Date: February 10, 1999
Place: Cella - Palladium - Haven
Cast: Ambriel, Endymion, Selene
Scene: A noblewoman and a commoner both grieve for the Empyre and pray to their ancestral gods for aid -- though their prayers are met by silence.

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.

A still figure has taken up residence in front of the imposing statue of Zeus Jupiter. A row of candles burn at the statue's feet, some almost down to just the puddle of wax while others look newly lit. The faint scent of spices drifts through the chamber, a small incense burner sits among the wax pillars. The figures twitches slightly, her wings flutter to loosen the kinks that have settled, but there is little other movement.

Endymion's goal is Tritonia, and near her statue he sinks to his knees, then sits back on his heels, whispers seeping out from between his fingers. Other sounds, too, can be detected, though in truth they could be nothing more than an implication of an approaching cold.

The faint breeze caused by a second entering the cella causes the flames atop each candle to flicker briefly, sending shadows dancing over the legs of the stone god they illuminate. The woman raises her head slightly at the disturbance and glances briefly over her shoulder to determine who has joined her in her prayers for the Empyre. First toward the image of Apollo and then to Tritonia, where she finds the other figure. Having that slight curiosity met, she returns to her vigil, or at least to hide her face. She's a noble and a nobles shouldn't show weakness, should they?

Endymion remains poised for moments, his prayers offered in heartfelt sincerity before he lays upon the goddess' step a single rose. It seems a simple gift... too much so, in fact, until the flower is discovered to be a gift of his own heart and making. Porcelain, it seems, and hand-painted. Then he raises his head and, with a heavy sigh, mops the back of his hand across his cheeks.

The presentation of the gift goes unnoticed as Selene keeps her attention on the stone image before her. Soft prayers drift from her lips, but Zeus Jupiter looks not at her, nor does he give any sign of hearing her pleas in the Empyre's time of need. The prayers continue however in earnest; perhaps the lares will hear her and intervene. A soft sigh escapes her lips as well and she leans forward to throw another small cube onto the burner, sending up a hiss and a strong odor of spice.

Endymion sits backwards on his heels again, runs his fingers through his hair, then takes better stock of where he is and what surrounds him. He is not, however, going to disrupt someone at her prayers any more than she would bother him at his.

The scent from the burner is a bit strong and Selene begins coughing from the cloud of it that drifts to her face. She turns from it, coughing continually as her wings heave behind her with each cough. Glancing up, she notes the man still there and a blush rises in her cheek to be seen in such a condition.

Endymion half-rises from his crouch and takes a step toward the lady whose features have before graced his vision. He does not speak, dares not speak, but ensures that he is within her line of sight in case his services should be needed.

Selene gives one last sputtering cough and sits back up, the blush only darkening as she approaches. "I... that happens every time, yet still I use it," she explains softly within the confines of the sacred room.

"I am certain that he knows and understands." He, of course, is the god to whom Selene had been praying. "Are you well now?"

Now that you are closer, the small details -- the puffiness beneath her eyes as well as the damp trails down her cheeks, are quite obvious. Even her hair does not hold its usual shine, dulled by the incense and smoke from the candles. "If you are referring to my throat, Dominus, yes, it is better, thank you."

Endymion's features have something in common, thanks to his own grief, his own tears, and his hands reach for you with the intent of curling around your face, his heart in his gaze. "Domina..."

Her pale wings twitch as one is brushed by his extended arm but the woman herself does not move. "I suppose you thought nobles did not cry, did you?" She laughs bitterly, clouded further by the dryness of her throat. "I guess I've betrayed all of them by my weakness." The smile lingers, but it is empty, her eyes hold to much pain to allow any laughter in them.

"Sometimes, Domina," whispers the man in return, "it takes more strength to weep than to retain the emotion." Thumbs brush at the tracks of the tears, thumbs still damp from his own weeping moments earlier. "Is there anything I may do?"

Selene has no answer for the first statement -- she had always believed the opposite to be true. The thumb against her cheek jolts her and her whole body tenses as the touch. Eyes still watery with unspent tears regard the man for a moment before his question is answered. "Unless you can single-handedly restore my world to me without any of the cracks showing, without the pain that I hold now, there is little you can do." Her voice is mournful and barely reaches above a whisper.

Endymion's hands drop away, much as petals desert a dying flower. "If I could, Domina," he whispers fervently, "so I would. For you and for me."

Selene pulls her eyes from the man's visage as tears threaten to fall again and renew the drying tracks on her face. "I am hoping that if I pray hard enough and long enough, our lares will come to our aid. How can they not see what is happening to their people? How can they not see and just stand by while those animals take away everything dear to us?" Pleading, tired eyes look up for answers from the man beside her. "That halfbreed the Varati call their god is helping them, why do ours not do the same for us?"

Softly, sincerely, he gives his answer. "Perhaps they are helping us, Domina, and saving us from total destruction," he offers in a gentle voice, the back of his fingers angling toward one of her cheeks again. "We must have faith. We must."

Selene looks up to the stone image of the founder of her House -- surely he would not let this decline continue. The face on the statue is as it always is, not a hint of offering assistance. "Perhaps," comes her strangled reply, but the tone is anything but believing. She has kept too much inside for too long, it is past time for her to grieve, and for that her strength is subdued for the time being.

Endymion caresses the delicately flawless plane of her cheek and watches the movement of her eyes, the tremulous quality of her muscles and motions, and he offers all he can for her at present. "I am here, Domina, should you wish to speak, to talk... to have someone mortal hear you."

A twitch of her lips turns into a smile, only a slight hint, but it is there. "Thank you Dominus, for your kindness, and I will remember what you have offered." She neither pulls from the touch nor leans into it, but allows the simple caress to offer its comfort in these dark times. "Thank you," she whispers again, almost unheard.

"Your touch," Endymion breathes, fingers still indulgent in their caress, "is kindness' own reward. So much sadness in a face that was composed for laughter and love."

Selene blinks and looks suddenly frightfully confused. The lack of food mixed with the incense must be making her dizzy. Her eyes pull from his and her entire form backs from the touch. "I ... I am not thinking clearly Dominus, I .. I should go ... I .. I..." She again looks to her House's founder for guidance and there is only stone.

Endymion nods, his hand returning to his side, and politely he inquires, "Do you require an escort to your rooms, Domina? If you are feeling ill, you oughtn't go alone."

Selene leaves the candles to burn at Zeus's feet -- there is nothing in this room of stone that risks destruction from the flame. Slowly, she gets to her feet and finds herself weaker than she had thought. Her wings stretch wildly behind her to offer balance and eventually she rights herself. Her mind still clouded from her prolonged vigil, she nods. "Yes, an escort..." she mutters softly.

Endymion's arm moves about her waist, decorously, supportively. "Shall I carry you, Domina?" he offers, features etched with his earlier pain, his present worry.

Selene shakes her head with surprising strength that curls tumble around her shoulders, giving her an even more haphazard look. It's a good thing she can't see her own image. "No, I ... I can walk," she insists and proves it by taking a few short steps toward the entrance of the Cella.

Endymion nods and simply accompanies her solicitously, ready to lend a hand and his strength should either be needed. He himself is regaining some of the composure earlier lost, though his mouth is still pressed thin with worry.

Leaving the cella, you emerge into the Palladium's main area--the atrium.

[Atrium - Palladium - Haven]

Endymion emerges from the cella and joins you in the atrium.

Ambriel sits at the edge of the shallow pool, singing to herself some old folksong like usual, giving little heed to the two who enter, simply looking up at the falling rainwater.

Selene passes slowly from the Cella, looking very unlike the noblewoman she is, her face tearstained and her hair loose and tangled. She barely gives the other woman a glance as her slow steps carry the tired Jovian toward her home.

[Inner Courtyard - Living Quarters - Palladium - Haven]

Endymion steps into the living quarters from the garden.

Endymion indicates the entrance to the proper house and bows, formally, fondly. "May your night and dreams be blessed with sweetness, Domina," he murmurs, eyes aimed toward the marble floor.

Selene stops inside the courtyard and she looks to head toward the house of Apollo but she thinks better of it and turns toward her own house. Stopping at the door she turns to her escort and smiles thinly. "Thank you Dominus, again, for your kindness this night. I will keep you no longer."

Jovian slaves stand by with the doors open for their mistress, likely to gossip of her odd appearance and her unknown escort at such a late hour. "Fair winds to you, Dominus, and again, I thank you." She turns and heads into her home to finally, hopefully gain a pleasant night's sleep.

FIN  

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