Lass, I think that one thing is becoming clear: Arthur’s an angel. Just look at the bullet holes he’s survived here: http://fuckyeah-josephgl.tumblr.com/post/17503467720, the mysterious grace tree he shows off here: http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0jdg27kxp1r0yq4zo4_250.jpg, and frolicking in the surf apparently unaffected by gravity here: http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0ffdgSsCN1qdf074.jpg. What does his sudden carelessness about his angelic nature mean? And which angel lurks within?
He’s probably one of the handful of angels who decided to leave heaven for reasons of their own. Arthur’s as tired as all the others are, but instead of getting war-minded about it, he leaves because he truly doesn’t give a fuck. He isn’t as ideologically vehement as Anna, and he isn’t taking things personally like Gabriel. He isn’t interested in establishing a new golden age, unlike Lucifer, Uriel, and Castiel. He isn’t interested in sides or being right. Straightforward, no statement-making, he just wants to disappear. Others might see him as an arrogant and selfish deserter, if they didn’t already think he was dead.
He fell. These photos are the evidence of his angelic nature resurfacing. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” Cobb said to him one time, because he definitely saw the bullets hit Arthur, but I guess they definitely didn’t because Arthur is unharmed though pissed. Anyway, there was no time to discuss it because the gunmen were still after them.
Arthur has a natural talent for operating dreams. It was what sparked Cobb’s initial interest in him. Arthur himself doesn’t know what to make of his own dreams. It was what sparked his initial interest in inception.
The beach picture is him in limbo. He came out of it suspiciously fine, though a few secrets heavier.
Then Morag said:
I suppose you’re right: he really never has quite accepted gravity’s pull on him and operated better in zero-G environments than most humans. It may also explain his comfort with non-Euclidean geometry: do you think that Penrose Steps are necessary in order to navigate an eternal realm like heaven?
Did he fall alone or with a friend? I’m thinking Balthazar here, though I’m not quite sure they’d get along, as Bal fell to have fun, while Arthur appears to be getting down to business, Earth-side. What that business is, however, remains mysterious.
Oh man hell yes. You either do a series of partial differential equations, or you feel it in your gut. And it’s not just heaven’s architecture; the nature of angels are prone to geometrical paradox. THEIR DIMENSIONS HAVE DIMENSIONS etc, and now I’m imagining one angel saying to another, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” and the other angel answers, “Divide by zero.” It’s funnier in Enochian and you had to be there.
I saw this Castiel fanart once where he was ‘flying’ somewhere except he was walking through a rip in space-time that was shaped like wings coming out of his back. You could see the destination through the rip. Like, what if that is how angels fly? I don’t tend to think of angels as biological carbon-based creatures. They’re maybe more like metaphysics gone awry? So Arthur feels right at home.
Arthur fell alone. He knew Anna, or at least of Anna. I think she might’ve influenced his disillusionment. The point was that he was getting away from this place and it was going to be the perfect crime, leave no trace behind. He had friends, sure, and people he respected, but I think Arthur is more self-contained than most angels. I don’t think he has an active interest in seeing his family again. If he starts trying to piece together his previous life via dreams, the driving force would be stubborn inquisitiveness, not the life-affirming quest to find out who he really really is and where he really really comes from.
Does he get his grace back, and if so, how?
Well, the grace tree and the bullet hole pictures having surfaced, it looks like he’s almost certainly relocated his grace; and I suspect, having seen the bullet holes, that by now he’s taken his grace back into himself. The question is, how did Arthur, so long determined to and perfectly happy to have no past, wind up taking his wings back?
Saito almost certainly would have been aware of all the apocalyptic goings-on; he may even have business deals with Dick Roman’s company. And Saito had the opportunity that not many have had: to enjoy Arthur’s company for a sustained period of time. A few months after they return, Saito asks Cobb, “Has Arthur ever been to Limbo?”
Cobb lets out a single laugh. “You know, up until a month ago, no? Kid’s been dreaming as long as most of us can remember but he’s just so slick that he never once hit bottom. But the job he took after, the one without me. It was some small thing, for a friend of a friend, but then they called me because it seemed that Arthur’d been pulled down to Limbo and they didn’t know what to do. He got out himself before I could get there. But I guess he’s fine. I don’t know. Philippa knows more about him than I do these days. He’s still a bit… miffed about the job.”
Saito files this information away. He has questions about his own mortality, a new appreciation of life extended and some definite lacunae in the most thorough biographies of Arthur that money can buy. There is another man, though, with whom Saito bonded during the Inception job— one who could maybe shed light on all of Saito’s questions. Saito dials a number. “Arthur, you know you’re always invited to join me in Monte Carlo, but you also know you’re not allowed to interrupt me while I’m in Monte Carlo.”
Saito clears his throat. “Mr. Eames, if you’d kindly allow me to interrupt you. I have a proposal.”