“Hey you're John Constantine right? The mortal who helped Tali and his girlfriend right? Perfect!”
The male-presenting angel declared, an almost blinding smile on their face.
“I'm Sathariel, one of the Watchers, or guardian angel? Whichever you prefer! And this is Polly!”
The angel held out a 7 months old baby sucking on their fist.
“Pollux is not my charge, but her son's. She's going through something difficult at the moment. Post-partum depression has her convinced giving Polly away is best for them. And she tried, actually giving him away, went to a church, to a fire station, to a hospital too. Never managed. Couldn't let them go. So she... she tried to go instead....”
The angel's voice wavered.
“But she made it. She did drown for a bit, but she's in hospital now and I know she'll be terrified for Polly as soon as she's awake. I want to give her the time 72 hours. I'll be with her for the inner journey, I'll see if—”
The guardian angel swallowed, tears visibly welling in their eyes.
“If this is the end of the journey for her and Polly.” The angel glanced down at the baby in their arms, rocking them gently, eyes wet with tears they wouldn't let spill. Dutiful prisoner of hope. “Or if she can recover. If she can manage to ask for help... Just 72 hours.”
The angel repeated, handing the baby to Constantine.
“Keep them safe for 72 hours and I'll owe you, John Constantine.”
With those words, the angel vanished.
✨🪽ooc: sorry, just really wanted to give Constantine a baby. don't worry, I will come fetch it back!
John narrowed his eyes, instinctively on guard at the mention of Tali and Chantinelle. There was also the fact that whomever was addressing him looked unpleasantly heavenly, and last he'd heard, angels had killed Tali and stolen Ellie's baby so not exactly his favourite people. Not that Heaven had any fondness for Constantine either...
"Sathariel..."
John repeated, trying to place the angel. Book of Enoch. 17th Watcher. But... Fallen Angel no? So how could he stand before John? Did God just re-make a bunch of angels with the same names? Surely not...
Still, the angel stood there, all dazzling smile, holding a happy gurgling baby. Before explaining that the mother was struggling. Coma then. After trying to drown herself.
Oh.
Just lovely...
John swallowed feeling a lump form in his throat. If the angel was feeding him some bs story for some reason, well, it was bloody working...
"72 hours what?"
The exorcist inquired, now visibly frowning. Surely... Nope. Yep. He was being handed a baby.
"No! No no no, don't just—"
John blinked, profusely, in utter shock as the angel vanished.
"Oi," He lifted the baby in his arms to be at eye-level. "listen to me, I don't know if yer really a baby or whatever is up, but listen carefully, I'm not about to—" John was interrupted by the sudden wailing of the small babe, now left with what basically was a stranger to him, and certainly not one haloed in the same comforting light as a guardian angel. "Shit. Fuck. How'd'I make it stop? Stop? Stop! Nice baby, nice! No screaming me bloody ears off! Come on!" He brought the seven-months old to his chest, swaying gently. "Whose a nice baby, whose a nice baby?" He inquired, to no avail. "So not ya then, aye?" He went on, gently swaying still. "D'you like rock? Let's try rock. I'm on a Highway to Hell, clearly, Highway to Hell, come on baby, we're on a Highway to Hell, humanity's doomed to Hell..." He sang, though those weren't quite the lyrics. "Livin' easy, lovin' free...." The blond started pacing around. "Season ticket on a one-way ride..." The cries seemed to die down a little. "Oh bless." Just to start over as soon the exorcist stopped singing and swaying. "O'course..." John sighed. "Don't need reason, don't need rhyme... Ain't nothin' I'd rather do... According to yer ma's guardian angel at least..." John kept swaying, trying to recall the actual lyrics before the chorus. Fuck. He'd need actual, competent help, no? "Goin' down, party time... My friends are gonna be there too, yeah..."
There are very, very few S.O.S. signals and texts that Oliver will answer these days, and none of which have been sent. It has been blissfully silent on that front. Until he got an unusual text from an unusual person, someone who Oliver thought would never ask him — of all people — for help. Hell, he was probably the last person that was asked! When the magic man comes begging for help though, it'd be rude not to answer.
"I'll be there in 30." sent ✓
He still had access to the Justice League's teleporters, and that was much faster than catching a flight. 30 minutes was generous, but he wasn't sure how far from the teleporter John was, and though the man was fit and could likely run the distance, that doesn't mean he wants to get that much cardio in. A cab is caught and taken to the general area where he's supposed to be.
Oliver goes to knock, and he can hear the baby crying. John trying to help is heard too, of course, but the baby is what his ears pick up first. A memory of his own son, who he never got to raise, flashes through his mind. Maybe those fatherly instincts will come in handy. He shakes his head and finally knocks, just loud enough to be heard without upsetting the little one more.
"It's Oliver," he calls through the door, and opens it carefully, peeking his head in. Baby in the arms would make it hard to open the damn thing, after all. "Y'still need my help, Constantine?" American pronunciation, of course, but careful not to outwardly show a sway in either direction for the task at hand, lest it get used against him later. Tempation to ask where in the world he got the baby from is very high, but he's an occultist. The answer very easily could range from 'saved from being a sacrifice', to 'the devil himself stole this child so I stole him back,' and that is a range of which the former Queen could not handle and chooses not to. Magic is just not for him.
Silky had originally been curious about the newcomers, drawn to the new voice and staying close to the group, happy to rub against any nearby ankle. All hell broke loose however, as soon as the angel disappeared, leaving a suddenly upset baby in Constantine's arms. The cat climbed up the nearest surface to get a closer look at the situation, watching the blond sway with the babe in its arms with their head tilted to the side, curious but distant seen how much noise was coming from the small human.
More noise came in the form of a knock at the door of the airstream camper. That had John pause for a second, brows creasing in mild concern before the person announced themselves, making the blond sigh in relief. Good, okay, so actual help an not one of those teenagers certain for some reason that John would be willing to buy beer for them or worse, an actual enemy. Though well, his enemies did not make a habit of knocking.
"Oliver. Bless." The exorcist declared, opening the door and getting out of the way to let the other male in. "Do not let Silky out." Constantine warned before heading back further inside the camper, still swaying the unsettled baby.
"I don't know what to do with this." He declared, holding up a crying Polly. "If I told ya an angel left it with me would ye believe it? Because I don't. An' I was there..." John added, mild panic passing in his gaze. "I fight demons for a livin', I don't babysit. This is way out of my purview. But apparently Heaven doesn't care an' for the next 72 hours, Polly here an' I, are about to be joined at the hip. Well, not literally. I think he'd be better joined at yer hip, no?" John added, raising his eyebrows and gesturing for Oliver to take the baby. "I'll buy us food if ye can make it stop. Whatever ye want. My landlord literally has a lobster shack. Fresh from the sea. Sounds nice, uh? No?"
Head ducked down as he enters, Oliver steps through and glances around. He had no idea what to expect, but it's not terrible. The warning about the cat catches his attention, and thankfully, he has practice catching cats these days because of Junie – Roy's cat. The fluffy void is spotted and gently scooped for a moment — "Gotcha. Hi, Silky!" — then placed on his shoulder in a smooth and oddly gentle motion, and gets the door closed well. Then the cat is helped down and Oliver refocuses on the baby situation, biting his tongue at how the poor thing is held.
Carefully, he takes a breath, trying not to burst out laughing, and takes the little Polly. Listening to John anxiously chatter as the little one gets carefully nestled between his chest and arm, and head propped up. "I normally wouldn't believe that, but since this is you we're talking about? Yeah, I can definitely believe an angel asked you to babysit." 72 hours? That's a long time. He didn't expect to walk into three days worth of babysitting, but clearly Constantine didn't, either, and only one of them is even slightly equipped for this. He gently shushes the little one, bouncing his arm just enough to get the baby to feel the rocking motion. "It's alright Polly, you're okay, sh-sh-shhhh." Though the food offer is tempting to anyone, Oliver just shakes his head and smiles a bit — mostly to Polly, really — and grabs both a smartphone and his wallet out of his back pocket, handing the items to Constantine after he unlocks the phone.
"Go buy that lobster if you want, but I'm fine for now. I need you to either take down a list of things and go run to get them, or for you to place an order for the baby items. 72 hours is a long time, and obviously that angel didn't give you a diaper bag with all the necessary supplies." Polly is adjusted carefully, still being gently bounced and rocked in his arms. "Phone's organized into folders in the app menu, it should be easy enough to navigate. Only thing not on there you'd need is my credit information — hence the wallet." He runs a hand through his hair, making the list mentally of what the kid would need. Polly's an infant, so; appropriate clothing, bottles, formula, water that's safer than the Florida tap, cradle, diapers, wipes, cream, powder, changing table, swaddles; the like. He rattles that off, as well as a few other items that will be useful for the current moment. Anything else is something that Oliver will get whenever that angel comes back. Hopefully he can get down an address for the guardians, or guardian, that's caring for the baby. Get all of what will be bought now to them, as well as make sure the baby's needs are met for quite awhile in the future.
Humming a bit, mostly to think, and leans against a counter. He's a bit surprised at himself, looking down at Polly. He couldn't be assed to see Toni as his adopted kid, but here he is, suddenly resolved to help this seemingly random magic adjacent baby. Not baby fever he's having, thankfully, but definitely a strong parental urge. Maybe he misses being a dad, or maybe he just misses Roy? Whatever the case, he's gonna help. Apparently. May as well ask questions. "Do you know why that angel handed you the kid? Are the parents or guardians alright? I'm admittedly a bit curious and worried, it'd be nice to know what the situation looks like." It'll also help him decide exactly how much help that person or those people need, and where to help the most. Not that Oliver would say so outright, not to Constantine. Oh, he could put it under John's name on a note maybe? Get the bastard some good karma, or however that worked. Oliver's got his name on enough stuff already.
“Hey you're John Constantine right? The mortal who helped Tali and his girlfriend right? Perfect!”
The male-presenting angel declared, an almost blinding smile on their face.
“I'm Sathariel, one of the Watchers, or guardian angel? Whichever you prefer! And this is Polly!”
The angel held out a 7 months old baby sucking on their fist.
“Pollux is not my charge, but her son's. She's going through something difficult at the moment. Post-partum depression has her convinced giving Polly away is best for them. And she tried, actually giving him away, went to a church, to a fire station, to a hospital too. Never managed. Couldn't let them go. So she... she tried to go instead....”
The angel's voice wavered.
“But she made it. She did drown for a bit, but she's in hospital now and I know she'll be terrified for Polly as soon as she's awake. I want to give her the time 72 hours. I'll be with her for the inner journey, I'll see if—”
The guardian angel swallowed, tears visibly welling in their eyes.
“If this is the end of the journey for her and Polly.” The angel glanced down at the baby in their arms, rocking them gently, eyes wet with tears they wouldn't let spill. Dutiful prisoner of hope. “Or if she can recover. If she can manage to ask for help... Just 72 hours.”
The angel repeated, handing the baby to Constantine.
“Keep them safe for 72 hours and I'll owe you, John Constantine.”
With those words, the angel vanished.
✨🪽ooc: sorry, just really wanted to give Constantine a baby. don't worry, I will come fetch it back!
John narrowed his eyes, instinctively on guard at the mention of Tali and Chantinelle. There was also the fact that whomever was addressing him looked unpleasantly heavenly, and last he'd heard, angels had killed Tali and stolen Ellie's baby so not exactly his favourite people. Not that Heaven had any fondness for Constantine either...
"Sathariel..."
John repeated, trying to place the angel. Book of Enoch. 17th Watcher. But... Fallen Angel no? So how could he stand before John? Did God just re-make a bunch of angels with the same names? Surely not...
Still, the angel stood there, all dazzling smile, holding a happy gurgling baby. Before explaining that the mother was struggling. Coma then. After trying to drown herself.
Oh.
Just lovely...
John swallowed feeling a lump form in his throat. If the angel was feeding him some bs story for some reason, well, it was bloody working...
"72 hours what?"
The exorcist inquired, now visibly frowning. Surely... Nope. Yep. He was being handed a baby.
"No! No no no, don't just—"
John blinked, profusely, in utter shock as the angel vanished.
"Oi," He lifted the baby in his arms to be at eye-level. "listen to me, I don't know if yer really a baby or whatever is up, but listen carefully, I'm not about to—" John was interrupted by the sudden wailing of the small babe, now left with what basically was a stranger to him, and certainly not one haloed in the same comforting light as a guardian angel. "Shit. Fuck. How'd'I make it stop? Stop? Stop! Nice baby, nice! No screaming me bloody ears off! Come on!" He brought the seven-months old to his chest, swaying gently. "Whose a nice baby, whose a nice baby?" He inquired, to no avail. "So not ya then, aye?" He went on, gently swaying still. "D'you like rock? Let's try rock. I'm on a Highway to Hell, clearly, Highway to Hell, come on baby, we're on a Highway to Hell, humanity's doomed to Hell..." He sang, though those weren't quite the lyrics. "Livin' easy, lovin' free...." The blond started pacing around. "Season ticket on a one-way ride..." The cries seemed to die down a little. "Oh bless." Just to start over as soon the exorcist stopped singing and swaying. "O'course..." John sighed. "Don't need reason, don't need rhyme... Ain't nothin' I'd rather do... According to yer ma's guardian angel at least..." John kept swaying, trying to recall the actual lyrics before the chorus. Fuck. He'd need actual, competent help, no? "Goin' down, party time... My friends are gonna be there too, yeah..."
There are very, very few S.O.S. signals and texts that Oliver will answer these days, and none of which have been sent. It has been blissfully silent on that front. Until he got an unusual text from an unusual person, someone who Oliver thought would never ask him — of all people — for help. Hell, he was probably the last person that was asked! When the magic man comes begging for help though, it'd be rude not to answer.
"I'll be there in 30." sent ✓
He still had access to the Justice League's teleporters, and that was much faster than catching a flight. 30 minutes was generous, but he wasn't sure how far from the teleporter John was, and though the man was fit and could likely run the distance, that doesn't mean he wants to get that much cardio in. A cab is caught and taken to the general area where he's supposed to be.
Oliver goes to knock, and he can hear the baby crying. John trying to help is heard too, of course, but the baby is what his ears pick up first. A memory of his own son, who he never got to raise, flashes through his mind. Maybe those fatherly instincts will come in handy. He shakes his head and finally knocks, just loud enough to be heard without upsetting the little one more.
"It's Oliver," he calls through the door, and opens it carefully, peeking his head in. Baby in the arms would make it hard to open the damn thing, after all. "Y'still need my help, Constantine?" American pronunciation, of course, but careful not to outwardly show a sway in either direction for the task at hand, lest it get used against him later. Tempation to ask where in the world he got the baby from is very high, but he's an occultist. The answer very easily could range from 'saved from being a sacrifice', to 'the devil himself stole this child so I stole him back,' and that is a range of which the former Queen could not handle and chooses not to. Magic is just not for him.
What is it that we say about hanging around eco-terrorists again? “Cool motives, still murder.” Ollie... C'mon, you know better...
🎙️ @dinahmite-voice
"Dinah.."
Oliver has to pause, at a loss for words. How does he even begin to explain it? Pathetically. He doesn't exactly want to place all the blame onto her, but that blame still sits in his chest, for the entire Justice League.
"He... he has some good points, Dinah. Especially about the JL. And he did kinda save my ass.."
Ollie trails off, looking away for a moment. Then his green eyes meet her blue, hoping that she won't kick his ass. He'd really, really hate to fight her.
The woman rose an eyebrow in surprise at the use of her name. Cold. Detached. None of the fondness usually there when he'd call her 'pretty bird'. She might as well have been a stranger to him. It... It stung. Yes, it honest to God, stung. Still, Dinah inhaled deeply, her expression otherwise remaining neutral, now a little guarded.
"I know."
She let out softly, understandingly. He looked too tired to be angry at, just a little too well still to cross the obvious distance between them. Especially when he seemed so hellbent on establishing it.
"That's the thing with men like Ra's. They're eloquent, they've got charisma, they're great orators really and at the heart of it, you see bits of truths and hear promises that sound so very pleasant. He's got his way to make you feel like the world is against you and somehow, he is the one on your side, on the right side. He exploits moments of weakness and shapes himself into exactly what you need, a saviour, a guide, someone with vision when you can't see ahead anymore. And it helps. For some time. Until who you are is not enough anymore and he sets on fixing you, on bettering you. Relentlessly, until you're just an empty shell easy to control, a vessel to serve his goals."
The woman swallowed.
"If this is about the call Ollie, you know how it is. The life we lead. There is no guarantee of anything. And I don't believe Ra's can actually offer you any more than... us. I mean, all of us, the league, your friends, your-your family. Al Sahm is a title, if you were to die, he would look for someone else to wear it or throw you into the pit and settle for whatever would be left of your soul. Oliver Queen, is a man I—many, many love, and if he died, if he died..."
The woman's eyes fell shut.
"I couldn't settle for any replacement. Maybe that, is the most significant difference between Ra's and us. We, care about you. Not what you can do for us. But who you are. Your head. Your heart. Your soul. We need you whole. You're not a title. You're a person, Ollie. And so are we. As unpleasant and imperfect a reality that might shape."
The understanding from her tilts him. It makes his breath freeze in his chest. Meeting him with kindness is something he hasn't really had yet. The old man was chaotic, Damian was confrontational and desperate, and Constantine was... prodding? Investigative and intrusive, definitely. Dinah's softer approach leaves him feeling too seen, far more vulnerable than he wants. That only gets amplified as she continues, pointing out what really got Oliver to fall into it. He needed saving, and it was a moment of weakness. Even if the details are a blur now, which everyone has said was the product of brainwashing, Oliver hears the point. The nail is hammered into the coffin, and he looks away, jaw clenched — not from anger, but some other distant emotion he's struggling to place.
"He did save my life. In typical Ra's fashion, as I know you're able to see, but even still." Oliver doesn't mean to show the hand that was played against him, but the glimmer of truth shines through, and shows what Oliver is either pushing aside or was beaten out of him. Ra's al Ghul always has a plan, after all. "Nobody else was there."
His comment and main point against the entire Justice League is addressed, and it annoys him. Ollie wants to snap about it, about how he may know all about the lives they lead and how his circumstances were ridiculous, but his tongue is held in place, only loosening as Dinah pulls into the rest of it. He would get thrown back into the pit, of course he knows that, but she's humanizing him and putting his actual emotions up to a mirror in this moment. Making herself a bit more vulnerable in order to do so. An appeal to his humanity, almost. Appeal to his emotions, certainly. Biting the inside of his cheek, hardly noticing the old habit's reappearance, he takes a shaky breath. Nail getting placed slowly, almost hammered in by now.
For a moment, as it clicks what she almost said, the cognitive dissonance fades, and he gives a soft, lopsided grin. Almost enough to make one believe, if it wasn't for the eyes, that he was still himself. "You almost said you loved me for a moment there. I heard that." He's not even cocky about it today, just... happy, and almost himself. It fades though, and the dissonace hits hard again, tightening up his posture and jaw once more.
"The world wouldn't miss me though, not really. A few people would, sure, but not the world, not that many people. Someone else would become Green Arrow, Roy or you would take the company, the Justice League would induct new members, and the world keeps spinning. Just another rich bastard gone. One less billionaire, and one less vigilante." His argument to that particular point feels half assed, even to himself, but it's made anyway. The rest of what she has to say? That's what he actually cares to think through. Couldn't settle for a replacement. We need you whole. You're not a title. You're a person. It strikes a chord, irresonant with what he's had running undercurrent in his mind for months now, how his relationship with Ra's was more belonging to via married parentage and a weapon rather than a person of his own right. Dehumanized without actually knowing it, and only just now feeling the effects of it.
His head hurts. It goes blank and feels foggy, even. He looks away again, trying to blink back the sudden blurred unfocus in his eyes. Pressing his nails against his skin in any way, trying to bring himself back to the present, but struggling to even feel the pain, to feel his shoes and feet on the ground. This can't be right. He can't pinpoint how it's wrong, or why it would cause such a strong reaction if it is, but it has to be, right? It's wrong, she's wrong. Right? "Dinah..", he starts, but can't quite finish. Barely hearing himself. It sounds more like Oliver is asking for help than his intention, to address her and debate her point, but he can't exactoy do that, can he? Not while he's barely hanging onto reality.
The nails are in the coffin, just need some hammering to find their way home.
A blink is all it takes most days. One blink and she ended up in a new city, a new state sometimes. She didn't know why. Her memories would always be fuzzy after waking up. Or at least, the little memories she had gotten back.
She slowly walked through the streets, looking around curious. Star City. That's what the sign said at least. She wondered how far away that was from Gotham. That's the last place she was, at least from what she could remember.
After a few hours, she took shade in a building. She didn't even check what the building was before she walked in, throwing her hood up to hide her identity. She didn't know why she felt the need to, but she had been doing so recently.
@future-is-made-of-death
Oliver's been carrying on as normal, for the most part. He's been pissed lately, since Roy had to go to a rehabilitation center, but otherwise he's just been busy. No word from Ra's in awhile isn't necessary a good thing, but he's at least got more free time. Which isn't really free, is it? Not when he's spending his days dealing with his company and trying to endorse a candidate to take his place as mayor. Quite a lot on his plate, really.
As he's finishing up an elevator meeting with some of the department heads, a kid pulling up a hood catches his eye. They don't seem to be super shady, but not many kids would do that inside. Oliver lets the group pass, looks around, then crosses over to the other side of the building. Casually, not looking at the kid — don't need them feeling his eyes, after all. When he gets closer, staying in front, he mayes a big deal of noticing the kid, but cools it immediately after.
"Oh, shoot!" Ollie chuckles, loosening his tie a bit and coming in front of the kid. A girl, maybe? Just making sure she doesn't get startled. "I almost didn't see you there. What brings a kid like you into Queen Industries? Is one of your parents here, or maybe an internship? Definitely not a field trip, school's out anyway." He chuckles awkwardly, trying to make himself seem like less of a threat.
What is it that we say about hanging around eco-terrorists again? “Cool motives, still murder.” Ollie... C'mon, you know better...
🎙️ @dinahmite-voice
"Dinah.."
Oliver has to pause, at a loss for words. How does he even begin to explain it? Pathetically. He doesn't exactly want to place all the blame onto her, but that blame still sits in his chest, for the entire Justice League.
"He... he has some good points, Dinah. Especially about the JL. And he did kinda save my ass.."
Ollie trails off, looking away for a moment. Then his green eyes meet her blue, hoping that she won't kick his ass. He'd really, really hate to fight her.
Shaving mechanically after a shower, using the steam to help get closer to the skin, Oliver isn't really focused. Following the same patterns he's had for decades now, most definitely checked out. Thankfully, he isn't using a straight razor today. His eyes catch the mirror and he flinches hard, making the blades nick him pretty good. Ollie curses, dropping the razor, and gets a better look into the foggy mirror.
That's not his reflection.
"The hell..?" Ollie moves around a bit, trying to see if it's a fake mirror someone planted to piss him off, but the reflection moves with him. Goosebumps break across his skin, and of course, he has to take a closer look. It has to be wrong! Except what he's seeing doesn't change. "Abi..?" How could that be?
Some part of him feels immense pride. Some other part wants to throw up. With no way to really tell which one he really feels, Oliver grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white and hands shaking. The conflicting emotions meld into one that is much simpler to understand. Reeling back without it being a fully conscious thought, his fist hits the mirror at full force. Several shards break from the frame and fall into the sink, slicing his hand. Oliver pulls his hand back and stares at it. The blood on his knuckles, the cuts from the shards, how hard he's shaking. He swallows hard and looks back to what remains of the mirror.
Ra's isn't there anymore. Just himself, barely recognizable through his rage and shock.
"I need a new mirror," he mumbles, leaving the mess to be cleaned up later in favor of cleaning his hand. And getting away from what he just saw.
