...And the Universe felt his arrival...
     ...The stars joined him in song...
     As soon as Galadriel, Sentinel of Aspirations, entered the Marches, he lifted high on the wing, his mouth was opened by the hand of God, and his Being, his Word, fit snugly, suddenly, into the Cosmic Cogs. His niche found. His place assured. His mouth opened and his tongue was marked with the symbols of his new station...
     ...And his forehead...
     ...And his garments...
     And all those who had thought to doubt him were answered. And so, too, all those who had placed their faith in him. Doubt was unfounded. Faith answered. And a standard of stars and dreams waves upon the universal night.
     Time and Transitions have passed, in what has been more than one earth night. Here on the Marches, all time is instantaneous. Mere moments have passed since Galadriel returned from earth, shaking off the dust of a rude summons.
     Time and Transitions have passed, and flying carpets bearing the resting forms of angels bob upon the air like Venetian gondolas bob upon the water. Incense and pillows and tassels mingle with angelic forms of all shapes and sizes and colors...
     Soft chimes ring, and a pair of purple wings, edged now with flame -- he has Soldekai to thank for that -- drape over the sides of the carpet that bears him. The Sentinel of Aspirations...

     There's a bit of a bustle outside and along the local strings of the Symphony. Where there was quiet, now comes a rush. Keriel dashes into the room in more traditional means.
      "Sentinel!" His seven eyes looking left and right, "Someone is here to see you! The Archangel Soldekai is here to see you!"
     Oh, there you are.
     Keriel looks up, not expecting that you might be floating. In fact, he wasn't even sure you were here at all. "Oh, you are here! Yes," the young Seraphim says, "...there is someone to see you..."

     Standing like Michael's own standard, its end speared into the plain of the Marches, the standard of the Sentinel gives indication to all those outside the tower, that he is here.
     However, if you don't know it belongs to him, it's not really all that helpful is it? He will take some getting used to...

     Chimes ring again as Galadriel rolls over on the flying carpet. The brilliantly colored fabric bobs, dipping as he does so. The chimes? Those bells he likes to wear around his ankles -- among other places. His bare feet are colored with the essence of lotus flower. Bells seem the perfect adornment. They chime again when he bends his knees, arched lotus-adorned feet suddenly visible.
     He lies upon his formidable front, delicately pointed chin now resting in his palms. Galadriel smiles, and his eyes shimmer and shift, like pooled milky ways of silver stars. His fire-edged wings, great and strong and long, drape over the sides, dipping toward the floor.
      "Tell him I am here and ease his worried heart," Galadriel all but sings out. "And tell him that... for Heaven's sake," a ribald twist of his mouth at the pun, "... he should join me here and pull up a carpet..."

     So shall it be spoken, so shall it be done...
     "It's alright, Keriel," the Archangel says, his ethereal form congealing into an irradiant, dusky human shape. The Malakim cannot hide in mixed forms, snakes, or as pulsating globules. Standing next to the messenger, Soldekai dwarfs Keriel, even with his transparent, ashen wings folded behind him. "And tell your Mistress that I am here and shall pay my respects as soon as things check out here."
     It always helps to remain formal.

     Not expecting Soldekai to materialize, Keriel blinks as he looks over. "Oh," he nods, "...yes, Archangel." Seeing his job is done, Keriel flitters out to see to Blandine.

     "So, you're alright," Soldekai says, clearly calmer than his Symphonic tones were some minutes ago. "What happened?"

     The flying carpet dips again and wide-eyed Galadriel, in his best imitation of Kit, floats to be eye-level with his towering, Archangelic lover. And, yes, the other angels here DO take notice. Although they are trying not to stare. (Some of them, in fact, leave their bobbing carpet perches, flying out. Others cause their carpets to drift up to the very summit of this great basilica. In any case, there is a sudden effort to give you privacy...)
     "I am fine," he softly assures, though much changed from his previous incarnation. Note the new golden sigils, the new...everything. He seems like a general as he sits up, an air of command that was previously missing. Is he taller? "I thought it best to come to a central location. I knew you would be worried, Soldekai." Soldekai. Not Archangel. Not Sir.
     A flying carpet, brilliantly arrayed in all your favorite colors, swoops down and presents itself to you for boarding as he goes on. "It seems that there is a very powerful magician on the plane... latitude and longitude would suggest Great Britain... who was being helped by a cherub of Destiny, charged with...the opening of doors," violet brows lifted. "I believe he may be reassigned...I am not certain of this. But ...in any case... he opened a door for her that he oughtn't have..."

     He's skeptical, but Soldekai accepts the answer. You do seem much in control, and he takes a second to glance at your form. Dark eyes narrow for the reading, then widen again to see you fully. "I cannot stay," you know he cannot, not here, and thusly declines the carpet. He glances and smirks at its colors, but that is about the lone familiarity he feels he can provide.
     "I'll check on the reassignment," Soldekai adds, attention still on you. The holiday didn't need to be over, but the sudden arrivals on this plane seem to have effectively ended the vacation. Once here, he's seen, and must go back to work. Look at his expression,, Galadriel, and you'll see it all there. "I see," he begins, regardless of others in the space, "...your new station, Sentinel." Congratulations is a small smile. "You are making great strides in the War, General," reading your mind, "...welcome," to the ranks of the front line.

     I do not want the vacation to end...I didn't get to make sand angels. There is a glance over his shoulder to the others high above, and then to you. As your eyes convey it so, too, do his. "I will attempt not to make the lines of battle do the bunny hop," one step forward, two steps back, if you don't know the dance, "I do not wish to be a vengeful Sentinel. I am not requesting his removal. Merely a chastisement." Yes, if I can be chastised for doing what I have done, then... well... what is good for the goose should be good for the gander.
     The brillant fabric that holds him suspended slowly drifts to the floor, Galadriel rising to his feet as it does so. For a moment, he appears to be surfing.
     "I will see you ... as far as I can go," he can't go with you to heaven, and for a moment that bothers him. He can't go to your citadel. Ever. All we have is Here and Earth. But rather than letting it bother him to the point of tinkling sounds out of tune, Galadriel merely shrugs, and slightly smiles. "Come, let's take a walk, Great Sir."

     "Few things," Soldekai says softly, "...are forever. The ones that are," he turns to walk with you, "...are the good things." Like us.
     "It is not that I want...whoever it was -- and you're not saying -- to be chastised. But a review should happen." Standard procedure when such doors to earth are unexpectedly open. Certainly Destiny is Destiny, but that is from a mortal's standpoint. Even Heaven has operational expectations. "Will said being do that again?" Soldekai asks.

     Galadriel is not as tall as you, but his stature has definitely changed. A bearing that adds dimensions. He smiles as you speak. As you remind him. He even laughs. "You are right. And his name is Oriel, a cherub of Destiny." There, I said it. "May God in His Great Mercy forgive him." That would have been sarcastic, were it not truly heartfelt. He looks to you, leaning in. "I am slowly starting to Let It Go. I'm not quite there yet, but I am better. I was going to make a crack about interrogations, but I let it slide..." And he laughs again, softly, smirking.
     Out of the chamber, into the Oasis, Galadriel turns and looks to you. Love is everywhere evident. Unending. Deep. Universal... and Personal...love. "I need to thank you," Galadriel whispers, a large, fire-edged wing lifting, landing against yours of ash. It is as much holding hands, demonstrative kissing, as much as if you and he were plopping down on a cushion and making out. "For a wonderful vacation. For... a restoration," he smiles to you. "I am going to be a proper lover and ask the proper question: when may I see you again?"

     Now the smile turns into an almost-blush. Not that he is embarrassed...it simply strikes him as amusing to find himself in such a situation. Soldekai's wings respond in turn, but moreso, his hands come to touch your waist. "I didn't do anything, you did," he says softly, glad for the lack of obvious eyes. "I wasn't ready for it to end," he confesses, grin odd against the expectation of Malakim. "Maybe that's what's annoying me. Oriel," he grins. "I know him." Oh, well. Things do happen in the mix of existence.
     "But you're seeing me now, and maybe...if I can leave here without being too obvious," Soldekai smiles, "Maybe I should see you in Venice? Though...has it occurred to you to get a larger apartment?" This student living is getting to him.

     This whole world is topsy-turvy! Malakim blush and smile? Shall it rain up instead of down?
     Eyes look to you sidelong. Ribald. Ah! That some things have been restored in him. The mischief that is truly misrepresented -- it is Catalyst. And that is what he Is. "Have bells will travel, Great Sir," Galadriel murmurs. And without a blush in the slightest -- though you and he well know where he wears them. And why.
     He beams in the attention, truth be told he flaunts it with Pure Joy. Exhaltation in the highest, the phrase goes. And he praises this Love. Fire that licks but does not burn, roils but does not sear, moves even as his wing moves along your own, in time to the steps.
     "Shall I get a palazzo of my own?" Galadriel grins. "How will Kit afford it on his meager teacher's salary, working to help the dreams of orphaned children. It is a glorious job, but he doesn't do it for the money." He laughs sweetly. "Well... maybe I will see what I can do for him, as he... has been kind to me. He lets me live in him rent-free..."
     As the two of you walk through the Oasis and toward the towering entrance of the tower, the exit to the marches at large, Galadriel moves in to the touch at his waist. Yes, I am walking in the arms of an Archangel. Yes, that's me. Well in-hand. Cupped, you might say, by one of Heaven's Mightiest. I'll try not to wiggle in absolute glee when I walk...

     You have a point about Kit. Soldekai glances askance, grimacing face showing defeat. "True, he does have his life. No, do not change anything. Let him go as he does." I will learn to need less space. Soldekai smiles as he turns to face ahead, the entrance looming ahead.
     "Shall we say...two earth days? My favorite photographer might be in town, doing work, I think." His own Role.

     "I wonder if it would be... illegal," such a term, "...for me to have my own space. Not a tether, exactly... but maybe I ...could have a palazzo of my own, my own gondoliers... I have my own chariot," oh good Lord. Did you know that? Galadriel grins suddenly, cutting a look to you. "I finally found a use for Michael's sentinels..."
     A lion-pulled chariot. What panache!
     Galadriel turns to you, his wing sliding along your own as it withdraws, his hand reaching in to lay a touch upon you. "Two earth days. I will have Kit take a second job as a Gondolier to make ends meet," a wink. Maybe he's kidding. "No... no," yes, he was kidding, "...I will meet you in Ca'Pesaro...there are the most... delightful little alcoves. Lovers go there in the afternoons, they say," he whispers it, as if giving away a secret. "I think the music teacher would like to ... rendeszvous with his favorite photographer there..."
     Just like old times...
     Only better...
     Galadriel smiles, the sigil in his forehead beaming. "I would kiss you now, except I think that with my... newfound Song, we would collapse to the floor in a most cataclysmic way. I do not know that the Oasis could survive it." Oh yes... some things will have changed. "Would you like to take a spin in the chariot?" he asks suddenly. "I can drop you off at the border of the Celestial Realm."

     The grin is true, pulled from the gladness of his Heart. A sudden expression, not frought with making sure he shows how he feels.
     But then, he realizes what you said. "A new song? What's this?" Forget the chariots and drop offs. He can travel on his own energy. "You have one? Did you tell anyone?" he wonders, now looking concerned as Soldekai turns to face you again.

     "I think They know already," They as in Blandine and those angels on the Marches at the time. "When I returned here from my sudden appearance in England, it... simply... Happened. I vaulted into the great sky, opened my mouth and..." Out it came. "Cataclysmic. Rather like making love actually," now that he thinks of it, "... celestially speaking, that is." How frankly he speaks of it, what you share. There is no shame in it. Why shouldn't he speak of it?
     Galadriel sticks out the tongue of his angelic form, showing the sigil in golden fire upon it. The song whispers and shimmers as he does so. When he withdraws it, it quiets. "I open my mouth and Song pours from it. I must still practice. It Sings Me, more than I Sing It. At this point..."

     So, that was the pulling from the Symphony then. Soldekai keeps to himself that it was that noise that disturbed him the most. Your disappearance was startling enough, but then this sound. He has not connected with you, but the timing of it made something within him nervous.
     He nods at your explanation. "Just...be careful," he says, not sure where that warning's coming from. Gleaming wings of darkness brush the edges of yours, and Soldekai's transparent hands seem to be more inside your waist instead of upon it. "I will meet you in an alcove in two days," he reminds.

     A nod and violet curls bob. "I will. And I will see you in two earth days." A smile, brilliant, beaming. "...in the shadows of an alcove..."
     Yes, the Song created quite a ripple. Not a disturbance so much as an unexpected shockwave. Well, God expected it, but then He Expects Everything. But for Galadriel himself, and for those in the Marches at the time who saw the spectacle of it, it was surprising.
     "Go well, Great Sir. Listen for me. I'll be wearing bells on my ..." Galadriel grins and bows, "...toes..." Or wherever. The bow is low and sweeping, fiery wings sliding against the floor of the Oasis.

Posted by rowan at June 22, 2003 08:11 PM