GoldenCat/DoubtLonging
- - Back to Third Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
Doubt and Longing
Alexander: After a meeting with a warlord of the North in a palace of dreams...
After a meeting in dreams that brought out the Daughter of Destruction...
After a lunch with the Windwraith, where she understood the Crimson Blood in Virgin Snow...
After a meeting with the Dark Angel in the same palace of dreams...
After the angels opening each of their souls...
It is morning in the Zephyr as Alexander returns, and a few hours playing with his younger brother waiting... until he could wait no more. And so, tentative steps, he went to wake up the beast in the darkest room of the Zephyr...
And the Pale Angel heard soft knocks on her door.
Vorpal: Sword, sword, sword...
The rag moves slowly along Mournful Kiss' charred black blade, one smooth swipe after another, polishing the now-silent and cold soulsteel, wiping away imagined stains left there by gutted enemies.
Sword, sword, sword...
It is not, however, the weapon in her lap that is currently dominating the Pale Angel's thoughts. No, it is the sword in her dreams, the crystal blade hefted by a woman who both was and wasn't her.
There is still so precious little Vorpal knows of her First-Age self. The Windwraith had told her much, but not enough to patch up all the holes left by the dreams and vague scraps of memories haunting her mind. And if Sati is a riddle, then her sword is its first verse - the Pale Angel has a distinct feeling that she would need to solve the mystery behind the blade first before she could hope to gain any further understanding of the Daughter of Destruction.
The sudden knocking on her door is an annoying interruption. Cael, no doubt, is back for more...
"Yes, come in", she says aloud, swallowing her irritation.
Alexander: He walks into the room, his clothes white and resplendent, if slightly small for him now. Taken at the Holysword's Windian Manses, they were from two years ago for a boy in constant growth...
"Oh, so you are here... yesterday was a tad too busy, could not catch you.... can you talk a little today?"
Vorpal: She looks up from where she is sitting on the edge of her bed.
Oho?
For the sake of honesty, Vorpal has to admit that she is a little surprised to see the Prince walk in through her door, but she masks it well. Her eyes linger for a moment in his too-small clothing - a boy in constant growth, a little further away from childhood and a step closer to manhood with each passing day.
"Yes, I can talk a little", she says, her tone neutral, her gaze turning back to the sword in her lap. She points at a vacant chair with her rag. "Take a seat."
Alexander: He does sit down, his arm on the table as he looks at her...and the sword...
"Well, it is true what they say about the Pale Angel, then?" He asking managing not to giggle.
Barely.
Vorpal: "Hmm?" she inquires with an arched eyebrow and a shadow of a slanted smile. Lifting the heavy blade up, she touches its flat against her cheek. "That it takes a large sword to make me feel hot?"
Wrapping her arms against the sword, she sways back and forth, cradling the weapon against her chest. "That I like it best when they are hard and straight and ready...?"
Alexander: ... only, he never expected her to be that direct about it!
After all, he has never gone to the taverns or the sort of noble gatherings that would elicit such comments, and what he has heard is "... actually, that the cold blade is your only lover, the only to get the Pale Angel's passion, and a jealous one at that!" He says, a blush tinting his cheeks as he looks and hears Vorpal...
But your sayings are much more interesting!
Vorpal: "Ah", she says, dropping her act and lowering the blade back to her lap once more. She cannot help but to smile slightly at Alex's reaction, however. "The more classy way to put it. The meaning, though, is essentially the same."
Shiting her posture a little, she makes a little gesture with her rag. "It comes with the fame, Alex. In a few years, people will begin to say similar rumors of you, too."
She pauses for long enough to give Mournful Kiss a swipe or two. "But that's not what you wanted to talk about, right?"
Alexander: "I wonder what those will be... anathema, prince without kingdom..."
"Unfortunately, I got my mark of Exaltation before leaving any sort of mark, quite like you... right?"
Or was she a Chosen even back then?
That would explain much, wouldn't it...?
Vorpal: Vorpal chuckles quietly.
"Or a prince straight from a tale, fighting to avenge his people", she suggests, then grows more sober and runs her rag down her blade's length.
"But not everyone is famous before they are Chosen. I hear the Prince of Shadows guarded a graveyard in Sijan prior to entering the Lover's service."
Alexander: Sometimes, there seemed to be two Vorpals, for the young Prince...
The cold one, that forced him to go foward, who slapped him down any time tears and emotions came to the fore...
And the one who gave him such compliments, more than anyone else... at least, anyone on his level... had ever done.
It confused him. It made him smile.
"Hmmm..."
Until he finally remembered why...
"And... why I am here? Well... I have a qurestion to ask."
His mien turns... hostile. Somewhat angry. Anger building from confusion and disappointment that Valencia's words could not quite quell.
"Just what the hell was that two nights ago, on the palace of dreams?!? Why did you feel like humilliating Selina, like breaking us in front of the Bull like that?"
Vorpal: The Pale Angel's mien darkens.
If there was a trace of warmth in Vorpal a moment ago, it vanishes now, draining away from her features, leaving only snow and ice behind. She gives the sword one more swipe of her rag, a long, smooth and calculated move.
"It seems I dreamt I was someone else that night", she says after a moment, choosing each word with care, mouthing every syllable with chilling precision. "The person who walked into that crystal hall was. Not. Me."
Alexander: "Valencia said as much last night..."
"Sati, is that not the name? I had to heard from your lips, however..."
He covers his face with his hand for a moment..."It... I do not have to tell you how disastrous that was, do I?"
Vorpal: Last night? With Valencia?
Don't tell me...
The suspicion is quickly flooded over by a sudden surge of annoyance - perhaps it is simply the stress that had built over the last two days, perhaps it is an echo from the volcanic woman she once was.
"Oh, really now? " she demands hotly, leaning forward, uncoiling one leg and stomping her foot firmly against the floor. "Imagine how I felt about it afterwards! The cold and chaste Pale Angel snuggling with the Dark Angel, of all the people... In front of an audience, no less!"
Alexander: Alex leans back on his chair, almost falling back as she begins her outburst...
She was really too scary a lady...
Thankfully, she stopped soon
No bold font and irreprensible commands today!
"Yes... I imagine. It must have been terrible..."
And I know how that feels...
"I have felt the same when I tried to kill the Dark Angel during our trip... when I tried to..."
Kiss her, too.
"They just seem to take us over."
Vorpal: Vorpal is silent for a very long time. Slowly, she withdraws from her aggressive pose. She sits a little straighter, gazing at the sword in her hand absently, thoughts and emotions racing inside her outwardly still form.
"I'm going to tell you a secret", she finally says, softly. Her back is stiff, her eyes remain glued to the sword.
"It was scary."
Alexander: For the very first time... The very first...
The mask cracks in front of Alex.
And it is not just that she shows that she is human...
It is also that he understands, fully, how she feels.
He walks up to her, a hand on her shoulder, and it seems so like before...
When he had to be a pillar for them, one the Pale Angel had been for him in this life... when he had to live the loneliness of being appointed leader, and so understood Sati...
... as Alex did now.
"I know."
Is all he says, sunlight coming from the curtains, a single line touching his silverly hair, his violet eyes, as he remains with his hand there... touching the Pale Angel in such a way for the first time.
Not like when his klutzyness got him face-to-face with her loins.
Not like when her maneuver got their faces an inche from one another
Not like when he had to heal her battered form.
But simply, in a calm, friendly way.
"You always have everything under control, right? It must be so much worse for you... to see it all broken by her."
Vorpal: She does not flinch at the touch of his hand, nor does she draw away. Listening to the sound of his voice, she suddenly feels herself all too weary to do anything of the sort. She is weary, so terribly, terribly weary of being what she is. The Pale Angel, sword in hand, clad in her black alluring armor, bringing death and demise to the weak and strong alike...
What kind of life is that anyways?
"Sati is... chaotic", she says quietly, feeling the warmth of his hand on her shouder. "She wants to do what she wants, when she wants, to be free of any form and etiquette."
The Silver Angel said that she should not follow the path that Sati had tread, the path of freedom and irresponsibility, childish, impulsive behaviour that endangered those around her. In a way, Vorpal has to admit that Valencia is perfectly correct in her worries, that the road Sati followed was dangerous, but... But...
She turns her head, looking up at the beautiful prince, watching how his hair bathes in the light, gleaming and lustrous.
"I envy her", she adds, and never has she looked so weak, so vulnerable, so calm and so peaceful before.
So perhaps it's time to rest a little bit. To lay down the sword, take off the armor, sit down and just... soak it in for a little while.
She hesitates, then moves, leaning over, laying her head against his chest.
"Yes, I envy her", she repeats, and closes her eyes with a sigh. The heavy black blade slides free of her grasp, tumbling soundlessly onto her bed.
Just for a little while.
Alexander: There are no words.
At least, Alexander knows none.
He knows one life, one path, he understands envy, but not what could be made of them. Would it be better if she remained as the Pale Angel? Would it be better if she became Sati? Carefree and chaotic, orderly and cold...
Nothing to say...
Nothing but to move his hand from her shoulder to the side of her head...
Nothing but to sit down on the bed close to her...
Nothing but encircling her body with his other arm, pushing her to him...
Nothing but to hold her like that, in in silence, with but a kiss to her hair.
There was nothing to say, but on that gesture, he held a thousand words. She had pushed him on, urged him on, saved him when nothing was left. And he would be here for the cold angel, he would be here for her to lean to, and not ask. And not give an opinion. And do nothing but accept her, and give her warmth...
... and so he did, for as long as she needed him to.
- - Back to Third Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
