Unstitching Time and Space
Jan. 22nd, 2009 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
When human children grow up, they learn a few basic truths from their loved ones. Don't talk to strangers - a notion they seem to harbor deep in their darkest recesses even as very small children. Don't go out after dark. Always be good, or your bad deeds will come back to haunt you.
When Lord Vayan was a very young cub, he learned another set of basic truths. Praise Ahm. Family and home before yourself. Trust in the Will and the Word.
On this night of nights, almost exactly when the clock strikes twelve, all the lights go out in Central Park. The air grows heavy over the turtle pond, and within seconds it is covered in a thick layer of mist. Layer upon layer, the wisps of gray dance in the air as if to an otherworldly tune, and through it comes a small procession. At the very front, two flag bearers lead the way, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. They need no light to guide them on this night, their master has laid out their path in plain speech on many nights prior. He moves in their midst, tallest of them all, his eyes burning brightest, for he sees all things that they cannot. He knows the Word, and his Will is theirs to honor.
They move from pond to earth, the mist lingering, clinging to their bare feet and paws as they move through the park - beyond the castle - to their intended destination.
With poise and determination, they move as one to the statue of the King known as Jagiello.
"A King's honor, for the path set in motion," they murmur as one; their Master says nothing. Their chant is his boon. "For the door to open. For the Reunion.
"Ahm willing!" The flag bearers exclaim into the darkness, and their equals respond.
"Ahm's will be done!"
When Lord Vayan was a very young cub, he learned another set of basic truths. Praise Ahm. Family and home before yourself. Trust in the Will and the Word.
On this night of nights, almost exactly when the clock strikes twelve, all the lights go out in Central Park. The air grows heavy over the turtle pond, and within seconds it is covered in a thick layer of mist. Layer upon layer, the wisps of gray dance in the air as if to an otherworldly tune, and through it comes a small procession. At the very front, two flag bearers lead the way, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. They need no light to guide them on this night, their master has laid out their path in plain speech on many nights prior. He moves in their midst, tallest of them all, his eyes burning brightest, for he sees all things that they cannot. He knows the Word, and his Will is theirs to honor.
They move from pond to earth, the mist lingering, clinging to their bare feet and paws as they move through the park - beyond the castle - to their intended destination.
With poise and determination, they move as one to the statue of the King known as Jagiello.
"A King's honor, for the path set in motion," they murmur as one; their Master says nothing. Their chant is his boon. "For the door to open. For the Reunion.
"Ahm willing!" The flag bearers exclaim into the darkness, and their equals respond.
"Ahm's will be done!"
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Date: 2009-01-25 05:33 am (UTC)Shadow moves through shadow, soundless. There; no, there.
No. There.
Above the raised double swords of the statue vaults a lithe figure shrouded in black, drawing two swords of its own in mid-leap and landing in a crouch precisely between the two flag bearers.
There is a long, shocked beat of utter stillness, a frozen tableau. The first movement to break it is that of the right-hand flag bearer, raising one hand slowly -- almost dreamily -- to his throat.
Black blood spills out from between his fingers, and both bearers crumple to the ground in smooth unison.
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Date: 2009-02-08 09:11 am (UTC)With a roar befitting a lion, he springs into action. No one harms one of his men without paying dearly - with a limb, or better yet, with their last breath. His target is the murderer, and until he is dead, Vayan will spare nothing to claim his vengeance.
His remaining posse coils in serpentine oneness, drawing blades and shields to act as both should they need to; they are there now for one reason, and that reason alone is what keeps them from running.
Family and home before yourself. Your Lord before all.
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Date: 2009-02-08 04:28 pm (UTC)There are more than half a dozen of Vayan's people, and only one attacker. It shouldn't be possible for it to defend itself against all of them; it certainly shouldn't be possible for it to be attacking at the same time. Nonetheless, first one and then another of the House Varadeem warriors reels back wounded.
(Not dead. They're not the attacker's target. They're just in the way.)
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Date: 2009-02-11 11:59 am (UTC)Vayan is the one exception to the rule. He cares not for such things, and he is yet to be bested. Sweep after another, he parries and lunges, his blades glinting as brightly in the moonlight as his eyes. This is a fight to the death, for certain, and Vayan shall be the last one standing even if it kills him.
The sound of torn cloth, the slickness of blood on his attacker's swords, but the leonine lord simply bares his teeth in a grin. There's blood on his blades too. It would seem they are somewhat evenly matched, and of this he most delightfully approves.
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Date: 2009-02-11 01:11 pm (UTC)The next one of Vayan's retinue to spring into the fray goes down and doesn't get back up.
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Date: 2009-02-11 06:26 pm (UTC)The insolence, the gall!
In some parts of this world run by humans, there is a proverb that says one should let sleeping dogs lie.
If they knew anything at all about the real world, that proverb would be about not crossing the path of a big cat and its claws. It is time for Vayan as well to up the ante, and this next round of theirs, he will not be so gentle. Now, the gloves have come off, he will have his vengeance.
He circles his assailant like a cat on the prowl; looking for the weakness in his defenses he knows is there.
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Date: 2009-02-13 12:53 am (UTC)Fear draws the eye like light, in a battle like this. And like light, it can blind the eye to what's in the shadows.
The second black-clad figure rises like mist from the ground, its sword moving with silent, deadly swiftness for Lord Vayan's unprotected back.
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Date: 2009-02-13 12:59 am (UTC)Neither of the fighters in black has expected there to suddenly be a third. This one's face is visible, pale and intent over the flapping black wings of a leather coat, and it's his sword that's turned back the blow that would otherwise have left Vayan severely wounded or dead.
And he hasn't come alone.
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Date: 2009-02-16 07:18 pm (UTC)The added help does not go unnoticed. Not one of them, though the man in the black coat certainly stands out the most.
As one, the demon lord and his left and right hands strike. Four blades against two and the slick, wet sound of steel meeting flesh. The stench of blood is in the air, but that is as it should be.
No one ever said Ahm teaches one to fight fairly.
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Date: 2009-02-16 07:24 pm (UTC)He doesn't have a chance to use it. The fight is swiftly over, and both of the attackers lie dead.
The quiet of the Park at night closes back in.
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Date: 2009-02-16 08:27 pm (UTC)Handing his blades over to his servants to clean, he turns to the leader in the leather coat. His pupils are still narrow slits of light and dark; his voice is deep and just skirting the edge of a growling undercurrent, but he has no quarrel with strangers. Unless they attack him and his.
"This is a most auspicious night, for a lesser man to aid his superior. It would seem the stars keep secrets from me..." He waves his hand as if to wave the notion away. "What is your name, vampire, that I may thank you properly? You and your entourage."
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Date: 2009-02-16 08:36 pm (UTC)"Angel," that one says, deliberately without any flourish of drama. "Spike," he adds, pointing to the other men in turn, "Gunn, Andrew. And who would you be?"
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Date: 2009-02-16 08:46 pm (UTC)"The one with a soul. I have heard many stories of you." His gaze travels over the humans, the other vampire, and he nods in curt acknowledgment. "Of you and your fellow men.
"It is always so gratifying to see that there is hope for your kind yet, though your collective mindlessness is notorious." Like for so many aristocrats, compliment and insult is ever so intricately interlaced.
"Ahm willing," the remaining servants answer as one.
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Date: 2009-02-16 08:58 pm (UTC)(The word rarefied has two shades of meaning: exalted in character, or reserved for a small and select group. It's the right word, either way.)
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Date: 2009-02-16 09:14 pm (UTC)"One who knows the proper way of speaking," which in itself is an immense compliment, though it may sound far, far from it.
It's for this and this alone that he'll find himself face to face with not just the demon lord, but all of them who move with him like his ever loyal shadow.
Beware, little human. Being the sole focus of a demon lord is rarely naught but good. However, it earns Andrew the introduction Angel couldn't get. "I am Vayan, Lord and Keeper of House Varadeem. How would you know this, little firefly?"
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Date: 2009-02-16 09:27 pm (UTC)This time Spike's snort is audible. "Got that right," he mutters.
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Date: 2009-02-16 09:36 pm (UTC)"Yes... The Champion." Vayan nods. "A fitting title for a warrior who has come such a long way from his parasitic kin."
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Date: 2009-02-16 09:58 pm (UTC)"I hope you'll excuse being a little more direct," he says evenly, "but we were sent here for a reason tonight, and we still have to work out what it is. Do you know who they are?" Gesturing at the bodies of the attackers.
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Date: 2009-02-16 10:03 pm (UTC)But, even a demon lord can play nice; or this one can, at any rate. "Assassins, sent no doubt by those who oppose me and mine. I am unable to return to my land, but it would seem this is not enough for my enemies."
Watching Andrew, for the duration, like a small, shiny thing.
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Date: 2009-02-16 10:13 pm (UTC)He says it with such confidence, you'd never know that it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet since Jonathan's first vision.
"He saw your face, and this statue." Waving a hand at the bronze king on his pedestal. "And we knew it was a message from the Powers that Be, that there would be one here in need of our aid. Ahm willing."
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Date: 2009-02-16 10:36 pm (UTC)For many long moments, nothing.
But then the great cat inclines his head. "Ahm willing, we would never have met." His tone of voice suggests what a great loss that would have been.
"I would like to give to you a token of my appreciation. A mere trinket to the eyes of the uninitiated, but those who know better will see that you are one of my trusted allies."
He takes off one of the wide, golden bands adorning his fingers and hands it to Angel, the one whom the human world will assume is of highest ranking, as indeed Vayan did initially.
The ring would be plain if not for the intricate pattern carved into the gold itself. It is quite unlike anything one will find stemming from a human imagination, but understated enough not to grab just anyone's attention.
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Date: 2009-02-16 10:43 pm (UTC)Spike's tugged the glove off one of the dead assassins, and is holding up its limp hand. "Here's a bit of Old Home Days. Take a look."
The corpse is wearing a ring with an entirely too familiar sigil.
"The Order of Taraka," Angel mutters.
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Date: 2009-03-01 04:15 pm (UTC)"My enemies would spare no expenses to have my head," he muses. "I don't blame them. I shall spare none to keep it."
Letting go, he rises to his full height. The kit gloves are now officially off.
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Date: 2009-03-01 07:27 pm (UTC)For a moment Andrew's having trouble framing the question properly, and it's arguably an insolent question even without the added insult of speaking carelessly.
"The Champion would know more, if it pleases you, of the story that has led us to this night. Of those who seek your death, and their reasons." At the demon lord's narrow glance, he adds hastily "It need not, of course, be told this moment."
Or, um, at all, he has to stop himself from adding. Backing down might feel like the prudent thing to do, but showing throat to a Rrhayaowr demon is a bad idea.
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Date: 2009-03-01 07:46 pm (UTC)"And my business is not yours. Not quite yet." Which naturally implies that it might be in a future not too far away. Just not tonight. "You will of course avail yourselves to me should the need arise in future."
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Date: 2009-03-01 07:55 pm (UTC)"The Champion serves the Powers that Be," Andrew says evenly. "Should you have the need for his aid in future, it is at their will that he should come."
Half a beat.
"Ahm willing."
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Date: 2009-03-01 08:08 pm (UTC)His eyes wander from one after the other, meeting their looks. Only once this is done, does he incline his head to acknowledge the little firefly.
"Ahm willing."
"Ahm willing!"
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Date: 2009-03-01 08:27 pm (UTC)Instead he turns to Angel himself, and lowers his voice. "Okay, um. We want to stick around and see what else we can find out, or head back to HQ?" The significant glance he adds to that is, he hopes, enough to convey ...and see what else we can find out there?
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Date: 2009-03-01 08:34 pm (UTC)But he's come to rely on Andrew and Jonathan almost as much as he ever relied on Wesley in LA, and for the same basic practical reason: they tend to know what they're talking about.
"We'll go back," he says, quietly (and aware that the furry ears under those manes can probably hear him anyway). "Make our goodbyes, would you?"
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Date: 2009-03-01 08:40 pm (UTC)Once they're done, he speaks up. "You have my gratitude. All of you."
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Date: 2009-03-01 08:58 pm (UTC)As they emerge onto Fifth Avenue next to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Angel says flatly "Okay. What are we looking for."
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Date: 2009-03-01 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-01 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-01 09:03 pm (UTC)Angel frowns fiercely at nothing in particular.
"And maybe why the Powers that Be wanted us to save him."