FIC: In the Stronghold
Mar. 24th, 2005 04:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalIn Nomine, Christopher & Zadkiel, no warnings
Not sure if I ever posted this anywhere before. Just a little fic that came up during play at In Nomine Ludi. Consider it a sorta prequel to "Sinking".
Christopher entered the Cathedral of Protection, his steps echoing along the stone corridors. The walls of Zadkiel's stronghold were thick, not out of any fear of demonic attack, but merely as a reflection of her Word. As his own Cottage/Cathedral was open, sunny, and inviting, as a projection of his Word. Well, it was supposed to be anyway. Lately storm clouds had appeared on the horizon, near the edge of the lake, and had refused to move. He'd also noticed that the rabbit's warren of tunnels underneath it, so inviting for children's souls to explore, and a further reflection of his origins in Stone, had been growing more twisty and dark. He'd had to post a Cherub at the entrance to keep the blessed souls out, lest they become lost.
Zadkiel's office hadn't moved recently, so he found it easily enough. Banks of security monitors framed her desk, and behind her seat was an oversized shield with her sigil upon it. She rose from it when he entered, coming around her desk to gather him into a hug. He returned it gladly, not so much hugging back as clinging as a man would cling to a life-preserver in a stormy sea.
"Christopher…" she murmured, "my poor Christopher."
He didn't reply, not trusting himself to, not yet. But Zadkiel was patient, and gave him the time he needed to compose his thoughts.
Christopher pushed himself away from her reluctantly. It was tempting to remain in that protective embrace forever. Indeed, many of Heaven's lords and ladies expected him to.
"Thank you, Zadkiel," he said, "for welcoming me here. I fear there are very few cathedral doors that will open to me now."
She nodded. "And who closed them for you?" Her eyes were cool grey steel, uncompromising even as they watched for enemies that might strike at him.
"Myself," he admitted, "it was all my own doing. Everyone was at least willing to be patient with me before, but now…" He sighed. "I suppose insulting Blandine was the last straw. I can imagine what they're saying about me in the Council chambers."
"I can't discuss that," she said.
"That's answer enough, I think." He wrapped his arms around himself and sat down unbidden in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "So, how does one Outcast an Archangel?"
Zadkiel frowned. "No one has said a word about Outcasting."
"Haven't they? I'm surprised. What other choices do they have? Strip me of my title, and have an un-Worded archangel running about?"
"That's not unprecedented, look at Furfur."
"Furfur has just recently been Redeemed, and he also has a sponsor… and has not tried the patience of every archangel short of Jean, Khalid, and Yves." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It covered in leather, but by the sheer weight and solidness of the thing he was willing to swear that it was armor plated. "What else is there?"
She turned her eyes away.
"Soul death?" he said softly.
"No! We will not kill one of our own," she paused and added reluctantly, "Who is not already Outcast and Discordant."
"What else is there? I will not allow myself to be Force stripped down to a simple angel, Zadkiel. Not while I still have the memories of being an archangel. I would demand that my memories be trapped in a Pearl then, and that Pearl be smashed, so I would not have to ever know why other angels looks at me in pity and despair."
"Let us pray it will not come to that, then," she said, "for I would be one of those who despaired, because I could not protect you from yourself."
Christopher's face was carefully blank. "You should not have had to. I should have the strength, the intelligence, the will to conduct my own affairs."
She sighed. "Truth."
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just that… Sometimes I get so terribly confused. I respond without thinking. I act stupidly. I know that what I'm doing is stupid, but I literally cannot think of what else to do. It's as if… I have two parts of myself at war with each other. The Archangel of Children, and the simple reliever of Stone arguing over what to do, and somehow the angel of Stone that I once was, the one that should be able to moderate between the two, is absent."
"Ah?" Zadkiel says, raising her eyebrows.
Chris shrugged unhappily. "Or perhaps that is merely self-justification for my errors. I don't know. The Truth of the matter is something I cannot see right now."
"Have you considered you complaint, and how it might be connected to your lost memories?"
"Almost every moment of every day since I became aware of it. But I don't know what to do. Confront David again? I haven't an ounce of credibility before the Council now. I've already brought it before Dominic, and he has not acted upon my suspicions yet, not that he lacks for more pressing concerns right now."
Zadkiel appeared to consider his words carefully. "May I advise patience, and a low profile? Tend to your Word, and do not entangle yourself in conversations with demons, or the politics of the Council. Your time before Dominic will come soon enough, and whatever transpired during time with Stone will come into the light from where it is hidden."
Chris nodded. "Wise ideas, and obvious in retrospect. I don't suppose you know whether Jean has developed the Celestial equivalent of duct tape? It might be useful for keeping my mouth shut."
Zadkiel almost laughed. "I don't know whether he does or not, though I wouldn't be terribly surprised."
Chris smiled, if only briefly. "Thank you, Zadkiel, for your advice, and your comfort, and for extended your Word to one confused archangel." They hugged again, briefly, and then he left. His Cottage awaited him, and there were matters there that needed tending.
End
Not sure if I ever posted this anywhere before. Just a little fic that came up during play at In Nomine Ludi. Consider it a sorta prequel to "Sinking".
Christopher entered the Cathedral of Protection, his steps echoing along the stone corridors. The walls of Zadkiel's stronghold were thick, not out of any fear of demonic attack, but merely as a reflection of her Word. As his own Cottage/Cathedral was open, sunny, and inviting, as a projection of his Word. Well, it was supposed to be anyway. Lately storm clouds had appeared on the horizon, near the edge of the lake, and had refused to move. He'd also noticed that the rabbit's warren of tunnels underneath it, so inviting for children's souls to explore, and a further reflection of his origins in Stone, had been growing more twisty and dark. He'd had to post a Cherub at the entrance to keep the blessed souls out, lest they become lost.
Zadkiel's office hadn't moved recently, so he found it easily enough. Banks of security monitors framed her desk, and behind her seat was an oversized shield with her sigil upon it. She rose from it when he entered, coming around her desk to gather him into a hug. He returned it gladly, not so much hugging back as clinging as a man would cling to a life-preserver in a stormy sea.
"Christopher…" she murmured, "my poor Christopher."
He didn't reply, not trusting himself to, not yet. But Zadkiel was patient, and gave him the time he needed to compose his thoughts.
Christopher pushed himself away from her reluctantly. It was tempting to remain in that protective embrace forever. Indeed, many of Heaven's lords and ladies expected him to.
"Thank you, Zadkiel," he said, "for welcoming me here. I fear there are very few cathedral doors that will open to me now."
She nodded. "And who closed them for you?" Her eyes were cool grey steel, uncompromising even as they watched for enemies that might strike at him.
"Myself," he admitted, "it was all my own doing. Everyone was at least willing to be patient with me before, but now…" He sighed. "I suppose insulting Blandine was the last straw. I can imagine what they're saying about me in the Council chambers."
"I can't discuss that," she said.
"That's answer enough, I think." He wrapped his arms around himself and sat down unbidden in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "So, how does one Outcast an Archangel?"
Zadkiel frowned. "No one has said a word about Outcasting."
"Haven't they? I'm surprised. What other choices do they have? Strip me of my title, and have an un-Worded archangel running about?"
"That's not unprecedented, look at Furfur."
"Furfur has just recently been Redeemed, and he also has a sponsor… and has not tried the patience of every archangel short of Jean, Khalid, and Yves." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It covered in leather, but by the sheer weight and solidness of the thing he was willing to swear that it was armor plated. "What else is there?"
She turned her eyes away.
"Soul death?" he said softly.
"No! We will not kill one of our own," she paused and added reluctantly, "Who is not already Outcast and Discordant."
"What else is there? I will not allow myself to be Force stripped down to a simple angel, Zadkiel. Not while I still have the memories of being an archangel. I would demand that my memories be trapped in a Pearl then, and that Pearl be smashed, so I would not have to ever know why other angels looks at me in pity and despair."
"Let us pray it will not come to that, then," she said, "for I would be one of those who despaired, because I could not protect you from yourself."
Christopher's face was carefully blank. "You should not have had to. I should have the strength, the intelligence, the will to conduct my own affairs."
She sighed. "Truth."
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just that… Sometimes I get so terribly confused. I respond without thinking. I act stupidly. I know that what I'm doing is stupid, but I literally cannot think of what else to do. It's as if… I have two parts of myself at war with each other. The Archangel of Children, and the simple reliever of Stone arguing over what to do, and somehow the angel of Stone that I once was, the one that should be able to moderate between the two, is absent."
"Ah?" Zadkiel says, raising her eyebrows.
Chris shrugged unhappily. "Or perhaps that is merely self-justification for my errors. I don't know. The Truth of the matter is something I cannot see right now."
"Have you considered you complaint, and how it might be connected to your lost memories?"
"Almost every moment of every day since I became aware of it. But I don't know what to do. Confront David again? I haven't an ounce of credibility before the Council now. I've already brought it before Dominic, and he has not acted upon my suspicions yet, not that he lacks for more pressing concerns right now."
Zadkiel appeared to consider his words carefully. "May I advise patience, and a low profile? Tend to your Word, and do not entangle yourself in conversations with demons, or the politics of the Council. Your time before Dominic will come soon enough, and whatever transpired during time with Stone will come into the light from where it is hidden."
Chris nodded. "Wise ideas, and obvious in retrospect. I don't suppose you know whether Jean has developed the Celestial equivalent of duct tape? It might be useful for keeping my mouth shut."
Zadkiel almost laughed. "I don't know whether he does or not, though I wouldn't be terribly surprised."
Chris smiled, if only briefly. "Thank you, Zadkiel, for your advice, and your comfort, and for extended your Word to one confused archangel." They hugged again, briefly, and then he left. His Cottage awaited him, and there were matters there that needed tending.
End
