Date: April 20, 1999
Place: Roof of House Jove - Palladium - Haven
Cast: Cyrano, Selene
Scene: Selene keeps a nightly vigil so that she might pay homage to her namesake goddess, Celene, the maiden of the moon. At dawn, the Praetor, Cyrano, finds her seated on the rooftops, and the Jovian noblewoman proceeds to tell him the story of how Celene came to be acquainted with the moon. A romantic at heart beneath that stoic facade, Cyrano is not likely to forget the tale.

The morning sun breaks over the eastern horizon, bathing the city in a pale yellow glow, chasing the darkness of night to the west. The figure of a woman rests on the highest rooftops of the Jovian estate and amazingly, she is alone. A wreath of flowers rests in Selene's lap, a few loose buds are scattered around her, smaller flowers that did not make it into the living halo of prayers. Her wings slump behind her after a full evening of solitude and prayer, watching as the full moon disappears under the sun's harsher rays.

Cyrano settles to the roof of House Jove, his wings gliding him silently down. He looks the area over. His brow furrows slightly, and his lips are indecisive as to whether to smile at the beauty and serenity of the scene or to frown at the idea of this Jove leaving herself guardless. He remains silent during the closing of her revelry and prayer, but make certain to flap his wing enough to sound like he is just landing before she turns, not wanting her to know he has been watching her and intruding on her prayers. If she says anymore he tries not to hear it. A silent sigh is released as he waits. The Praetor considers how he feels about this most interesting of the Noble Caste. Its not anything like he has know before, her presence is pure regality, and inspires a desire to protect and preserve such a perfect creature. Love and admiration of a most unusual level. Selene is far from anything he is used to. It's not a desire to possess, not feelings of attraction, but something that inspires a innate sense of loyalty. The best terms his mind can put to it are that she is the kind of regality of fairy tells, that she is best and first what it should be like and why he is proud to serve the Empyre. To him, Selene is a living symbol of what the Empyre could and should be. He decides on the smile.

The disappearance of the ghostly orb that guards the night sky ceases the Jovian's prayers, her fingers no longer weave flowers together into the ring on her lap. Tired? Perhaps, but her nighttime vigils seem to fill her with hope, a renewed energy and most likely she will not sleep anytime soon. The sound of wings beating against air are unmistakable and so she does not turn right away, even the recent threats do not make her nervous, not now. Only after what seems ages does the Jovian turn her head toward where the other Empyrean landed and she breaks a smile. "Good morning to you, Dominus," she says, lifting a hand to motion him to join her where she sits. "What has you up and about so early?"

Cyrano bows deeply, his wing accentuating, then looks to her and smiles. Then his eyes begin gazing at the results of her prayers. "Ave, Domina Selene. I am a Praetor, I was up an hour ago," he says in explanation of her question. He rises slowly, the wings wrapping back into place behind him. "How are you this morning, Domina Selene?" He scans the area, making it slightly clear what he expects he should have seen but doesn't. Then his eyes return to her. "Have you been out long, Domina?"

Selene selects a loose flower from her side and spins its tiny stem between her fingers. "I've been up all night, Dominus," she returns, as if the reason should be obvious, but then again, he's not family and so he probably has no clue as to her monthly vigils. Her eyes cast skyward, searching for even the faintest outline of the moon goddess's light, but the sun's rays strengthen and it can be seen no more.

Cyrano nods visually but the faintest glimpse of his eyes shows a strong confusion and sense of worry. The division of his thoughts battling the restrictions of class and the desire to question her jeopardizing herself in a scheduled ritual, alone in the dark, on a roof. He watches her a second longer. "Domina Selene...?" He stops, now is not the time. She looks at peace and he will not deny her that for now. He decides to complete the question a different way. "Have you had breakfast?" Well, he probably could have done better were his thoughts clear, but the knowledge that Vincent could have arrived here as easily as he did cannot be forced from his thoughts.

Selene continues to spin the flower in her fingers, eyes drawn back to the small violet petals that dance inches over her hand. A small breeze caresses the rooftops and the Jovian release the flower to be carried off to wherever the wind dictates. The threats of the day seem to melt away at night and likely Selene had not even considered the possibility of an attack, not on such a night. "Breakfast?" she asks, once more looking upon the Praetor, rolling the word on her tongue as if it were a foreign concept. The sunlight dances over the silver in her locks as she shakes her head to the negative. "No, I've not left since dusk, Dominus."

Cyrano looks to her, concern overriding training in this case. His eyes follow the flower's flight a short distance trying allow some of her serenity to absorb into himself. "Domina Selene, you were up here alone, at night?" Yes, he has researched every available reference to the inhabitants of House Jove in the city, and he knows that this a scheduled matter. That makes it worse. If he could find out so could others, but curiosity over comes him. "Why would you do this, Domina?" The concern is very obvious in his voice.

A stray curl is caught by the breeze that carries the flower away and the length of silver is thrown across the Domina's face, quickly retrieved and tucked behind her ear. "The moon," she replies after the curl has been tended to. "I come to offer prayers to her and ask for her guidance." A tilt of the head follows the statement as she continue to watch Cyrano and she adds, "I was born under her guiding and comforting light. She led me into this world and I believe she watches over me still."

Daughter of a Goddess. Yes, if there were one among the Empyre who he could believe that of, it would be Selene. He smiles again, considering her statement. It does not pass him that she calmly answered a question he had no right to ask of her. His wings shift slightly and a look of pride comes to him. "That is quite interesting, Domina Selene. If it is not wrong of me to say that the Moon's rays do appear to favor you, Domina," he says quietly.

The head remains at its tilt as she responds with a question rather than another statement. "You know of the story of the pale goddess, do you not?" Selene asks of the Ceterion as her wings stretch in a glorious arch at her back, working free the kinks that have settled on from a night of remaining almost motionless. As for the compliment paid by Cyrano, she can only blush faintly and smile, lowering her eyes to the wreath in her lap.

Cyrano smiles but shakes his head slightly. "No, Domina. Praetorians have some classical training, but it is limited and that story escapes me, I am afraid." He looks to her with a curiosity, wondering if she might relate it to him. The idea of the Jovian doing that strikes him as unexpected.

Selene gently strokes the flowers in her lap, wary of setting it aside in the event another breeze might catch it and drag it from her. "I fear the stories of her are not told as are those of the Kronian and Apollo. She is neither an Empress nor one gifted with magic. She was only an Empyrean loyal to her people and took on the role of protector for her small village when it was left with few others to defend it." Her eyes rise from the blooms to regard Cyrano. "Shall I continue the story for you? I would not wish to bore you with my ramblings," she comments, even chuckling softly.

Cyrano smiles brightly, the smile of admiration. He listens with interest to the first part, his thoughts already wrapping in the story. At the question, he nods slightly. "Please continue, Domina. I was born a Praetor, but I have always had a certain love of stories in art." Yes, it is obvious in so much of the being of this Praetor that, for good or not, he has the heart of a true romantic.

Her wings settle against her back once more as she continues with her tale. "She, as were others we call gods and goddesses, was once flesh and blood as you and I are. Her name was Celene Ileana Octavius, and she lived in a small town in Edessa. The names have changed over the many years, but it was near where Molior now rests." She pauses for a moment so she does not rattle quickly through the story and allow Cyrano a moment or two to place the town. "This was near the time that Civitas Dei was raised to the heavens, though the exact year is unknown, and that in itself is unimportant." Again she pauses and awaits any questions that might come from the early part of her tale.

Aqua eyes are wrapped in the story, during the pause they almost search the heavens and seem slightly disappointed not to see the Moon there to hear its own story from Selene. He would never have thought himself in such a position as this, sitting atop the most powerful of the Noble Houses, hearing a story from its most excellent example. The nature of the entire matter holds him as entranced as a child as he listens to her recount the tale of her namesake goddess. The entire sense more perfect than in Myth or dream he has known, and pure as the white rays of the moon she basked in earlier.

Finding no question from the Praetor, Selene continues with the tale she knows almost as well as the story of her own life, and sometimes it feels as if she knows the life of the goddess better than she understands her own. "The Varati, as you know, have been our enemies for many generations, but there was a time when we did not know them as well as we do now. Skirmishes were taking place along the border of Stygios, nearest to the where the Varati mountains rest. The village in which Celene lived was situated between two mountainous regions, a lush green valley that seemed alone in the world at times and for this reason, many of the men felt it to be relatively safe from Varati attack, and so left to defend Stygios, leaving only the barest number of guards behind." Another pause as she catches her breath and awaits any possible questions.

Questions -- there could be no questions from the Praetor. Anything foreign to her telling of the tale would break the wonder of the moment. In his life, he has had many wishes and desires, but the time here, with her telling this story, exceeds hopes and desires, transcends this reality with a higher one. As the legend proceeds, the dreamer below the warrior's surface liberates itself to sail into the eloquent tale.

Selene continues with her tale after giving a nod and soft smile to the soldier. "And so, with the main forces of the town gone to push back the Varati threat into their lands, the remaining people in the town were mostly women, children and the elderly, save the few men left behind. Celene took the duty of evening watch upon herself and every night she glided above the town, watching for anything that could possibly be considered a threat. Weeks passed and still no word of the events in Stygios, but over all, the town remained silent. Unfortunately, the peace they lived in would not last long."

Cyrano remains fixated on epic and recounting. In his mind, the sights and setting come alive. He smiles, enjoying this moment, he will never know of a time that will match it, the story is memorized. If there is ever an heir to his name, he will tell them the tale, and tell them how one morning, he knew the Gods where real, as he heard the telling from their daughter, Selene Jove.

That stubborn curl again escapes from behind Selene's ear, but lost in the storytelling, she leaves it to brush against her cheek. "It seems that the town was at more risk than anyone could have guessed. Those two mountains set as protection were in fact the near demise of the small town. The Varati used them to sneak into Edessa and found the small town unprotected, an easy target, or so they had thought. Celene's flight on those nights led her to watch the edges of town as well, and subtle movements in the outlying hills caught her eye. She was the image of every Empyrean -- pale of skin and hair and wing, and while she wished to further investigate, she knew she would be spotted, as a pale beacon against the night sky. She returned to the village to find some covering so that she might be as dark as the night, even covering her wings in charcoal from the evening fires so that they, too, might go unnoticed."

The lines of the goddess in the tale had transferred over her namesake a moment. The young Jovian is seen going through the heroic motions of the subject, his mind watching her fly the night sky, his thoughts guiding among the stars behind. Seeing his own special version of the story enhanced by the teller, Cyrano listens as she progresses.

Selene continues with the tale, wings shifting again at her back, refusing to remain still after having that task all night. "And so she set out again, cloaked in darkness and hidden against the night sky to investigate the shadows that danced through the hills, shadows that had not been there nights before. Creatures, ugly things that she had never before seen resting among the crevasses, jostling for a good vantage point for which to watch the sleepy town. She circled once and then twice, trying to count the number, as she fought the terror that grew in her heart. She'd heard tales of the beasts the dwelled beneath the ground, and she could not believe she was witnessing them so close to her home. She sped back to her home and alerted those men who remained behind, urging one of them to speed out to the nearest town and gather men to fight those unsightly beings that lay in wait."

The sun rising slowly in the sky has now passed the horizon as the Praetor listens to the Jovian tell the story of the other Celene. His eyes are locked on her and he sits calmly -- he would kick himself could he see how wrapped up in the story he has become. A sentry should remain alert to the world around him, but Cyrano is taken by the story to a time and place of distant legend. He has already decided, though, how he will handle her guardless nights, and the sunny day provides its own protection. Watching her, he allows for just a second the thoughts of what it would be like to be a Noble and be able to spend a closer time than this with the Domina. Quickly, the thoughts are dropped though. Even being a Noble, how could anyone deserve a goddess? This Pantoleon must truly be Apollo's heir to have won her favor. Thankfully, the beautiful story remains to distract the mild envy. He does so wish he belonged among the Nobility and was not just stealing time as an investigator. How much some of them impress him, he cannot measure. Especially this one, and her cousin the Emperor. If all the nobility where such, then truly a Golden Age would return, and likely the previous would never have ended.

A soft breeze catches the silver that spills around Selene's face, and the soft white feathers that make of her wings, but she too is absorbed in the story and pays little heed to the winds that call her to fly. And, too, she is oblivious of the random thoughts that fill the Praetor's mind as he listens to her telling, for she would be blushing quite red should she even have an inkling. "The swiftest of messengers that could be found were sent forth, to the east to bring what men they could. Celene returned the next night to keep an eye on the vicious troops that dared soil Empyrean ground, though she had no way of stopping them should they advance much further."

Cyrano listens to the point of nearly booing the foul demons like a child at a marionette show. As the story progresses, his mind shows him an army of the evil cave- dwellers amassing to strike a helpless Empyrean town in their typical honorless fashion. Still fixated on both the tale and the spinner, he quietly listens to Selene's soft, clear voice.

"The gods must have smiled down on the Empyrean town that day, for the messenger met the troops halfway and were able to make a speedy retreat home," she continues as she plays with the floral wreath in her lap. "The troops descended en masse on the waiting Varati monsters, sending the fighting late into the night. Swift archers struck from above, while others found the Varati's point of entry and defended it, trapping the creatures where they hid." She pauses and sighs softly. "Celene had joined with the archers, as she had led the soldier to where the Varati lay in wait. She was felled by a Varati arrow, and without a healer in the village, she later died." Her eyes go to her lap in a brief prayer for the woman, now goddess.

A look of triumph crosses the Praetor's face as the story talks of the archers, himself being one. As the story progresses, the ending causes a sigh of incredible sadness from Cyrano. He had not been prepared for a sad ending. So wrapped in the story, the Praetorian listener fights his emotions for control. A lifetime of training is tested and proves victor, the sigh the only breach of composure.

Her eyes raise from her lap and she continues with the story, for death is not the end of this tale. "It was because of Celene that the village was not overtaken by the Varati and left in ruin. The entire village turned out to mourn the courageous woman and the full moon shone brightly overhead as her funeral pyre was lit. The moon bathed her body in its tender glow as the flames consumed her flesh, releasing her lare to remain a guardian over her beloved home. From then on, every time the light of the nighttime celestial orb broke the clouds, the Empyreans were reminded of Celene, and soon one could not think of it without thinking of her as well." A smile crosses her face as the tale concludes.

Cyrano smiles calmly, wishing the sun had not replaced the moon so he could look on its light and see it in this new way. He looks to Selene's eyes, forgetting for a moment the breach of station. "Domina Selene, that is one of the most beautiful stories I have ever heard. Thank you so much for sharing it with me." He smiles at her, trying to cover the feeling evoked by this unique experience with the elegant Jovian.

Selene cannot help but break into a wider smile at the appreciation given to the story of the goddess she's come to call her own. "I am glad you have enjoyed it, Dominus," she replies as another gust of wind pulls at her feathers and hair. I feel honored that I was given her name, and have tried my best to emulate her in my own way, to be the kind of protector she was, though I've only the opportunity to work within the sphere of my family." She smirks somewhat. "I doubt I'd ever have the opportunity for such a feat as she had performed, nor the nerve."

Cyrano looks to the beautiful Jovian and smiles sweetly. "May your goddess never allow you to, Domina." He slightly shifts his wings as he watches Selene. "Though I am certain you could and would, the thought of Aether loosening a Goddess here prematurely, even for the gain of Olympus is a sad one." He says calmly to her. Yes, it is very clear to those who would see that the blood of Jupiter Jove runs rich in the daughter before him. He blushes slightly. It has been an experience he shall not forget all his days. A rare glimpse of what the Nobility is, and how it must be to be among them. For a brief time, he was allowed the privilege of knowing Domina Selene on a personal level. How lucky those born to the Houses are, to know such freedom as they do. Yes, they are confined by the laws of caste, as much as others, but they may decide to lower the walls. Selene has this morning given him a gift he will cherish, and never be able to repay.

Her pale wings stretch to their full span at her back and assist in her rising to stand on the rooftop, letting the light of Apollo wash over her. So unaware is she of Cyrano's thoughts, for she has simply told a tale to one who has given his time to watch over a member of her own House, and one she's learned to call friend. "I fear my vigil is at an end, Dominus," she says, turning to face Cyrano. "If you would excuse me, I should find a few hours in which to sleep, if I can and then be about the duties of the day."

Cyrano bows richly, his wings fanning out as he does. The broad smile upon his face does not fade as he rises. "I wish a good rest, Domina Selene, and I thank you most gratefully. I am truly honored that you shared the story with me," he says sincerely. He spreads his wings for flight. "Thank you again, Domina. If I can ever attempt to repay this debt, please let me know." With that, his wings begin the first motions of flight.

FIN  

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