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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/EighthMovement|Eighth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Return to Iron ==
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| − | It was not raining...
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| − | It was Descending Air already, entering into the third month of War.
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| − | The feline sorceress finished her incantations, purple mists breaking about them... and finally, after only a few of those, the Boil opened before them, the stink very characteristic on their nostrils. Above Fiona, golden light shone... but her anima wavered. It was in flux, and she was not sure who she was anymore... but anything that made the bounded woman vanish would be better, the Prince thought.
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| − | Him and Moon were there with her, stepping out of her mists, on the Manse the Exalted had used a little while ago, officially their 'embassy' now. One of the signs there is a new order there...
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| − | "Thank you, Fiona. Hope it wasn't much exertion for you..." The Prince asks, looking at her... dressed in golden and pearlescent white dress given by the Raksha, golden butterfly mask framing her face, white feline tail curling behind her... and her feline ears twitching.
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| − | "It was no problem at all, really!" She smiles with a toothy grin.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' Seventh Moon's stomach tightened in apprehension as they made the instantaneous journey from Spire to the Boil. He'd have just as soon walked all the way over, if the nation didn't still crawl with the dead. Magic like Fiona used was useful enough, but after what they'd gone through in Spire there was some superstitious part of him that couldn't help distrusting it in ''any'' form.
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| − | Plus she was a cat now and that was ''always'' cause for concern.
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| − | He relaxed when the world reformed around them safely though. Closing his eyes, Moon breathed in deep through his nose and took in the foulness of the air as though it were the sweetest scent in the world. And in it's own way, it was. It was home.
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| − | "Yeah, thanks darlin'," he said after Alex, giving the half-cat sorceress a grin. His eyes watched her twitching tail, intently following it's every motion. It was hard to remind himself that he could go tail-chasing later. They had shit to get done.
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| − | '''Fiona: ''' "You are welcome, Moon!" She says with the sweetest smile, hugging him, a feline smile in feline eyes looking up at the Lunar, apparently oblivious to how that makes Moon feel "Just trying to make up for all the problem I gave you guys."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "As far as I know, I only went half way to make us even."
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| − | "Hey, Moon, I know you have to meet some of your friends... it has been a while, but... can I have a moment of yours'?"
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' ''Don't pull the tail... ''
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| − | "Heh, ya ain't been near so hard ta look after as I have darlin'," he grinned, his hand plopping down between Fiona's ears and musing her hair. "Figure savin' ya from a fate worse'n death 'bout makes us even."
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| − | ''Don't pull the fuckin' tail! ''
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| − | Barely managing to pull his eyes from the white strand of fuzzy temptation twitching before him, Moon glanced distracted in Alex's direction. "Hm? Oh, yeah, guess that lotta bastards can wait a few more minutes. They probably been tearin' shit up 'nought that they ain't even noticed I been gone."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' Removing strands of shining silver hair from the front of his eyes, he nearly chuckles as Moon speaks... "They are probably making up a great welcoming party for you, and you know it. I have seen those people only briefly, but... they really look up at you."
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| − | He picks Fiona's hand, smiling at his friend... "We will be back soon, alright? Sorry for leaving you alone."
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| − | And thus, he begins to walk away, waiting for Moon to come, walking towards the wall.
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| − | Thankfully it was not too far from Highlane...
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "See ya doll," he said, waving farewell to Fiona with a qurked half-grin and giving one last, lingering glance to her tail before he hustled to catch up with the prince.
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| − | "She's a sweet kid," he said as he stepped up beside Alex, out of ear shot of the other Solar. "Feel pretty shitty 'bout what happened to her though, y'know? Might not'a if I'd stuck 'round that hospital lil' longer. Live'n learn, guess... sure as shit are fates worse'n bein' a fuckin' cat for the rest'a ya life. Not ''lot'', but some..."
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| − | The Lunar yawned wide and stretched his arms out to the side, folding them back up and winding his fingers together behind his neck. There was a strut in his step as they walked familiar streets once more, a sparkle in his eye he looked on towards the horizon. Didn't need to look around. Sure this was Highlane, not really his usual haunt, but at least it was his city again. It wasn't like talking somewhere unfamiliar in the Spire. Even if he didn't know these particular roads like he knew the alleys bellow, at least he still ''knew'' where he was.
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "Do you not find her ''cute''?" He asks teasingly. "I almost feel the urge to kiss and nuzzle those ears. So cute, so cute. If you want to talk about poor fates, there is Iselsis. She has yet to wake up, and all that."
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| − | "We probably need to prepare a surprise for her when she does, what do you think?"
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' Moon looked down at the prince and stretched his mouth in his best wolfish smile. His furred ears standing high against his head. A gloss ran over his eyes, making them burn coolly from under the shadow of his brow. "Ya don't wanna know what was goin' through ''my'' head man..."
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| − | The feral grin tamed a bit before he went on, settling back into the satisfied half-smirk he'd been wearing since they arrived. "But Red'll be a'ite. She got knocked 'round good, but Ryshassa's keepin' an eye on her. Kanti too. Bet she's just bein' lazy..."
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| − | "So how come there wasn't fuckin' party when ''I'' got killed?" he demanded, eyes narrowed in mock offense.
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' His white wings twitched as they got past the shadow of a building, hearing his words, and the undercurrent that goes through them... "I probably do not want to, I would have to kill you, probably." He chuckles. "And hey, we were busy! All that Kadel party thing! That, and if I asked the Angels to help me organize something, they'd spend the whole time bickering. Oh, you mean the second time? Well, um... no time, really! Or something." Then he realises he is being... far too serious. "And we all know you'd just get up again, anyway. You are too stubborn to die."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: '''"Naw man, just too fuckin' stupid ta know ta stay down," he chuckled at his own expense, but there was a touch of something biting in his laugh. A husk undertone of pride. "Sides, I don't fuckin' play dead like a good lil' pup, y'know?"
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| − | "So whatcha have in mind for Red? Beer 'n workin' girls? Passin' out medals again? Sure as shit we ain't doin' another party like Kadels man. Two'a us were fuckin' miserable at that thing."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "And thank the Sun for that." He smiles... then hears his options. "No working girls, I do not think Iselsis would like that at all. And that is so... you know, crass. It is so awful on the poor girls, so undignified... but, well. I just had this in mind, some gifts, us all around her when she wakes up.... I was thinking of giving her a medal."
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| − | "She missed one here, after all."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "And like the shit that gets done ta Kanti 'n ladies like her is fuckin' ''full'' 'a dignity?" he shot back almost instantly with a bitter growl in his throat, the natural scowl on his brow deepening. "Fuck all if I give it too much thought man, but I ''ain't'' stupid 'bout the shit goin' on 'round me, so don't go throwin' that word 'round like it actually means shit ta rich fuckers like you!"
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| − | Moon paused after his outburst and glared at the ground a moment, breathing deep until his composed came back. Best as he could. It was hard to remember sometimes that the prince wasn't very well educated. He managed a sigh and looked back up, not in the least apologetic, but at least a little less angry. "Sides, ya still don't know for shit how it works here, y'know? Some'a those ladies have it bad, ain't gonna lie 'bout that. But most'a 'um coulda gotten work in the mines or smeltin' in the foundries or tackin' shit tagether in some factory. Not like it takes much fuckin' trainin' and they ''always'' got places open."
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| − | "Whorin' just pays a whole fuckin' lot more. And for doin' somethin' that ain't exactly torture on most folk. They find a good house, like the Heaven House, and they got it made for life. What else the fuck ya expect 'um ta do anyway? They work the sheets for a livin', they got money, protection, ''respect''; everything fuckers like ''you'' are born inta and fuckers like me gotta ''bleed'' for," he he shrugged and repeated. "So what the fuck else ya expect 'um ta do?"
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| − | There was a loose stone in the road. He kicked it. It skittered off down the street ahead of them, bouncing and rolling until it crashed through the fence of someone's estate. The fence had been wrote iron. The hole the rock left was enough for a small child to crawl through. Moon felt better.
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| − | "But yeah, bet she'd like a medal."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "''Kanti''?!?" His face grew pale. That hit him like a punch to the stomach. He wished he could turn around, or just fly away... but he still looked at Moon, feeling the words cutting him... "Kanti... Kanti is not... it is not... it is not anything like... really... it is not..."
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| − | He stutters, unable to find the words. But then, all he can do is tyr to talk about something else, more sweeping... more impersonal "Hopefully, they will have less need to, when I am done... we will make the Boil clean. We will make it rich. There will be no need to lie on your back, or bleed..."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Ya really know shit 'bout doin' either enough ta say?" he asked, huffing derisively. "Sheeyit man, ya got that silver spoon jammed so far up ya ass it's clickin' on ya fuckin' teeth. There's shit thats gotta change, but you ain't named a fuckin' thing thats gonna make anyones life better. Takin' away the workin' girls livelihood? Takin' away the gangs pride? That ain't what the city needs."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' They finally come to the stairs to the walls. There are some guards not too far away, but none will even dare to question the Prince. He walks in, thinking of his words... the answers were on the tip of his tongue as he stepped into the stairs, thinking of speaking about money, education, security, art. But he could only ask one thing to start this... "What does the city need, then?"
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Life, man."
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| − | "Needs ta be fuckin' alive. Needs ta be ''real''. Not some fuckin' picture book," Moon stopped at the foot of the stairs behind Alex and leaned on his arm against the wall. He looked up at the prince, stood in the shadow with the sunlight reflecting off his eyes like silver mirrors.
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| − | "Ya don't see this place. Ya ''don't''. Been listenin' to ya while now. Ya see somethin' ya think is broken at it's heart," he shook his head and bent to look back over his shoulder at the chink of city that showed through the hill. The sunlight struck the clouds of smoke and ash that hung over the city, painting them in orange and yellow. The Dons broad face glowed in the center of the smoke, watchful and unsmiling towards the broken rooftops bellow. Seventh Moon didn't smile, though his heart beat faster in his chest. "But it ain't. It's got dirt. Got a lotta scars. That might make it fuckin' ugly ta you, but think that just makes it real ta me and a lotta other folks. Most those scars we put there ourselves. All the fuckin' dirts our doin'. So's everythin' else. All the fuckin' buildings, roads, pleasure houses, alleys, workshops, factories; ''all'' that shit. ''We'' made it. Someone else might'a been footin' the bill, but the people here are the ones that fuckin' sweated and bled ta put it up, then sweated and bled ta make it all work."
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| − | He looked back up at Alex and his face had changed. It was hard, as unflexing as the iron mask he'd wore the night of the rebellion. Moon spoke slowly and evenly, making sure every word weighed down on Alex with gravity. "Lotta bloods been spilled for this fuckin' ugly place and barely a drop of it's been yours. I ain't gonna stand watch ya sweep this ground clear so ya can build somethin' with air easier for ya ta stomach. I ain't gonna let the people who died for this place get fucked over like that."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' Alex takes a step back. Moon is... threatening. A scary face, when he can be. Hair rises on the back of Alex's neck, and his instincts almost get him to fight. Instead, he just swallows down his fear, and tries to look up at Moon, facing off with him there, above the walls of the Boil, sun going through the clouds and touching both... "... i... is that what you see on me? That I just want to replace it? To take out your people and put others in their place? The whole city...? No. That is not it. Moon... they will be the ones rebuilding. It will be their sweat. Their skill. Opal will give the plans, which they will execute. I do not wish to replace them, either... just educate. Give them money, the education, the means. To guide them to make the city better."
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| − | "And, yes, with air worth breathing. The Pack deserves it. Amber deserves it. Tasya deserves it..."
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| − | "It is my responsability to make it shine. It is my family's sin for making it stink."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "No, it ain't," Moon leaned off the wall as Alex stepped back, though didn't follow him up the stairs. The kid was scared. Good. But he wasn't trying to threaten Alex yet, just to make him understand. Moon's face was hard and his voice stern, but there was a plea in his eye. Something that tried to get his message through by simply ''willing'' it into Alex's head. "It ain't yours. It ain't your place ta tell these people everything they built was shit and that you 'n the others are gonna do it better. They gone through enough shit with folk who think they fuckin' know what's best for everyone."
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| − | Moon jerked his thumb back towards the city behind him, the city that spread out beyond his shoulders like a pair of broken wings. "People here are people no one wanted elsewhere. So they came here. Middle a fuckin' no where. They made their ''own'' place. No one wanted ''it'' either, least wise not till they realized they could get somethin' outta it."
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| − | "Told ya once this place was ya legacy," he said, his face softening suddenly. Apologies, real ones, were always hard for Moon. But this one was important. "But that was fuckin' wrong. Ya daddy didn't make this place or fuckin' make it what it is, he was just one name in a fuckin' ''long'' list'a people who used it. Ya really wanna make good for ya dad not doin' shit for 'um? Then keep 'um safe from the shit they can't save themselves from. Fuckers like the Bishop. Folk like ''us''."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "And so, all I do is beat people with a sword? That is all I can give them, Moon?" The Prince's expression is blank, the wind behind him pushing the wings foward so they almost close around him like a coat..."And not do anything to make their lives better? I recall someone tried to unite all the gangs here. Why did you do that if we should not try to make their lives better, Moon?"
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| − | "We have more to give them than the edge of our blades. And that is all I want. To give them light."
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| − | "Starting with their history. Starting with making them recognize their heroes..."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' The wind caught him in the face, where it had swept Alex from behind. The long hair peeled back from his brow, the strands too long uncut whipping back through the air behind him. The hem of his coat flared out behind him, opening at the front like a book thrown wide. Everything beyond the cover open to see.
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| − | "White Dog..." Saying the name made him pause. Saying what came next made him ache. But it didn't stop him from saying it nor saying it with conviction.
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| − | "White Dog was ''wrong''," Moon said, one of the hardest things he had ever had to say. "And I was fuckin' wrong from thinkin' he mighta been right. Gangs don't rule. It ain't what we're supposed ta do. We're just the baddest fuckers in a neighborhood and all we gotta do is ta keep the fuckers from the next street over from messin' with the people in ours. That's ''all'' we need ta do and that makes their lives better by itself. Let's 'um keep on livin' ta ''have'' lives."
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| − | "Folk like you 'n me? Chosen or whatever the fuck we are. We shouldn't be any fuckin' different. Cause we're too damn much. Even if they ''wanted'' to, folks can't say no. We'll just fuckin' kill 'um if they do. Or magic 'um inta seein' shit our way," another shake of the head. The first of a frustrated sigh. He was trying. Trying as hard as he could. And with every word, he knew he was failing anyway. "We're fuckin' powerful Alex, but we ''ain't'' perfect. We can make people do whatever the fuck we want 'um to, but that don't mean we know for shit what's best for 'um. Ya make 'um try ta see that light, just may strike 'um blind."
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| − | '''Alexander: ''' "I.... know..." He trails off, taking a few steps on the wall, letting the wind go through him, hiding his eyes under silverly hair... "... but, see... we also received a responsability with this power. My father always told me, that the power of being a noble, the rank, came with harsher responsabilities than it did privileges... and this is the only way I can see to fulfill them. If I could just keep things as they are... I would not feel right. I would feel like I am forsaking them..."
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| − | He stopped, then. He looked Westward. He pointed Westward. Looking where he pointed, Moon saw a single shaft of light come from the heavens, and touching on a place he knew well. A place where he had lost so many friends. The Boy's Field. He looked, and expected to see the wooden racks, the hangmen's places... but instead, he saw a statue. A statue made in marble. White and Pure. A statue of a man with only one eye, a staff resting over his shoulder. All around him... there were flowers. ".. and he was right, Moon. I asked. I asked Iron Tears."
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| − | "''Heaven knows who you are. '' He had that. Stashed away in his Sanctum. Half-finished."
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| − | "I asked him to place it there." He had asked Valencia to call the Elementals, as well. Turning the Shadowland into a flower-filled Orchard. They will wither... but the Eir told the Prince they would take care of it. They were going to either way... to take care of the flowers, to see about taking out all of the corruption from it. And in its center, stood White Dog, shining under the Sunlight, and if Moon could see, the names of all those who perished in the cleaning seasons written in his pedestal.
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| − | "I asked Iron Tears and others... and well..."
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| − | "It is a start..."
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' He came up the stairs slowly. Each step was harder than the last, like invisible hands gripped his legs to try and hold him back. But each step still came on, unhalting and inevitable, until Seventh Moon stood beside Alexander Holysword and looked down upon what the prince had created.
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| − | "... well, shit."
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| − | There was nothing else to say for the sight. Nothing grander. Nothing more magnanimous. The momunment defied words. At least from him. He tried to think of something to say about it, but found he had none to offer.
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| − | "It ain't about keepin' shit the way it is," he said finally. With finality. One last chance to make the prince understand. "It's about not havin' the fuckin' right ta decide for other folk how things ''should'' be. It's 'bout not even givin' 'um the choice ta decide. This place was fuckin' built on that. The only goddamn place in the world that got to pick it's own fuckin' path, cause no one wanted a fuckin' thing ta do with it till they thought it was worth something."
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| − | "People always been tryin' ta take this place away from the folk who make it what it is," Moon gave Alex a glance and a waning smile. "Why the fuck ya think we keep tryin' ta burn it down? Gonna loose it, better ta loose it on our own fuckin' terms."
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| − | "Ya follow this," he pointed to the statue bellow. "Ya ain't no different from the rest. Just lookin' for a different fuckin' pay off. Balm for a guilty conscience and a pisspot full'a righteousness instead'a money."
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| − | He chuckled, a dry and bitter bark, turning his glaring gaze back down on the statue. "These people fought the fuckin' dead cause this ugly trash heap ya find so fuckin' objectionable is ''theirs''. Now ya wanna come flyin' in like some fuckin' star outta the sky, givin' 'um what's already theirs. What ain't yours ta give. Take it away and give it back nice 'n fuckin' polished. Shine it up good so they see how fuckin' benevolent ya are. Y'know the sad thing 'bout that? It'll probably fuckin' work too. Always catch more flies with honey than vinegar, y'know?"
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| − | "This place is the only thing these folk ever really had that no one been able to take away from 'um. Only place willin' ta take most of 'um in when no one else wanted 'um. We take it away from 'um..."
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| − | Trailing away, Moon stared down at the statue and felt... nothing. No, that wasn't true. He felt something, but not what the prince doubtlessly intended.
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| − | He was looking at White Dog. A White Dog that he knew had never really been. The White Dog from a child's memory. Larger than life. Flawless and white. Like a hero out of a street-weavers fairy tale. Probably nothing like he really was. Moon stared at the statue and realized that he didn't really know. He didn't know any better than Alex did.
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| − | And that was what made the damn thing so very wrong.
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| − | There was no purpose to this conversation anymore and Moon realized that there never had been. Alex's mind had been made up well before it had ever even started. Before they had ever even known one another.
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| − | "Woulda rather had the gallows out there. Least when shit stops, people'd look at those and fuckin' remember why they shouldn't fuckin' let it happen again," he sighed. Sighed and turned away. He'd had enough. Hands in his pockets, he started back down the road that had lead them there. But he'd only made it one step beyond the stairs before he stopped. He lifted his head and looked straight down at his city, in the mire and the ash, and didn't look back at all at the golden prince and the sterling statue.
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| − | "I shoulda never told ya 'bout him," Moon said to Alex without looking back.
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/EighthMovement|Eighth Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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