Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 27 February 2005 |
| Who: | Bronwen, Genevieve (as Uvi), Tyrr |
| What: | Tyrr visits a former home and makes a new promise. |
Cathedral of Light
An achingly beautiful tribute to light, the crystalline half sphere and its courtyard are composed of clear scintillating grandeur. Some say quartz, others say zirconium, while others even whisper that its refractive angles are composed entirely of diamond. All of this resplendent perfection, however, is marred by the tiny hairline fracture that snakes along the entire fixture, from its precious jewel inlaid courtyard to the very apex of the Cathedral itself. Although lit gloriously from within, most angels avoid the place like the proverbial plague.
It's fortunate that Bronwen glanced up towards where Tyrr flew off, for she recognizes just what direction he's flying in. "I'll have to catch up with you later," she calls out to a few recognized faces on the grounds. "There's something else that has a higher priority right now." With that apology, she takes to wing again towards another part of Heaven.
Actually deciding to follow despite her first skittish judgment, Uvi bobs after the moody-looking Tyrr at a sensible, respectful distance. It's with some shock she settles in the general area of the light bearer's empty citadel.
Landing just at the front of the door to the Cathedral of Light, Tyrr's one of the few who visit this place with any lack of fear. Not visiting the place as much as Sabach or Yves, he pauses for a moment with a bowed head before pushing his way through the Cathedral's doors, leaving them slightly cracked open behind him.
"Oh boy, I hate being right," Uvi positively cringes as she sees the Malakim step in. Some part of her consciousness was dimly aware that this was attached to the events of Sandra's reawakening and the light that had washed over the midtown that night. She hovers after, and timorously chirps out, "Tyrr? Do you want to be alone?" At this point, she's bobbing squarely in the middle of the courtyard, their polished white marble surfaces reflecting the light from her form with satiny-chromed light.
Bronwen lands close to Uvi and closes the remaining distance on foot. "I thought I recognized the direction he took," she comments and turns towards the Ofanite. "No hard feelings?"
Perhaps Tyrr doesn't hear them, perhaps he chooses not to respond to the negative or positive right yet. But Tyrr continues on through the courtyard and into the main Cathedral itself.
A diffident, "It was the popular thing to do," comes out from Uvi, as she flits into the halls. "Hellloooooooo?" She frets some, immediately regretting her last words to the female Malakite now. The relation with those two was something worth bragging about, due to the difficulty in maintaining. However, the sticking point was that it WAS hard to maintain.
"It wasn't meant to be taken in a negative manner. I apologize if it seemed so," Bronwen replies and follows Uvi down into the halls. "Have you ever been at this cathedral before?"
Tyrr's just too far ahead of them to hear either of them talking. That and he's distracted by his own thoughts. Far down the hall, right in front of the doors to the main receiving hall that Lucifer used to conduct business, he pauses for a moment before pushing the doors open. Taking a few steps in, Tyrr looks toward the table in the center. It's nothing special, just a round table where Lucifer and all of his top Angels sat to discuss the matters concerning his Word. "I swear to never knowingly bring harm to an innocent, Host or Human, again," he says loud enough to be heard. And with a flash of light that reflects throughout the building, a new chain forms across Tyrr's body.
The ofanite considers for a moment. "I've snuck in a few times," she says quietly, before skidding to a halt by the door. "Whoa, get a load of that..." She flicks one fiery loop anxiously. "I knew he was upset about what happened, I've been trying to find him, even went to the Quiet Willows. It seems that the regret has passed, though, and has solidified into resolution. It's one of his better qualities," she says with quiet pride, before bolts in and unabashedly flits into Tyrr's field of vision. "Wanna go play darts?"
Bronwen frowns at the flash of light and the words carried down the hall. It's something that she herself is familiar with, the adding of a new Oath. "As did I... I simply didn't realize just how upset he was," she answers and enters into the room with a shifting of her wings.
"Killing Sian, hurting Sandra, isn't something I'm particularly proud of." By his tone, it's apparent that Tyrr's taking personal responsibility for either, if the Oath-taking wasn't enough of a hint. He doesn't turn to face either, even if Genevieve is just at the edge of his field of vision. Instead he walks to the table and moves several steps to the side to a chair marked with a serpent coiled around an iris. Running his fingers across it he looks over the table seats near him.
"I think he was crying," Uvi blurts out as if Tyrr was not there in the room. She watches brood for a moment, and groans. "I'll take that as a no, then. Talk to us? There's something here than what just happened with the Oath. I know you feel bad about that. But that's not the end of the story. Why here, Tyrr?"
"And do you think that I don't regret either result myself? Sandra trusted *me* over the others, and look what happened," Bronwen replies, moving closer to the table and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I was crying, yes." His voice is strained as he pulls the chair out and turns it to look at the larger inscribe serpent and iris on the seat back. Tyrr looks over at the two, "You didn't make the decision to both in harms way, you followed orders." Then turning the chair back to face the inside of the table, he touches the sigil longingly once more before continuing around the table, avoiding answering Uvi's question of why here for right now.
The glowing figure mmmphs some, making a daisy chain of circles that inadvertantly looks like the infinity symbol as she fusses and worries. She asserts, "And weren't you following orders? None spoken by a superior, no. But a more primal, driving directive, one that defies words. The one to make certain that we will have victory. You know for a fact that he's been more of a prosecutor, not a judge! Michael, Eli, Gabriel? Do you really think the flaw lay within them, or the one who sought to persecute them? I do not want to see him as a foe, no, but he's caused enough damage." Dangerous words. And then she regards the separation that is pain in Tyrr's eyes, akin to what she herself had felt not so long ago in the Groves -- the hollowness of being severed from one's Superior. "H... How many have you served?" she finally stammers out, recgonizing the touchiness of the situation.
Bronwen remains quiet for the moment and simply listens.
"The sigil of a Serpent and the Iris. The serpent of course representing a Seraphim, the Iris representing royalty and valour." Tyrr referring to the chair he was stopped at earlier. Tyrr stops at the spot where Lucifer use to sit, staring at the seat for almost a minute in silence after Uvi asks her question. "Three. Michael currently, before him, Uriel, and before I became a Malakite during the Fall... Lucifer. Each time I've had to change, I've been injured almost mortally. Loosing so many Forces, loosing part of who and what you are. It's why I've always written down my personal history and thoughts. I've lost too much already."
"That must be difficult, both in the past and now," Bronwen remarks from her spot in the room. "I have never known another Superior other than the Warlord. Like you, I became a Malakite during the Fall but that is where the similarities end. Have your personal writings helped you?"
Uvi lacks the common decency of a rock many days. This is no exception. "Can I read it?" Nosey! Or perhaps, just seeking to better understand the Malakite that she has had, through some bizarre twist of... destiny... been affiliated waith for some reason or another the past several centuries. She hovers above the tabletop, her light being reflected and scattered across the the room in a myriad of funhouse directions.
Tyrr reaches his right hand around to undo the clasps of his dragon's head gauntlet. Removing the piece, he walks back to the chair he was at earlier, and sets the gauntlet down on the seat as he raises the left arm. The forearm is actually mostly devoid of tattoos where the head was covering, save one tattoo. The same sigil that's on the chair, the serpent coiled around the Iris. "No, you may not read them. I allow no one to, not yet. There are volumes I have both hidden here in Heaven and down on Earth. They're my memories, when battle causes me to loose personal recollection of them. Being nearly as old as I am, you can understand how the days blurr, Bronwen. And you, Uvi, can understand the loss of past Archangels." The tattoo making it clear, that he's served Light, long, long ago.
"Most certainly. On most days I can only recall major events of a certain time period. If I focus my thoughts, I may even be able to recall the specific year an event, not battle related, occurred," Bronwen agrees with a nod. "But as the millenia pass, so do the extremely fine details. In this regard the habit of Warriors to pass on tales verbally helps keep the memories fresh."
The ofanite would make a face if she had one to make faces with at the shed dragon gauntlet. However, the fascinated revulsion passes as she regards the relatively clean patch upon Tyrr's celestial skin, ideas for eighteen designs leaping across her mind like a warren of rabbits. However, the words fall upon her like death knells, and she whimpers and withdraws some at the mention of Oannes's passing. "Yes, it's why I don't want to take another Superior... Just... not again."
"You should try and write down things as well Bronwen. Too much knowledge is lost to atrition. And while I trust Yves and now Raphael since she'll likely soon be back... their Library can't necessarily contain all knowledge of the personal." Tyrr also doesn't like the idea that that may well be the case with their Library. Looking toward Uvi as he reattaches his guantlet, "I understand your feeling..." his gaze shifts to the door, "Perhaps it's time we went back down to Austin. There's much else to do."
Considering for a moment, Uvi says, "I think that I may want to go visit the Willows in the Grove. The talk's brought some old losses back into sharper focus." She quivers slightly, as she bobs and weaves around the table first, and then over and under it.
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