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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FifthMovement|Fifth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Iron Closure ==
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| − | The Court of Fallow Endearments was the point where everything begun.
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| − | At the edge of the Industrial District, this is where Selina was to be delivered to the dead, where Iron Tears double-crossed them, where he called the city to war, where the dead saw the monster of Nexus for the first time, and where the Exalted crushed their foes. Little was left of it; Everything around it razed. And yet, it was for the best now, the crowd could stand all around, and there were few obstacles for the placement of the great pedestal where their heroes stood.
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| − | The people of the city looked up at them, in admiration; They were something else. Their heroes, their monsters... beautiful beyond all comprehension, exotic, their equipament gleaming in the light, screaming, moaning, shining. Abyssal, Solar, Raksha and Jadeborn, they all stood there for the peoples amazement. They did so while the opening speech was said by the captain of the Tigers of the Relentless Gears, even as their Gods stood there. Not too far, all the dead of the Boil were arranged in a Lotus, waiting for their proper funeral, which would crown this celebration.
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| − | The gear finished his speech, and the Smiling Lover herself rose, opening a box... within, there were many medals... an Iron Cog with a circle of images engraved on it : a dog, a raven, a garda bird, and a dragon. In the center, rested a single opal gemstone.
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| − | Then, Iron Tears rose, and asked for the first of the citys heroes to step foward...
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' First. Of course she would be the first! That had always been her dream and desire; becoming the one and the only. Of course, she didn't quite slay the dragon or smite a fearsome god, but she did make known what was planned for the still-shattered city. And that, she could accept, was heroic in and of itself. The Child could be content with that.
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| − | She slowly, purposefully strode forward, staff in hand and posture towering, terrible. The Sword shone brightly, not to instill fear, but instead to radiate glory and majesty and power. She was the Hero on the Hill, the Slayer of Nations. And she was being recognized for it. It was all she could do to keep herself from smiling goofily, although her tail betrayed her obvious delight.
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| − | Once before the gods, the Snow Monkey... drops to one knee, paying her proper respects. Not having had time to find something more grand, her normal attire would do, as well as the Excessive Scarf, which fluttered behind her like a dazzling ivory flame, at rest and not in the position for war. "Glory and honor to the Gods of the Boil." She looks to Iron Tears, and for a moment she winks at him and mouthes, "Another time", lips closing into a naughty little grin.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' ''Ever is the first not the most deserving. '' Selina thinks sourly.
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| − | ''Let her. ''
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| − | She looks to Moon standing by her, and pokes him in the ribs, murmuring in a low voice "Ah see, you let the attention whore go first. That should have been you."
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| − | ''Silly. ''
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| − | '''Iron Tears: '''"Glory and Honor, Child of Chaos." He did all he could not to grin, before continuing...
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| − | "Those," he pointed at the medals, "Are not simply a mark of how honored we are. They are a symbol of all the good you have done for us. All our recognition. And they are to be a shield - with your greatness, they will protect you from the touch of the dead and demons." He says, then picks one of the medals, and places it on Days' hand.
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| − | "Child of Wyld Days... you have warned us when we were at our most blind. you have fought for us with a determination that matched our own. My city shall owe you, always. And honor you!" He says, and the crowd claps... and Iron Tears calls the next one.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Eh, let her." Moon shrugged back to Selina, letting the ash build on the tip of the joint he'd scrounged up before the ceremony began. The Lunar watched the crowd, arms folded across his chest, and clearly trying not to smirk. "Don’t mean no thing ta me."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "The most deserving always comes last", mumbles the Pale Angel behind the two in a tone that could almost be interpreted as genial.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: She looks at the medal for a moment, resting in the palm of her hand. There are no words at first; she simply looks at it. She then looks up to Iron Tears and bows her head before rising, turning... and staring at the medal as if she had been given the World.
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| − | ''This... this is real. Real. ''
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| − | '''''REAL. ''' Oh... this feeling... ''
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| − | '''Kanti: ''' Kanti is almost surprised to hear her name called out. She had not done so much after all, and she hesistates a little before starting her walk up to the stage.
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| − | ''All I did was fight my nightmares. ''<br>
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| − | ''All I did was send ghosts on. ''<br>
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| − | ''All I did was betray a love. ''<br>
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| − | ''All I did was what I could. ''
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| − | ''For this they give you a medal? ''
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| − | ''I've never had a medal before... ''
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| − | By the time she was visible to the crowd, the nervousness had left her, and she was the proud dragoness, the garda bird, the horrifically scarred wo-...she falters a little, before stepping onwards, climbing the steps to where the God stood, dropping to one knee before him with exquisite grace, a knight of heaven in a crimson robe.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Finally composing herself, she watches the others... and for the benefit of the remainder of the group, keeps her distance. Half to help them remain comfortable, half to make sure they at least wonder why she's keeping her distance. Nothing like a little mystery to keep people interested...
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' The Smiling Lover looks at her with desire, not carnal, but the one had for a piece of jewelry, for a prized broodmare...
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| − | The Iron God looks at Kanti with worry, with care, as he smiles and handles her congratulations.
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| − | "Garda Bird, Kanti... in your dance and prowess, you have helped immensely during this struggle. You kept the chaos' hand away from me at our most vulnerable moment, and for that, I am personally glad. You have shown me the way, dragoness. We are all thankful you stepped here for us. I thank you, Dragoness, on behalf of the Boil." He handled her the medal, and all clap once again... slightly more muted this time. Despite Iron Tears' words, the scarred lady was simply... eerie...
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| − | '''Kanti: ''' "Thank you, my lord Iron Tears." she says softly, and the raises with grace, walking back to her place. She can't help but touch the medal. her medal.
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| − | It was a decidedly odd concept.
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' The claps were gone, and Iron Tears asked for the new one. Chaos and Fire had come, and the common folk saw how otherwordly their heroes were. It was not the same place, after all. The Boil was changed. On the old times, one could catch a glimpse of the Snow Owl from the Court... but now, all could clearly see The Tree. The Tree that Opal had rise out of the Demesne, for them all... showing the Boil's rebirth. Things were different now. And those shining creatures were their saviors.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' The Pale Angel stands silently, her arms folded, a little further back from the others, as if to symbolize the fact that this had not truly been her battle.
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| − | To Vorpal, a ceremony such as this brings back memories. There hadn't always been time for such things in Iranor, but every now and then it was good for morale if the rulers of the city-state showed how much they appreciated their military officers. Back in Schferhund Hall, there had been an entire case full of medals that had once belonged to the Pale Angel. She wonders briefly if those trinkets are still there, or if someone had already gotten it to his head to sell them to passing travelers as souvenirs and protective talismans. But then she throws such thoughts from her mind. Those bits of precious metal had never meant anything to her in the end - every one of them had been accompanied with grandiose praise and solemn speeches, but she had known well that the hands that had pinned those medals to her chest had usually belonged to men who had hoped she would not come back from the next raid alive.
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| − | But beyond that, this ceremony is much like the others. Stand silently, wait for your turn, look strong and impressive while at it. Vorpal gives a thankful glance to the thick clouds covering the skies. At least it is not sunny today. Some of the toughest battles she has gone through include long hours of standing straight and still in the parade grounds as this or that ceremony had worn on and on, looking strong and impressive while the hot summer sun had baked her black armor and seared her vulnerable albino skin.
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' The Iron God seems to notice Vorpal's laid-back mien, and calls the next one - the Pale Angel herself!
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina wonders what Kanti feels with that.
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| − | ''Did she ever get anything of her own? ''
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| − | How many masters and mistresses has the woman had? She had to have been a non-servant person at some point, though.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' ''Oho? ''
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| − | When the Pale Angel's turn comes, she proceeds with the ceremony in a rather accustomed way. Pushing past Moon and Selina, she approaches the gods clad in the same attire she had worn when first arriving to Boil - sheathed in the dark leathers of a mercenary, the broad black velvet cloak swishing behind her with every step, the hilt of the enormous sword jutting over one shoulder. Beyond her basic dignity, there are no theatrics in her manner. Her hood, though, she has opted to keep down, and her white hair flutters in the wind.
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| − | She pauses before the gods for a moment, and the faint smile that passes by her lips as she looks up at them seems to ask if they are truly expecting her to bend a knee for them.
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| − | Then, however, she shrugs, gives a good-humored chuckle and bends her waist into a bow. The tip of the long blade rises briefly to the air behind her.
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' "The Pale Angel. One that has risen from the dead to come and help us..."
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| − | The god says as she bows, taking the medal, placing it on her chest. "We are thankful for this. You have saved the industrial district with your feat of slaying the dragon - that shall not be forgotten. We could only hope all ghosts we meet were to be as graceful and good-natured as you."
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| − | "You have our thanks."
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| − | The applause comes, cheering. She was strange, but at the same time, more... down to earth? Even as an albino...
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' ''Non-chalant as usual. ''
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| − | Well, the glad-for-glory had been done, and the confused-for-attention. And now Vorpal took another.
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| − | ''What am I going to do? ''
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| − | Probably not something flashy.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "It was you who held that dragon's head still when I struck the last blow, was it not?" the Pale Angel responds with a mild smile as she removes the medal from her chest. "I have been meaning to thank you for it. Thank you."
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| − | Then she turns away, holding the medal up high, presenting it to the crowd as she returns back to her place among the heroes.
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| − | ''Heroes? ''
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| − | ''Hmm. ''
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' "I only did what I had to. You have nothing to thank me." He shakes his head, as the crowd clapped, cheering her. She was beautiful.
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| − | Of course, then Iron Tears called one whose very presence was impossible beauty. He called for Opal.
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' Opal smiled softly at Kanti as the Dragoness of Fire descended the steps. It warmed her heart, odd as that might sound, to see her receive what was just.
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| − | Vorpal, she watched with curiosity. People oft remarked that her own skin was so colorless and cold, yet the Pale Angel projected an air of indomitable strength and force of will. It was humbling to say the least.
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| − | She looked to Iron Tears as her name was called, and she ascended the steps serenly, her robes catching the wind and causing them, along with the free falling locks of her white hair, to flutters so much like the Pale Angel's in the wind. Her hair moving like ae banner of ivory, she bows her head humbly to Iron Tears, perfect features caste in a serene expression.
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' "Caught as you were in the tides of destiny, my honored guest, I am sorry that you had to be stranded in the Boil during this. But you saved our Dark Angel, more than once. You have helped restore my city, restoring its very heart!" As he says so, the trees' diamonds seem to shine all the more, and all know it is Opal's work. That it was her to help the Boil's rebirth. "For that, my fair lady, me and my city shall forever be in your debt." He picks the medal then, affixing it close to her chest. The crowd goes wild. Opal was a dream, impossible, greater than even the Lover... a perfect form. And lust, admiration, envy and artistic sense drove the crowd...
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' ''Fu. ''
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| − | Vorpal gives a slanted smile as she watches Opal walk up to the gods. Could that be what the Pale Angel herself would look like had she been born with beauty beyond the limits of what mortal shell is capable of?
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' She smiles, and noting the pin didn't quite affix to her robes... after all, they were designed to be able to withstand a Direlance at full charge. She assisted Iron Tears, and thanked him in a low voice. She smiled a bit to the crowd and waved gracefully, before curtseying to the Gods, and descending the steps with the same, unerring grace with which she ascended them.
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| − | ''Try not to be a grump. This isn't for you, its for them'', she scolded herself mentally.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' The Child breaks from her reverie to admire the Sublime One, grinning a little as she fingers her medal and ponders just what was, is, and could well be. "I wonder what is on your mind, woman," she whispers to herself, paying attention to her motions, perhaps looking for something more than the contour of her thighs.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "That all she does?" Moon belted out suddenly as Opal descended the stairs from the gods, a broad grin plastered on his face. "C'mon man! Make her hop!"
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| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' She turns her eyes to Moon, and gives him merely a faint frown and a slight narrowing of her eyes. And, of course, she also steps rather hard on his foot when she passes. She stands behind Kanti, placing her hands upon her shoulders and smiling a bit.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' Moon's grin doesn't waver, even as Opal's foot stomps down on his. Only those closest to him would probably even hear the sharp intake of breath or the outlet of relief as her foot vanished. "Tch..." he mutters after her. "Ain't no fun at all."
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| − | * The Iron God calls to the prince, then. Alex turns to Vorpal, and holds her hand, asking for something, anything... it should be natural for them, and he had been trained for this, but... it was for real. And he felt guilty over the Boil.<br><br>But he walked up there. He shone brightly, showing them his light, holding Ainerach proudly, the symbol of state most of the Boil probably thought to be little more than a legend or an oversized golden prop, showing it is as great as legends... and received his medal.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal says nothing, despite Alex's pleas for help. Her eyes, however, remain fixed in the beautiful prince, and her head moves in a very tiny, almost unnoticeable nod of encouragement.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' She returns from her medal-induced reverie to watch Alex... and she smiles, faintly. ''He is a dazzling one, for a mortal. A shame that such light will eventually die, but... '' She returns to admiring her prize, occasionally muttering about where she's going to wear it...
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| − | * As the prince sits down, Kinny is called there... cold sweat on his brow, he seems to disappear before the crowd. Dreams of glory hardly prepare you for the real thing. Still he takes the medal, and tries to stutter a thanks, silenced by the Lover, who gives him a kiss and dismisses him back to the people, blushing and nearly tripping.<br><br>Hanna comes next, kneeling before the god, and receiving her medal. Serene.<br><br>Something about her new station simply gets her to be.... serene.<br><br> Two of the Gears, and one Riotous Amber come, and receive the medal with reverence.<br><br>And then Moon was called to come, after akk if them, the last one
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina watches them all, waiting for the moment when Moon would be called. That moment came, eventually. She was going to be the last then?
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| − | ''When I come back to Winlandia, perhaps. ''
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| − | Selina shakes her head, and then looks to Moon and smirks. "You're going last, sugar. It should end on your note, not mine."
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| − | Instead, the Dark Angel moves out, after unwrapping from her greatcoat (and leaving it with Moon or Kanti, whichever is closer), the gem at her throat gleaming as it catches the light and refracts it back in a thousand faceted beams. Of course, she does not call on the Void to cloak her in allure -- not here. Not now.
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| − | When she comes to the gods, she turns to the crowd. "The greatest hero of the Boil must come last, for that is the position of most honor! That is not myself." Then she turns to receive her medal.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Snow Monkey hears Selina's words... and quietly stews, holding her medal possessively.
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| − | ''You crone! Hmph, I'm as much of a hero as he is! '' She settles down quickly, though, and is content to give the Dark Angel the hairy eyeball in the meantime.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' The Pale Angel lifts her eyebrows and pouts her lips in a soundless "''Oho''?"
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| − | She folds her arms and watches the spectacle with renewed interest. This is something she has not seen before. The Dark Angel is thinking about someone else than herself!
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| − | "You know", she says softly, so that only those standing closest to her can hear, "The difference between a blonde and an infant is that the infant develops over time." She pauses, rubs the back of her head. "I wonder if she dyes her hair after all."
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| − | Whatever she is saying, Vorpal has to admit that she is impressed.
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| − | '''Kanti: ''' Kanti takes the coat without thinking about it, wrapping it over her arms.
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| − | On who was the most worthy, Kanti would not like to comment ...
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| − | *The crowd watches her as they watched Opal and the Prince before, mesmerized by her beauty... in Opal, it was sober beauty of an sculpture, in Alex it was an excellence of form, a face out of a story... in Selina it is something blinding, beauty so keen and alluring it could be plucked from the air and wielded as a weapon.<br><br>The Smiling Lover giggles. "I had no idea you had that in you, Dark Angel."<br><br>Iron Tears smiles, "But you are right." He says, regarding Moon, and somehow, all the crowd, "He is the one we owe the most to. The one that made me rise. The one that made us fight."<br><br>"He is the spirit of the Boil incarnate."<br><br>He trns back to her, taking the medal, her very presence holding a god in thrall, almost, his movements more stiff, calculated, breath harder. The medal is placed on her hand. "But you, Dark Angel of the North, is the reason I came into this fightin the first place. You are the assassin who destroyed the ultimate shadow in our midst. You are one of our greatest heroines, Culwyeh. You deserve this, greatly."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' She almost says 'He is not the ultimate shadow.', but catches herself before she would dampen their celebration. There are other deathknights to face and defeat, but they will come later.
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| − | ''We've triumphed this far, at least. ''
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| − | Graciously, she takes her medal, but does not bow. The crowd doesn't need to see the rear view of her bowing to Iron Tears. Instead, she nods and gives a slight smile. "I did my part, yes. But the crowd ought to cheer him louder than I. I am the executioner. He is the conquerer and liberator."
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| − | As far as that went, anyway.
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| − | * "They will." He says, and leaves her to return to her place.<br><br>Next, Iria is called. She is regarded as known, with the awe or hatred she already had.<br>But there is some pride from the fact a local received such.<br><br>Fiona steps in next, and receives her medal. The crowd is endeared to her in a quiet fashion... just so cute!<br><br>And a medal is locked on a box, one to a shadow that would not show up.<br><br>And then, came Moon's turn.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Greatest hero, huh?" Moon smirked as Selina stepped down the stairs. Settling his hands into his pockets, Moon waited until Iria and Fiona took their turns, watching the first with interest just a little more keen than usual. Then, it was his turn at last.
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| − | "Oughta go set um straight bout that ''real'' fast." Moon passed a wink to Selina as he passed to make his way forward.
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| − | The Lunar stalked loose legged and with the lapel of his coat flipped up in a lazy fashion. Still contentedly blowing smoke from his lips even as he ascended the stairs to stand before Iron Tears, he kept his back bent and shoulders hunched warily. He flicked the ash from his join off the edge of the stairs and stuck it back into his mouth, grinning fangs around it at the god before him. "Hey Rusty. Hows shit?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' And somewhere in the background, there is a faint yet unmistakeable sound of the Pale Angel chortling softly into the hem of her cloak.
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| − | '''Kanti: ''' ''Moon! ''
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| − | ''Moon is going up there now! ''
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| − | ''...Moon called him rusty! ''
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| − | Kanti remains calm, and does not giggle. Though it's a close run thing.
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| − | * "And here it is... our greatest hero!" Iron Tears calls. And the crowd begins to sheer him, wildly! Clapping him, a wave of sound and warmth washing over Moon.... as the Iron God smiles once again. "Going. All scrap, but like you said, I know about rust. And how to assemble things back together."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' ''They love him. ''
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| − | ''And not because he holds their Hearts... but because he took their hearts... and gave them back to their rightful owners. ''
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| − | ''The shaped world is such a strange place at times. ''
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| − | * Exceedingly Sublime Opal diplomatically covers a slender hand over her mouth so that her faint smile cannot be seen a Moon's greeting, and then agast at Iron Tear's response. She removes her hand, revealing her faint frown now.
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| − | Days also seemed to be enjoying herself, which made it sag all the deeper.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Yeah, well, we all got things we're good at, y'know?" He drew in a deep breath and let the smoke puff out his nose. Moon tossed back his head towards the cheering crowd. "Never would'a thought fuckin' shit up good'a get me here though."
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| − | Then, he made some attempt to stand a little straighter and brushed down the front of his coat. Spitting his joint out to the side of the stairs, he cleared his throat. "A'ite man. Lay it on me. Make the shit sound good. The ladies are watchin."
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| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' "Let us make you look presentable once in your life, right?" The wink. From the city. The city that knew every step of his life. The medal is held up by the god... and by his power, the dog in it shines. Brightly. And he can even see the Husky's clear-blue eyes... his spirit's shape, immortalized in the medals of every one of the Exalted.
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| − | "Seventh Moon, for giving back our spirit, our hearts, our fighting spirit... the Boil kneels before you. And honors you with this."
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| − | "Wear it proudly. It is ''our'' gift to you!"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Having taken her greatcoat back, Selina has not yet donned it again, just leaving it on one arm, still folded.
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| − | ''Frowning again, I see. ''
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| − | Of course there was the other end of the extreme.
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| − | She does, however, cheer when the crowd does. Moon is so humble, sometimes. She cannot tell whether it's because of his remaining in a single place for most of his life and being awed at the rest of them, or if that's more due to his personality.
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| − | ''Perhaps a bit of both. ''
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| − | Well, he deserves this, whether he thinks so or no.
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| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' "Yeah, thatll work." Moon smiled, holding out a hand to take the medal from Iron Tears. Moon stared down at the medallion with nearly the same intent as Days had, his eyes shimmering along side the huskies gleam. They narrowed slightly and the edge wore off his expression for a moment, a look no one beyond Iron Tears could see and Moon would deny ever making till the end of his life. "Its beautiful man thanks."
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| − | He turned around slowly at the top of the stairs, cupping the iron circle in his hands. The Lunar looked up and grinned almost bashfully at Selina, then at Kanti and Opal and all the others. The women whod stood beside him to fight the Bishop, even when they had no stake in it. The members of his gang whod gone into hell behind him and come out of it walking next to him instead.
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| − | He looked over their heads towards the throng beyond, the people of the Boil. The people of his city. The city they had fought for. Fought for and won, with their help.
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| − | Moon thrust his hands towards them, holding the medal high before his face. The caste mark on his brow ignited with the cold moon light, burning a halo around the edges of the black iron.
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| − | And then with a sharp twist of his hands, Moon snapped the medal in half.
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| − | | |
| − | * The crowd goes... silent.<br><br>They watch the punk.... confused.<br><br>Just what was he up to?
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Alexander: ''' "Moon?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "That is their thanks, that is an ''honor''! What are you doing?!?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' The Child... freezes, jaw dropping in outright shock.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''... even '''I''' wouldn't have done that! What in the world... damn you, Lunar! I should've thought of that! ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' The Smiling Lover closes the case of medals.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Iron God freezes. For millenia he lived... and never saw something like this.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina smiles inwardly. Somehow, she'd known he was going to do something like this. Another reason he should go last: whatever point he is about to make, should be something that sticks in people's minds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Something about unity and the importance of the common boil-ite, perhaps? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' Moon was already putting the two halves together as he started casually down the stairs, evening them out before he snapped them again. He hit the line of Exalts and kept walking, only giving them a glance from the corner of his eye. They had their way, he had his.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As he stalked towards them deliberately, he scanned the crowd until he saw there. A street punk with her arm in a sling and half her hair burnt to a cinder. And there, a miner balancing unevenly on a pair of crutches to make up for a missing leg. And there, a working girl riding on her mans shoulders, face half-bound. Moon pushed his way through the crowd to walk up to each and unceremoniously stuff a piece of the broken iron medallion into their hands. The last of the four pieces, he kept for himself, tying the thin chain off around his wrist.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Stepping back out of the crowd, he shuffled backwards towards the other Exalts, hands held out wide to his sides.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I didnt do shit that anya you wouldnt done in my place." He said, speaking loudly to carry as far into the crowd as he could. "And none of us coulda done anythin if ya didnt bleed with us. Already told the prince, so you oughta hear it too. We won this shit ''together''. Dont forget that, aite? ''Never'' forget that. '''''We''''' did it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He stopped just before he collided back into Selina and tilted his head backwards to look at her over the tops of his brow. His face was flushed, eyes burning bright as he winked at her once again. Leaning forward again, Moon thrust a hand high into the air, the broken piece of medallion glowing around his wrist as the light from his caste mark seared back onto his brow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And he howled with the same defiance he had the night the rebellion had began. The defiance that had kept his city alive for longer than it had ever had any right to be. The defiance that had let beggars and workers and punks take on an army of the dead and win.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "So speaks the Hellhound of the Boil."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Snow Monkey, watching his every action... finds herself shivering at that howl, her mind momentarilly flickering back to that shard of a dream where she saw... was it Moon? Was it his Essence? Whatever it was, the sight made her tense even then, not so much in fear as in awe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She was in awe of a plain, illiterate, brutish punk from Creation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The irony of this was not lost on the Child.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' The howl thrums through her being...and the Dragon answers, a low growl undertoning her chuckle as she looks back at Moon with a smirk. He does have a point. And having lived in the lowest gutter for awhile, herself, Selina cannot deny it. Even the Emissary's power would mean nothing if all the population of Nexus were to leave it in a day -- leave the Council with nothing to rule. So it is here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti: ''' ''...Moon? ''<br>
| |
| − | Kanti blinks.<br>
| |
| − | ''What are you doing Moon? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then he started to walk, and she felt the power of the crowd, the tension, everything she felt when she was about to dance ... and she start to understand.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then he started to speak, and she felt the power of his voice, the tension, everything she felt when she danced for Master ... and she understood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Yes. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Alpha. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Moon. ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Yes. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Alexander: ''' The crowd silences. The miner and the punk held to their slivers of the medal, trying to believe what had just happened, and having a hard time doing so. It was a moment of magic. A moment of emotion. A moment of ideals. A magic few Exalts could muster in this way, brought by one who tried hard as he could to be ordinary. The prince got up, and clapped. Clapped to his equal, for showing him something about himself. "No one could never have said it better. Thank you, Moon."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''How much will I learn from you until this is done? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | And with the prince, all of the Boil clapped, a standing ovation.<br>
| |
| − | He learned a new lesson from Moon.<br>
| |
| − | One he would never forget.<br>
| |
| − | And as they finished, each and every one brought a hand to their chests. Because part of what they had ovationed was in themselves.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' And despite herself. Despite her wariness, despite her rancor for the Raksha who know doubt was sipping from the well of good feeling, despite Moon's breach of propriety...
| |
| − | | |
| − | She applauded. Nay, she cheered. She found herself caught up in the sense of togetherness and triumph, something she had not really felt since the bittersweet victory.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iron Tears: ''' There was something, in the way the God watched Seventh Moon. He watched, as the ovation ran past.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And the god watched Moon in awe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But the moment was nearly past, as the Iron God assented to Alex.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was time.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Exalted heard the god's voice in stray iron in the air around her. To follow the prince...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Alexander: ''' Alex stepped up, and walked... past the crowd, a court opening up for him. Up to where the bodies were laid to rest, a great mandala of the wrapped bodies of so many. He held the blade to it, and light begun to pour from his caste mark, touching all the bodies... and the sun begun to shine in the ground. He pointed to center of the mandala, looking at Kanti.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I am going to send them now. To cleanse them. Would you dance for their ascension?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "You may dance, Kanti." Selina says, to head off any question Kanti may ask her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Shock gave way to awe gave way to... a strange feeling in the pit of her gullet. All those bodies, all those wasted lives and dreams and possibilities, only good now for burning. For one accustomed to death being an annoying setback, this is...not saddening. Unsettling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''I fear death. And yet I go bravely, not thinking of it. These... must have known that to act was to die, but did so anyway. Does that make them greater than me, or less? Weaker, or stronger? Helpless in the tide of Fate, or perfectly in control of their Destiny? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | She hated thinking about it, the possibility that a mere mortal, a delicious sack of meat and dreams, could outshine her in some facet. And yet...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Seventh Moon: ''' Moon turned back around towards the others as he heard Iron Tears call, still glowing with what he had done. But sobering fairly quickly. The sight of the prince by all the bodies was a hard reminder of what victory had cost his city. Everyone died, sure, but so many werent supposed to die that fast. At least theyd gone down fighting, gone down with some pride still in them. Not certain if he should feel sad or proud, his mouth was set in a hard line as he moved to stand beside Selina again and waited silently for Alex and Kanti to begin.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti: ''' The Prince had asked, and mistress has said she could but...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''I...Dance? ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Dance while your flames burn around me and through me? ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Dance while the people watch and the bodies burn? ''<br>
| |
| − | ''Dance? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Of course, Prince Alexander, I will dance for the people of the Boil." and she curtsies. As she rises, the long coat against the chill of the Boil is shed from her shoulders, and there is a brief sparkle as she adopts the Radiant Viridean Form. It was a fighting form, to be true, but it marked her as an agent of the cycle, and what could be more appropriate?
| |
| − | | |
| − | It is a different Kanti the crowds see walking up to the mandala, to take her place there, a calm, sad Kanti, not the creature of nervous energy and uncertainty who collected her reward from their god.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then she starts to dance. <br>
| |
| − | A slow and sad dance, long sweeps of her legs, moving around the platform.<br>
| |
| − | A dance with a measured pace, and gentle rythmn.<br>
| |
| − | A dance for mourning for the fallen.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Alexander: '''The blade arched slowly through the air. The Knight appeared on the sunlight all around the prince, blade embedded on the ground, hands resting together over the base of the hilt, head down in mourning. The blade continues its arch, and the sunlight, intensifies, clear, white sunlight, pure instead of fiery.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The arch ends, and the light seems to emanate from the hundreds of bodies in front of them, arranged in such a position. The light pours from them, upwards - motes of essence like smoke trailing up...
| |
| − | | |
| − | The knight cries.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A tear falls over the corpses, and as one, all of them burst into golden flames.It is something pure, almost silent. And yet, the flames are so strong, so white, that the bodies burnt in a moment, every part of them, every part of their essence, all their wrappings becoming ashes and nothingness in a moment.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The flames surround Kanti, the clear, white flames.<br>
| |
| − | The souls surround Kanti, joyful, sent to the wheel.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Ainerach finishes its arch, the knight holds his tears, and Kanti is surrounded by the flames, by the ashes, by the souls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A whirlwind of ashes and souls reaching for the wheel...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' The gentle pulse of Essence tugging at the Child's being draws her attention, if only for a moment. That damned form pulls, calls, pleads to her Cup, her Need, and she finds herself talking a step forward before she has to bite back the instinctual response and calm herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''... why must you dance so? Why must you tempt me? I am hungry, so hungry! Yet I cannot touch you, for to do so is death or worse. Accursed, beautiful little red dragon! How I crave that which I feel... ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Child sets her jaw, stewing in place. In the abstract realm of Essence and dream, her Cup-maw drools longingly for that which remains unattainable. "... damn you, girl..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti: ''' The bodies start to burn.<br>
| |
| − | The ashes start to rise.<br>
| |
| − | The souls are set free.<br>
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dance changes.<br>
| |
| − | The time for mourning has passed.<br>
| |
| − | The dance changes.<br>
| |
| − | The time to send people on has come.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Kanti's pace amongst the flames doesn't falter as the pure white light of the prince start to burn at her scars. Instead it increases. There is still sorrow in her dance, but now it is tempered by reverence for those who are moving on, hope for their future lives, imploring those who might watch to guide them on to pleasant things, a dance to send them on, a dance to move them on their way. The souls and the ashes whirl faster around her, seaking the end, seeking the new beginning.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The last of the bodies are burnt.<br>
| |
| − | The last of the ashes is rising.<br>
| |
| − | The last of the souls are freed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dance changes.<br>
| |
| − | The time for sending has passed.<br>
| |
| − | The dance changes.<br>
| |
| − | The time to dance for those who live still has come.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Kanti dances faster and faster, her movements loosing the slow sadness of her mourning, the graceful formality of the sending, leaving only the joy for living.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Kanti doesn't slow for the burning of the prince's flame, she doesn't slow for the rebellion of her own skin at the life essence she channels, she doesn't slow for these things and she exults in them as she spins and turns and flows through her ecstatic motion. Kanti dances as her own flames start to spill out from her, swirling around her and amongst whirlwind of ashes and fading souls, the black scars on her skin writhing and twisting under the influence of the Prince and herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Kanti dances for the dead.<br>
| |
| − | Kanti dances for the living.<br>
| |
| − | Kanti dances for joy.<br>
| |
| − | Pure, simple joy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Above her, briefly, the Garda Bird flies free. Free of its chains. Free of its bonds. Free of its fear.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Alexander: ''' The Mandala is etched on the ground, through lines the fire burns, and will never leave.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dragoness dances, and a city stares in awe.<br>
| |
| − | The garda rises, and gods stare in awe.<br>
| |
| − | She feels pain and joy, and darker things that watch stare in awe.<br>
| |
| − | She dances with the turn of the wheel, helping souls to heaven, and heaven stares in awe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The people of the Boil see them going, and remember the words of their god.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Heaven knows who you are.'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | They see Moon, and they believe. They see Alex, and they see nobility exists.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And as the dance ends, the prince is there, a hand offered for Kanti, as a dance partner, his light subsiding after that masterful performance that seemed to last an eternity, a time none who watched it would be able to measure.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Kanti: ''' Kanti stops.<br>
| |
| − | The Dance stops.<br>
| |
| − | Everything stops.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Kanti banks her flames, and takes the Prince's hand and keeps herself standing against the aftermath of the dance through sheer will.<br>
| |
| − | Kanti keeps herself from showing the pain as the chains slip around the garda bird and her body burns in the cold through years of training.<br>
| |
| − | Kanti takes his hand and walks from the pyre with him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' For the longest time, she watched that dance. And... she found herself admitting that it wasn't the best one she had ever seen. That honor belonged to an Ornamental she had encountered some time ago of limitless beauty and grace, like the very embodiment of all that was motion and sensuality. His dance brought tears to mortals' eyes and made raksha jealous of his talents.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He was dead within the week, his beautiful entrails artistically arranged on the gate of the Festival of Hearts' talon-city.
| |
| − | | |
| − | This that she saw was not the most beautiful dance, nor was it the most technically sound. However, the little dragon-blood who performed it took was was stunning in the eyes of mortals and turned it on its ear, cutting open the outer flesh of the dance to reveal the pain and joy and sorrow within, letting it bleed out like a dying soldier, his last gasps the truest of words a man could ever hope to speak.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dance gave way to the feeling, the emotion of what the dance represented, turning it into something beyond mere performance. Worship? Perhaps... the mortals were always adoring their gods, high and low. But... no. It was the worship of life, of determination, of hope, of sacrifice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dance worshipped what made mortality so sweet to all, especially to the raksha. That desperation that turned it into a powerful, solid thing. A real thing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The beautiful Ornamental's dance was more than almost any mortal could hope to accomplish. Because it was not real. Shaped things did not make glamour, true lies. They made...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... they made life.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Child of Wyld Days had long-since forgotten her medal, instead finding herself pondering the sudden heaviness in her Heart.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Exceedingly Sublime Opal: ''' As it was Kanti's place to dance...
| |
| − | | |
| − | As it was Alexander's place to consecrate...
| |
| − | | |
| − | So was it her placed to immortalize this moment.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She breathed, and adjusted her posture slightly, making sure that her feet were firmly planted against the Stone. She knelt then, at the outer edge of the mandala, palms flat against cold earth. She exhaled, and the earth responded.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Among the ashes of the fallen, a statue arises. Placed upon a high, large pedistal of gleaming white stone stood a single figure, defiant. Clad in the clothing of a peasent, with bandages upon his many wounds, he stood straight and tall, his right fist raised to the sky.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She had studied the scrolls of those who had fallen, and for every one who had just rejoined the Great Wheel, a name appeared on the sides of the pedistal. And at the base, was the following euligie...
| |
| − | | |
| − | 'Here lies the greatests Heros of Boil. May the city they died for always honor them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * They look upon the monument.<br>They smile to each other,closer now than ever before.<br>Because they did it together.<br>The Exalts walk away from the site, a great mandala on the ground, the great sculpture in its center...<br><br>For that night, the Boil would be calm. Hopeful. Together.<br><br>And all felt it. That wonderful thing.<br><br>Closure.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FifthMovement|Fifth Movement]]
| |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
| |
