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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Talks with Gods and Angels ==
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| − | <i>The Quicksilver Zephyr...</i>
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| − | Sailing north of the river of tears, above large patches of Frozen Fog, where northern wyld-tainted barbarians dwell.... after leaving an angel and a rebel a little too close to the heart of light and shadows.
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| − | After sending a message for the Seven Sages, informing them of all he knows so far and requesting for a healer, Cael waits... along with the others. A day has passed since their meeting, about the same time as of now...
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| − | | |
| − | ... And it doesn't take long until he comes up. Until one of the Seven Sages comes in the Quicksilver Zephyr...
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> The day had passed both quickly and slowly for Vorpal. Wounded as she was, she had asked for a cabin to rest in and spent the day attempting to sleep. The poison in her wounds did not make it easy, however, for it chilled and burned her in turns, at times keeping her awake for long hours, and at others plugning her into uneven, delirious slumber.
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael is sitting in one of the chairs in the sun lounge on top of the Zephyr, clear sunlight shining in through the crystal windows.
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| − | In his hand he has a glass of wine, that he has been sipping slowly as he considers the politics of the north.
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| − | It is pleasant to relax, after the rather hectic day, talking with Alex about the friends Windshield might call on, and then considering how best to word the openning missives to be sent to the various dignitaries. The latest draft hovers in the air in front of him, shimmering with flawless golden motes,
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> The day went slowly for Alex - for the moment Selina and Moon flew off the ship, he had been worried. If they would come back. For what they would find. He had to be there with them. To see what happened to his people... but now, all he could do, was wait. Wait and follow them up.... and find a way to take the fight back to the undead.
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| − | | |
| − | He talks to Cael absent-mindedly, enjoying the sunlight of the north, a small warmth in the middle of the cool climate, just as the warmth of the Fire and Wood pass by, and the cold winds of Air blow from the north.... Whiteshield had contacts with Windia, an obvious choice. Hasnlanti, which Cael seemed quite dubious about. The Bull had taken their allies on the other side of the river, and Amber Post, like everything else touched by the guild, was pure, pure bussiness. The Queen of Linowan came at times, and they felt a kinship due to worship, but hardly something to call upon on those days of tumult....
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> "I really <i>do</i> hope you appreciate this." A familiar voice filters into the room above Cael's head, calm and measured as always, but with a sour note running through every word. "I don't appreciate being used as a courier."
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| − | The air in the room twists suddenly, bending in front of Cael as if looking through a piece of warped glass. Dark blue light flickers at the empty eye of the display with a static crackle and distort hum, layer upon layer of deep blue building into the rough figure of a man. A hot wind washed over the Exalt as the light finally manifests into the floating figure of young thaumaturge floating in their before him. Dark eyes peer through blue-glass lenses as Jugen of the Thirty Ways stares down at Cael, looking for all the world as if he had just stepped in something decidedly unpleasant.
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| − | "It's not you personally, you understand," he continued in a lecturing tone. "They just don't realize how busy I am. Least of all now that my lab and library in the city were all confiscated. It's hard enough to train mortal nit-wits. It's harder still when I don't have half the tools I need to do. They'll have likely blown themselves up before I get back than anything."
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael looks up with a pleasant smile for his vistor, an apologetic expression coming over his face as he hears of the god's distress
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| − | "Welcome to the Quicksilver Zephyr, Jurgen of the Thirty Ways, I am so sorry to have interrupted your works, I know how important they are to you. Please, take a seat. Can I offer you aught to make your visit more comfortable?"
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| − | He smiles at Alex "Crown Prince, this is Jurgen of the Thirty Ways, he is one of the gods who asked me to give what aid I might to you."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "Oh, pleased to meet you, Lord Jugen." he gets up and makes a proper court flourish. "I heard of your religion... one of the newest divinities on the Boil, right? You have some followers in Whiteshield as well..."
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| − | "Wel... had, at least."
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> "Ah, you <i>did</i> him," the thaumaturgic spirit nods in approval at the sight of Alex. "I almost wasn't certain the report could be believed. It seemed a little too good to be true."
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| − | A blur of blue light lingering and fading in the air behind him, Jugen drifts downwards, a chair polietly pulling it self out to catch him. "And unless you happen to have a copy of the Art of Sorcerery on hand, I don't think there is much you could do to make this visit a comfortable one, cloud-rider. I'd prefer to make the visit a brief one."
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| − | The god blinks a bit at Alex's comment, adjusting his glasses slightly. "I had worshippers in Whiteshield? Hrm..." shaking his head, he clears his throat lightly. "Yes, well, hopefully they weren't as bumbling as my current lot. Oh, you should have seen the mess they made when they tried to summon one of Deep Soil Sleepers elemental servants. She was standing in the next room no less! And they <i>still</i> somehow set half my furniture on fire!"
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael splits a grin at that "Alas, while I have what some would consider an impressive library of lore, that work is not in my possession. As to your desire for briefness...while part of me grieves you cannot stay longer, a brief visit would seem to suit us both."
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| − | He shrugs "I saw little need to embelish my report to you...whatever it might have done for my reputation."
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| − | He shakes his head at the tales of the apprentices "They will learn in time, I am sure. One must just show patience."
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> The god simply snorts at the mention of patience and shakes his head with a sardonic smile.
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| − | "Well, let us get to the meat of the matter, shall we? You wished information on the current movements of that band of undead making a mess of things in Windia, did you not? And a healer, yes?" Passing his hand in a lazy arc through the air, the trail of blue light that follows his motion hung in place. Jugen dipped a finger into it and began to draw a crude map of the area within the energy-trail.
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| − | "To the best of our intelligence, the undead forces are currently strongest here," he poked a finger through the light, creating a hole in the canvas. "We believe they are massing to make a move on Genmel. It still maintains something of a small garrison and this seeming to be a small band of raiders rather than a deep penetration, it seems that the Abyssal commander wishes to avoid risking unnecessary losses to her troops. Or at least wishes to be overwhelming in their advance."
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| − | The god shrugged and continued. "Who can know the minds of such creatures? Just the same, Genmel won't be likely to hold out long even if she advanced entirely on their own."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "Massing...." The prince watches the lights, not as surprised by them as one might expect. Having a sorceress as a mother increases one's threshold for mystical effects. "Too many, then? We will have to work on gathering allies.... and this is just the shock troops sent to diversion, right? As Lilith had said.... to keep the eyes out of Whiteshield. Maybe taking them out is what they are expecting, as long as it makes people confident...?" He then notices how much he is talking, and blushes, embarassed, looking at the two men, Exalted and God, so much more experienced and knowledgeable than him...
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| − | "...Or not. Forget I said anything. Er... carry on!'
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael studies the map infront of him, committing it to memory to share with Vorpal later, as well as the words the god spoke. He gestures with his hands, creating a fine text that he gently throws at the page on the table before him, making a more permenant copy.
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| − | "Thank you very much for the intelligence, Jurgen. I am sure the pale angel will be able to make something of it. She quite possibly has a better insight into the mind of the commander, since I am given to understand they have fought her before."
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| − | "No, Alex, you raise a fair point. It could be a bluff. Or a double bluff. I do not know her well enough to hazard a guess at this stage."
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| − | Cael shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of the wine. "You mentioned a healer who might be able to help, before, Jugen?"
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> While they're not directly solely at him, Jugen makes an irritated gesture as Alex begins to ramble, a smile of greatly forced patience on his face. "Next time send a request for Gideon or eve Misra if you wish to talk about such violent nonsense, young prince. Strategy and battle tactics are not my field of expertise."
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| − | "Ah, yes. Scarlet Orchid. It seems Deep Soil Sleeper found her. He refered to her as one of his 'flower children,' whatever that means," he huffed a laugh. "He says she is quite good at her art and should be able to help you though. At the moment, she is in residence here," he pokes another whole into the map a great deal further south than the other. "At an inn called the Hourglass. It... ah... it has a bit of a reputation, so I'd be wary when you go to visit."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "Hourglass? We were there.... me, Lilith and Aine. But it was on Windia! Inside the city."
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> "Mmm?" the spirit frowned. "No, I am quite certain that the Hourglass is well outside of the city. The old elemental may be a bit of bore, but he at least knows the lay of the land well enough. I am quite certain the inn is where he says it is."
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "They would be lost without the likes of you crafting the weapons they use in their 'Violent Nonsense', and I must thank you again for the information relayed."
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| − | "The Hourglass...I have heard of it, yes." He gives a small shrug. "If they can bother myself and Alex, the North has little to fear from the Dead, I think. None the less, we will be cautious."
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| − | "As to the inn within Windia...yes, there is an Hourglass there...we want the less ...resputable one. Which is where Jugen placed it."
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways:</b> "Well, if you need me no more, I have places to be, some klutzy experiments to oversee... you can ramble about whatever bloodshed you intend to promote." The godling straightens his sturdy robes, then begins to vanish, becoming more and more transparent... "I will see you next time you visit, I suppose. Until then, Cael." A last gesture of goodbye, and the handsome god of thaumathurges vanishes...
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "We are going there, then. Let's just keep Lilith sleeping until we find this Scarlet Orchid, no reason to give her more pain... you saw it on her face, right? Even if she tried to be so tough about it..."
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| − | <i>Even Soulsteel was marred by the acid... the power of void...</i>
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Farewell, Jugen. May the sun shine on your..." the god vanished "...efforts."
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| − | "And yes, we'll be making our way there now. It should not take overlong." he stands after setting the empty glass down.
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| − | "I'll return momentarily, I do need to update our course a little."
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| − | <br><br><br>
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| − | === A Pale Angel's Warmth ===
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| − | <i>The Quicksilver Zephyr...</i>
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| − | Course changed, moving straight to the Hourglass, cutting through dark clouds like a sword...
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| − | Vorpal sees not where it sails, as the pain burns within her. The Black Queen’s vestiments tarnished, burnt, sullied by the touch of the venom. Stirring, she waits... and images come to mind. Large black feathers. A sword of ice. Glittering silver runes on your lover’s skin... wisdom on your ear. The sword breaks... the Dark Sword over you. Fighting the Hawk...The sword of light.
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| − | The blades clash.
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| − | The world shatters.
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| − | As the visions stop, the cabin opens, and the young prince of Whiteshield comes in, something on his arm.. hard to focus. His face is easy enough to focus... the glittering silver hair, the deep purple eyes... perfect in the shine of the golden gem, just as Selina is in her green one... easy to focus, as it had been twice before. When he took in her wounds, laying on the gutter, cold oblivion creeping on her soul... and earlier yesterday, absorbing her venom, against the first face she saw. Worried, as he was now.
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| − | “Err... excuse me...” He says, a step foward, smiling a little, “I... came to know if you are feeling well... that was a nasty wound.”
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Urrrrgh...</i>
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| − | One of Vorpal's inherent powers as an Abyssal was the ability to heal quickly. This had saved her life several times, enabling her to be ready for another battle when most other warriors still shifted and groaned in their sickbeds. Such a power, however, could also pose a danger, for it was all too easy to begin relying too heavily on such healing Charms. Once you grow used to the easy way, the shock is all the greater when the magic suddenly fails to do its work. Vorpal had tasted poisons similar to the Hierophant's before, and she was no stranger to the painful effects they provided. Never before, however, in such large quanities...
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| − | The visions made it all the worse. Puzzle after a puzzle, faces and places she feels she should recall, yet which always seem to elude her grasp every time she attempts to focus on something concrete.
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| − | Grimacing in an attempt to tear away the last, lingering remnants of the strange sights that had danced before her eyes, Vorpal presses a palm against her throbbing forehead and sits up in her bed, allowing the covers to fall down...
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| − | | |
| − | ...and forgetting that in order to better air her smouldering wounds, she had discarded both the soulsteel armor and the garment she generally wore underneath.
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| − | | |
| − | ...and the covers fall down, following the smooth, round curves of her milky white skin...
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> ...Alex's voice withers away, his words caught into his throat and refusing to come out. His eyes the size of twin saucers, his mouth works, opens, closes...
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| − | There is a moment of silence...
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| − | He tries to avert his eyes. His cheeks tinge the color of Vorpal's eyes. Or even deeper red. But yet, he can not look away, even as the changes are so embarassing and perceptive within himself.
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| − | It was easy to forget, so easy.... under the cloak and leather, so heavy and nondescript, with the great, wailing black sword about her, that she was actually a woman...
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| − | ... And what a woman!
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Lifting a weary eyebrow at Alex, it takes a moment for Vorpal to realize what had quelled the prince so. Then the truth dawns to her, however, and she slowly lets her eyes drop, following the prince's gaze.
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| − | <i>...Oh.</i>
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| − | There is another moment of awkward silence, and then, very deliberately, does Vorpal take a hold of her blankets' edge and lift it up, covering the cold vision of the high, snowy mountains from the view. She lifts her free hand and makes a tiny, circular motion with a single finger, aiming an imperial glance at Alex.
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| − | "...do you mind?"
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> <i>"... do you mind?"</i>
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| − | <i>No, I don't mind it at all. I didn't even think they were so pretty...</i>
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| − | He almost says, his perfect young face even deeper in a shade of crimson, His deep purple eyes like big amethysts...
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| − | "...no, I don't mind at all..."
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| − | <i>No, idiot, not _that_</i>
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| − | Even deeper red, now embarassment, and he turns around, breathing hard as he can, sweating... "Oh, sorrysorrysorrysorry!" He cringes, wondering if he just won't feel her sword going through him now... it's Vorpal, it's Vorpal, it's Vorpal...
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| − | <i>I'm going to die now</i> Trembling, he keeps repeating it, sweating, and trying to see if he... cool down before she kills him, his sword in ready compliment to her beautiful body of snow...
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>...Heh.</i>
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| − | Vorpal cannot help but to let out a tiny, amused sigh at the boy's reaction. Her personal aversions about being in intimate contact with other people aside, the Ghost-Blooded is actually no stranger to the games of this type. Back in the old days, she used to enjoy occasionally startling her underlings in a similar manner. Having the officers give their reports to her while she herself was bathing or merely half-dressed in an evening robe and watching their reactions used to bring a certain sort of strange, selfish pleasure to her life.
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| − | These days, however, such idle little games had been replaced by more serious matters, and Vorpal did not think she could enjoy this sort of childish, flauting shows as much as she used to. But still, it is a whiff of the old times, a warm memory of days long gone.
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| − | Shaking her head, Vorpal reaches out with her hand. Careful not to stress any of her wounds, she grabs a black tunic from the bed pole and slides it over her head. The fabric strains and stretches a little as it attempts to accommodate itself around her form, but still, it is better than nothing.
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| − | "You can turn around now."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> <i>I'm alive!</i>
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| − | <i>..I'm alive? I'm really really alive?</i>
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| − | <i>She didn't kill me?!?</i>
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| − | Hand going to his heaving chest, he tries to find a pierced point, a big dark sword blade coming out... and finds nothing. Nothing at all.
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| − | <i>I'm alive!</i>
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| − | Sighing in relief, he goes straight to the topic! Now, to talk to her, to ask apologies for yesterday, break this mood, and see if I am out of this room as soon as... "...Alright! I brought this for you so you will read while in bed, it's one of my favorites, and - -"
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| − | He trips then, turning around.
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| − | On his own foot.
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| − | Falling towards Vorpal... a moment, both him and the book in the air. Face falling straight on her belly and thighs... the book, hardcover, falling over his head, where Vorpal can read 'The Crystal Maiden', a novel of some renown on the north, a tale from the early days after the contagion, from the beggining of hope....
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| − | And Alex, feels only one thing - that she is warm. Not cold like she had ever looked, or how she was the two times he brought her back.
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| − | <i>She is... warm. </i>
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| − | <i>And smells... wicked.</i>
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael steps into Vorpal's room after a knock, smiling faintly. They had made good time, and would soon be landing at the Hourglass, so they could contact the healer Jugen had told him of, and get Vorpal back on her feet.
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| − | "Lilith, I have good news.."
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| − | The prince, in bed with Vorpal, a book over his head. Not a bad book either. Still...<br>
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| − | Well, he couldn't say he really blamed the prince but when she was so hurt?
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| − | "..we're nearly at the Hourglass. I think we can find a healer for you there."
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| − | His face betrays little emotion, his eyes merely flickering over her body before he returns to her face.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Wonderful"</i>, Vorpal responds with tight, razor-sharp smile and a tone of voice which could freeze flames into icicles. "I shall be looking forward to it."
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| − | Even as she speaks, she moves a single slim, white hand over the prince's head and pushes the book tumbling away onto the bed sheets. "Have you discovered anything about possible allies yet?"
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| − | That white hand is now stroking idly the prince's head, ruffling his silver hair, twining the silken locks around her fingers... and there they stop, clenching around his skull gently, yet as unyielding as pliers of iron. "You know", she whispers sweetly, her breath warm and alluring as she leans closer to the prince's ear, voice trembling only slightly from the withheld fury. "I <i>did</i> break an ox's neck once..."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> He trembles.
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| − | He knew this would be coming, no death before, certain death now... he lifts his face tentatively, lifts his eyes tentatively... he had been born to rule, but before Vorpal, was just as a puppy, yet... not tested battle prowess, no royal station, nothing mattered under that gaze... and now, he was too scared to even move away... "A-are... are you... mad, m-milady?"
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| − | He trembles.
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| − | He knew this would be coming, no death before, certain death now... he lifts his face tentatively, lifts his eyes tentatively... he had been born to rule, but before Vorpal, was just as a puppy, yet... not tested battle prowess, no royal station, nothing mattered under that gaze... and now, he was too scared to even move away... "A-are... are you... mad, m-milady?"
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "I will thank you kindly not to kill the Prince while he is under my protection and on my ship.", he says simply.
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| − | "As to Allies... Not yet. The north is large and empty, and people are slow to respond." he gives a small shrug "Then there is merely the matter that few of the countries up here can offer any meaningful resistance to the Bishop and his forces."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Letting go of Alex's hair, Vorpal slides her hand downwards, the very tips of her fingers stroking the prince's chin, tracing the smooth, beautiful arch of his face down to his jaw. There her hand lingers, and she lifts his head gently upwards, past the flat stomach and the ample bosom, past the milky white throat, all the way up to her face and the eyes that glow there with all the blazing, scorching heat of hellfire.
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| − | "No", she replies, and her kind, quiet words echo with the thundering boom of war drums. Flowers placed onto gravestones wilt away, leaves fall from the trees, wives give birth to stillborn babies. "Not at all."
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> Alex falls down then, falling back on his backside on the floor, looking up at Vorpal in awe.
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| − | No sudden movements, no sudden movements. For god's sake, make no sudden movements.
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| − | That was, doubtlessly, the scariest thing Alex had seen in all his life.
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| − | "Bo-bo-book..." is all he can stutter.
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> He watches this scene with a certain ammount of amusement, though little of it reaches his face except as a small smile and a faint look of respect in his eyes for Vorpal's control, even when injured.
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| − | Most definately someone to watch.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Hmm?" Vorpal asks, and suddenly the deadly aura seems to simply... vanish away. Once again she is the weary Ghost-Blooded, wounded and sitting half-dressed in a bed. The lifting of tension can be almost felt in one's skin as she turns her head and plucks the book idly from where it had fallen onto the covers. "<i>Crystal Maiden</i>? I think I have heard of this somewhere."
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| − | Flipping the tome open and leafing through a page or two, she looks up at Cael for a moment. "No allies yet, you said? I suppose that cannot be helped. We all seem to have more enemies than friends around here."
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| − | She had been wondering if the Haslanti would be interested in taking part in this mess, but she had also heard of Cael's relationship with the League... It was quite an impressive feat to become one of the most wanted men in all the North, but such a reputation had its disadvantages...
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| − | "Do you believe we could find any, though?"
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "I am sure we can find some to aid us, or at least hinder the Bishop." Probably anyway. There were always people with grudges, or people who could be persauded that they had grudges. Or people who could be tricked into having grudges.
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| − | "Finding ones willing to put aside thier differences with our ...mixed group will make it harder, of course. There will people who would happily ally with us, but for your presence, or who would join with you, but for myself or Prince." he smiles confidently "Of course, that is why I'm here."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "We could see if there were any mercenary companies that haven't yet found a suitable employer around", Vorpal suggests even as her eyes skim over the beginnings of the story written to the book. "I have some friends among them, and most of them believe I am but a Ghost-Blooded."
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| − | She brushes absently a few strands of her hair over her shoulder. "How about you, skypirate? Do you have any colleagues who would be interested in a bit of military booty?"
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "It is... a great book!" He smiles, trying to get up, and hopefully not be too far from Cael. All the commanding mien the boy had at times subsumed now.... for even if his presence was able to shine through a room, certain embarassments are able to drain one dry of it, totally and completely, making the most hardened into sttuttering idiots... much less one that never received hardening until now. "I know you probably won't like it... it is quite different from your type, I know, I know! So unlike you, all the romance... and Otieno kept telling me how the fights are 'unrealistic' and 'romantisized', and how that never happens in reality... but... I guess even you might find it cute." He blushes a little, remembering of all the things he thought when he first read it.
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| − | | |
| − | And then, he feels warm. He remembers the tough Dragon-Blooded general who forsook all she had for her love... suddenly feeling closer to Vorpal, due to before, to seeing her body... not as the flesh, but that she was another human, like him. And who knows...Maybe deep down, they are all alike, after all.
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| − | | |
| − | Turning to Cael, he relaxes against a drawer, crossing his arms, "You are a chosen of the sun... that should be enough. Has to be..."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> He steps forward a little, closer to the Pince, subtly offering support and reassurance. His eyes run over her body once more at that, a faint twinkle in his eye. Military Booty...
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| − | | |
| − | "Military Booty? I know a few people who might be willing to work for such. As you noted though, it does depend on their current state of employment...perhaps we can persaude people to ...release some troops for our use, if none are to be found otherwise."
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| − | | |
| − | He studies her carefully for her reaction to the book ... oftimes such things are far more telling than one's behavior when in control.
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| − | | |
| − | "Of course it should be. The world rarely seems to work as it should though, I have found."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Romance</i> is the magic word. She had been curious about the book before, but now her interest has been sparked. Her eyes gliding over the lines, she flips over the next page and suddenly...
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| − | | |
| − | ...stiffles a short laugh.
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| − | <b>Anne:</b> he girl comes in, very common stock on the North... blue eyes, bright hair. Anne stands at the doorstep, looking at them with a tinge of awe... her savior had been so much more like her, or those she had known, even with her supernatural, but those... those were as gods, there. "Can..."
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| − | | |
| − | She gulps,
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| − | | |
| − | ".. Can I do something for you? It felt lonely in my room..."
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| − | | |
| − | Moon had saved her, and brought her on-board, a little girl... twelve years old? Thirteen years old? Pehaps fifteen years old, at most....
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Hmmm...?" Even though Vorpal turns her face away from the book, her eyes refuse to turn along, lingering instead on the pages a fleeting second more before she finally looks up and at the newcomer. After snapping the book shut, she places it down onto the blanket.
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| − | | |
| − | "You..." she frowns slightly, eyeing the girl, "you were with the Lunar, weren't you?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Anne:</b> "Y-yes... Moon saved me from... them." She hugs herself, not wanting to think about it... about what the men would do to her. "Calisara was with me last night, but she is busy now, and I... I just thought... I...."
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| − | | |
| − | She looks at them. How could she even look at them? They were as.. a shining prince, beautiful as snow... a dashing adult, full of beauty and style... an alabaster goddess, even in such bedclothes... there was no way they could.... even talk to her. "I-I'm sorry. Sorry to bother." She says, turning away and walking out...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Anne?" He smiles at the small girl, a warm and friendly smile, banishing her doubts that she was in any way unworthy to talk to them "I'm sure we can find something for you to do. It won't be a bother. Is there anything you'd like to do?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Anne:</b> Anne freezes. His voice is like honey... no way to go away. "I... I can cook. I used to cook some back home.. or clean. Help Calisara, that is, I-I...I don't think I could ever clean all of this by myself..."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal listens to the conversation silently, her usually so firm and commanding manner oddly subdued for the moment.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> He continues to radiate warmth with his smile, his bearing, his words "I'm sure Calisara would be more than happy to have your help in cleaning the ship...she is always happy when someone takes an interest in her ... but, you don't have to work ... I'm sure we can find you some paints or threads if you would rather do that."
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| − | | |
| − | He smiles once more, his manner suggetsing that which ever she chooses, he will pleased, as long as she is happy.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Anne:</b> "N-no, no!" She says, almost in despair,
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| − | | |
| − | "I want to help! I really want to be useful..."
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| − | | |
| − | I don't want you to leave me. Her eyes say, on a way that only Cael can listen, her voice says...I have nowhere else to go. I want you to see a use in me...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cael:</b> He looks back at her, reassuring her.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>I won't leave you alone, whatever you choose.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | "Well, if you want to be useful, come with me and we shall go to see Calisara. I'm sure she can find something for you to do on the Zephyr."
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| − | | |
| − | He turns back to Vorpal "I will leave you to your new novel. If you need anything more, just ask, of course."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Fine by me", Vorpal responds, her eyes staring at some invisible point in the other end of her bed. Her mind seems to be occupied on something else once more, and judging by the grimness of her mien, it is obvious that they are not pleasant thoughts.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> "We are about to get there, ne? Let us be on our way, then..." Alex tried to reach for Anne, but Cael was swifter. But the meanings on his voice and smile were clear to Alex, who smiles... happy to be with another who would do so. A last glance to Vorpal... to that very humane Pale Angel he had begun to see, even if only imagining what cael knows for sure... "We will be here soon to heal your wounds... I promised to protect you, milady, and I will do good on my words. Hope you can at least get a mild amusement out of the book, though..."<i> It gave me great dreams...</i> With a wave, he goes together with Cael and Anne... to meet Calisara, and to the Hourglass!
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Hey, lad", Vorpal calls out after Alex as they go.
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| − | <b>Alex Holysword:</b> Alex turns around... surprised. He turns around, still feeling that humanization of the Pale Angel, but something on his mind still nagging the threat of the <i>scary lady with the big dark sword... </i>"...Yes?" he says, simply, but respectfully.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> There is a pause. Vorpal does not move, nor does she look up at the prince.
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| − | Finally, she sighs, in an almost irritated manner. "Thanks for the book."
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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