Date: November 11, 1999
Place: Courtyard, First Floor, Chamber of Stars - Delphic Citadel
Cast: Cassandra, Magnus
Scene: Magnus Jove visits Delphi in an attempt to glean more information about the strange visions assailing the clairvoyants of the city.

From above, Magnus arrives in a flurry of falcon-sharp wings and with a nod of acknowledgment to the guard that watches the courtyard. His gaze is wary as he treads into this place of magic, for even though he comes in search of information, rumors have already been whispered in his ears of just how dangerous a place this may soon become.

A mop of damp, filmy feathers and soaked indigo fabric, the pale creature stands near the tower's entrance with poised stillness, webbed fingers awkwardly curled back towards her upraised palms. Breath exhaling, Cassandra is stirred to life in the next moment, squishing through grass puddles as she plods a few steps closer to the main path. Dim with distraction, signs of life and movement are still quick to turn her attentions, narrowing eyes flickering over Magnus thoughtfully.

A servant's forethought and hands keep Magnus flightworthy, expensive oils carefully applied to each feather so that like a duck he sheds the rain from his wings in bright droplets. The rest of him bears less fortune, his toga sodden and his bald pate slicked with water. Still, he manages to draw dignity about him and step forward, meeting Cassandra's look directly. "Domina, I seek audience with the Estrella." There's little point in beating around the bush.

The regard continues on flatly, as rivulets of water meander down her pallid features, and droplets thoroughly saturate each frail feather. Finally a blink, and another, signify that there's still signs of life within. "Erm," she utters helpfully, skimming a glance over the courtyard. Nope, no rain-soaked Estrels here. Cassandra's head cocks as her regard returns reluctantly, "The Estrel are not in the Courtyard, Domina Empty. I could ask inside, but they may be busy." She sees fit to add matter-of-factly, "The magic is misbehaving, and Haven's soon to see destruction, you know."

Magnus' brows rise abruptly. She is so casual about it when all others are so tight-lipped. "I would accept your offer of entry, Domina. Perhaps you could see if they are available or not." The rest of her comment is quite carefully overlooked. The mongrel that came with the message might be passed off as inconsequential, but he still needs to get that information.

Thin shoulders roll backward in a fluid shrug -- at least he didn't burst into a fit of fearful tears, like those two young novices earlier this morning. The overly long hem of Cassandra's robes soaks up what dirt and water it can while she scuffles out of the grass and begins the unhurried slosh through the puddled path up to the main tower. "I could see if they are available," she replies absently, belated in an afterthought. The non-magical Empyrean's already lost her interest as visions coalesce around the outskirts of her peripheral sight, demanding silence and distracted attentions. Nary a look is given over her shoulder as the entrance proper is finally reached and passed.

What a curious creature! Magnus follows, his jaw tightening only slightly at the perceived dismissal. And yet, are not all mages a bit... other? Perhaps one more reason to do away with them altogether. The Empyrean keeps such thoughts to himself as he follows up the stair into the massive bulk of the tower.

Cassandra vanishes into the tower.

White Tower: First Floor - Delphic Citadel - Haven:
      Before you stretches the vast diameter of the tower interior. Above you, rising for hundreds of spans, is the hollow vastness of the building. The delicate ribbons of a free-standing spiral staircase wrap around the circumference of the tower, until the highest levels fade from the perceptions of your eyesight, appearing only as thin strips of lace. There are very little furnishings here; however, the Spartan setting is offset by the muted mural that covers the walls -- walls which have no seams. The mural itself is a flowing spiral of life. The floor of the tower has been painted to represent the sun, with its vast rays snaking up the walls. Figures of animals and people, barely discernible against the grey stone, break free of the sun, stretching up towards the pinnacle of the tower. The higher the tower reaches, the darker the images become, so at the farthest distance, one may see the faint flickering of false stars.

To Cassandra's comment there is a reply, although one might not have been asked for. The comment itself was sufficiently vague to provoke an eventual response from Magnus. While phrased and almost spoken as a suggestion, or even a question, it is given just a touch more force as if such might motivate the dreamy woman to action. "You will see if the Estrella are available."

A veritable path of Cassandra's entry is left behind her in the smeared trail of dirt and water, distinct footprints rubbed over by the length of her trailing hem. Certainly not among the touchiest of her station or breeding, most of the time, little attention is given to the commanding tone of the Empyrean's words. If anything, it was a salvation from another sight that might otherwise assault her consciousness. "All right," the halfbreed returns plainly, already beginning her purposeful dragging steps towards the stairway. "You will wait here while I see if the Estrella are available." An untarnished grin is flashed over a damp shoulder before she scurries up the stairs in a tangle of fabric and feathers.

That action alone seems to appease him and Magnus nods, letting that signify his agreement with the woman. He turns to look around, wings giving a single, unconscious flick to spray water into the area behind him and shed it from their own expanse. It is lucky no one chose to stray into that area or they would not need venture outside to become thoroughly soaked. His toga drips quietly onto the floor and he folds his arms, prepared to wait.

There is little haste in the task -- after all, there are many Estrel, and the halfbreed hasn't seemed entirely 'there' to begin with. But finally, Cassandra's emerges again from the stairs, slowly working her way down. And she is unaccompanied. At least possessing enough good graces to look apologetic, the last step is crossed before she intones low, "I could not find any, I am afraid. You could wait for one to return, or leave me a message to pass on?" Helpfully, the damp creature adds, "I could keep you company while you wait!"

Oh, and wouldn't that be such a pleasure. Magnus' true feelings on that offer reside on his face for the barest of instants before smoothed away into polite attentiveness. He reaches to his side and draws out a message wrapped in waterproof velum. "This can be given to the Estrella. I will not need to wait for a reply, but trust that such will be delivered promptly." He holds the thin package out to the woman.

The halfbreed seems genuinely crestfallen, underdeveloped wings drooping down until the barest edge sweeps against the floor. Shoulders unknotting and sloping downward, she drags her feet across the floor until she is close enough to offer up a palm, slender fingers outstretching until the membrane between is pulled taut. "Well," Cassandra begins lamely, half of her descending mood stolen away to study the object in Magnus' hand. "If you like, you can stay a while and talk even if you do not wish to wait for a reply." A despondent puppydog, she looks close to following Magnus out on his heels. "Everyone is so busy with the upcoming havoc that I do not have anyone to talk to," she adds forlornly, apparently bearing no shame when buried in this state of perpetual distraction.

Magnus' fingers unfold from his burden, leaving it in Cassandra's hands. He watches the woman and replies, "I had little intention of leaving immediately, Domina." Only the grace of her obvious magic earns the halfbreed that title, but he seems doggedly determined to use it rather than attempt to guess at what others might fit the woman. "I would first know more of that which you spoke in the courtyard.."

Relief is a flood that spreads across the painfully expressive features, teetering the sorrowful frown into an uncertain smile. Fingers roll to clasp around the message carefully, before it's drawn in against her side. "The courtyard?" Cassandra questions blankly, attentions skimming just over the curve of Magnus' shoulder. Finally, in a voice less fuzzy and dim, she asks, "You mean, the magic misbehaving and destruction upon Haven? Oh yes, it comes soon. Have you prepared?"

"That is one reason for which I have come. How can one prepare when only rumors are given? What is this destruction that comes and when is it coming?" The question is asked as if Magnus actually expects a coherent answer from the woman. After all, she speaks with more authority than any has so far.

"It is not a rumor," Cassandra blurts defensively, fingers rubbing against the inside of her palm as she regains that falter in serenity. "Ware the eating by the moon of the sun, with final conquest comes the rending into two, of one. Though unlike day and night, or ebb and tide, certain wrongness taints that which is forced to divide." Slipping the message into the excess folds of her robe, her hand is free again to restlessly flutter, slicing at the air. "Perhaps few speak with authority because those who may be authority do not even understand, except that it is inevitable, willed by Change, and it seems to make the earth angry." Stumbling over her words, she pauses a moment to muse back over them, as though spoken so vaguely that they even give herself pause.

Magnus dares name the woman now, ducking his head to her slightly with a growing air of respect. "Sibyl." He lifts his chin once more, considering her words. "You speak like a poet. Can you not be more clear?"

Cassandra stares blankly for a moment, before replying in utter candor, "I do not know. Usually when someone does not understand me, they just look frustrated but thank me anyway and try to puzzle out what I said. I do not practice speaking in better words -- these are more comfortable." The cloud of distraction about her has cleared a bit, focus found in this groove of Seeress. "What we see visits us more often now, seems more insistent. I... say that we near the dusk before this dawning."

No frustration expressed, nor fear voiced. This is what he came for, even if Magnus is not altogether happy in its presentation. If riddles are all that can be spoken, then he, too, can play at that game. "And what is it the dawn brings?"

Thin lips purse together to form a singularly slender line, pause given at Magnus' question. There is hesitation, a tainted, uncertain pause, but to have someone so politely listen to her incessant tales of visions... Iron binds her words, lifting them from tentative whisper to low murmuring, "Domina, our dreams are rich in truth that disguises itself. Symbolism. We have seen the waters rise up and surge over the land, and the earth tremble in furious anger, the town being swallowed, the sun splitting in two, our magics ripped violently from us." Cassandra adds, softer now, "What is to be is surely not all that we see, but... to affect so many Seers, to repeatedly torment our slumbering eyes, it is not insignificant." And like the truth that may be a shadow of all that she sees, in that moment, she is a shadow of the Avatarati, pale and certain, but still so capable of being knocked down by the robust winds of adversity.

Magnus corrects unconsciously, "Dominus." Clearly indicating himself with a small gesture. He lapses into silence once more, rousing from it finally in a question. "These things that have been seen... is it possible to be given a list of them -- a description of what the Sibylla knows."

A spiderweb of lines cast over her forehead, beginning in the sliver of a singular dubious line and spreading from there. "Um," Cassandra replies blankly, hands fanning out at her sides uselessly. "There is no such list that I know of, but if I can write one out for you?" A furtive glance scurries over the room. "...have to find something to write on, though. Or, if you wait, I will go up to my room and write it and bring it back down?"

Magnus lifts his chin, "For such information I would happily scribe for you, Domina."

Cassandra dips her head in a sliver of a nod, picking up the hem of her robes wordlessly and shuffling towards the stairs. "I will bring down some parchment to use!" she calls lightly after she has nearly risen from sight.

Magnus' step follows, leaving him at the foot of the stair as he is not nearly so enthusiastic as the other, and not just a little bit reluctant to delve further into the depths of the Tower itself, "Domina..." He trails off, waiting to see if she disappears before he can finish.

A pause in the scuffles, barely visible footsteps halting in mid-step. They scoot down a few steps, until she can crouch down against the stairs and peer downward. "Domina-uss?" Cassandra questions curiously in return, owlishly wide eyes blinking rapidly.

Foot set on the first step, Magnus peers up the way, frowning slightly at the sight of the woman crouched above. A few thoughts of doubt flit through his mind to be shaken off. She is Sibylla, after all. The suggestion is made gently, as if to a child. "There is no need to run about if you would prefer to simply find a quiet place to sit and write. The foyer here may not be the best area in which to work."

"Oh," the woman replies flatly, before lips curl downward in ponderous thought. Cassandra leans the curve of her chin on her damp knees in thoughtfulness, before her voice bubbles up to audible ranges again. "You could wait in the library down there," she calls down, her words ringing through the cavernous room with a subtle echo. "Or you can accompany me above, to either my chamber or to the star chamber?" Mischief taints the grin as an airy hand gestures upward, towards the very top of the stairs. "If you have not ever visited there, I assure you... it puts all in perspective." Straightening stiffly, her face bobs out of view, but feet are still firmly rooted to the end of the step she is balanced on.

Magnus moves to that first step and then takes another, the momentum growing as he follows the woman up the stair, "I will be guided by your wisdom, Domina, of course."

Delighted by what the woman appears to perceive as a grandiose adventure, there is a buoyant lightness to Cassandra's step as she continues her climb. "Follow the stairs all of the way up, Domin...us. I will fetch the necessaries from my chamber on the way." Though they seem words of parting, there is almost care to the pace that keeps in time with Magnus, always remaining in reasonable proximity.

Cassandra moves up the staircase.

The start of a smile touches Magnus' lips and he shakes his head, following quietly.

Higher and higher the stairs climb, the halfbreed giving little hesitation or distraction as she ascends the steps. The silence, for her, is comfortable, filled every so often with the broken wisps of a hum.

Chamber of Stars - Delphic Citadel - Haven:
      Located at the pinnacle of the tower, the ceiling of this chamber slopes inward like a pyramid. Furnishings are almost nonexistent, consisting of a few woven mats decorating the floor, covering parts of the mosaic extending wall-to-wall. Thousands of small, colored tiles illustrate a compass rose showing the four cardinal directions. The northern section is dark -- like the mountains that stab at the horizon far beyond the walls of Haven. South is blue -- like the vast ocean stretching away from Haven's harbor. Green represents the west, where a thick forest hems in the farmlands that produce food for the city; and finally, east is gold, where the wind blows fresh and warm in the summer months. It is not too far a stretch to say that the compass represents more than mere direction; for Delphi has always been a place where the four races could mingle freely, as equals.
      The walls are shaped from a stone that is almost as clear as quartz, so that one may glimpse the entire city. Starlight or sunlight shines above, depending upon the time of day, and students often make the long trek up here to study astronomy, or merely feast upon the view offered by a small balcony that overlooks the city.

Cassandra steps in from the landing.

Magnus already stands in the chamber, watching the fury of the storm spend itself against the crystalline walls with undisguised fascination.

It took a few minutes for the halfbreed to follow in to the chamber, though finally she arrives bearing a writing utensil and parchment, as well as carrying a warm and dry cloth over one arm. Halting, silent, the distractions of earlier are reapplied in force, causing her breath to gather up sharply. Everything Cassandra had taken such great care to gather up is released from her grasp without thought or care, the force of the unseen urging her to her knees.

Magnus turns abruptly at the sound and then in a rush he is at Cassandra's side, his hands on her body in a solicitous manner, "Domina? Domina?" He grits his teeth and asks the obvious, stupid question. "Are you all right?"

Cassandra hands flail out to sights unseen, memories lingering and poisoning the eyes that see the here and now. The small wings flutter restlessly in a quiver at her back as she wobbily attempts to climb back up, but ends up back down in the same damp pile. "It was just a rock, Samein," she assures the Empyrean in a tiny voice, seeming clouded by distance. "My... pride was injured more than my back." She reaches for one of his extended arms, in the attempt to pat reassuringly.

Magnus captures the wrist of one of those arms even as his other slips around behind the woman's back, offering her support. "Are you... well now, then?"

Nodding mutely, the wisp of a woman seems grateful for the support, scuffling up until her feet touch the floor, and then unsteadily rising. Cassandra smiles towards the Empyrean, in a fashion that seems both at and beyond him. "Did the hounds catch the graisha before she ran off? She said such awful things about our Citadel..." Though she trembles on her feet, she remains standing, in this uncertain, distant state.

Magnus blinks and frowns. "Domina? I... do not know. Are you certain you are well?" He does not let go as she stands, his arm wrapped around her back to support her.

Announcement: Through the rain it is clearly visible as Delphi leaps into bright relief, illuminated by a massive pillar of flame...

The world seems to spin around her at this next surge, awkwardly stumbling back against Magnus' arm as a pained cry is ripped viciously from Cassandra's throat. Memory binds to memory binds to vision until the past, present, and future seem a brief, powerful assault. "I told him something bad was going to happen in the library! I knew they would not believe me, but I thought he would... tell them." Her voice surges with volume, fright, strength finally subsiding at the end of her words. Whatever this episode was, there's visible signs of energy stolen from the former teacher, weight swaying with uncertainty at her ankles.

Magnus' arms tighten around the woman and with gentle force he guides her over to one of the few chairs in the room and sits her down within its confines. "Domina, you are not well." Oh, that's brilliant. He takes her hand, setting knee to the floor beside her and simply cradling it. "What do you need?"

Cassandra heavily sinks into the chair with Magnus' guidance, feathers rustling at the small wings shift and resettle absently at her back. The wan features seem even more pale and drawn, pale eyes focusing with some uncomprehending daze on the man in front of her. Faint strength is pressed against his hand as its squeezed, voice thickly whispering, "He haunts me, sometimes. It is as though I let him, and your people, down." Confusion is the lightning flash across the sea of chaos, though terror gradually, every so slowly, subsides.

Magnus reaches up to touch Cassandra's cheek softly, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Domina, I can hardly begin to understand you..." He shakes his head, but does not rise quite yet. "Do you wish me to find someone for you?" As if his searching would yield anything in this unfamiliar place.

Sterling hair crosses over her eyes in the slow shake of her head, Cassandra's voice reaching him in a thin strain, "No, Domin...mmmrm. Just a moment. Please?" Heaving a labored breath, her gaze dimly reaches his behind the fringed locks. Haunted, she seems, troubled by both whatever struck her, and the subsiding memories that cling more stubbornly. But calming, slowly, as though a tidal wave struck, and now the aftermath is slow to achieve serenity.

As the Magus calms, Magnus seems to realize just what this scene might look like to any that enter. He releases Cassandra's hand and rises from his knee in one movement, stepping back to a proper distance from her and clasping his hands behind his back.

Magnus' withdrawal is watched from behind the fallen hair, silence and stillness lapsing for lengthy moments past that. Finally, she seems to gain the volition to move, hands stiffly lifting to brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ears. "Thank you," Cassandra offers awkwardly, the simple words teetering uncertainly in their meek echo. There is a sobriety about her now, stormclouds a mantle to her disposition, as she unsteadily rises and wordlessly crosses over to retrieve the fallen belongings. Each movement is deliberate, slow, taking care not to set her off-balance again.

Magnus lifts his chin and then nods, "Do not mention it, Domina." He watches her from behind a remote expression for a few moments more and then ventures, "Would it still be possible to get those accounts...?"

"Of course," Cassandra replies quietly, head bowed as trembling hands swoop down to collect the parchment and quill pen -- remarkably like the feather of a real Empyrean's wings. Trudging heavily back to the chair she slumps in it and digs out the ink well from the bulk of her robes. "That cloth on the floor was to dry yourself with," she adds flatly, gesturing to the parchment in question. "Would you still care to scribe?"

Magnus glances down at the cloth and then stoops to sweep it from the floor, rubbing the last droplets of moisture from his head with obvious relief. "Unless you care to do it, Domina. Either is suitable." His eyes flick over the woman, comparing her demeanor now to that of just moments ago and finding the comparison distinctly bizarre.

Little energy seems to dwell in her now, but not so little that thought or writing are impossibilities. "Just a few moments then, Dominus, and I will write out what I can recall in this state." Emotion does little to inflect her tone, even with a residual sorrow that strikes her gaze now and then. Without waiting for assent or argument, she leans over her lap and begins scrawling quickly.

Magnus presides over the Magus with nothing more said, simply stepping up to watch the words as they scroll out across the paper. Clearly reading as she writes, the more words that take shape the deeper his frown becomes.

The writing is swift and careless, faded or obscured in places, but not so much that they cannot be determined in context. At the head of the paper is the poetic words she began with when speaking of this havoc. From there, Cassandra gleans over visions of the sun splitting into two and hanging in the sky reluctantly until the moon finally comes. And then there are the accounts of the earth rumbling, the waters rushing over the land, and one student remarking that he saw a teacher swallowed up in the Rialto. Hand giving a bit of tremble, she finally pauses to rub at her fingers and dip the rapidly dry tip back into the well.

From behind her there is a soft grunt and Magnus shakes his head. "Now I understand why so many are disturbed."

The Sibylla nods slightly, still void of words of emotion, lifting her hand and dragging it back over to the parchment. Her hand barely pauses before it resumes its swift brushes over the smooth surface, opting then to describe the feelings of magic being torn from the body with the utter sense of loss, the accounts of an ancient chamber split open as the earth rumbles, and lastly, of a formidable serpent lashing at the town. It isn't until the last words of this serpent are etched out by her hand that the pen is tossed out of her hand, the parchments lifted and thrust up, "I am... finished, Dominus." There's a double-edged blade to those words, dual-weariness. "Anything more I can recall will be sent along if you leave your name." Indeed, never did the man make any introductions or endeavor to seek her own identity.

Did he forget that? Just as much as the woman before him did. Magnus lifts his chin and simply states, "Magnus Jove." If she knows what the name stands for, so be it. If not... then that is fine as well. He extends his hand towards her.

Cassandra's hand is placed lightly against his, and then grasped tighter as she uses it to tug herself up. If anything, the introduction but increases the discomfort that aligns her features. "Cassandra Adeera, Dominus. I know of your name. Your Emperor, Drusus, studied here briefly. And the former Emperor, Justinius, visited here on occasion. He died here, you know." The hand waves towards her robes as the shoulders hunch inward. "I shall see your message is safely delivered... after a rest." She adds honestly, the signs of weariness seeming to increasingly bleed through the placid overtures she attempts to maintain.

Magnus slips the accounts from the table with his other hand and then twists his wrist in Cassandra's hand such that the deft movement turns into an encircling of arms, hers on his. "Allow me to escort you to your chambers, Domina. You are still not well."

Perhaps she's in no mood to argue, or perhaps it's because it's simply on the way, anyway, but Cassandra agreeably nods and defers to Magnus guidance. "It is just down the stairs a little way," she adds quietly. Lapsing into silence, she ponders over dark memories that seemed long ago forgotten until today.

Magnus' arm is a support as he turns and guides the woman in silence towards the stair.

FIN  

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