Upon the Elysian Fields the memories of battles linger, a murder of ravens picking at the Past. The figures of Troy lie scattered on the plain, and the last laughter of Achilles. Not in the field of dreams, where thoughts and hopes, dreamscapes and the Waiting Unfulfilled hover in crystalline, airy spheres, but in this field does the erstwhile Herald stroll.
Yes, stroll.
Hands laced behind his back, long violet-midnight wings streaming behind him, gathering Elysian dust, pulling at Elysian turf. He is ... on break. As they say. His eyes scanning the landscape for the pure joy of it. Walking through legends. People dream of legends. Admiring the peace. Staring at the Past. Thinking on What Might Be.
What Might Be... that is the most powerful stuff in the Universe...
Behind the Herald, joining him on his...leisurely stroll, is a pair of Chaldean lions. Four-headed sentinels of the Archangel Michael. Their eyes upon the cardinal directions. Their bodies of brass and bronze glinting the fires of metal of war. They, of course, love it here. But they are, of course, on duty. Their immense paws making indentations as they move.
Their...duty... walks ahead of them. Walks? Well, it's more spry than that, even though slow. There's a certain... skip about it.
The dreamscapes float eerily, as if at any moment, they could come crashing down. But crashing into where? More nothingness. They'd simply float onward, into other spherical shapes.
You seem the only being wandering presently. The others who walk the fields -- Achilles, Hector, Hippolytus -- they are walking elseparts. Perhaps they know you and your lion-guard are here. Achilles, however, generally has no fear of such and tends to greet visitors when they come to the fields. But maybe they are all in a meeting.
Suddenly, not so far from you, a figure of ashen night appears. Among the crystalline orbs, it makes the shadow stand out even more gloriously; the thin silhouette of dusky light is overkill. That? Malakim for sure. A strong body, shaped by God's own hand. And wings no less formidable flex sturdily behind, at some ease of attention.
"I am glad to find you here," Soldekai smiles, eyes opening. Light flows from where orbs would be, if he were on another plane. His hands unfold and rest on his waist, the brilliant rays from nowhere backlighting him.
"In fact, I'm just glad to see you," he admits, looking past you to the lions.
Do you not have something else to do, his stare suggests to the guard.
No, you see... we live for this...
The pair of lions look to the arrival of the Archangel -- and since they have four heads and two eyes per head, they look like they expected it. In truth, it's hard to put anything past them. And God Knows -- indeed He does -- that Galadriel has tried. Repeatedly. At your arrival they sit upon their haunches and bend their forward heads. He Who Is The Brilliance of God. Who Shines Like Him?
They salute you. But they do not otherwise move.
"My Own Personal Sparkler! My Pre-Roman Candle! Lord of Radiance. Your Radiance....ness..." The Herald bows, but his head lifts as his downward sweep dips and wings lift. The dusky-faced and formed Dream Cherub grins upward. Ribald once more. He... as you have always known him. Unflappable. Violet eyebrows waggle. "Permission to whistle and catcall, Sir Glows... A Lot." Galadriel straightens, a more serious look on his face. I have missed you. But he gives not into that here. Not here. And with a pivot, wings unfurling, he turns toward his bodyguards. "Might I have a Moment. A piece of eternity to speak with The Archangel?" Eyebrow cocks up -- half hoping, half expecting...
We cannot leave our charge. Their joined voices, of four mouths each, sound in harmonies sweet, but ending with a sound like sword scraping bronze. You surely must expect, Herald, that we have learned better than to be dodged so easily. Now a half earth year in your company says one. Well, they have a point.
Arms fold against an armored and constellation-marked chest, and Galadriel smirks. "I was not expecting them to be as crafty. I really will have to commend Michael on his sentries when this is all said and done." So his look softens in resignation. And in adoration. "My Dearest Companion, how are you? I feel you... more than see you... so it has been." Since you have elevated and I have ... un-elevated.
Soldekai would exhale, if he needed to. However, to show his general displeasure, he simply nods at the lions for their obedience and begins to walk on, expecting you in tow.
"I am well, Herald," Soldekai offers, always more formal when he is upon the other Planes. "I have missed your company in the last weeks," the only unit that makes sense, "...though, I see you have a visitor," he grins faintly, glancing to you at his shoulder. "I would have come, but..." you seemed occupied, he teases.
And do you know so much, and indeed... what can you tell me? "I do not yet know of my visitor, if I should be handing out tea and cakes or running in abject terror. But my shadows seem unconcerned," meaning the lions behind you and he. Following, yes -- but at a polite distance. "...and so for the meantime, I am as well. I shall work out this puzzle in the end. Now, I have but scattered pieces. If she is expecting, as she has said, Aspiration to be the last piece... perhaps the puzzle is larger than I think, and I, being only a piece of it, shall not know it until I am set in place." A pause, a quirking of his brow, a pursing of his lip. "I do not know that I like the sound of that."
And then he smiles, wings settling behind him. "I have missed you as well. It is difficult, to feel so much... and to be able to do so little. I would only get in the way, it is an odd sort of consolation." He laughs, how his laughter brightens him, streaks like a comet over his dusky features, nebulae ringing his eyes. Silver, molten. The stuff that stars are made of. "But guest or not, you are always welcome, Archangel." You are so much larger than I. I forget. A wing comes out, unafraid of brushing against your own, not here. Afterall, he no longer needs to hide from the many eyes of Dominic. Dominic has already asked the rude questions about copulation. What else can he say? "I am joyful for this. More joyful in it, knowing how busy you must be. An Army of One."
His smile slants as gleaming eyes look to the mock earth beneath you. He is alone in his resonance so far, and indeed, it is a lonely place for a new archangel. "You have been listening to my Heart," Soldekai smiles, looking up to a nearby sphere, "...even though it has no Home yet." No cathedral for him. No glade, no tower. He has not earned these things, nor the attached resonances of others that would help him. Maybe one day. Until then, his Heart perhaps remains in Gabriel's Citadel of Fire, just one that burns more brilliantly than the others.
There's a glance at the fields in general. No, what he wants to speak of cannot be done here.
"Want..." Soldekai turns to see you. "...to go home for a while?" In Soldekai speak, that is always Iceland.
Listening to your heart. Galadriel smiles, and for a moment the Brilliance he loves, you, is contagious, found in him. "Your heart has a home," he says, "...it is in my thoughts and in my heart, most constantly. Soon, you will find your architect, My Radiant Lord..." The Herald bows his head.
And your glance, it stills him for now. "Yes, I would like that. Ah...hmm..." he pivots, turning toward the distantly following guards. "I give my word, as I so seldom do, that I will return to my apartment in Venice, Italy of the Present Day... soon. With the Archangel's leave, you have blessing to depart. It will be no mark on your duty..."
They have never followed to Iceland. When he has gone, he has been delivered to your care, with your assurances, by your leave. The Chaldean lions look to you for confimation and then their forward heads bow. By your leave, He Who Is The Brilliance of God. Who Shines Like Him? We leave the Herald to your care. And trust, only due to your abilities and to your strength, that he will return in one piece. God is Forever Brightly With You. Perhaps it will... rub off... on him. One can only hope...
Not that they couldn't follow to the tether if they liked. But the lions are smart enough to know the ubiquity of Soldekai's single tether, of which he is the seneschal.
"You are fine servants of your Master," Soldekai reassures. "I will commend you to him when we next meet." Ah. Such nice lions. They always know what to say.
They are the very pillars of law and justice, to be sure. From earliest days loitering on the steps of Michael's Citadel, when God's Might was most concerned with Justice as a principle. War changed philosophizing Archangels into machines of battle. Michael is most at home being Advocate. Still to this day. Yves apparently had something else in mind for him...
The lions turn, then the earth shakes with their galloping paws, until their wings lift them to heaven. First, they shall see Their Lord, Pay Their Respects. And then the lions will return to Venice, city of lions...
Galadriel turns to you. You have something on your mind. His wing comes out, feathers fanning at your back like fingers, and there is a fond look coupled with a ribald grin. And his form shifts, changing into something half-Kit half-Herald, but wrapped in a great fur-lined coat. "After you, My Radiance..."
Soldekai grins, shaking his head darkened head. Ah, but you get his mind moving in ways it never did.
Wings expand and there is an angelic chant. His sigil does not appear, but instead, the vista simply changes. Alters. No angelic seals connect Here to There. A shift from the Ethereal requires something else.
Already, the mist settles upon clothing. The skies are bright today with large white clouds rolling by. Perhaps that portends rain later.
Soldekai, now a man of this world, smiles at you. The cave opens behind you both, and ahead, the crags that fall away to the ocean. His hand slips into yours, and he walks around you to lead you within.
And he, seeming Venetian now...changed by his newfound city, his home of the past half year earth-time...is in grey sweater and white fur-lined coat, the fur like grey wolf. Hands in gloves. Formidable but supple trousers on, and snow-stomping boots. Like ski boots only there's no walking bow-legged or at an odd canter. His fingers fold around your own and he come with you. Grey eyes now, no longer silver but in the Material Realm tempered to something more misty steel, glancing to the environs. Lastly to the cave...
It has always been our cave of joys. We have come here together, in secret, snowy trysts. We have made love here. Even though we do not need to, to express our love. I had to describe it once in great detail. I had to ... examine... why I copulate with you. Why I enjoy it. Blending the bodies is no greater sin than blending the souls. I do not think I was understood. I believe it was called frivolous...
Not that I think you are bringing me here out of some...tryst. It feels... not like a tryst. I swing our arms as we move toward the mouth of the cave and then within it. "My Sanctuary," he says to Iceland at large, and including you. "You do not know how glad I am to be here..."
"I am glad of that," Soldekai smiles, removing a brown coat of leather and suede. More like a duster, save of finer materials able to withstand the wet. Beneath it, white shirt and similar-looking brown pants. He was never so original with his clothing. He lets your hand go momentarily to slide the coat down his arm, but once the coat was discarded, his fingers tangled with yours once more.
"I am sorry for not stopping in last evening," he confesses, wanting to draw you closer. But alas, you remain dressed. He laughs, "I thought I might make a third wheel. Or better yet, send your guest scurrying into the canals. Beside," Soldekai grins, "...I would have only gotten angry if my plans, on arrival, would have been thwarted..." One-room apartments and all.
You find his vessel's flesh, warm, when you reach him. His gloves being shoved into his suede and fur coat, and he grins. "Third wheel? Bah, My Lord... never. And what plans these? You have me most intrigued," and his eyes are bright with Thinking He Knows, and Heartily Wishing It Had Happened. "You could come anyway. You could sleep on the pillows with me. I had given away my bed for a night. You... would tell me... right? If she is a hell beast?" And he laughs, giving away a momentary concern.
And he was concerned...
His hand relunctantly pulls from yours, a squeeze on your fingers and then he shrugs off his coat. This frees him to get closer, arms sliding against your sides, fingers lacing behind you back. He, so much the shorter being only 5'9" to your more than six feet, tilts his head back. Eyes narrow, eyebrows waggling a moment, and the smile slips sideways. "I always look forward to seeing you. To put the vision with the feelings. You have been so busy..." Kit smiles more truly. "I am happy when I have the chance. Always. You are always welcome. So..." ribald is the look, rascalian the grin. "... what were your plans, my lord? Would pillows have sufficed?"
He laughs again. "You make me laugh too much, sweet Galadriel," Soldekai confesses. "To answer all of your questions," he grins, "...no, she is not a hellbeast. For if she were, we would not have this conversation." There. You must have known that, at least. "And what were my plans?" Ah! His eyes light up, his hands pulling at you. "The same plans I have for now, Herald. And in this, I will not be denied. Pillows...would have been acceptable," he winks, fingers already kneading your waist and moving lower.
"I think we are overdressed," he whispers, a sigh following. What you have been through, sweet Herald. I am aware. I was to stand in another room and have it reported to me. Of what was asked about us. And what we did together and why. Others tried to calm my anger, saying it would do nothing for you. In fact, it would make things worse. And then Yves' messenger arrived, telling me the same. They must have thought me true Ofanim in that time. They knew then that I was indeed of Gabriel's own Fire. Yet, they asked me to calm it, so that what may happen to you was minimal.
So, I did. I stood and waited.
But we won, Galadriel. Oh, I know you cannot see it, but we have. We Remain. We can prosper. We must have patience.
"Definitely overdressed." Soldekai's smile falls, as if a thought passed him. He is not sad, but yes, the moment is laden with something. "And you have not kissed me yet," he whispers, "...nor attempted to remove the barriers that separate us. And here," his grin a mirror of yours, "...I thought you missed me dearly."
They pulled the answers from me. Relunctantly. Made silver eyes sparkle with anger. Then chided me for my indignance. My arrogance. How hard it was to sit before that panel and to those... esteemed countenances unveil and detail a list of encounters, and the purpose behind them. To have it picked through with all the minutia Seraphim can muster. It will be long before I may forget that. Sometimes, I am still angry -- but then the air answers with a dissonant hum and I have to sing with children for three weeks just to clear the air long enough for you or the lions to stand.
I am glad that I am not allowed in the Celestial Realms. I do not think I would want to go regardless. My mouth still holds a bitter flavor from it. Easy to ignore with you... or when I am working. But in the soft hours, in the quiet moments...
I pray and meditate to keep from seething...
But... I do not want to think of this now...
"If my love and longing are doubted," he whispers, hands unlacing from around your back and pulling at your shirt, "... let them be tested. I will rise to the challenge," Kit murmurs, eyebrows lifting and his mouth sliding a grin. "I need a step stool to kiss you," he teases, "...but if you lie me down, My Sparkler, I shall have an easier time of ...doing all..." He rises upon his toes and closes the difference of space between you. His mouth is warm, the brush slight, teasing. He grins there. Lie me between the sheets of your Icelandic bed, and in furs, let me feel you from within. Inside, out.
Wherever your hands lay, his clothing dissolves. A little enchantment. It is a magician's sleight-of-hand. Trivial, perhaps, but handy. "How's that... my lord..."
The kiss he returned was heated. Too quick. When you pull away to speak, already his cheeks and neck flush. But when you spin the magic you have, Soldekai eyes light up threefold. He shakes the surprise off and marvels at everything that is you. "Stunning," he whispers, letting his hands drop so you can deal with his shirt in mundane ways. Feet shuffle towards the makeshift bed.
But then it comes.
"Before we lie, sweet Herald," Soldekai's brow flattens, "I...there is something we should talk about. Something that I cannot take to our bed with me." It is something celestial.
It is a moment -- you have Gabriel's Fire in your kiss -- before he has the mind to move, to do anything other than flush and reel with that. The magic of dissolving clothes is nothing in comparison. Christopher closes his eyes, his mouth winding in a slow smile. But then your arms move, and he wakes, though every motion after is dreamy.
Fingers work quickly at your buttons, stealing them free of button-holes. Deft as a thief. And his hands pull at your shirt, his hands spreading the cloth wide, his mouth at your skin, and then...
Holding, parted, a kiss suspended. Christopher tilts his head, eyes drifting upward. Talk. Talk? But you are serious. Smiling at your chest, the Herald straightens. You move toward the bed. You speak of weighty things, pendulous. And still, his fingers unfasten your pants. But his expression is serious. The tilt of his head, wondering. "What is on your mind, Glorious Brilliance? He..." a smile as his eyes drift down to his task, "... who fills me with... such light."
Oh, that's good. Soldekai's lips angle in amusement, but it cannot be fully so. He looks where your hands and replies, "I think it's obvious what is on my mind. However, what we should discuss is another story." At least it was an attempt at witty repartee.
The bed is not so far away. When he reaches it, Soldekai's feet halt...and he looks down, drawing energy from the stone below.
"There is no other before you, my own Herald, save Our Lord himself." He From Whence All Comes. "I know that it is his Love that lets me Love you...and be Loved by you. Of that," he smiles, "I cannot be moved."
"But..." Soldekai grins softly, lines at his eyes, "...maybe our Love needs nothing else. And I want to know that." No attunements. No obligations.
Do you know how silent the world would be... how silent life would be... if I could not ...feel you? How would I keep from worrying? How would I prop myself up when I am low or limping from these self-inflicted wounds, as Heaven calls them. To not... hear or feel you. I would be... alone...
"I do not doubt your love," the Herald murmurs, looking up your form to your face, to your eyes. And to the soul and Entity he knows is behind it. And his own fears soften, fall softly at his ears. "You go now," he begins, and he nods, "...to places I cannot follow. Places I should not follow. You... do not need a guardian angel anymore. I think... perhaps it continued only... so long... as for me to ... get used to my own fate."
Yes, in the sentencing phase of his trial there was discussion, even heated, about the continuance of the attunement. In the end, it was decided that taking everything at once was too harsh. That is not to say it would not have been the right thing to do. Call it Heaven's Mercy, if you will.
Kit smiles, even though there is a certain wistfulness there... the wistfulness of the Known Past in the face of the Unknowable Future. "There is no love before you, Archangel, but the love of He Who Loves Us All. It is by His Grace that He allows such Love, and in His tender Mercy. And His Affection. And in such allowance, I humbly... revel." He exhales. "Our Love needs nothing else..." he says confidently.
His fingers slip between the fabric of your trousers and your skin, pushing them down over your hips. His eyes follow, moving over your skin, to where fabric falls at his fingertips. "My Personal Sparkler," he says against your skin, and he closes his eyes. What will life be like when life is silent? I will free you. I will miss you.
He stiffens, as if he heard you think of separation. Soldekai closes his eyes again, hands at your shoulders now. "Nothing will change between us," he whispers, trying to hard to reassure. And indeed, his feelings will not. But then, he is not a Cherubim.
"How...can it be easier?" he wonders, hands halting you with a squeeze. Soldekai's fingers stroke a moment, then replace at your waist. "I know...you and I are not the same, Herald. I swear," and not to sound mock-sympathetic, "...I do know this." Maybe it will be different for you. "But what you say is true," eyes opening to focus at your own. "It is true. And shall you be compromised since you cannot follow me? Shall someone miss your help and focus because it was spent on one as Myself?"
"No, you speak Truth. Better than a Seraphim," he cocks a smile at that. "And I do not disagree with you. It is the Right thing to do. And... it will change nothing. It is not the reason for the love. I loved you already." He nods, "I loved you already. And... my work with you is done. As Heaven was wont to point out with great exuberance," again the smile twists. His hands pat you. I am alright. And I will be.
"Though," he whispers as if speaking in conspiracy on this point, "I never considered it work." Grey sparkles in the wink and he exhales. "I will ... untangle myself," his hands rub now, as if to ease you. "Come to bed. Make love to me. I want to feel you there," he whispers, and standing on his toes again, his mouth brushes yours. "I remember when Gabriel's Chamberlain seared me the first time, and I beat my smoking wings," a chuckle. "I have been lost to him and found in him ever since, though fire has turned to purest Light, and searing to something far more ecstatic," and he marvels in that, you can see it plainly. When you fill him... he touches Brilliance...
Posted by rowan at May 18, 2003 01:52 PM
