A Leg and a Wing (Alti)
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09-10-2011, 02:07 PM
On a Wing and a Prayer
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Beyond the Clouds.
Re: A Leg and a Wing (Alti)
A moment of slight dizziness clouds my mind as my bedroom warps around me before disappearing altogether. It’s then followed by the customary blinding white that wraps my body tight, checking me for any deception or immoral actions I might have. In response, I simply give it a generic glance and cock my head to the side, indicating my impatience. I’m released, and once again my vision blurs before my departure from the transport drops me lightly onto a floor of marble. Darker hues cross my sight before solidifying and taking shape. I’m now stood in what can only be described as a waiting room. No stereotypical floating clouds, tiny cherubs playing harps, or radiant light shining down from up above. It’s a room only slightly larger than my own apartment, constructed of marble and stone with several windows set into key points along the walls, looking out onto...nothing. This place is floating in an abyss, made for this meeting. A meagre show of power by those whom I’m serve, even though it would be more appreciated if used for my own living quarters.
I stride forward with purpose, the contract clutched in my hand. Get this sorted, get out before I’m tasked with anything else, that’s the plan. Hopefully I can even get away with the request of no more paperwork while I’m at it. In response to these thoughts, the marble in front of me rises up and twists itself into the rough form of a table. Impressive.
“I’m not staying. Just here to sort something I was left by one of your runners,” I mutter, the words resounding off the walls. I may be the only one in the room, but here you’re never alone. The air shivers around the table, compacting into more or less humanoid form. My superior doesn’t like doing this, but after disregarded orders, he feels he needs to make orders face to...shivery air with no details face. I make a low bow and wait for the Supernal to respond.
You Wish To Know Why The Path Leads You To The Contract?
The words reverberate with power, causing me to raise my head. All knowing and not much in the way of patience with questions. To them it must be like being asked by about the past every time someone opens their mouths. I respond with a simple nod.
We Know Why Zeredrim Asks Us To Participate. The Site Of The Grave Is Known To Us As Tenuis Veil. It Is Of Importance To Us. We Ask That You Do Not Question This More.
A tiny spark of resentment flickers in my thoughts before I crush it swiftly. Not fast enough it seems, and the form shivers with indignation.
Your Place Is Not To Judge Seraphim. You Will Serve, As All Do. Liuath Of The Craft Will See You Before You Depart.
With this, the humanoid in front of me disintegrates into air once more. I let out a sigh and rise back to my full height. All Will Serve. That’s the most spoken phrase in this place, and one I loathe. Leading a life based on my own rules for so long has made adjusting to this new career hard. But then again, eternal purgatory is a fate worth avoiding if it means being a lapdog sometimes. I turn my attention back to the table, which has not descended back into the floor yet, and lean against it. Moments pass with nothing but me and my thoughts to occupy me before something happens. To one side a marble slab parts, revealing the abyss beyond, and a moment later another being appears. His body takes a moment to smooth out from blurry edges, divulging another angel. Unlike me, his apparel of choice is a rather large robe that trails behind him, metal clinking on the marble with each step. Golden links the size of a thumb are lined over a royal blue cloth, with a matching pair of gloves and boots. The only visible skin is his face, which is weathered, leathery and carries a coffee complexion. A mane of dull white hair akin to my own is brushed back to keep his features clear, such as his mouth that is already broken into a smile. I return it with one of my own. It’s been a while since I last saw a brother in arms.
“You never visit,” Liuath says mockingly, and holds out an arm. I grip it firmly and let out a sigh.
“You never leave your work long enough to visit,” I reply. We both burst out laughing, and for the next few minutes we go over new developments before turning back to the task at hand.
“This must be something important if Supernal has tasked you with it,” Liuath utters, his focus on the complex hand movements he makes above the marble table. Several objects appear momentarily, more common than I expect. One being a normal file, marked with several purple seals, a small foot long box emblazoned with a black stamp that looks like a rorsach version of a four leaf flower. Alongside it are numerous small stones that look like they were recently drawn from the bed of a river.
“It’s kept in a location on Earth to stop its misuse, and I’m not exactly a master conjurer,” the other angel responds as if reading my thoughts.
“What is it?”
“It is the Seal of Solace. Once imprinted with it, it separates the core of a person from their bodily function, stemming the flow of energy and magic.” At this, my attention suddenly becomes peaked.
“Why do you have it?”
Liuath gives me a quizzical look before opening the box. He draws out the contents; a fist sized ebon black stone. It pulses with an unnatural glow, and I instinctively take a step back. What this item is meant for tells my insides to leave before it can be used.
“You’re going to the Tenuis Veil. Angels are strictly forbidden to enter that place, and even if it’s permitted, a single shred of aggression to a demon there will ignite an assault from the Dark Below,” Liuath states, and advances towards me. Before I can react, he pushes the stone against my shoulder. For a moment, my vision blurs and I’m unable to coordinate myself to stop my friend before I’m hit by a wave of pain. It wracks my entire body and shoots like lightning through my mind, bringing up my dream. I’m going to die again. And then, just as the pain reaches its apex, it abates. The room winks back into my vision, although from a slanted view. I’m laid on the floor.
“Did I pass out?” I mutter. Liuath holds out a golden hand and heaves me back to my feet.
“Only for a minute, but I expected as much. The process is not a pleasant one, and most angels have a severe reaction. The more attuned to the Heaven Gate, the worse the pain.” I steady myself, and wave a hand in front of my eyes to chase away the stars that linger in my sight. The moment passes, and I manage to regain some of my composure before I turn my focus to my shoulder. The stone seems to have literally burned a hole through my jacket and onto my arm, and now the vivid image of the black flower now resides there. Even looking at it makes me feel uneasy. I lift a finger to the cauterized hole, and wait for my energy to repair my clothing. After a second or two, a single spark squeezes itself out of my index finger, but immediately dissipates before it lands.
“You weren’t lying,” I murmur. Liuath turns his attention to the table, and I swear he lets out a chuckle. When he turns back though, his face is the mask of seriousness I’ve seen in the past, just before we went into war. He holds the file in his hands, which he takes a precursory glance through before handing it over.
“This is an unprecedented occurrence. At the moment, the only abilities you’ll be able to muster are your basic innate ones, speech and minor healing. Virtus will still obey you, but for all intensive purposes, your connection to the Gate is gone. All the rules for entering the Veil have been followed, and if Zeredrim should decide to kill you, we’ll not be able to intervene. However...” Liuath’s face suddenly becomes the picture of smugness. “Nothing is stated about asking anyone else. Humans have a way of accidentally killing things in all manner of places.” The angel gestures to the file, which opens of its own accord. Staring out at me is the picture of a tanned olive skinned face woman who instantaneously fills me with a sense of foreboding. This isn’t going to end well.
“Who is she?”
“A person of interest. She’s the consort of a Grim, and her allegiance does not lay with the Dark Below or us. Her skill base is also quite...unique. Her occupation would pass for ignorance on our part if Up Above were accused of setting up a trap, and passable defence should they try and kill you.” Liuath takes back the file before I have a chance to read further in, but I do manage to glean the words ‘Spirit’ and ‘Shadow’ emboldened in several places.
“What makes you think she’d agree to help?” I question, my eyes still fixed on the file. Humans were notoriously obsessive about payment, money or power being the usual standards. I’d spent the better part of fourteen years among their breed, and it always boiled down to their own gain. In response, Liuath pulls a silver edged envelope from the file. He mutters a simple incantation, and it disappears in a small flame of purest white.
“She’s already agreed.”
By Lady Knives
We're the hearts for the heartless, the thoughts for the thoughtless,
the lies for the honest, and the gods of the godless.
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