damned_institute | Day 65: Arts & Crafts Room (Fourth Shift)

Well, the woman's flesh and her fingernails had certainly been undead. "I believe so," Skulduggery confirmed. "They're more common than you would think." Depending on your definition of 'undead,' but that was just a technicality. After all, there were people who would consider Skulduggery undead. Hadn't that been Rita's first conclusion this morning?

Rita's initial - and possibly ongoing - suspicion of Skulduggery had been a welcome breath of fresh air from the amount of people here who didn't seem too cautious with their information. Genuinely helpful people were a rarity; they simply weren't something Skulduggery was used to. So Gabe's obvious and immediate concern, distracting him even from the beads he was threading together in his hands, struck the detective completely speechless.

"No," he finally replied, his interest and distrust of the man both growing by the second. "Thank you. It's been relatively harmless so far."

That distrust outstripped the interest with Gabe's next answer. Skulduggery had met plenty of people during the war who had used that same tone of voice in their denial of association with Mevolent or the Faceless Ones, and it was usually followed by an attack. "So making rosaries is just an engaging hobby?" he asked, indicating the cross.

"Or at least they were, once upon a time," Gabriel murmured thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean they can't be, again." He gave Skul a quick look and then smiled gently. "Okay. Just let me know if that changes."

The Archangel glanced down at the rosary again, tying off the final knot, snipping the excess twine, and laughed as he set it aside. "Well, it is fun. But there was someone posting on the bulletin board who sounded like he could use the extra help. It's just a pity there's nothing here to represent the Saints, but I don't know which Saint is his, so it's probably just as well."

Gabriel picked another handful of beads. This time, he decided, he'd make it a combination of beads and braided knots. And then something occurred to him and he looked up at Skul again, his grin welcoming and encouraging and not in the least bit malicious. "I can teach you how to make them, if you like. If you don't already know, I mean." He'd recognised them as rosaries, after all.

In Skulduggery's experience, undead things were still very much a problem. Well, more an annoying pack of pests than a real problem, but even so. His head tilted as he studied Gabe, trying to see if he recognized the mam from any work of fiction, the way he'd recognized the Once-ler and the Scarecrow. Nothing sprang instantly to mind, but it wasn't as if Skulduggery had read every book in existence. He was still working on that.

Either way, it was clear Gabe came from a different reality. A reality similar to Skulduggery's, but not exactly alike. That meant the rules he was governed by could be completely different, which in turn meant there was no way for Skulduggery to figure out what manner of creature he might be, not without Gabe revealing it himself.

Gabe certainly knew a lot about rosaries for a man claiming to be agnostic. Or atheist. "The person on the bulletin board needs more than one?" he asked skeptically, glancing from the tiny beads down to his own large, clumsy fingers. After a moment, the former skeleton let out a small sigh. "Why not? In a place like this, they might actually be useful. Small warding sigils, or..." He picked up a piece of string. "Tiny distractions."

"You can never have too many rosaries," was Gabriel simple answer. Skul's acquiescence made the Archangel beam, as if the other man had just made his day. In a way, he had. It was always a pleasure to teach someone a new skill, and the distraction was proving very valuable in keeping his worry in check.

"They certainly have their uses," he said with a laugh, scraping a handful of beads closer. "I doubt the nurses would allow us anything so sharp as to carve sigils on the beads, though. Weaving it'll have to be." Weaves weren't as powerful without words to come with them, but they'd do--Gabriel's first rosary had been woven for guidance. He tilted his head for a moment, considering the beads and then Skul's awkward grip. "We can make knotted rosaries instead of beaded ones, if you like. They're easier."

Skulduggery had never been a very religious man, even back in the 1600's when everyone he knew was either Protestant or Catholic. He'd only recently acknowledged the existence of the Faceless Ones, and that was solely because they'd been trying to kill him for three years straight. Succeeded, in the end, but Skulduggery clamped down that thought before it could go anywhere else. Years of forcing his anger down had made controlling his thoughts almost too easy.

But the detective still prized himself on general knowledge of the world religions, and so while he wasn't completely in the dark facing the task of creating a Catholic rosary, he also had no clue where to start. "I must admit," he told Gabe while he absentmindedly practiced twirling the string in between his fingers, "I don't know much about rosary-making, and I don't have my normal dexterity." After a pause, Skulduggery's lips almost twitched up into a smile. "I am, however, a quick learner and a genius. That should more than make up for it."

"That's the spirit." Gabe grinned at him. "But there's no reason to jump ahead, if you're still getting used to things. Tying knots can be tricky, and the cross will be more so. Especially since we don't have any tools."

Really, if the beads here weren't so large he would have had more trouble with them. There were a few differently-coloured lengths of twine, but the only colour suitable for a rosary was the brown, so Gabe separated that out. "Are you familiar with the barrel knot?" he asked. "We can practise them a bit first before starting on the rosary proper, if you need to."

"The barrel knot?" Skulduggery asked, selecting another random bit of string. "That's similar to the blood knot, isn't it? I used to be quite the fisherman, back in the day. Let's see..."

His initial attempt, unsurprisingly, was just as slow and clumsy as Skulduggery's entire body had been when he first woke up here. He managed it in the end, but not without a grunt or two of minor frustration along the way. "It has been a while," he murmured, flexing and unflexing his hand. A couple of centuries, to be exact. That certainly wouldn't help the dexterity issue.

"It has its similarities," Gabriel said, finding another shorter piece of string to have some practice for himself. He smiled encouragingly. "That's okay. That's what practice is for."

Beads were slightly different to knots, and again it took Gabe a moment to be able to keep the cord properly gathered. "You were a fisherman?" he asked with keen interest as he worked. "My--" 'Master' might be saying too much. Or at least raise questions; the word wasn't commonly used in modern times. Not for benign purposes, anyway. "--Father's a fisherman." The Archangel laughed a bit. "He's the one who taught me how to tie my knots, though I'm not as good at it as some of my brothers."

"Practice," Skulduggery contradicted Gabe, "doesn't make perfect. Only perfect practice does. And perfect is unattainable for ordinary people, unfortunately."

It had been such a long time since Skulduggery even contemplated fishing. He hesitated, glancing up from his knot. "It really has been a while since I last dealt with fishing line," he emphasized. "Long enough that I don't even remember who taught me." It might have been his father. All that had really interested Skulduggery at the time was his early discovery of magic, and the following lies that had slowly poisoned his relationship with his family. It wasn't until later that fishing had become a peaceful reprieve for him.

"Are you the oldest in your family?" he asked, trying a second knot. This one went a little quicker, and looked noticeably better when it was finished.

"I didn't say it did," Gabe said with a gentle smile. "If perfection were achievable, we wouldn't have anything to strive for. And the process of reaching a goal is often far more meaningful than actually reaching it, I think."

It was how people learned and grew, and that was always the part that had fascinated him most about humanity. That process. Getting people to think that they just had to hold out until the reward in Heaven, instead of enjoying the process of getting there, was one of the ways Lucifer managed to corrupt them.

The Archangel nodded a bit, as if to himself at Skul's emphasis. Someone long-lived, then. Maybe not a fullblooded ancient--Gabe would know him if he were--but someone with purer blood. He didn't comment on it, though. "No," he said, and laughed a bit. "We've got a big family; I have three elder brothers and a lot of younger siblings. How about you?"

And there it was again. Gabe hadn't directly said or done anything to cause suspicion so far - in fact, most of what he said seemed to align with Skulduggery's own thoughts on things. But even so... it was like that earlier distrust grew right alongside the approval, and it refused to be ignored. Skulduggery's detective instincts were tightly honed, and didn't lie to him very often. There wasn't much he could do about it right now, apart from continue to ask questions and hope he somehow eventually recognized Gabe from a piece of fiction, as unlikely as that was beginning to look.

"An older brother," he replied. "And several younger brothers and sisters, too." Any of whom he hadn't seen in centuries, either. That was what really unnerved Skulduggery about this place; not only that his past was suddenly dredged up far too often, but that he wasn't as reluctant to talk about it as he usually was. "Where did you live?"

"Oh, we didn't really live anywhere," Gabe said vaguely, focussing on the knots he was tying before looking up to give Skul an apologetic smile in recognition of how unhelpful the answer really was. He couldn't say they lived in Heaven. It was home, yes, but he was very rarely in it in comparison to elsewhere. In a way, being with his Master, wherever He might be, was home.

And his Master was everywhere.

"I just came from California, though," he added. "Before then, I was travelling a bit, mostly around the American coasts." He laughed. "And before then, I was visiting my brother in Damascus."

Dodging the question. There could be any number of reasons for that, including ones that Skulduggery wouldn't have the background knowledge to understand. He would leave that point alone for now.

"Ah, a world traveler!" he said instead. "I haven't been to California very often, but I was in Damascus recently. I don't remember exactly when, but there were bombs. Lots of bombs." Was it an air raid of some sort? World War I, maybe. The city had gone through a very violent history, and Skulduggery hadn't really been there for the sightseeing, anyway. He paused. "Your family is scattered, then?"

"There are a great many of those in the general area still," Gabe admitted with a sigh, setting aside his practice twine and unstringing a good length for the real thing.

"Yes, we are. I'd just visited one of my other brothers in California, in fact, though that was somewhat unplanned. The rest of us are in various other places." He smiles then, a quick, dimpled smile of reassurance. "It works for us, though. We enjoy the opportunity to see the world."

"As well you should," Skulduggery agreed. "The world is one of the most fascinating places I know. To think there are people who would rather stay at home and knit." That was what people did when they stayed at home doing nothing, wasn't it? It was what Ghastly did, at any rate. Skulduggery had never asked Valkyrie if she could knit, but he assumed she did something when she wasn't at school or with him. And it was most likely knitting.

Skulduggery's moderately successful knots were beginning to litter the table in front of him. "I believe I have the hang of this," he said, examining them with eyes that were, for once, narrowed rather than wide and blank. Narrowed with what, though, was still difficult to determine. "What's next?"

Now that was a topic Gabriel can talk about a lot; his face lit up, sort of light an abrupt beam of sun cast on the clouds, and he laughed. "Frankly, I'd do that too--I've never tried to knit before. It'd be fun." He grinned. "I think I'd rather do it on a beach or in a park, though. Then I could watch the sunset or the birds."

The Archangel reached over to cut off a generous length of twine for Skul too, and then with a glance around realised they needed more tools. "Well, we don't have the equipment to temper the ends," he said. "Just a minute--I'll get some tape."

So saying, he rose and moved to the table in the middle, and only a few moments later was back. "May as well make it as easy on ourselves as possible," he said cheerfully, using the tape to create a pointed edge on the end of his twine, so it could be threaded just a little easier. "Should have thought of this before."

Skulduggery was left, once again, wondering where on earth the bad feeling was coming from. Gabe was now, if anything, reminding him of Ghastly; and Ghastly was one of the most noble men Skulduggery knew. Stubborn, though. And he tended to make most of his clothes indoors, bent over a sewing machine in the dark. The image was suddenly amusing when Skulduggery compared it to Gabe's vision of knitting in the sunset.

The tape was a clever idea. Skulduggery followed suit, noting with mild interest that once he got used to the extra circumference and weight on his fingers, it wouldn't be too different from his own skeletal hands. It might take him a couple of days, but he would get that dexterity back. It was his lack of muscle and pathetic stamina that was worrying him most, particularly if he and Rita were going to try again tonight.

“Alright.” Gabriel spread his hands over their materials without touching them, and grinned. “We’re actually going to start at the middle of the twine and divide it in two parts. We won’t be actually knotting the centre yet, though, just keeping it marked.” He folded the twine over on itself, found the middle, and then pinched the place where the first knot would be made.

“Instead we’ll be starting with the first Ave of the third decade. Just three wraps, for them; the Paters will be five. We can consider the spacing as we go, though the Aves should be even, because the Pater will be spaced a little further past each decade.” The Archangel glanced up to make sure Skul was following, or see if the man had any questions.

Skulduggery stared down at his twine for a moment, held limply in his hands, and then glanced back up at Gabe. "Unless you're intending for this to take thirty years, I think I'm a bit behind on the terminology." He folded his own in half, pinched the centre, and began tying the first barrel knot in roughly the same place Gabe had marked on his. "I'll just follow what you're doing."

It really had been a while since he'd had anything to do with a religion that didn't involve the Faceless Ones. It was almost relaxing, in a way. Rather like meditation, without the inconvenience of having your skull nicked right off your spinal column. That was a grudge Skulduggery didn't think he'd ever be able to let go.

"I'm in no hurry to be anywhere," Gabriel answered simply with a smile. Human or not, imprisoned or not, if Gabriel was here then he was going to make the most of it. It wasn't like he'd had any pressing engagements before he'd woken up here anyway.

Even so, if that was how Skul wanted to do things, Gabriel had no objection. The Archangel spaced the knots evenly, except for the eleventh knot, which had a bit more distance, and went slowly so Skul saw how many rounds each knot took. "You're from Ireland, aren't you?" he asked. The accent gave it all away, really. "Which part? You implied you travel often."

Technically, Skulduggery wasn't in any hurry either, considering where he would be if he wasn't here. Still, three decades seemed like an unusually long time to be working on one project of any description.

"Dublin," he answered, his attention focused on the knots in front of him. "Well, just outside Dublin." He'd been spending a great deal of time in Haggard as well lately, a place he never thought he'd visit once Gordon no longer lived there. "I'm mostly in Ireland these days, but I did travel quite a bit for a while."

It was difficult to name any place in the world where Skulduggery hadn't been, or gone near, at least once. Most of those places were probably very different at the time, though. Damascus, for instance. "I even managed to squeeze in some sightseeing occasionally," the detective added absentmindedly as he worked.

That depended on the project, really. Three decades wasn't all that long, when you considered how some projects could be cultivated. Michael had been on the Garden Coast for centuries, after all.

"I haven't been there in a very long time," Gabriel said rather wistfully, and sang without pausing in his knotting: "'Fare thee well, sweet Anna Liffey; I can no longer stay. I watch the new glass cages that spring up along the quay. My mind's too full of memories, too old to hear new chimes; I'm part of what was Dublin in the rare auld times.' I really ought to visit again, when I leave here."

It wasn't much, or even very long, but the way Gabriel segued in and out of the quote was as natural as breathing. Almost as if Gabe could easily sing every word he spoke, because it would be instinct and passion, and simply chose not to. Even more notable was the fact that Gabriel didn't even seem to notice that he'd done anything that might be construed as odd. Instead he simply looked up and asked, "You travelled mostly for business, then? Where were your favourite places to go?"

Skulduggery's hands, which had slowly been gaining confidence as he moved through the knots, came to a stop when Gabe started singing. He gave the man a long, hard look, not quite suspicious, but not quite neutral either. There was nothing suspect about knowing the song itself - anyone who had been in Ireland since the 1970's would probably be able to sing some of it. But Gabe's voice, coupled with his comment of 'a very long time' and his apparent age, was making Skulduggery wonder all over again.

"Good to see you're optimistic," he remarked, referring to Gabe's use of the word 'when' instead of 'if.' Not that Skulduggery wasn't just as optimistic, but Landel did seem to be able to control almost everything here. Yomi and Detective Badd had both practically given up.

The detective went back to working on the rosary, looping the string through into another knot. "Not exactly business, no. But..." he hesitated. "New Zealand was beautiful. France wasn't bad, either. And the music from America around 1920 was particularly good."

"There's no reason not to be," Gabe said matter-of-factly. "All things must end, and that includes this. Something will happen, someone will find us or someone here will get out, and when they do it will leave a crack in Landel's defences." And then the rest of them could take advantage.

Oh, American music! Truthfully, once Gabe and Michael had started escorting the pilgrims West neither of them had really left America. Michael in particular--Gabriel still visited elsewhere, of course, but a great deal of his time was spent there, and the changing face of music had been one of his favourite parts. The Archangel beamed. "It was good, wasn't it? I always particularly liked Jimmie Rodgers, myself--I've always been fond of cowboys."

The last was said with a strain of impishness, as if there was an inside joke there no one else here knew.

Day 65: Arts & Crafts Room (Fourth Shift)

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