the wielder could literally reshape the entire world to his own making--just as God Himself.
no subject
Oi...you're not talking Holy Grail-type Spears of Destiny, are you? All that ancient mumbo-jumbo?
[Don't let his words fool you. Jack takes mumbo-jumbo pretty seriously.]
no subject
Considering that they were both ordinary objects imbued with the power of God through the blood of Jesus Christ, it would seem that I am indeed talking of just that type. [And fooled or not, Rip knows better than to doubt such power. Not when he's felt the thrumming lure of it in his own hands.]
It's hardly mumbo-jumbo in the universe where I come from. The Spear of Destiny allowed its wielder to rewrite reality itself.
no subject
Nah, I believe you, mate. Sounds like a perfectly reasonable thing to have lying about, just waiting for some wicked mastermind of evil to get his hands on it. Or her hands. So what sort of reality did you write, then?
no subject
I didn't.
[He could say more, perhaps--but he doesn't. Instead he nods back towards the fragments. Four of them, scattered about, all begin to glow with a light similar to what Jack has already seen.
Including the piece still in his hand; it's all the warning he has before a new memory starts.
You walk back into the parlor with the rest of the team, relieved that at least this seems to have gone right. Yet the work is hardly finished; while Mr. Rory declares his desire for a treat, you and Sara set the pieces out on the table--and that's all it takes. Now reunited in place and time, the pieces tremble and shake with power, the very power of God.
They wish to be whole. And a moment later, they are, broken bits of wood and metal reshaping themselves into their proper form with a flash.
The team looks down in wonder, but not you. You've seen this before, held the Spear whole and complete before. And when Martin reaches for it, you warn him against touching the artifact foolishly. You know how it will tempt each broken member of this team far too well.
You can already hear it calling to you, barely a whisper, but a temptation present in your mind.
It will draw on our weaknesses. Our desires. Our regrets. You speak of it's promises with caution, warning--and one voice asks what's wrong with being able to remake the world. You might have predicted as much from Mick. He's long made clear his desire to act for himself first, regardless of what anyone else things.
He's an arsonist and a thief, after all. Has been from the start.
Absolute power corrupts, you counter, regardless of intention. It's why you had attempted to destroy the Spear, going so far as to scatter it through time--but before you can finish, Mick's got his gun out, shooting flames at the Spear, never mind that you're aboard the ship.
Never mind that it would be a useless effort.
Fortunately nothing is set on fire--including, predictable, the Spear. You speak of the effort it took to break it before. Numerous explosives, you say, your annoyance clear. Then, however, Amaya points out something you haven't seen.
A phrase. You stare in surprise, wait for the words to reveal themselves.
But before they do, Jack is once more in the parlor as himself, alone, save for the hollow image of Rip--
And a now whole Spear, clutched in his hand.]
no subject