Date: July 7, 2001 (Aether: July 25, 3908)
Place: Atrium, Cella - Palladium - Haven
Cast: Gabriel, Shinjukou
Scene: The Aegian of Augustus invites the Decemvir of Orcinus to the Palladium, ostensibly to give her a tour of its grounds, but also to find out what she discovered after her meeting with the Emperor. But that exchange is soon overlooked in favor of a more philosophical discussion about gods, eternity, and death.

Atrium - Palladium - Haven:
      This vast, high-ceilinged hall is the main area of congregation within the Palladium, and its decor is as simple as it is elegant. Corinthian columns provide both support and aesthetic splendor, and tucked between them are finely-carved statues of the men and women who were this place's founders. A wide, shallow pool in the center of the room catches the rainwater from the compluvium above, which allows light and air to banish the shadows. There is no place for darkness among these pristine white columns and noble-faced stone sentinels. At night, lamps and tapers are lit to help the moon and starlight keep the shadows at bay.
      Marble benches, chairs, and chaise lounges are situated at various spots in the room so that visitors may sit and converse (see 'places'). Between the columns, you glimpse the verdant foliage of the garden, and winding paths that lead to adjacent buildings.

Torchlight and glowing braziers set the mood for this meeting. Dusk has fallen, and a few bright stars sprinkle the lavender bowl of the sky. Inside the Palladium's grand cella, the pristine white columns are softened to warm ivory, and shadows blanket the interior, pooling from niches where stern-faced statues reside, under marble benches, and in the farthest reaches where the flames' illumination cannot stretch.

There are Schola in attendance -- moreso than usual. Word must have gotten out that the Decemvir of Orcinus was arriving. They bear weapons, but it's more for show than anything else. Visiting dignitaries often seem to warrant that vague one-upmanship, like some chess game where opposing sides want to see who has the most pawns. The sentinels flank the main entrance, and when the Orcinus delegate approaches, they hail them with a terse, "Ave, domina Decemvir. We request that only two guards accompany you inside. The Deus of Augustus awaits you within."

Two? Problematic, given that the Orcinus guardsmen seem to travel in packs of threes, and there are two of these trios with the Decemvir. Several sets of eyes narrow unhappily at the request and such discontent is soothed away only after a veiled look from Shinjukou. Two of the men step forward, the remaining four spacing themselves outside of the entrance to await their Decemvir's return. The men accompanying the woman are obviously tense at leaving their third member behind, and do not hesitate to obviously size up the Schola as the small party passes within after a soft "Thank you, Dominii," from the female. Such pride is to be expected, given their role, and Shinjukou seems resigned to such male bravado. Thusly, it is ignored as she slowly paces into the atrium.

Gabriel is waiting beside the impluvium, decked out more grandly than usual. He looks more the part of a politician, and less like some common laborer or off-duty Praetor. A smooth white toga falls in neat folds to his ankles, and a pallium of royal blue sweeps across one arm and between his tidily-folded wings. He looks composed, reserved -- not like he did when she last saw him, when he appeared unkempt and restless on her threshold at some ungodly hour of the morning.

"Domina," he greets formally, with a tip of his head. "I'm pleased you could come. I thought an invitation to the Palladium would be in keeping with my duties as an ambassador."

But following his words, unheard by any of the Schola within earshot, he sends out a silent thought -- rusty and mired in mental 'static': Can you hear me?

"It is a kind offer, Deus. I have often hoped to see what beauty your people live within, here in Haven." With a matching formality, Shinjukou brushes a hand against brow, lips and heart to finish the greeting ritual. "I trust that it was not too difficult to arrange such a visit? I am unfamiliar with how often those of my race visit here." Small gliding steps bring her to stand a short distance from him, the two guards falling back only shortly to allow the two some level of privacy in this most public area.

And tickling at the corners of his mind, almost as soon as pale eyes are laid upon his figure, comes that familiar sensation of minds touching. Presence. *I am here. There is much to tell you. Is it a safe thing, to speak here?*

"Somewhat difficult," he answers with a faint smile, "but I'm not without my resources. I hope you'll find the trip worthwhile, and that you'll enjoy your visit as much as I enjoyed mine to the Korallion. Let me show you some of the sights." He extends an arm, inviting her to precede him toward the imposing entrance to the cella -- what some would call the true heart of the Palladium.

"This is our center of worship. You taught me a little about your Goddess. Now allow me to teach you something of the Empyreal pantheon. It's just through there..."

A mental addendum follows his vocal comments: We can speak more easily there. But better if you use your thoughts. Appearances. The Schola are watching.

"Ah. You are most thoughtful of my curiosity, Deus. I have heard that the Empyreans have a moon goddess of their own, to match our Pasiphae?" The inquiry is couched in tones of firm interest, weighted with an absolute sincerity that denotes that named curiosity. This is indeed a rare pleasure, and gift. The directions are followed, she and her guards turning towards the cella and beginning a slow pace towards its entrance. "It is a wonder that there is room enough for so many gods, in your people's eyes. I would think that keeping their wants and needs in worship would become quite a task. One deity can be demanding enough," she adds, voice softened with a hint of a chuckle.

*Of course.* There is no amusement in this tone, and though she is truly interested in the Empyreal gods, that is set aside for later consideration. To business... *This is an old game in Orcinus. Even the Empyreans would find it difficult to keep pace there, I think.*

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 Tritonis, 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.

Shinjukou passes through the archway from the atrium.

Gabriel's brow is furrowed in concentration -- the mind-speak is taxing on him, for thoughts that normally flit through his brain in pictures, feelings, and random words are difficult to shape into coherent sentences that she'll be able to read. He still hasn't quite learned that sifting through all that mental detritus is easier for her. And keeping track of two conversations at the same time is distracting.

"Aye," he says, addressing the first. "Celene is the name of our moon goddess. Although Cynthia, the lady of beasts and the hunt, is also sometimes associated with the moon. Our gods' responsibilities often overlap. Every noble House has its own protector-god or goddess, and there are hundreds of others besides. It can be bewildering, but we're not required to pay homage to all of them. Most families only honor their patron-god and their ancestor lares."

Once within the shadowed interior of the cella, with its array of marble likenesses for Zeus Jupiter, Tritonia, Apollo, and other giants of the Empyreal pantheon, he turns and pitches his voice lower. "You met with him?" He's careful to see that his voice does not carry past her ears. Only the stone gods are listening.

"Pasiphae is goddess of beasts as well. How interesting, the similarities, though you have divided the one Goddess into two..." Further musings on divinity and forms of religion are discarded once their audience consists only of statues and the coolness of marble. Stepping closer, Shinjukou dips her head forward in assent although she keeps to the speech of the mind. It is far easier to convey what needs to be sent, in this situation. *He came, with a gift and an offer. To support Orcini claims on Haven territory against Orman and Amaris, provided I offer support of what he intends for Delphi. I tried, Gabriel, but I was unable to go deep enough into his mind to find what you need. But...* And here a small portion of hope is offered, however delicate it might be. *He was quick to offer me his mind, to communicate. Perhaps next time I will be able to find something useful. He is an interesting man, your Emperor. Easier to manipulate than I had thought he might be.* Scornful. Yes. That would properly describe her tone.

Gabriel digests those voiceless words in silence, but he stops himself before nodding his head, in case any Schola might be watching through the archway and guess at some unspoken communication. Distractedly, he gestures to the seated figure of the great Kronian -- the Stormbringer; the first and greatest of Empyreal Emperors. "Zeus Jupiter Jove," he murmurs. "The god of thunder, storms, and the primal fury of nature. The man who built the Empyre up from rubble and made us a power to be reckoned with. His title, Kronian, means 'son of the universe.' He is the only deity to ever earn such a name."

All that was spoken in a normal tone, to maintain the illusion of having no other motive than educating her about Empyreal gods. But more softly, he adds, "What is it he intends for Delphi? Did he reveal that to you?"

Thoughtful eyes wander up to take in the Kronian's impassive marble face. Any watching would see only a woman trying to find allure behind such...distant figures of worship. "He looks proud. Fitting that he would be what prompted your greatness. Which god does your House look to?" she asks, gaze drifting back to his face, face lit with a gentle and curious smile. But beneath that is the silent conversation, twining itself in his mind to pass on memories and images of the meeting. *He wants it to become a school again. Nothing more. And Haven ruled by a council of the races. I do not doubt that the Empyreans, in his vision, will take a larger part in that ruling. He also mentioned that he wishes to rule his people, himself, and keep them strong. Something about his mentioning of that alarmed me, Gabriel. It is possible he intends to take power away from the Aegis? I do not know the politics of your government well enough to say.*

Gabriel's fingers tighten into fists as those last words echo in his mind. Surely, he'd suspected something similar all along, but now that she alludes to it, it only adds weight to his convictions. "I would not doubt it," he growls lowly, though he positions his body with his back to the entrance so that prying eyes will not glimpse the movement of his lips. "The Aegis is the only thing opposing him. He'll dismantle it if he can. I think he hopes to gain favor with the people by this maneuver with Delphi. He'll be known as the man who 'conquered' Haven. It would be a choice new acquisition for the Empyre. You can't believe that he'd be content with a 'council of the races.' He'll betray you as soon as he's given the chance."

Anger colors his thoughts and bristles his feathers, but with conscious effort, he smooths them. And with similar effort, he lifts his voice and keeps the tone mild and even. "Augustus pays homage to a gentler deity. Augea, patroness of childbirth and children, youth and vitality. But she has a fiercer side. There is a legend that she once shot an eagle from the sky, for it had stolen a child from its mother's very arms. The shot struck true, and the eagle was killed. The babe fell from its talons into the sheltering branches of a cypress tree, unharmed, and so both the cypress tree and the eagle have become our symbols." He breaks off to indicate the cella. "You'll not find her likeness here. She is a minor goddess in the Empyreal hierarchy. But we have a statue of her to guard our home."

*I am becoming unconcerned with Haven. I worry more about my race. But I agree with your assessment, I thought much the same thing as he spoke to me. Fortunately, I was not required to give him an answer immediately. When the time comes, I will offer him my most sincere regret since I will be unable to pledge my people to his great cause.* Humor is used to defuse the potential of greater anger and that gentle touch of amusement caresses the ripples sent up by that emotion in his mind, even as she replies aloud to the legend.

"So strange... I would like to see your patron goddess. She sounds as if she would understand mine, indeed. I will have to find some of our older myths, to share them with you and see if you agree. I know of one that names the Empyreans as Pasiphae's children. Born only a short time before my own race. I am certain that it would ruffle quite a few feathers in the Palladium, did more of your people know of it." Light glints like laughter in her eyes as they're turned up to meet his, warm with the smile she offers. "If you will pardon my small joke. I do not intend to offend against any who have feathers."

He quirks a smile to prove he's not offended. "We worship similar things, domina," he muses, falling back on formality for caution's sake. "Nature, the sky, the earth, the sea -- powers beyond our control. Maybe the only way we have of harnessing such things is to give them a name." His brow furrows after that brief lapse into philosophy, and he casts quick glance up at the face of the Stormbringer. "He was once a man," he murmurs. "Flesh and blood, like us. Fallible, like us. But history has made him legend. We lost sight of his humanity, and he has become as remote and distant as the moon."

His gaze shifts back to her, ocean-green eyes both troubled and thoughtful. "And yet your goddess does not seem so, to you. Do you hear her voice in your mind, just as I hear yours in mine?" The subject of Arius and Delphi is overlooked, for now, as his curiosity comes to the fore.

"Not Her voice so much as... Her touch? It is so difficult to describe." A small gesture is made with one hand, to beg forgiveness while the words to explain are sought out and brought forward. "When I was younger, I could feel Her all around me, in everything I did and felt. Even now, if I concentrate, I can feel Her in me. She is my Mother, beyond blood. Do you understand?"

To aid in that understanding, a sensation is injected into his mind, lacking an image or words or anything that can be honestly described. It's a feeling. Serenity. Serenity so deep and so pure that diamonds couldn't cut it. And in that serenity, caught like a fly in amber, is the firm certainty that what happens is Her will and must be dealt with, for all things are Her test, Her creation, a way to prove love and devotion. Some people feel such love for their families. That protectiveness, that centered affection that holds to the soul. Shinjukou feels this way for Pasiphae. Small wonder she seems content with her lonely lot in life.

"Do you ever wonder, Deus, if we might become statues to future generations one day? That what we do in our lives now, the mistakes and victories we make and have, might become legend to those that follow?"

There is still something alien in her mind's touch. Something unsettling. Even though the thoughts she transmits carry a serenity the likes of which he's never felt, there's a subtle start -- an unseen ripple through his thoughts, as if it were a pond into which she'd thrown a stone. Gabriel closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh at that cool, deep, blue-green-silver feeling; like the depths of the ocean but without the empty void. It is peace, and yet as much as part of him covets it, another stands apart, for the feeling is not his own.

"Aye..." he murmurs roughly after the sensation has passed and he remembers to answer her question. "But sometimes I think that their lares -- their spirits -- become trapped in stone. They have the weight of history to mire their feet to the pedestal. Our worship must be a heavy yoke. I would rather fly free."

That option, the freedom that follows after death, is considered for several quiet moments. And then, softly, "When we become spirit, Deus, what we are joins with everything. Our essence spreads like clouds over the sky to cover and merge with all existence. It is freedom, of a sort. But these..." A brief glance up at the statues. "These people lived, and they have not been forgotten, long after their deaths. There are so many who are not remembered, so many lives gone to that freedom with no memory left behind after so many years... I think it would be better to have both that freedom, and that mark left on this world. I do not think I want to be forgotten after I go to my Goddess. For if I am remembered this way, then it means what I did in my life was great enough to leave that mark." The confession seems heartfelt, so subdued and quiet that it can only come from thoughts that are all too often hidden from sight. That impression is only strengthened a second later when she shakes her head, sharply, and adds, "I am sorry for going on so."

A smile touches his lips, and the urge to reach out for something so simple as a caress on the cheek is strong. The image flits into his mind. But he restrains himself. Other eyes may be watching. "I like listening to you," he assures her. "I've never really spoken like this. Oh, with Severus, we'd argue and debate history all the time. The merits and flaws of past leaders, past visionaries. He taught me to see beyond the here-and-now. To look back through antiquity and see all it could teach us. But it's been a long time. I miss talking like that."

He lets his gaze wander across the stern visages of the Empyreal deities, those whose legends have been retold, whose deeds have been recorded, whose likenesses have been etched into stone, never to be forgotten. "When all the world passes away," he murmurs, voice hushed, "I wonder what will be left behind. When empires crumble, will their faces remain, looking toward some empty future? I don't know if I could face eternity like that. Death scares me... not because I'm afraid of fading away, but because I fear timelessness. I think oblivion would be better than that lonely fate."

The image is captured and appreciated for its sentiment. Another advantage of the contact between two minds is the intimacy it allows, and an almost physical caress is brushed through the link. It's the slide of fingertips across his brow, without the actual touch, and it's sent with another of those serene smiles. Shinjukou has retreated behind her mask again, having given more than enough of a glimpse of what plays behind those eyes. "You should not fear that. Your consciousness will be changed. Some, among my people, believe it is not en ending, but just a new step. A different way of existing. I have followed the minds of those dying, tried to stay with them as long as I could as they faded and spread into everything. It is something I can almost believe. But for now... to worry about something that will happen, without question, is unimportant. Better to focus on what we do in life, and leave questions of what happens after to those that have gone, and know."

"I know," he answers. It's accompanied by another faint curve of a smile, partly in response to the near-physical caress he 'feels' against his brow. "I don't spend my time brooding about death and my inevitable fate. But when you come close to it..." The smile fades with the memories roused, "... when you feel Aidoneus' wings brush your skin like the kiss of steel on a muddy battlefield, you take a moment to consider your mortality."

He sighs, disquieted by the reminder -- there are shadows in his mind, memories that drift up from the murk of his subconscious, and that he prefers to keep tucked away. They have the feel of nightmares. With an uneasy rustle of wings, Gabriel glances through the archway. "Perhaps we should rejoin the Schola outside. They'll begin to wonder what we may be plotting."

"Does it?" Simple curiosity is Shinjukou's response to the statement on mortality. But she is willing to allow the topic to pass, out of respect for memories that are better laid to rest. So the exit is faced, the proper mask of formality adopted to soothe whatever eyes might be on the pair. "It might be wise... again, I thank you Deus, for your explaining to me so much about your religion. It has puzzled me since I was brought to the land to learn your ways." Mild conversation of a similar sort follows as steps are made towards the atrium.

Old nightmares are forgotten. Submerged again, back into the deep, dark parts where primal things dwell. He smiles, easy in mood and manner once more, even if it's partly a facade for the benefit of the Schola beyond the archway. "The pleasure was mine, domina. The Empyre has a vast, rich fabric of history, and teaching it to you -- even part of it -- is an honor. I hope that this is only the beginning of a continued exchange that will be beneficial to both our races." Then he extends his arm and motions for her to precede him once more, back out into the Palladium proper where both her guards and his await.

FIN  

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