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*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
Time of day: Evening
Date on Aether: Wednesday, March 19, 3907.
Year on Earth: 1507 A.D.
Phase of the Moon: Waxing Crescent
Season: Early Spring
Weather: Sleet
Temperature: Chilly
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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.
As if the gods had not already damned this city enough they have to torment
it's residents with unnatural shifts in the weather. Outside the first small
buds have begun to appear on some of the trees and some hearty crocus have
poked their veridian shoots out of the earth, only to be assulted with the
icy sleet that now falls from the sky. The interior of the cella,
thankfully, is warm and dry, but echoes reach the solitary figure within,
echos of curses from Empyean lips as nobles and servants both dive into the
atrium for cover from the icy downpour. Selene, seated at the feet of
Apollo, ignores most of the voices outside the chamber, though the
accoustics in the small temple make it difficult. Her eyes are on the stony
image of her family's father, but she does not have the hazy look to her, as
one lost in fevered prayer tends to take on after remaining still for so
long. One might think she was simply holding a friendly conversation with
Apollo, if he weren't made of marble.
No such curses come from the cella's most recent visitor as the skies are
already closed from him with or without this frozen torrent. Under a heavy
bundle of thick and worn cloth, Julius's pale face can be seen as he lifts
his head to the torch light along the walls, far from the open center. The
hood grows dark again as he looks to the figure of his ancestor with its
own deep set shadows. His shuffled steps are quiet, his eyes half-lidded
from lack of sleep, blinking a few times before spying the other 'pilgrim'.
His eyes go back to the figure of the Kronian filled with a child's
reluctance, then back to the kneeling figure of his cousin. Best to speak
to a caring cousin before an unforgiving father....
SELENE
Lithesome as a slender willow branch is this Empyrean woman. Her
carriage denotes her aristocratic heritage almost instantly, the set of
her shoulders, lift of her chin and each deliberate movement come from
years of training and education to become the epitome of Empyrean nobility.
Her skin, smooth and pale, rivals the work of the greatest Empyrean marble
sculptors while her eyes, the color of vibrant sapphire, sparkle with a heat
more intense than any precious gem, adding an alluring contrast to her
otherwise pallid tone. Rosebud lips beneath a pert nose complete the
delicate features of her heart-shaped face.
A slender golden tiara with a sits atop her upswept tresses, inset
with a ring of orange diamonds around an image of Apollo's sun. A gossamer-
thin veil of pale gold drifts from the tiara, over her shoulders and between
her snowy wings that rise majestically from her shoulder blades. Another
golden chain encircles her neck, holding a stunning pear shaped diamond, a
generous stone that falls against her collarbone. The flawless is set off
by matching diamond earrings dangling from her earlobes.
Light white silk falls gracefully over her form, interwoven with
golden threads to add shimmer to her attire. A golden sash encircles her
waist, providing the only obstruction to the flow of the material. Like the
veil that falls from her tiara, a second is attached to her shoulders and
drapes beneath her wings. The thin golden material is embroidered with
images of Acesius' sun and is light enough to be brought into a dance with
the slightest breeze.
Tendrils of etherial smoke from the incense and the flickering candles forms
a dusky halo around the Dea, who, lit by that same frail light, appears more
golden than silver. Perhaps, thought, that is appropriate for her current
position, for gold is a color of Acesius. He wings twitch with the subtle
rustling like coarse silk, disturbed by the momentary shift of the
atmosphere as Julius strides in. Selene glances over from Apollo's unmovable
visage to the masked one of her cousin, but even with his face hidden in the
deep shadows of his cloak, the outline of him is unmistakable. "Cousin," she
greets with a warmth in her tone that is instantly inviting. "I haven't seen
you in many weeks, I had feared you left Haven without so much as a word of
farewell." She sits back on her heels and then adjusts herself again,
drawing her legs out and in from of her so that she is seated on the stone
floor rather than kneeling in prayer.
Julius gives a polite tip of his hooded head. "Ave... please... forgive my
silence, then.., he says in a voice that is still the same, hoarse and
whispery. Standing there rather awkwardly for a moment before arranging his
crooked body to sit in front of his cousin, he coughs into a loose fist
before continuing. "I have been...." he pauses not for a soreness in his
throat, but it seems for another malady as his gaze is diverted once more.
"... trying to learn..."
A concerned frown twists at the Dea's pale lips and scrawls lines across her
golden forehead with each cough that rattles her cousin's chest. Her eyes
quickly cast about in vain, for there is no water here to offer to Julius.
"What have you been trying to learn, cousin," comes her inquiry, tender but
severely worried for his state of health.
Emyreans are a frail lot, and any chance of Julius becoming a sturdy example
of his kind were dashed quite awhile back. It takes him a bit as he slowly
adjusts to kneel nearby, back bent slightly to allow his last wing enough
room to stretch a bit under its heavy confines. The one question he had
hoped not to hear comes to his dear cousin's lips before he'd even had a
chance to decide how to avoid it. His eyes blink a few more times, starting
to show to the darker circles of insomnia, a deep breath is taken and he
answers, eyes cast down, "When... when I was a naraki, I was shown in no
uncertain terms... what was demaded of me. As I traveled in the woods to
regain myself after capture, all that was needed from me was survival. I've
been trying to discern ... what is expected of me now..."
"You are certainly not expected to perfom any duties that were forced on you
when those creatures made you a slave, cousin," Selene murmurs darkly with a
growl rising in the back of her throat. The mere thought of what those
cavern-dwelling beasts subjected her cousin to raises a fire within her. A
golden fire burns behind the sapphire of her eyes, an equal match to the
flames that are lit at the base of Apollo's image. But it is the thoughts
that drive forth this emotion, not her cousin. The Dea realizes, quickly,
her mistake and tuns her eyes away so that Julius is not subjected to the
inner fury she possesses. The air of the cella is filled with he breathing,
deep breath in, and then another out, very controlled and precises as she
sates her anger so that she might speak without the shadow hovering over
each word. "What ... what have you learned cousin?"
Julius's hands fall loosely into his lap as he kneels, a wet napkin in
comparison to the fury of his cousin. He watches her with deep eyes, looking
away when she does and waiting out her contained breaths as one would wait
out the stormy skies above them both. Another question, another polling of
his thoughts, arranging them in some logical manner. There are only so many
ways to say nothing... "The only time I had the answer to that question,
honestly," he looks up suddenly, imploring some sort of desparate
understanding, "I failed, leaving only more questions in my wake..."
It is that continued lack of information that tickles at Selene's mind and
foces out further questions in the hopes that one answer might provide
enough infomation to fom a complete and consise thought. As her wings rise
behind her, those wisps of smoke that surround Selene's figure shift and
dance in the golden firelight, like a palyful pet who would rather frolic
while it's master scolds it. The air behind the Dea is filled with her
auric-lit wings, a feathered backdrop that is soon lowered back toward the
ground so that the lower pinions are splayed across the floor in an
uncharacteristic haphazard fashion. "I consider myself a learned woman,
cousin," she finally says with a voice tender as before, though the dagger's
edge lays just beneath the surface. "But I dare say that you have me quite
confused. What did you fail at?"
There's nothing else to say anymore. No more allusions, metaphors or simple
salves to this wounding point. The light that comes from behind the winged
woman only serves to cast more shades on Julius, the lack of light making
what little you can see vivid, his skin pale enough to reflect a tiny and
nearly insignificant glow. Silver hair falls from his hood as, again, it
falls forward, shoulders stooped. "Understanding others, their intentions
and the ...truth." Quieter still, he sighs out a confession most likely
meant for his own thoughts rather than the interior of the cella, with so
many eyes. "I thought that Iris ...loved me, cared for me and wanted me more
than she wanted something from me..."
For a long moment, Selene is struck silent but her cousin's confession, but
there is a instant quelching of the fire in her eyes but the silverly
shimmer of rising tears at the raw emotion that he continue to evoke from
her. "Julius," she murmurs, again dropping her eyes from his. Her hand
extends outward, to take his within it and squeeze those frail fingers
gently in an unspoken gesture of affection. "Not everything that happens to
us in our lives are completely within our control." Gods, of anyone, he
should know that better than anyone. "I do not doubt that the Domina held
affection for you, not ... not from when I spoke with her. I ..." Selene
pauses considering which words to speak next, for some might hurt he cousin
and that is the last thing she would wish upon him. "I do not believe that
this marriage was her doing, cousin. Not ... not from the discussions we
had." Selene's whispers float gently to her cousin, as light as the candle
smoke and hopefully just as painless.
Julius sounds less hurt than he looks, speaking from the stark point of view
that he's left himself with in the midst of everything he's felt the last
few months. "Of course the marriage was not her fault... I've been told so,
in no uncertain terms, many times. And... I seemed to be what she wanted...
but ... affection...," he repeats the words as any Empyrean born of Civitas
Dei might pronounce an obscure Sylvan slang term: unfamiliarly and with
great hesitation. "I... can not know. Nor will I ever know more than
that... I ... served a purpose for a very short time."
"But Julius," she begins, leaning forward enough that she can places a
comforting hand to his, hoping that he'll not retract it. "Had you not
heard?" Perhaps he had not, if he had been away for a while. Selene moistens
her lips, drawing first the bottom lip beneath the top, and then the top
beneath the bottom. "Julius, Dominus Tiberius is dead. He ... he was
discovered in the Augustus household almost two weeks ago. Most ... most of
the family had left for Civitas Dei where they knew it to be safe." Taking
his hand in hers she squeezes it as she emphisizes the point. "Her husband
is dead, cousin. She is no longer married."
Julius's hand is still cold and calloused, slim fingers carrying the wear
and tear of years of labour. And for a moment, that's all he seems... cold,
distant, the previous showings of his troubles masked away... until the
truth of those words settle into his brain and force his eyes to widen, the
light that shines from his cousin's candlelight reflect his ... fear? Guilt?
Certainly shock as he stutters forth in a whispered tones, "I.... I-I
didn't... know, truly... I...." he coughs again, the momentary fluster from
his words only that, though the look in his eyes stays the same. "Selene...
I did not know."
Selene shakes her head, urging him to silence if she can. She stops just
before she starts with 'shhhing' noises that she uses to calm her daughter
after a nightmare. "Julius, you could not have known. I do not even know if
anyone outside the Palladium know if it for certain. I ... I have not seen
Domina Iris since she was wed, but I can only assume she is in Civitas Dei
with the rest of the family." She did not expect him to react quite so
violently at the news, and try as she might, Selene cannot hide a touch of
surprise that jumps into her expression. "I would tell you to go see her,
Julius, if I knew were she was."
A deep breath and Julius becomes resolute, shaking his head to clear the
moment of panic away completely. His knotted fingers curl slightly about the
softer one that's taken him, reaching for something sure in uncertain
thoughts. "Selene, cousin....," he starts, then coughs again, sounding a lot
more than the broken and servile young man you have come to know, "I need to
tell you something. Especially now." His head bows, long silver hair framing
his face and he closes his eyes; one might even think he was in prayer.
"She-... she bade me keep quiet and so much secret, to keep me 'safe' she
told me. From Tiberius. And she's been absent from me so long, I had only
thought was useful to her no longer, that...," a deep breath, he remains
calm. "Cousin, please know this from me, that I had no knowledge of Iris'
husband's death until you told me now... I-I... don't know if others
might... see reason to think otherwise."
Selene listens silently with a web of comfort and concern continually
shifting across her face and through her eyes. She has not given up the hold
on his hand, no matter the chill to his skin, nor does she plan to, not
while he obviously needs it right now. "Julius," she moans at his
insistance, "I would never think such a thing of you, do not give it another
thought." Not that he really has the appearance of one who could commit such
an act, but she'd never say that. "And should anyone say such slander I'll
quickly silence their tongue."
Julius says "But-," and stops there, grappling with thoughts difficult to
squeeze into the tiny frame of speech. "What I did... and agreed to... I
have already done enough ... slander to the Dominus," he says a bit quieter
in front of the gods, "to ... to ensure some guilt- though I knew nothing of
his death," he repeats once more, his reminder thrown forth over his
confession like towel tossed over a damp patch upon the floor.
"I don't understand Julius, what have you done?" Selene gently tries to coax
an explanation from her frail cousin without seeming demanding. Her voice
softens considerably and drops to a whisper to meet his. "What did you agree
to cousin?" A rush of urgency suddenly floods her in an unexpected rush that
chokes her throat in fear.
Julius's back is bent, as if something heavy lay across his shoulders, head
still bowed and voice scratchy and soft. "Iris asked me... but... I didn't
realize so much until she was gone. I... I was her lover."
Oh dear. Selene is once more left without words to react. She had some
suspicions, of course, for the Domina had been a bit forward with her
preferences that the news doesn't come as a complete shock. Rather, it is
the anguish that he bears in voice and posture that affects her to a greater
degree. "Does anyone else know if this, Julius?" The question is a rush from
a lips, whispered in a scandelous tone, as if trying to keep the news from
the gods surrounding them like motionless sentinals.
Julius shakes his head slowly, "I... don't know. Iris was quite carefull...
and I rarely saw her... and she's been gone for a very long time and..." No
other assurances spring to mind, so he stays quiet... and rather stunned.
Selene leans back and releases a sigh. "Julius ..." There is nothing
condemning in her tone, she has no room to condemn a man who has taken
another man's wife to his bed. Rather there is a sadness in her tone and she
begins to sound as weary as he. "It ... it wasn't wrong, what you did. I
mean ..." Gods, what a sticky situation to find oneself in. "It's not
unusual for a man or woman to take a lover when they marry, especially if
the marriage is one of political or social reasons and not out of love. "I
would not be surprised if most nobles had a lover or mistress on the side,
that is just the way of things. But we don't talk about it, we pretend it
isn't there. You cared for her and she for you. I doubt Tiberius cared for
her as you did. Sometimes a woman just needs to feel desired, Julius. You
gave that to her, for I doubt her husband did." Certainly not if the sorted
stories about that man were true.
Julius admits, "She... told me she was growing happy.... before I saw her
last, before... And she told me how it would upset him should he find out,
how... appearances would need to be kept, and I really didn't understand any
of her fears, until now. I wish it wasn't wrong, but... if he had tried to
make her happy..." Silence hangs in the air and Julius thinks a great deal.
After a heavy pause, he says simply, "I wish she was here."
Selene nods through the pain she feels for her cousin at the moment. "No
matter their personal feelings, or lack thereof, for each other, no husband
would be happy to know his wife shares a bed with another man. But he won't
know of it now, Julius. If there were any fears of his retribution you are
free of them." Gently she squeezes his hand once more. "I'm not suggesting
that you speak of it after the fact, not in public."
Julius has yet to seem comforted into an easy rest, saying nothing but his
eyes do lift from the spot on the floor well memorized between the two up to
the stone faces of the gods, then lower past his cousin, saying nothing...
Her face has been a jumble of emotions, rarely has she a change to smooth
her features of the lines that continue to form on her pale skin. "Julius,"
she prods gently, hoping to draw his attention back to her and not some
invisible location just over her wing. "Is there something else?"
Julius brings himself back from whatever dread worry or guilty thought that
had drug him away in the first place. He looks back to his cousin carefully,
"Should there be?"
Selene shakes her head. "No, Julius. You just seemed to have drifted, as if
something else bothered you." She is suddenly aware of the chill within him,
one that does not seem to have eased at all. "Perhaps you should find a warm
bath and dry clothes," she suggests hopefully as she finally releases his
hand. "And something to eat as well, you ... you look as if you need it."
There is nothing left now, save the pure honesty as she surveys her cousin
closely.
Julius does exactly look as if a good meal and a warm bath would do him
good, as he usually does no matter how much you feed him or how many
pitchers of warm water you pour over him. He nods, as is the usual responce
to such advice, adding, "Perhaps, you-you're right...." He looks back,
worried, but somewhat placated by their talk and his cousin's kind words.
Then he stops, blinking in surprise as he reaches into the small sack slung
over his shoulder under the cloak. "I.. I had found something of interest in
my travels, and I had carved this, to give to your daughter," and he brings
out a small carving, barely the size of his weathered hand: made of a dense
oak branch it looks like, it has been transformed into an intricate carving
of a young Empyrean woman with long hair that floats in an eternal breeze.
Her chiton lays against her legs, sandaled feet pointed and arms folded in
front of her to rest on an unseen ledge. She smiles and looks up to her
carven hair where a tiny figure of a songbird hangs on a blown aside lock.
"It can rest against the edge of a bed or table," he explains modestly,
"I... I recall having one when I was young." He did come to pray to the gods
for guidance, and guidance he recieved as he brings his own manner of
offering.
Selene gingerly accepts the gift, more precious than the myriad of toys and
gifts the young Acesian had received up until this point. Hopefully Zea
won't consider it as something to chew on as new teeth break through her
tender gums. "It's beautiful," she breathes in disbelief at the carving her
her hands. Tentatively her fingertip trails over the figure, noting each
line in the figure, each carefully carved curve. "I ... I'm sure she'll love
it Julius, it really is stunning." As if it were her child itself Selene
cradles it in both hands to keep it safe so that it can be presented to Zea
in pristine condition. "I ... I don't know if I will put it on the edge of
her crib just yet, though," she warns through a tender and thankful smile.
"I don't think my daughter has yet grasped the idea if keeping her things in
one piece and I'd hate to have it broken."
Julius nods slowly, the barest ghost of a smile in return on his face. "I am
glad that you like it," he says honestly, growing a bit more comfortable as
the topic changes to something he enjoys.
Selene practically beams at the gift in her hands, and moreso at the man who
worked to create it for her daughter. The small Empyrean figure is shifted
to one hand so that the other can help her get to her feet. Selene's wings
help as well, causing a few nearby candle to flicker as thei beat at the
air. Once she is on her feet the hand now free is offered to Julius, should
he wish to take it in helping him stand. "Perhaps we should go see about
getting you something warm," she suggests again. Even through her joy she
worries over her cousin, and she has no plans to let him sit here and freeze
while she oohs and ahhs over his gift.
Julius is able to rise on his own, though awkwardly and completely lacking
in grace. The one wing still left shifts and shudders under its cover, less
like an ordinary Empyrean appendage and more like a thing alive. "Thank
you," he says, once righted, standing with less stoop in his shoulders and
fear in his eyes, settled on the comforting gaze of his cousin with an
honest sincerity.
*fin*
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