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*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
Time of day: Morning
Date on Aether: Tuesday, April 2, 3907.
Year on Earth: 1507 A.D.
Phase of the Moon: Full
Season: Spring
Weather: Clear Skies
Temperature: Warm
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You pass through an archway to the rear of the atrium and enter the
building's cella.
Cella - Palladium - Haven
There is a feeling of sanctuary here, for although the vast Palladium
lies just beyond this small chamber, it may as well be in another world.
Here is serenity, in the silence of shadows and stone, but it is not an
empty silence--the kind that comes when you are by yourself and no one is
listening. Here, you are left with the profound feeling that, out there,
someone *is* listening. And that you are not alone.
Indeed, you are not, for statues adorn each wall. Divanus, the god of
doorways, stares down benevolently from the peak of the arch with his twin
faces. Apollo, at the left wall, holds his silver bow in one hand and his
lyre in the other. Opposite him is Tritonia, the goddess of wise counsel and
warfare, with her owl atop her shoulder and her eyes on some distant
horizon. And finally, the Kronian--Zeus Jupiter, seated on a throne at the
head of the chamber, his gaze stern and immobile, while clutched in one fist
is a spear of lightning. Here, reverence is displayed in every smooth
contour of marble, and whispers from centuries past seem to echo forever
against stone walls.
Morning light has difficulty reaching the stony heart of the cella where the
silent visages of the stone gods and goddesses stand in eternal vigil. They
are not alone, for a small, diminuitive figure is seated on the floor
against the wall, wings and shoulders slouched in a relaxed pose. Jana
half-dozes in the waning light of the flickering candles, her head inclined
forward so that her features are nearly obscured by the darkness of her hair
and the curling protectiveness of her wings.
The stale light and hazy shadows fit the figure who next enters in
pilgrimage to the great halls of the Lares, a dark and heavy cloak wrapped
about relatively slim shoulders. Who lays underneath this cloak is still
unknown as the hood is deep and cloth unyielding to any particular shape.
The hood tips up the the darkened stony visage of the Kronian, silver white
hair spilling forth like milk...
It is the presence of another that stirs her from her reveries, causing
first a scuffling shift in the wings which drag dingy ebon tips against the
stone. Then her head lifts, a hand gently lifted to press against the
painful crick in the neck. Lastly, Jana lifts sleepy grey eyes to study the
newly arrived figure. She is instantly awake then, spine straightening with
a snap even as a flood of heat enters her cheeks.
JANA
As slight and frail as a bird, with features similar to such a
creature, this young maiden is progressing steadily over the threshold into
womanhood. Her eyes, large and grey in colour, hold within them a soul that
is both torn and mended. Highly pronounced cheekbones and chin are typical
of her Empyrean race, her lips carry a sheen of pink gloss. Purity, however,
appears to be a fleeting dream for this young one. Her hair is pitch black,
tightly braided in a waist-length plait down her back. There is something
odd about the colouring, however. Something.. unnatural. Perhaps it's the
fact that the roots are a pale, silver-grey.
The maiden wears a loose-fitting kaftan of soft, indigo wool. Its
long, wide sleeves nearly conceal her ink-stained fingers, and a thick sash
of the same colour binds her wasp-thin waist. On the kaftan's collar, a pin
of three opal studs has been secured. Occasionally glimpsed is a fragile
silver bracelet around her wrist. Because of her youth and softening
features, some might consider this one pretty, however few are the Empyrean
men who would choose her for a wife. The wings upon her back are large
enough to enfold her completely, but they are sable, dark as winter's night
skies. Like her hair, there is an unnatural, dingy, and faded quality about
that colouring. The occasional pure white feather may be glimpsed,
interspersed amongst the black.
Worn for outdoor weather is a thick, heavy peplos of almost immense
proportions. Its colour is that of aged ivory, and it is wrapped about the
young Empyrean's head and shoulders, allowed to drape down nearly to her
waist. It is quite effective in concealing her hair, and some of the time,
it helps to hide her face.
Julius would comment, were he a wry and cynical fellow, how oft the gods
have placed someone in the Cella for him to meet. But he's not and the irony
is lost on him as he notes the start from the other occupant with one of his
own, a rather quick jerk as if he'd been caught. But caught doing what? The
dark and deep hood of the cloaked figure turns to look at the yong woman,
and slowly the figure bows respectably.
It takes her several attempts to clear the thickness from her throat, but
when she does speak, her tone is quiet and hesitant. "Ave, Dominus," she
says. Using the wall for support as well as her wings, she brings herself
hastily up to her feet, wobbling a little as she begins to brush off the
dust accumulated from the dirty floor. She pauses, peering intently through
the gloomy candlelight to make certain that the cloaked figure before her is
indeed a man.
Certainly a 'dominus', as the voice returing from the hood is deep enough to
be male, but scratched and hoarse even after he lifts a pale and thin fist
to his mouth to cough first before speaking. "Ave... Domina. Please forgive
me if I intrude..."
There is a distinct lapse of silence where she simply studies the man. But
before she can step over the line of etiquette and venture into rudeness,
Jana shakes her head. "No, no, it is... it is alright." She wets her lips
and looks down at her hands as if she wasn't certain what to do with them.
Eventually they are folded before her. "I... You are.. not intruding on me."
Julius looks down, finding himself in the position so many others have been
in before... seeking the line of ettiquette. His eyes do linger on the
silver roots of the woman's braided hair and the off color of her wings, a
question popping immediately to his mind waiting to meet his voice. After
all, he never has seen a darkling before... "Oh," he whispers, rough voice
carrying in the empty hall of the Gods, then nods... not really sure where
to venture next. What did he come in here for?
Likewise, the little Oracle does not seem certain of what to do next.
Eventually, and for the first time since upon awakening, Jana's lips curve
up into a slight smile. The man is given a generous nod of her head, which
evolves into the brief bending of her knees in a slight curtsy. But sleep
still has its clutches on her, and her movements carry a distinct lack of
grace to them. Enough so that when she folds her wings tightly against her
back, a candle is knocked over. It rolls. The flame of it nearly gutters
before brushing against the thickness of her skirt.
Whoever this mysterious man is, he moves quickly. With one arm movement, his
black cloak is off his shoulders and another sends him to the floor,
smothering the flame with the thick wool of the cloak. Disaster averted, the
young Empyrean man now kneels at the feet of the Oracle, back exposed. One
gracefull, pristine white wing streaches out as if to hold his balance,
pinfeathers splayed like fingers, while the other... the other is only a
sickening blacked nub, the space between them covered in scars and old
burns. His long hair falls to either side of his face, looking at the floor,
his cloak... anywhere but up a she realizes too short what he has done.
He's just saved her, that's what he's just done. But it takes a moment for
all of this to sink in, for Jana stares down at the ruined mess that is the
man's wings. Her own wings, dingy and drab as they are, are flared for
balance. Thankfully they don't knock over anything again. Arms are likewise
uplifted, her hands thrown up as if to shield herself. A hoarse little croak
is forced from her throat, and her eyes are slowly torn from the ruined wing
to the man's head. Then her expression melts with pity, and the nub of the
candle that nearly set her skirts on fire is glimpsed. The silence is broken
by a soft and questioning, "Dominus...?"
Julius's shoulders lift and fall with a deep breath, slowly scooting back
upon his knees then to the balls of his feet, standing a bit wobbly and
stiffly. Only when the cloak is rewrapped about his shoulders, does he look
up, blue eyes bright and expression meek. "Domina," he whispers, "you are
unharmed...?"
She doesn't know whether to be embarrassed or horribly ashamed. In the end,
she ends up feeling both of these. There is pity as well in her eyes, but
even so that fades as Jana allows another smile to creep across her face.
"Yes, I am," she answers, voice quiet. Her arms, now lowered back to her
sides, are drawn up so that she might wring her fingers about a fold of her
skirt. "Thank you, Dominus. Very much," is very quietly said.
Another nod, his head remains lowered as you have seen many a servant do
when addressing those they serve... an odd fact considering the man's
clothes bespeak noblity. "You are welcome, of course," he looks up, meeting
your gaze as if to tell something from the woman's eyes...
The little Oracle swallows the sudden lump in her throat - one borne of a
sudden uneasiness - before averting her eyes from the man's azure gaze.
"Well, I, ahh... I suppose I should introduce myself now, yes? That would
only be the polite thing to do," she says, words ending in a mumble. Jana
bobs her head as if to reaffirm this to herself, then again lifts her gaze
to meet that of the other Dominus' as boldly as possible, as if she were
taking a stab at noble gentility. "I am called Jana Horatia Tritonides,
Oracle of Delphi," she says, as if the clothes hadn't given away at least
part of her name. There is hardly a beat for a breath, "Who might you be?"
Julius's features are neutral in the face of such defiance, giving another
bow of respect. "I am Julius Justinius Jove. A... pleasure to meet you." He
rises stiffly, injuries apparent still even with the cloak's cover.
A Jove? The name takes Jana by surprise, for even with the injuries, she had
expected that a Jovian would retain a much more lofty demeanour towards
those around him. "Likewise," she replies, though the hesitation is evident.
Her skirts are carefully gathered, her drab wings gently refolded, and then
she crouches to retrieve the smouldering candle from off of the floor.
Briefly it is examined before she lifts her eyes once more to the man before
her, "May I ... speak boldly, Dominus?"
Julius nods, maybe even a bit eagerly. "Please... of course..," a small
cough follows into a thin fist, but otherwise the cloaked man watches and
seems rather pleased someone would think to ask such.
As she is about to tread upon what seems to be a delicate topic, she thought
it best to give the man at least some measure of warning. The candle is
replaced with exquisite care, though she does not relight it. Cloth and
feathers rustle softly in the oppressive silence as she straightens. "There
are... Healers in Delphi who might be able to ease your pain and discomfort.
I know of one who would be able to restore your wing," she says, quietly and
evenly, all the while watching the man's face. "Have you ever considered
going to them?"
No insult is taken as the subject of his infirmity is breached, Julius only
nodding his head once more with a neutral expression. "It has... been
brought to me as an option before... one I do not choose of my own free
will. Forgive me for saying so, but.... I have been given little cause to
trust in the magic of shapers or healers." And others still, but he stops
there.
"There is nothing to forgive," answers the Oracle with a minute shrug. If
she is troubled, she does not allow it to be shown in her face. But one
might assume that Jana is used to being regarded with a wary eye and an
ample amount of distrust. Her hands slowly fold behind her back, and a
gentle tilt is given to her head, "But may I ask why you feel this way?"
Julius looks back as evenly as before, replying in a whispery tone, "They
are the reason for a portion of my scars."
Pale brows furrow over the smooth expanse of the girl's forehead, and Jana
queries, "But... how? No Healer of Delphi would do this." Only seconds after
that declaration is issued does she look doubtful, adding a hesitant,
"Well... that Healer would not long remain one of us. It is against the
caste's oath to bring harm with their magic."
Julius stills looks evenly and calmly back to the young Oracle, answering
the same questions he has been since arriving in Haven and back in amongst
his kind. "They answered not to the Delphi, but to their God-King and their
clan."
Oh... the Atarvani. Jana frowns a little, not even needing their name to be
spoken before she allows some of her disapproval to be seen. "I am sorry to
hear that, Dominus. Perhaps sorry most of all that such an experience has
left you distrustful of all those who wield magic," she murmurs, quietly
wondering if she is included in the man's view of things. She is, after all,
a mage herself. Her hands spread in a somewhat helpless gesture, "I will
trouble you on the matter no longer."
Julius watches Jana's face curiously, taking a moment to register that she
might thought to be included in his particular and unique view. "Please, I
do not mean to say that I distrust all magics, Domina, but that I am wary of
some who have... sone damage in the past. If any offence is taken, I retract
my words..."
Offended is not quite the word to describe how Jana feels at the moment.
Uneasy comes closer. The little Oracle's smile is wan and weak, though it is
present, "Ah, but if it is how you feel, then why retract your words? One
must accept the truth." Her narrow shoulders lift, and she adds, perhaps to
reassure the man somewhat, "But I do understand. A grave injustice has been
done." Once bitten, twice shy.
Julius knows the truth, everday he places the cloak upon his shoulders and
every word he speaks in a strangled whisper. He notes the woman's
discomfort, and his eyes lower back to the stone floor, offering as he
normally does when such weak smiles appear. "If I disturb you, Domina... I
can withdraw." His cloak is adjusted to tuck more of his bent and mangled
body behind the dark cloth.
"No, I think I would rather you did not," answers the young woman after a
second or two of hesitation. Jana shakes her head, and with great attention
she pulls her skirts closer to her. A few steps are taken towards the
entrance, gaining a greater distance from the candles and other offerings
left to the stone statues. "You came here seeking solitude or solace, did
you not? It is I who should depart and leave you to whatever peace you came
to find," she answers.
Julius stands a bit hunched in the background as the Delphite carries
herself to the door. Left alone, he seems small in the midst of the gods,
strangely out of place amongst the great stone faces. He nods his head
slowly, watching you leave. Perhaps all meetings are not destiny and all
words not inspiration. "As you wish, Domina."
She pauses in the threshold, one hand lifting to settle upon the arch's
frame before she looks back. Jana quietly says, "Again, thank you, Dominus,
for your... swift attention. I shudder to think what might have happened
otherwise." A smile flickers into being, brief, but genuine. "Should you ...
change your mind concerning anything we have discussed, I am willing to give
what assistance I can."
Julius bows his head respectfully. ".... thank you," he whispers.
The smile broadens, then the Oracle pivots smoothly upon her heel. A swish
of skirts follows Jana's departure, and quite soon you are left alone.
*fin*
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