Is there a more empty place in Heaven? More resoundly empty than several black holes, which are remarkably full just so very dense, in fact, that they only seem empty. Nature abhors a vacuum, it is said. But what of the hole He left behind when He threw down his shining staff and told The Creator goodbye.
What of that hole...what of that vacuum...
Have we not been trying to fill it since? Have we not doubled back on one another in war because of that ...emptiness...
The note...the cadence... that is missing in the Song that We Are...
And we endeavor to find You, O Creator of Us All. We endeavor to find You with the notes we have remaining to us, to reconnect with Your Song, with the Symphony as it Is. For it isn't the Symphony that has lost itself in its own refrain, but that we can no longer hear it as we did before.
And I stand at this Citadel to Loss, nearly Lost myself once. I look on it and see a mirror, a reflection, and a realization that I am finding my Way to you. Even if it is sometimes out of tempo, O Lord...
Now... if I can only get Him to listen...
Wouldn't that be a trick...
I had better start smaller, O Lord. Yes. Maybe with Satan's pet fish Gerald...
Galadriel the Outcast stands some small distance away from Lucifer's empty Citadel, the Citadel of Loss, of Broken Dreams, the once glorious Citadel of Light. But that Light is gone and has been gone, lost and perverted to a shimmering Darkness, and the Citadel has lost its luster. But he shines, this cherub, dusted with the influence and effects of Brilliance. He is utterly changed by his association with the newest Archangel. His wings, his aspect, even his Word altered by it. Aspiration and Fire met, loved, and Brilliance was born of it.
Outcast he is, here with his personal guard, Blandine's right hand, a Malakim, the Indestructible. Sentinel he is, favored by his Archangel and bestowed with gifts and powers, a most potent cherub. Not bad for someone who was scant earth years before in the Halls of Justice being tried for treason by Dominic himself, questioned over his insistence to copulate among other would-be crimes against heaven, the greatest of which being: teaching a malakim to dream for himself.
Head bowed, is that in reverence? -- the cherubim lifts his eyes at last to view the Citadel in its complete silence, in its dimmed entirety. He is simultaneously filled with sorrow and purpose. We Aspire to Peace. We Aspire to be Whole, O Lord. It is the Dream We dream. It is the Unspoken Hope of some, the whispered prayer of others.
Some find it startling, the first time they see the Malakim. Their dusky-outlined forms, filled in with the greyness of ash. The shapes of Men, but nothing like them. Minutely of the same essence as they, given from the Divine. Upon their translucent forms, already of shadow, are words Angelic etched, a brilliant darkness that may be read. The Vows that Define. Their wings gleam, blazed edges of violet. They are that way, no matter what Plane they appear. The constant of the Symphony. Bass drums, setting the rhythm of the Symphony with the work of their strong, untarnished hands and cold hearts.
Ishrael, the Prime Indestructible, Malakite Master of Dreams, and Dream Sword of Lawrence, hovers not so far from the visiting Galadriel, his back turned to the darkened Citadel that once belonged to the Lightbringer. Rumors of Galadriel's visit had blazed through Heavenly corridors, certainly sped by one of the Ofanites of Janus itself. Wind incarnate.
Such commentary, though, would only be carried blissfully away from one of Blandine's Universal Primes. Swept in Dreams' cosmic winds.
Is it even possible for an angel to be exhausted, particularly one of the Ofanim, the Wheels upon which Heaven runs? There is only one answer which can be given to that, and it is the answer which Madian is most fond of :
It depends on your perspective.
But despite that answer, Madian is tired - tired to the bone, as it were, so tired that his mortal Vessel is almost easier to maintain than any sort of Truth - scandalous, if it were so. But no, there are the wings, the blue markings on his face carefully in place, the quiet shift and rustle of robes as he holds his hands out to feel the atmosphere of his home.
I have been away too long...
Thy work be done, here and on earth, but I have been away too long.
He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes, an almost mandarin appearance as he makes his way through emptiness and through Heaven on foot. Servitor of Judgment, Angel of Perspective, he pauses to take in the swell of Music, eyes drifting closed for a moment. And then, sharply, his head turns - Darkness is here. It has been here, and it is still here. And until it is filled... there can be no peace, even in Heaven's ranks. "Who is there?", he calls. Then : "I see."
Though his dissonance has faded -- for has he not proven his Word in his continual Acts? -- there will always be something that marks the cherub as different. Perhaps such is his destiny, only Yves could tell anyone for certain. Maybe it is the presence of the Prime Indestructible himself, the Dream Sword of Lawrence standing nearby him. Or does the Unfallen Outcast have his own unique chord? Did God at last break the mold?
Galadriel's reverie is broken by the sound: Who is there? Slowly he turns, looking to Ishrael first -- as if wondering if he had seen something or someone. But it is not his voice. It is a mere moment later than the cherub faces the other coming, the Ofanim in the close-hand distance. His eyes are galaxies of silver on otherwise darkness, two universes all their own. They turn and he turns his Brilliance-dusted aspect to the new arrival.
Yes, it is that which separates him from his others...
He wears Brilliance in Dreams as no other wears Brilliance either in or out of Dreams. And that is more a flag than anything else. There stands Soldekai's lover, the Almost Fallen Cherub. Once upon a time.
"I should like to find the Archangel," Galadriel says to Ishrael, lifting his eyes that naturally seem to avert around the Malakim (for some reason!), as he turns his attention fully away from Lucifer's Citadel. And then to the Ofanim: a nod of greeting.
Not so far away, another of the Seraphim -- Donarel -- speeds off, heading to something. More than likely a meeting. The snake with even eyes flutters on, seeming not to pay much attention to the scene near The Citadel.
The Indestructible is facing the Citadel now. Perhaps he did not understand. There's a frown, then a blink of dark eyes. "Find which Archangel? The Superiors are scheduled in Council now..." he explains, in case Galadriel had forgotten.
Moving slowly and carefully towards the Cherub and Malakite, Madian's hands remain in his sleeves. He is not hiding anything; it is just a comfortable gesture for him. He has been gone from Heaven for some time now himself, though on assignment from he whom he is in service to : Judgment's Giver, Dominic himself. If he were mortal, he would be grey around the edges, but he is not, and his step remains steady, precise.
"An odd gathering place," Madian remarks, his voice quiet. "An Archangel is sought? I am to present my report in one of the Courts," a lesser court, of course; Dominic does not require even every Angel of a Word to report directly, not when he has no desire to hear Madian's voice at present, "so perhaps I will be able to be of," his lips almost quirk, wings shifting restlessly, "service."
An Ofanite of Truth and Justice and the Heavenly Way...
It has been years since he has come into direct contact with any of Dominic's Service, no matter the choir. He is certain that it is not the first time that one of them has seen him, however. There is only the lifting of those ribbons of vibrant, colored light, those transformed wings of this cherubim of dreams, very obviously not in his Celestial Form -- for he is forbidden to assume it -- that shows a slight nervousness. A nervous tick that ends with the lifting of his Brilliance-touched face to the Ofanim.
Galaxies tilt as Galadriel glances to his guard. "I was inquiring of the Archangel of Brilliance," he answers both of you. "But I am reminded," a look to Ishrael, "...that he is in Council. I am not accustomed to being here so... yes, I had forgotten," he continues softly. "I am certain that the Archangel of Brilliance will find me when he has time to do so. I was... merely hoping to see him before I have to go..."
There is a little smile that appears at the corners of the cherub's mouth. Yes, for I cannot stay here. Well I know it. And it is okay. For Heaven is not where I am needed. It is not the place for me. It is merely desired because it is forbidden. I am not immune to this, no more than Adam and Eve.
"I cannot say for His Grace, Brilliance," Ishrael calmly replies, moving closer to his charge for the day. Deference even for the Most Recent of Archangels. "I should expect he is Council-bound..."
Ah. Madian. A surprise, or perhaps not.
"It depends on one's Perspective," Ishrael announces, as is his Way. "Not such an odd place," the Prime Indestructible explains. "A place..." the Malakim says, though his lips do not move, "...like any other Celestial..."
"Is it so that those of Judgment continue to watch the Citadel of Light?" Word said with no hesitance. Unlike many who flutter by and only stare at the darkened glass. "I was unaware of such," Ishrael comments, his Vows gleaming:
I Am Indestructible.
I Am The Keeper of Dreams. The Dream Is All. The Dream Must Survive.
I Am The Strength of Dreams.
I Am Constant.
Never Suffer The Dreamless To Remain.
Then, A Thought. Information retrieved from Yves' Grand Library: "Madian has not been Here for some time. He is...Returned from exploring the views of those with a million perspectives."
Bah. Malakim tendencies.
"Thank you," Madian says dryly to Ishrael, "for your kindness." It's not a humourless dryness, but at the same time, even as he shifts restlessly, there is the expression of exhaustion to the angle of his wings, even as he flexes them, arching his back for a moment. Do angels get backaches?
I must be patient. Impatience will serve nothing, least of all whom I serve. Perspective...
How odd, to be both Ofanite and in the service of Truth and Perspective! He shifts again, turning his blank silver gaze onto the Cherub. "We all need reminding at times. I cannot say where the Archangel of Brilliance is, for I do not know." And that is the literal Truth. Whether he would help if he knew - well, that was not asked, was it? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
"All places are watched and measured," Madian then continues, gaze shifting quickly to Ishrael again, hands spreading out from his sides with a smooth, even gesture, coming from the sleeves with a flowing motion, water on stone, water through grass, rain from Heaven. "Deceit flourishes where there is no Truth. Darkness grows where there is no Light. Dissonance spreads where there is no Music. But then, I educate those who already Know, yes? I have been among the mortals a long while now. Since,"
The silver gaze returns to Galadriel,
"Shortly after you ... left."
"It is a rather drastic change of scenery," Galadriel notes softly, respectfully, "...being on earth. Among mortals, so dynamic in their positions, but," a smile, "...you are perhaps better equipped for handling the speed at which the human mind may drift," you being a Wheel, and faster than I. "For me of the Ethereal... my place is in their dreams, their Aspirations. To be in their skin with them has taken some getting used to. But, as it is now my place, a home away from the Marches, I have grown accustomed to it. Familiarity helps."
Ah, reminders. Yes, we all need reminding at times. "Yes, to be reminded was why I asked to come here specifically today. And so we have come full circle," he smiles at that. "I am stationed in London, sometime... perhaps you could join me for tea. It's a lovely place. It's no Venice, but it suffices."
A glance to Ishrael and then he looks between the two of you. "I merely came to ... pay my respect to Memory and to a Dream," of a heaven united with itself once more. "I will see Brilliance when he is in London again... I have no desire to go to Council..." The edges of his lips upturn. No, no indeed. He can skip going past the building, the edifice, let alone anywhere near the chambers.
But there is a wish he has, of his own, to see him, for it has been a while now. But Time is neither Here nor There. He will see Soldekai when he is supposed to see him.
Would not Yves be pleased...
"Darkness grows even where there is Light," Ishrael counters. Was not Lucifer a Seraph? "Dissonance may only exist, where there Is Music."
Okay, it's a Malakim. Why bother?
The Dream Keeper stares a moment, then is in motion again. Somewhere, there was a sequitur that joined Ishrael's words with the conversation between you two.
Perhaps he cannot abide a statement to stand as well. But that doesn't appear to be written on the Malakim.
Ishrael's motions carry him away -- towards the Citadel and behind the Seraph. A defensive posture, perhaps, but certainly one that removes him from the present topic at hand. The Prime Indestructible is done for the moment, and shall leave you two to speak.
"Without vigilance, we Fall," Madian counters, the Ofanite's wings spreading and then settling in against his back. His chin comes up, and he watches the Malakite's shift in position, perhaps vaguely wistful of the opportunity to move, to withdraw.
He looks swiftly to Galadriel again, regarding the Cherub in silence for a moment. "If my Duty must bring me to London, undoubtedly I will see you there. However, my task is centered on two cities united in despair and anger and desire for service of the All - Dublin and Belfast." And, for a moment, his voice alters, the faint hint of Irish melody behind it, the silver gaze fading to storm-grey. Then the Vessel's reflection fades, leaving the angel in its place once more in full.
"If I see the Archangel," Madian answers, stepping back one pace and holding his position, "I will inform him that you seek him." Who else he might inform, indeed, he does not speak of.
"So it seems that we are forever bound to one another, those who hate and those who love, those who dream and those who fear," Galadriel murmurs. "And yet, despite not knowing what May Be Written," in Yves Book of Unfolding Destiny, "... we aspire to Become, to Heal, to Change, to Love, to Speak and Live the Truth, to the best of our abilities, with the greatest of our courage, to the fullness of our hearts, in the hope... and in the faith... that He Who Made Us hopes the same, wishes the same, dreams the dream and sings the song we find ourselves humming. While those who ...chose to be Elsewhere have their own aspirations, however we may disagree with the principles." After such a mouthful, Galadriel pauses. There is a smile for the potential blasphemy of it all, but it is at the very least True.
And he is not even compelled to such...
"What is it about the Lightbringer, one must wonder, that sends angels into diatribes and soliloquies of philosophy?" The cherub folds his arms against his chest, looking into space for a moment, taking a moment to consider that. Arms unfold and wings of bands of light and color spread outward, smoking, flickering against the backdrop of the heavenly universes. "Yes, Belfast and Dublin. There is a riddle for you," I don't envy you that job! "But do find me if you are across the Irish Sea."
Galadriel bows his head, feeling a departure imminent. "Please do, if you see him, tell him that I look for him, seek him, and most importantly Love him." Another small smile and Galadriel turns. A look to the Lightbringer's Citadel, looking like an old and dusty doused candle, a firecracker after it pops.
To dream the impossible dream...
There's nothing from the Malakim -- and everything. Must Ofanim always have the last word? And a Paranoiac of Dominic's. I wonder what he dreams of...
Ishrael blinks.
From across the Plain, from the direction of Michael's Campus, a gleaming shape shimmers. A smooth form, white-silver and vaguely Man-like, approaches. Bald, nude, and lacking detail, it must be an Elohim. Wide-eyed, as usual, it approaches, a shiny alien, if a human would describe it. Featureless.
"Madian, you are late," says Joshua, factually. "I expected your report for..." General Records -- say, is that The One? "....oh. I have interrupted." Joshua, the Head Front Desk Clerk of Judgment's General Records, the place where all files of every trial is kept, looks left and right, between the two conversing. Despite the Elohite's awareness of his intrusion, no apology follows.
"You must file before you..." Joshua glances at Galadriel, "...give the report. If you have the file, I will take it now and enter it..."
Whoa. And Ishrael too. That is Ishrael, isn't it? Joshua blinks, then looks at his comrade Madian. What is going on?
If he is going to be late, at least he has a visibly good reason for his lateness. Madian bows his head to Joshua, wings twitching just slightly as he turns to regard the Elohim. "The file is here, yes. I paused en route to," he glances back to the Cherub and Malakim, "pass t'time o'day wi' our most esteemed and b'loved brethren, aye."
The corners of his mouth almost twitch into a smile, but his expression at the last moment remains unchanged, even as his hands disappear back into his sleeves. One hand emerges, holding a shining golden tablet, offering it to the Elohim.
He glances back at Ishrael and Galadriel. His dreams? Who knows what Madian dreams, or if he acknowledges them at all? He is Bound to service, and to ... Perspective. He is not Bound to share that Perspective, save where his duty lies.
"There is little going on, Joshua. The Cherub was seeking the Archangel of Brilliance, who is in Council. As he cannot remain, he will see His Brilliancy in London, when he returns." Factual and to the point. Madian adds no opinions - it is the unvarnished Truth, without benefit of opinion - for what would an Elohim do with Madian's opinions, or anyone else's?
Is that my cue to be going? Since I 'cannot stay'? Galadriel would clear his throat for effect if such were needed. It's getting crowded around here. Lucifer's Citadel probably hasn't seen this much activity since...
Well, on that note...
Galadriel looks to Joshua and he immediately waves off any notion of interruption, "I was just sight-seeing," Galadriel plays it off, that isn't True and a Seraph would know that. It's not a lie, as much as it is an understatement, mind you. "Hello, Joshua." Well: That is the expression his motions seem to make as his hands slip into the folds of his own Song-covered mantle. "Madian is correct, I should probably be going." He looks over to Ishrael. It's time, I think. There's nothing else to see here...
There is one last glance for the City of God, the rise and fall of Heaven's Center, somewhere Council is meeting. And then Galadriel is turning toward his accompanying guard. Some guard: the Indestructible. What is one to take away from that? Either that he is thus honored, or he is of such concern.
I guess it depends upon one's perspective...
Seeking Brilliance. Here? Strange. Guess Everything is True, then. And Joshua knows the transcripts, it's said...
The little clerk takes the tablet, bobbing his shiny head at Madian. "I will enter it for you," Joshua affirms. "But you must come sign the log...when...you are less busy." A cough does not follow. But Galadriel's sudden need for departure causes Joshua's eyes to widen more. Sight-seeing?
"Well-met, Dreaming Sentinel. Take care." In whatever you do these days. Joshua recedes slightly at Madian's shoulder, realizing the conversation's end is perhaps his fault.
"I...will take the tablet," Joshua states demurely, then bobs his head to The Indestructible as he lifts to head back to his records. Despite Madian's assurance, something is up.
"I will come and sign the log," Madian confirms to Joshua, bowing his head in confirmation, acceptance of his duty - reports must be filed, signed off on, then given orally if so demanded. "I do not believe that the Cherub has any need for my presence further, regardless of any Desire on any part." The lips twitch again, very faintly, though if there is any mockery, it is self-inflicted as well as any external aim.
The wings extend, unfolding fully, then hang loose, quivering in readiness, anticipation. "Goodbye, then, Seeker of Brilliance. Perhaps you will find that which you Aspire to." Madian turns his head to regard Joshua with that steady silver gaze. "I will come," he repeats, lifting with only a brief glance back over his shoulder at Malakim and Cherub. "My Duty is not severed."
Ishrael continues to stand closest to the Cathedral of Light, unmoving as everyone takes their leave. Eyes do not follow, nor is any gesture visible...a rather good impression of a Servitor of Stone.
Joshua hears Madian and nods. He shimmers off in a silver streak...
Galadriel, Sentinel of Aspirations, beams with a smile. "If I cannot find my Aspirations, I am sure you will be among the first to know." A pause for deadpan humor, "After Ishrael. Of course." And then the smile shoots across his face like a sunlit comet yet again. He even laughs a little, turning to look to Ishrael. Well, at least I've regained my sense of humor!
He looks lastly to Joshua, nodding to him in regard and in thanks: "Well met, likewise." He starts to say: Give my respects to the Big Giant Eye, but then thinks better of it and simply, politely smiles and turns toward the Cathedral of Light, hands still in his mantle pockets as he makes his way over to the stone-like Malakim.
You know, funny enough... he feels more comfortable with the Indestructible and Infallible than he does the other choirs these days. How odd a companion for a malakite than a cherub. But they are a company of brothers, to him, more so than most others. "I am ready to go home," he says to the great statue. Home is not here.
"Madian," suddenly comes forth from Ishrael, who instantly reanimates upon Galadriel's statement. "A pleasure," the Prime's voice sure and mellifluous. The Indestructible does not see or get seen often, staying at his Archangel's side. "Dream well," Ishrael states - demands, expects - moving closer to the conversation, "...and always."
And that...can be nothing but Genuine.
Perhaps startled, Madian turns in flight to regard the two who have not yet left. Why are they still there? It is a suggestion of question in the arch of his wings, but he does not ask them, or indeed, even ask himself. Perspective. There are so many.
"There will be time for Dreaming when work has finished," Madian answers, and he turns gracefully, fluid in motion, speeding up until he is a blur and then gone. He has not had the opportunity to truly move since he left for Earth...
And he has an Archangel to report to - which does put a haste to one's step, even if one is an Ofanite.
Galadriel pauses his steps, glances back to the departure and then looks to Ishrael with a quizzical expression. "What other work is there?" he asks, and then he smiles blithely. "So, do you do any other impressions?"
Posted by rowan at February 15, 2004 02:47 PM
